Next Page
JEN is:
1. an engineer
2. a Batman enthusiast
3. awesomely hot
4. loves science
5. all of the above.
If you guessed number 5, you're awesome and win my eternal love and devotion. I really love tea, here's my TEA WISH LIST .

I'M A POOR GRAD STUDENT, EVERY BIT HELPS:
ARTIST: Bright Eyes
TRACK: First Day Of My Life
ALBUM: I'm Wide Awake, It's Morning
479 plays
ARTIST: Ookla the Mok
TRACK: Stop Talking About Comics Books or I'll Kill You
ALBUM: Super Secret
1,355 plays
ARTIST: Bran Van 3000
TRACK: Love Cliché
ALBUM: Discosis
809 plays
ARTIST:
TRACK:
ALBUM:
439 plays
sarahsaurus81:

ellabelladani:



SHUT UP

sarahsaurus81:

ellabelladani:

SHUT UP

(Source: realgrumpycat)

tylerspooklin:

marvilleguy:

I made this for the awesome fic Zim made!
Go check out The Faolfir!
Stiles/Derek
Summary: Realization struck Stiles and he had to stumble back against a tree for support. He wasn’t a hunter, he was a faolfir, a wolf shifter. Stiles had taken his pelt and prevented him from returning to his pack because he was trapped as a human without it.

I shrieked ‘OH MY GOD’ as I was in the middle of coughing. AAAAHHH! YOU EVEN GOT THE BRACELET AND THE DAGGER HOW DO I DEAL WITH THESE EMOTIONS. ASDLFKASJD THIS IS SO PERFECT. THANK YOU SO MUCH ;W; <3<3<3<3

tylerspooklin:

marvilleguy:

I made this for the awesome fic Zim made!

Go check out The Faolfir!

Stiles/Derek

Summary: Realization struck Stiles and he had to stumble back against a tree for support. He wasn’t a hunter, he was a faolfir, a wolf shifter. Stiles had taken his pelt and prevented him from returning to his pack because he was trapped as a human without it.

I shrieked ‘OH MY GOD’ as I was in the middle of coughing. AAAAHHH! YOU EVEN GOT THE BRACELET AND THE DAGGER HOW DO I DEAL WITH THESE EMOTIONS. ASDLFKASJD THIS IS SO PERFECT. THANK YOU SO MUCH ;W; <3<3<3<3

n3vh33r4:

Not goin in any particular order

n3vh33r4:

Not goin in any particular order

1349   •   Oct 13th, 2012   •   VIA: n3vh33r4   •   SRC: n3vh33r4
spookynumb:


Having a bit of an art freeze when working on my classwork so I decided to get outta my funk with a nice little Sterek sketch sorta based around Ghost (for the halloween spirit, oooo spooky)
Derek is a sculptor and ceramicist who his grudgingly haunted by a young man who died in the warehouse Derek now lives in. Cute ghostly love ensues. Now I should really get back to actual school work…uuuugghhhhh.


Then check out my Unchained Melody series it has pottery jokes and hauntings.

spookynumb:

Having a bit of an art freeze when working on my classwork so I decided to get outta my funk with a nice little Sterek sketch sorta based around Ghost (for the halloween spirit, oooo spooky)

Derek is a sculptor and ceramicist who his grudgingly haunted by a young man who died in the warehouse Derek now lives in. Cute ghostly love ensues. Now I should really get back to actual school work…uuuugghhhhh.

Then check out my Unchained Melody series it has pottery jokes and hauntings.

teen wolf : asw (pt. 1)

(Source: heathyr)

Once Upon A Time 

Genim gazes worriedly at his beloved. The Queen’s curse is set to begin at any moment.

"We’ve only just found our happily ever after," says Genim but his Wolf Prince grabs his hand an brings it to his lips.

"We’ll find each other. The curse can’t stop that."

Genim stares up into the warm red haloed eyes of his true love. “Promise?”

