robinonadderall | The Totally Fixed Up Mansion | Specifically Derek's Shower

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The Totally Fixed Up Mansion | Specifically Derek's Shower | Saturday Afternoon

Obviously the biggest mistake Stiles had ever made in his young life was telling Derek he was going out for track. Ever since then every time he tried to take a step into town it felt like it turned into a training session because apparently Derek felt like jeans and a t-shirt were perfectly acceptable workout attire.

The only good thing about being forced into running until he almost dropped dead was that he got to use the very much non-communal showers in the mansion afterward. Stiles never thought he'd miss showering by himself so much. He could sing without judgment, use up all of Derek's shampoo---wait. He could do other things in there too. Things he hadn't been able to do since taking up residence in the bouncy castle with Jackson and two girls.

Initially he felt a little guilty when he thought about it but...Derek did say to find somewhere not the campgrounds to take care of himself. He had needs, shut up. He'd make it real quick, nobody would know he did it.

[I'm not even sorry. Bathroom defiled with permission and the mansion is totes open to the other people in the house, of course]

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Derek was safely downstairs, attempting to get the TV to play Real Housewives. He stopped, head cocked to the side for a moment as though someone was blowing a dog whistle somewhere on island.

"STILES, NO."

Somehow Stiles had heard that over running water and being, uh, distracted. He heard it, and he was ignoring it. Lowly human here, couldn't hear being shouted at. Sure. Let's go with that.

Besides, the train already left the station, he couldn't stop now.

Yes he could!

"I WILL KILL YOU IF YOU DON'T STOP THIS RIGHT NOW."

"Stop what? Showering?" he asked. He wasn't going to do that. He wasn't going to stop the other thing either. Let's be real, he's masturbated under worse situations.

"YOU KNOW WHAT I'M TALKING ABOUT."

"Okay, dude, you're the one that told me to do it somewhere else," Stiles said, sighing. "Stop listening to me, it's creepy."

This was officially crossing the line into weird codependent "knows way too much about each other" territory.

"YOU'RE IN MY HOUSE." He was turning up the TV to try blocking it out if that helped.

It did not help.

"It's Mike's house!" So take that, Derek! "Look, the sooner you stop yelling, the sooner I can be done."

Yeah Derek yelling was not the turn on people in fanfiction thought it would be.

Was it the oddly high pitched voice? Was it? Because that couldn't be helped, okay? He wasn't Dean, Stiles.

"I HATE YOU," Derek shouted back, attempting to bury his head under a number of tasteful throw pillows.

"Thank god," Stiles mumbled, after deciding that Derek was going to leave him alone. To his credit, he did attempt to be as quiet as humanly possible as he finished up. Humanly possible.

He did come down the stairs a few minutes later, wearing a pair of his own gym shorts he left around and one of Derek's shirts. "I don't know about you, but I feel awesome."

Deal with him masturbating in your shower, Derek. Just deal with it.

That? That would be Derek whipping a pillow at Stiles' head. "I hate you."

"Ow!" WEREWOLF PILLOW THROWING HURT, DEREK. "It was your idea!"

DEAL WITH IT.

"Not here."

"Be more specific next time," Stiles said, making a movement with his hands that indicated that Derek should make space on the couch. "I was trying to be quiet."

Derek threw another pillow at him, scooting over in the most aggressive fashion possible. Essentially, he was doing his teenage girl impression.

"Oh don't be like that," Stiles said, flopping down on the couch. "I'm sorry if I gave you nightmare fuel, but the good news is that I do feel better."

"I don't care." He hated everything about you, Stiles. "Make Netflix stop suggesting I watch Lifetime."

"Maybe if you would stop watching so many girly reality shows..." Stiles grabbed the remote anyway because he knew they wouldn't end up watching anything if he didn't take control. "I'm in a Tim Burton mood, wanna watch Beetlejuice?"

They'd just bicker and Derek would attempt to make him run again, it was true.

"You're the one watching them." Liiiiiies.

"Oh my god you're such a liar," Stiles laughed. "You love them. Love them."

Derek sighed maturely. "You put them on there." His logic was flawless.

"Hey man, I also put plenty of horror movies on there too," he said. "Don't think I don't notice which of the two you go for most of the time."

"They're all stupid. Werewolves are nothing like that."

"And somehow the social lives of overly botoxed Atlanta housewives is less stupid?"

"...maybe."

"You're so full of crap," Stiles said. "But since I defiled your shower and used the last of your shampoo, I will let you have the last word on what we watch."

"How--You're buying me more shampoo," Derek grumbled. It would be the expensive kind. That smelled really nice and made his hair all soft.

BUT NOT HIS BEARD.

That was a 'I know better than try to pick the movie' move there, Stiles.

GODDAMMIT, DEREK, LEARN TO CONDITION YOUR BEARD.

"That's fine. I might buy a bottle for myself, it's nice." His hair was all soft, as evidenced by the fact that he couldn't stop touching it. "We're watching good Tim Burton since you don't seem to have an opinion on the subject."

He shifted to actually lie down on the couch, getting his legs into Derek's personal bubble because he wasn't even going to pretend he wasn't going to fall asleep during this. He had ran a lot and jerked off, a nap was going to happen.

UGH. YOU'RE THE WORST.

Derek glowered at him, but didn't shove him away. Because of reasons. "You weren't even born when this came out."

Neither was Derek, but shhh.

"I wasn't born when a lot of movies came out, what's your point?" he asked.

He did not have one. Stop pointing this out, Stiles. It was rude.

"Shouldn't you be a bigger fan of something newer?"

"I am not Scott, I can appreciate movies made in the 20th century. I like to think most of us can," Stiles said. "You have a very weird view of teenagers, are you aware of that?"

What? You mean his recruiting of misfits with the promise of makeovers wasn't hip anymore?

"You're just a weird one."

"Yeah, been hearing that since grade school," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I'm just saying we're not as dumb as you think we are."

"They're dumb about most things." Because he was. His reasoning was flawless.

"Oh how do us teenagers ever make it to adulthood?" Stiles asked sarcastically. "I can't believe we manage to walk and breathe at the same time."

"A mystery for the ages," Derek drawled. "Made more mysterious by your survival past puberty."

Stiles sighed. "I am not dumb most of the time."

Only some of the time.

"Define 'most'."

Oh snap.

"I'm still alive, aren't I?"

It said a lot about the things that usually went on in this household that Mike, having spent the day in his own company, hadn't known Stiles was even in the house before Derek started randomly yelling. It said even more that a) he could immediately tell that yes, this meant Stiles was here, and b) he barely raised an eyebrow at the yelling in the first place.

As far as he could tell, this was just a normal day in the mansion, and he did so not need to get drawn into whatever this was. He'd worked every day this week. Nope. Not his problem.

He just turned his music on louder and went back to his lazy Saturday laying about.

[♥
This has been a drive-by ping from my BFF's house because I could not resist.]

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The Totally Fixed Up Mansion | Specifically Derek's Shower | Saturday Afternoon

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