Laying the foundations

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‘’Get in loser, we’re going shopping.’’ The words didn’t fit on Derek’s forever brooding face, a sullen expression that Stiles was oh so used to. It didn’t bother him much though, because when he made Derek smile, he knew it was legitimate - and that was fucking awesome. His smile was made from three angels, delicately crafted with marshmallows and rainb- woah okay dude, too far. Jesus Christ and lord above, help with poor excitable boy.

‘’You’re opening with a mean girls quote? O-kaaaay…well that’s just, wow, oh-oh-okay.’’ Stiles wasn’t a professional wordsmith at the best of times, but the glint in Derek’s beautiful hazel eyes forced real words down his throat, where they seemed to pool and tug at his stomach.  He was allowed to feel these things for his boyfriend right? Whenever he wanted? Right? Especially when they were outside, at ungodly hours, alone, in the snow, alone, with Derek’s car, alone.

Derek looked at him, unimpressed.

‘’That wasn’t a joke you moron, get in the car Stiles.’’ Derek’s clean cut yet still husky, deep voice carved through Stiles’ thoughts as if a knife through butter. He slipped into the sleek black (arrogant) Camaro and looked hesitantly at the beautiful man sat across from him. Reaching out and putting a hand on Derek’s thigh for stability, Stiles leaned in as if to kiss him, but immediately darted round Derek’s pre-puckered lips to his ear.

‘’Where are you taking me ye of many surprises?’’  Stiles mustered the most seductive voice he could. That’ll teach him to call Stiles a moron.

‘’Oh Stiles’’. Derek whispered provocatively making Stiles gulp, audibly. ‘’Somewhere with many surfaces, toys and a few bedrooms.’’ The two men locked eyes and Stiles’ thought train took a sharp turn left. All aboard the 10am express to Sexville. Choo motherfucking choo! This was great; he’d been dying to get Derek on a hard surface and finally dominate him. Every time they ended up between the sheets, Derek asserted his alpha authority and pack position over Stiles, which almost always (always) lead to Stiles being bent over. Not with much complaint though because duh, it’s Derek and he’s one fine hunk of man with a body to die for, a face to rival Gods and an extremely finesse talent in sexual explo- snapping back hastily to reality, he realised the grin on Derek’s face. Shit.

‘’Ur, what?’’ he demanded, pretty sure Derek could smell the arousal spreading through him like wild fire.

‘’You do know that your brain and mouth has no filter in between right?’’ Derek queried, his mouth curling slightly with the faintest tint of a smile.  Stiles’ eyebrows raised about two inches and his jaw fell slack. Crimson coursed through his checks and set his blatant embarrassment aflame much to Derek’s amusement.

‘’I..I just said all of that out loud d-didn’t I?’’ he said in an almost whisper, with a ‘humph’ of defeat when Derek didn’t jump his bones immediately and tell him to sit in the back for being so bad. Which could obviously turn into car sex, and he could punish him for having such vulgar thoughts…although spanking him in a Camaro might be pretty difficult given the lack of space so famously known for Chevy’s. The damn American designers clearly didn’t think about car sex whilst planning, idiots.

‘’Stiles!’’ Derek yelled with a touch of red coming out of his eyes. Normally this would terrify Stiles to the core but since his wolfy boyfriend is his wolfy boyfriend, he trusts that Derek just uses it as an intimidation tactic, that works, fucking cheat. ‘’Stiles, we’re going to Ikea for gods sake, no need to shove your teenage…emotions into overdrive.’’ Derek deadpanned him causing Stiles to flicker his eyes to the dashboard, attempting to escape his glare. Sour-asshole-wolf.

‘’Wai-Ike-IKEA?! You said somewhere with…with…oh you bastard, you did this on purpose didn’t you?’’ Half jesting, Stiles elbows at Derek’s ribs and turns his nose up at him when he tries to grab his hand.

‘’Stiles, come on I was joking for fucks sake. It was a joke. Now put your seatbelt on,’’ he commands.

Stiles buckles up as told. He might not like taking direction from Derek but it’s so much easier than to fight, especially when Derek’s so readily taking him shopping. His former stupor returns.

They can pick out curtains together, and pillows, and throws! Maybe even a large shag pile rug for underneath the new coffee table they’re going to buy.  Stiles would like to think that Derek would argue with him on colour schemes and they’d be the cute couple in the corner who can’t decide whether mocha or chocolate brown looks better on the feature wall.  The old Hale House is being renovated by the pair, a team that works wonderfully together. Derek’s the treasurer and Stiles is the much underpaid interior designer. First task – the living room.

They  had spent a good few hours sat on the cold floor in the house talking over their (Stiles’) plans for the decorating.

‘’The new living room needs to have plenty of space for your pack but also it needs to be modern and I was toying with the ide-‘’ Stiles had mused, fiddling with bits of paper and re-ordering his pens for the fourth time.

‘’Ours,’’ Derek interrupted.

‘’Pardon me?’’ Stiles had turned to look at Derek’s face, putting copious strain on his neck due to him being seated in between Derek’s open legs.

‘’The pack. You said ‘your pack’, the pack is ours.’’ Although his face had been brooding, Derek’s eyes danced and gleamed when they met Stiles’. The perceptive Stiles knew he meant it. Lightly kissing the hollow of his Alpha’s throat, Stiles resumed talking into it and had suggested Ikea.

This is how they’d ended up at 10am on a Saturday morning, holding hands over the gear stick in the Camaro, J LO's new album blaring.   

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⏰ Last updated: Dec 01, 2012 ⏰

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