"My heart will always leap after yours," his prince murmurs softly, his gaze never straying before pulling Genim into a fierce embrace as the dark magic of the Queen’s curse enveloped them.

And everything went dark.

***

Stiles sighs and looks at the clock tower, the hands frozen at eight fifty-five. He always finds himself here staring. Shrugging, he kicks at the ground before heading to the Sheriff’s station to see his father.

He turns down the street and misses a man about his height stop in the very same place and look up at the tower with a frown before stuffing his hands angrily in his leather coat pockets and turning in the opposite direction, towards the forest.

Sterek + Red/Red Riding AU 

asked by renrevenge

swingsetindecember:

“The coffee up here sucks,” groans Stiles, dumping 32 sugar packets into his cup. Scott just ignores him as he gazes fondly across the cafeteria where Artemis talking to Lydia, Atlantean princess. Stiles wishes Aqualad was less of a douche because Lydia was fierce.
“Do you think Allison would want to go for coffee?” asks Scott who underneath his cape and cowl is doing a fine impression of a lovesick fool.
“Definitely not Watchtower coffee,” grumbles Stiles with a scowl. “You think you could put in a good Bat word to your boss? Maybe get something that won’t kill fellow cape crusaders?”
Stiles turns to his friend. “Rob?”
Scott’s stuck in a daydream. An Allison Argent induced one. Apparently life in Gotham was all Batarangs and arrows if Scott was thinking of crossing that turf war. Even he knew how Batman felt about the Hunters. They weren’t as no gun friendly as the Bat family. Cheshire was insane. Literally. Allison’s mom was full on crazysauce. Stiles doesn’t even want to know how she got together with the Question. That guy was obsessed with a Code. He capitalized it.
“Hey Boy Wonder!” nudges Stiles and Scott snaps back.
“What?”
“Try not mooning over the enemy,” says Stiles, taking a gulp of his coffee with a grimace.
“Allison’s not the enemy,” says Scott but he whispers it because the Watchtower has eyes and ears everywhere. Stiles may be quick but even he knows that the Bat is always watching.
“Uhuh, and we’ll all get a super team to be on together. Dibs on partnering with Superboy,” says Stiles. Danny would make an awesome teammate. “People can’t even get my name right. The lighting bolt is a dead giveaway. I’m thinking of changing my name.”
“But I like Kid Flash,” says Scott. And Stiles sighs because Scott is awesome but he doesn’t understand how people only see the Kid part and not the Flash. It’s very demoralizing. Speaking of demoralizing, Stiles spots the regular old sunbeam of happiness himself.
“Shit, there’s Nightwing,” he groans. Now there is someone who hates Stiles. And that’s a tad ungrateful. He’s saved Derek loads of times. Never mind he’s not supposed to know Derek’s supersecret identity. But Scott spilled the beans on that ages ago. You’d think someone with billions of dollars would smile more. Stiles can’t even afford to keep himself in new running shoes. Superspeed sucks sometimes.
“Do you think he saw me staring at Allison?” asks Scott, worrying his bottom lip. And frankly looks like the least intimidating Robin. Like ever. And Stiles has met Isaac. That little red hood isn’t fooling anyone.
“Well your suit is lojacked,” offers Stiles. “But I’m running late. You know, crimes to stop, brooding tight-wearing heroes to avoid.”
He superspeeds out of there not noticing Derek’s frown or the two Starbucks’ coffees in his hands.

***
Central City is boring. Well, it does get some action. Not Gotham action, thank god. Stiles doesn&#8217;t want to take up his dad&#8217;s Flash mantle anytime soon so he&#8217;s quite happy that Central City isn&#8217;t teeming with villainy. When time moves too slowly, Stiles usually speeds off to help Scott with whatever covert op old man Hale foisted off on him. There must be something in the water in Gotham, well aside from that fear gas once upon a time, because Scott&#8217;s always busy. Busy enough that Stiles help is very much appreciated. As long as the Batman doesn&#8217;t know, Peter Hale has a thing against metahumans in his city. Something about aggressive expansion. Stiles is too quick to get caught on camera anyway. Plus he&#8217;s saved Scott&#8217;s life more than a couple of times. And Peter Hale is none the wiser. Though he&#8217;s pretty sure he knows Stiles&#8217; secret identity. But then again, Stiles hacked into his dad&#8217;s files and found out all about the Hales. Scott should really change his password.
Sadly, Scott goes to a swanky prep school. Nothing but the best for a Robin. So Stiles is early. And bored. So bored. Which lands him waiting in a Starbucks across the park from Scott&#8217;s school, nursing the most cavity inducing drink they had on the menu, his right foot tapping a groove into the floor.
"This seat taken?" Stiles snaps out of his revery to a pair of familiar eyes on an unfamiliar face.
"Yeah," he says and flushes. "I mean, no. Not taken."
The woman with bright sea-storm eyes and dark raven hair smiles before gracefully sitting down across from him. She&#8217;s eerily familiar.
"Laura Hale," she introduces herself and Stiles chokes on air. He&#8217;s going to die. The Bat probably poisoned his drink. It&#8217;s a hit. Oh god, his last meal was a scone. God, what a waste.
"Stiles Stilinski," he croaks out. His life flashing before his eyes. He should have asked Lydia out. Atlantean boyfriend or not. He has so many regrets. Like not changing his name to Impulse. 
"Oh I know," she grins before stealing a sip from his drink and grimacing. "Urgh, is that just sugar?"
"Thirty-two packets extra," he says and calms down. The drink isn&#8217;t poisoned.
"My brother has a secret sweet tooth, too," she says conspiratorially. Like she isn&#8217;t talking about Mr. Broody Stormcloud That Is One With The Night. Or maybe she doesn&#8217;t know who he is. Maybe she&#8217;s just friendly.
"It&#8217;s so good to finally meet you. I&#8217;ve heard so much about you," she says. And yeah, Stiles contemplates speeding out of here and hiding out in Central America for awhile because it&#8217;s never a coincidence in Gotham. Never. She knows. Which means Batman knows.
"Please don&#8217;t kill me," he says because the Stilinski can&#8217;t end with his dad. No one else can vibrate through walls. He&#8217;d need to go to the future or something to find a replacement.
And Laura laughs. &#8220;Oh my God, you are adorable! CCTV feeds don&#8217;t do you justice,&#8221; she says with a warm smile. &#8220;Derek really knows how to pick &#8216;em.&#8221;
Stiles&#8217; brain freezes. &#8220;Derek? Derek Hale?&#8221; he gapes. &#8220;Derek Hale talks about me?&#8221;
Laura looks contrite. &#8220;You mean you aren&#8217;t here to meet him for coffee?&#8221;
Stiles thinks now would be a good time for calamity to strike.

swingsetindecember:

“The coffee up here sucks,” groans Stiles, dumping 32 sugar packets into his cup. Scott just ignores him as he gazes fondly across the cafeteria where Artemis talking to Lydia, Atlantean princess. Stiles wishes Aqualad was less of a douche because Lydia was fierce.

“Do you think Allison would want to go for coffee?” asks Scott who underneath his cape and cowl is doing a fine impression of a lovesick fool.

“Definitely not Watchtower coffee,” grumbles Stiles with a scowl. “You think you could put in a good Bat word to your boss? Maybe get something that won’t kill fellow cape crusaders?”

Stiles turns to his friend. “Rob?”

Scott’s stuck in a daydream. An Allison Argent induced one. Apparently life in Gotham was all Batarangs and arrows if Scott was thinking of crossing that turf war. Even he knew how Batman felt about the Hunters. They weren’t as no gun friendly as the Bat family. Cheshire was insane. Literally. Allison’s mom was full on crazysauce. Stiles doesn’t even want to know how she got together with the Question. That guy was obsessed with a Code. He capitalized it.

“Hey Boy Wonder!” nudges Stiles and Scott snaps back.

What?

“Try not mooning over the enemy,” says Stiles, taking a gulp of his coffee with a grimace.

“Allison’s not the enemy,” says Scott but he whispers it because the Watchtower has eyes and ears everywhere. Stiles may be quick but even he knows that the Bat is always watching.

“Uhuh, and we’ll all get a super team to be on together. Dibs on partnering with Superboy,” says Stiles. Danny would make an awesome teammate. “People can’t even get my name right. The lighting bolt is a dead giveaway. I’m thinking of changing my name.”

“But I like Kid Flash,” says Scott. And Stiles sighs because Scott is awesome but he doesn’t understand how people only see the Kid part and not the Flash. It’s very demoralizing. Speaking of demoralizing, Stiles spots the regular old sunbeam of happiness himself.

“Shit, there’s Nightwing,” he groans. Now there is someone who hates Stiles. And that’s a tad ungrateful. He’s saved Derek loads of times. Never mind he’s not supposed to know Derek’s supersecret identity. But Scott spilled the beans on that ages ago. You’d think someone with billions of dollars would smile more. Stiles can’t even afford to keep himself in new running shoes. Superspeed sucks sometimes.

“Do you think he saw me staring at Allison?” asks Scott, worrying his bottom lip. And frankly looks like the least intimidating Robin. Like ever. And Stiles has met Isaac. That little red hood isn’t fooling anyone.

“Well your suit is lojacked,” offers Stiles. “But I’m running late. You know, crimes to stop, brooding tight-wearing heroes to avoid.”

He superspeeds out of there not noticing Derek’s frown or the two Starbucks’ coffees in his hands.

***

Central City is boring. Well, it does get some action. Not Gotham action, thank god. Stiles doesn’t want to take up his dad’s Flash mantle anytime soon so he’s quite happy that Central City isn’t teeming with villainy. When time moves too slowly, Stiles usually speeds off to help Scott with whatever covert op old man Hale foisted off on him. There must be something in the water in Gotham, well aside from that fear gas once upon a time, because Scott’s always busy. Busy enough that Stiles help is very much appreciated. As long as the Batman doesn’t know, Peter Hale has a thing against metahumans in his city. Something about aggressive expansion. Stiles is too quick to get caught on camera anyway. Plus he’s saved Scott’s life more than a couple of times. And Peter Hale is none the wiser. Though he’s pretty sure he knows Stiles’ secret identity. But then again, Stiles hacked into his dad’s files and found out all about the Hales. Scott should really change his password.

Sadly, Scott goes to a swanky prep school. Nothing but the best for a Robin. So Stiles is early. And bored. So bored. Which lands him waiting in a Starbucks across the park from Scott’s school, nursing the most cavity inducing drink they had on the menu, his right foot tapping a groove into the floor.

"This seat taken?" Stiles snaps out of his revery to a pair of familiar eyes on an unfamiliar face.

"Yeah," he says and flushes. "I mean, no. Not taken."

The woman with bright sea-storm eyes and dark raven hair smiles before gracefully sitting down across from him. She’s eerily familiar.

"Laura Hale," she introduces herself and Stiles chokes on air. He’s going to die. The Bat probably poisoned his drink. It’s a hit. Oh god, his last meal was a scone. God, what a waste.

"Stiles Stilinski," he croaks out. His life flashing before his eyes. He should have asked Lydia out. Atlantean boyfriend or not. He has so many regrets. Like not changing his name to Impulse. 

"Oh I know," she grins before stealing a sip from his drink and grimacing. "Urgh, is that just sugar?"

"Thirty-two packets extra," he says and calms down. The drink isn’t poisoned.

"My brother has a secret sweet tooth, too," she says conspiratorially. Like she isn’t talking about Mr. Broody Stormcloud That Is One With The Night. Or maybe she doesn’t know who he is. Maybe she’s just friendly.

"It’s so good to finally meet you. I’ve heard so much about you," she says. And yeah, Stiles contemplates speeding out of here and hiding out in Central America for awhile because it’s never a coincidence in Gotham. Never. She knows. Which means Batman knows.

"Please don’t kill me," he says because the Stilinski can’t end with his dad. No one else can vibrate through walls. He’d need to go to the future or something to find a replacement.

And Laura laughs. “Oh my God, you are adorable! CCTV feeds don’t do you justice,” she says with a warm smile. “Derek really knows how to pick ‘em.”

Stiles’ brain freezes. “Derek? Derek Hale?” he gapes. “Derek Hale talks about me?”

Laura looks contrite. “You mean you aren’t here to meet him for coffee?”

Stiles thinks now would be a good time for calamity to strike.

"The coffee up here sucks," groans Stiles, dumping 32 sugar packets into his cup. Scott just ignores him as he gazes fondly across the cafeteria where Artemis talking to Lydia, Atlantean princess. Stiles wishes Aqualad was less of a douche because Lydia was fierce. 
"Do you think Allison would want to go for coffee?" asks Scott who underneath his cape and cowl is doing a fine impression of a lovesick fool.
"Definitely not Watchtower coffee," grumbles Stiles with a scowl. "You think you could put in a good Bat word to your boss? Maybe get something that won&#8217;t kill fellow cape crusaders?"
Stiles turns to his friend. &#8220;Rob?&#8221;
Scott&#8217;s stuck in a daydream. An Allison Argent induced one. Apparently life in Gotham was all Batarangs and arrows if Scott was thinking of crossing that turf war. Even he knew how Batman felt about the Hunters. They weren&#8217;t as no gun friendly as the Bat family. Cheshire was insane. Literally. Allison&#8217;s mom was full on crazysauce. Stiles doesn&#8217;t even want to know how she got together with the Question. That guy was obsessed with a Code. He capitalized it. 
"Hey Boy Wonder!" nudges Stiles and Scott snaps back.
&#8220;What?&#8221;
"Try not mooning over the enemy," says Stiles, taking a gulp of his coffee with a grimace.
"Allison&#8217;s not the enemy," says Scott but he whispers it because the Watchtower has eyes and ears everywhere. Stiles may be quick but even he knows that the Bat is always watching.
"Uhuh, and we&#8217;ll all get a super team to be on together. Dibs on partnering with Superboy," says Stiles. Danny would make an awesome teammate. "People can&#8217;t even get my name right. The lighting bolt is a dead giveaway. I&#8217;m thinking of changing my name."
"But I like Kid Flash," says Scott. And Stiles sighs because Scott is awesome but he doesn&#8217;t understand how people only see the Kid part and not the Flash. It&#8217;s very demoralizing. Speaking of demoralizing, Stiles spots the regular old sunbeam of happiness himself.
"Shit, there&#8217;s Nightwing," he groans. Now there is someone who hates Stiles. And that&#8217;s a tad ungrateful. He&#8217;s saved Derek loads of times. Never mind he&#8217;s not supposed to know Derek&#8217;s supersecret identity. But Scott spilled the beans on that ages ago. You&#8217;d think someone with billions of dollars would smile more. Stiles can&#8217;t even afford to keep himself in new running shoes. Superspeed sucks sometimes.
"Do you think he saw me staring at Allison?" asks Scott, worrying his bottom lip. And frankly looks like the least intimidating Robin. Like ever. And Stiles has met Isaac. That little red hood isn&#8217;t fooling anyone.
"Well your suit is lojacked," offers Stiles. "But I&#8217;m running late. You know, crimes to stop, brooding tight-wearing heroes to avoid."
He superspeeds out of there not noticing Derek&#8217;s frown or the two Starbucks&#8217; coffees in his hands.

"The coffee up here sucks," groans Stiles, dumping 32 sugar packets into his cup. Scott just ignores him as he gazes fondly across the cafeteria where Artemis talking to Lydia, Atlantean princess. Stiles wishes Aqualad was less of a douche because Lydia was fierce.

"Do you think Allison would want to go for coffee?" asks Scott who underneath his cape and cowl is doing a fine impression of a lovesick fool.

"Definitely not Watchtower coffee," grumbles Stiles with a scowl. "You think you could put in a good Bat word to your boss? Maybe get something that won’t kill fellow cape crusaders?"

Stiles turns to his friend. “Rob?”

Scott’s stuck in a daydream. An Allison Argent induced one. Apparently life in Gotham was all Batarangs and arrows if Scott was thinking of crossing that turf war. Even he knew how Batman felt about the Hunters. They weren’t as no gun friendly as the Bat family. Cheshire was insane. Literally. Allison’s mom was full on crazysauce. Stiles doesn’t even want to know how she got together with the Question. That guy was obsessed with a Code. He capitalized it.

"Hey Boy Wonder!" nudges Stiles and Scott snaps back.

What?

"Try not mooning over the enemy," says Stiles, taking a gulp of his coffee with a grimace.

"Allison’s not the enemy," says Scott but he whispers it because the Watchtower has eyes and ears everywhere. Stiles may be quick but even he knows that the Bat is always watching.

"Uhuh, and we’ll all get a super team to be on together. Dibs on partnering with Superboy," says Stiles. Danny would make an awesome teammate. "People can’t even get my name right. The lighting bolt is a dead giveaway. I’m thinking of changing my name."

"But I like Kid Flash," says Scott. And Stiles sighs because Scott is awesome but he doesn’t understand how people only see the Kid part and not the Flash. It’s very demoralizing. Speaking of demoralizing, Stiles spots the regular old sunbeam of happiness himself.

"Shit, there’s Nightwing," he groans. Now there is someone who hates Stiles. And that’s a tad ungrateful. He’s saved Derek loads of times. Never mind he’s not supposed to know Derek’s supersecret identity. But Scott spilled the beans on that ages ago. You’d think someone with billions of dollars would smile more. Stiles can’t even afford to keep himself in new running shoes. Superspeed sucks sometimes.

"Do you think he saw me staring at Allison?" asks Scott, worrying his bottom lip. And frankly looks like the least intimidating Robin. Like ever. And Stiles has met Isaac. That little red hood isn’t fooling anyone.

"Well your suit is lojacked," offers Stiles. "But I’m running late. You know, crimes to stop, brooding tight-wearing heroes to avoid."

He superspeeds out of there not noticing Derek’s frown or the two Starbucks’ coffees in his hands.

swingsetindecember:

“So it’s broken,” says Stiles holding out his cellphone.
Derek knows Stiles Stilinski far too intimately in these respects. First name basis. Derek hates people talking to him. And he knows the irony. He works at a WIND kiosk. Laura mocks his pain a lot. But not too much. He got her the new iPhone. It’s the only perk. People keep talking to him. And by people, he means Stiles Stilinski. And yes, that’s the name on record. Derek checked. Twice.
“This is the third time this month,” says Derek and his eyebrows do that thing where the climb up his forehead. He really can’t control that. He’s spent long night monopolizing the bathroom mirror trying. He stopped when Laura started picking the lock and posting the pictures on facebook.
And Stiles flushes, the pink hue creeps down his neck and it distracts Derek because Stiles looks embarrassed and twitchy.
“It’s still under warranty, right? Because Abercrombie and Fitch are only hiring Jackson-wannabes and I don’t look like a six-pack on ‘roids,” Stiles says gesturing to his chest, a motion that has Derek’s eyes flickering to follow unconsciously. His eyes linger far too long on the lean frame of the guy in front of him. Luckily Stiles doesn’t notice. “Plus, working with Jackson. Urgh. No thank you. So I’m kind of stuck with a limited income. I’m already pulling triple shifts at Starbucks. Unless I can pay you with coffee? Barista discount?”
Derek blinks at Stiles, because he was only half-listening. Somehow distracted by Stiles’ hands splayed dramatically on the glass counter top of the kiosk, his pinkened face flushed with energy and his lips chapped from worrying them when Derek took the time to examine the phone.
“Yeah,” Derek says and mentally kicks himself for agreeing. Stiles’ eyes light up.
“Dude, you won’t regret it. This is amazing,” he says, gleeful and lunges across the counter for an awkward hug that has Derek even more bewildered as he gets a lungful of wintergreen mint and burnt coffee and something purely Stiles. The hug is over before he realizes it and Stiles is grinning at him.
Derek hates people. But somehow, Stiles is becoming an exception.

***
"Pumpkin Spice latte," Stiles says with a flourish, startling Derek from his inventory. His pencil lead snaps from the pressure. He looks up to see Stiles holding a venti sized cup of Starbucks.
"I said coffee," Derek says and mentally hears Laura berating him on his manners. Because free is still free. But technically he extended Stiles&#8217; warranty to include falling into a storm drain so Derek doesn&#8217;t feel guilty at the hangdog expression Stiles is sporting. Not one bit.
Maybe a little.
Derek exhales his frustration. Things were easier when he worked at the used bookstore. He doesn&#8217;t go to Barnes &amp; Noble on principle for running them out of business. Now he works here at WIND where he doesn&#8217;t even have an alcove to hide in.
Stiles recovers with a grin, forcing the cup into Derek&#8217;s hand. &#8220;Trust me, you&#8217;ll like it,&#8221; says Stiles. &#8220;And I got you a cookie. You like chocolate chip, right?&#8221;
Derek&#8217;s stomach gurgles at the sweet whiff of chocolate. Stiles smiles knowingly.
"Knew you had a sweet tooth," he says before awkwardly stuffing his empty hands in his pockets which leaves Derek to drink the latte to avoid staring at Stiles&#8217; hips.
"Good right?" says Stiles. Derek can&#8217;t help his involuntary lips from quirking up at the spicy taste of cinnamon and pumpkin.
Stiles actually preens and leans up on the kiosk&#8217;s counter. &#8220;See? Delicious.&#8221;

swingsetindecember:

“So it’s broken,” says Stiles holding out his cellphone.

Derek knows Stiles Stilinski far too intimately in these respects. First name basis. Derek hates people talking to him. And he knows the irony. He works at a WIND kiosk. Laura mocks his pain a lot. But not too much. He got her the new iPhone. It’s the only perk. People keep talking to him. And by people, he means Stiles Stilinski. And yes, that’s the name on record. Derek checked. Twice.

“This is the third time this month,” says Derek and his eyebrows do that thing where the climb up his forehead. He really can’t control that. He’s spent long night monopolizing the bathroom mirror trying. He stopped when Laura started picking the lock and posting the pictures on facebook.

And Stiles flushes, the pink hue creeps down his neck and it distracts Derek because Stiles looks embarrassed and twitchy.

“It’s still under warranty, right? Because Abercrombie and Fitch are only hiring Jackson-wannabes and I don’t look like a six-pack on ‘roids,” Stiles says gesturing to his chest, a motion that has Derek’s eyes flickering to follow unconsciously. His eyes linger far too long on the lean frame of the guy in front of him. Luckily Stiles doesn’t notice. “Plus, working with Jackson. Urgh. No thank you. So I’m kind of stuck with a limited income. I’m already pulling triple shifts at Starbucks. Unless I can pay you with coffee? Barista discount?”

Derek blinks at Stiles, because he was only half-listening. Somehow distracted by Stiles’ hands splayed dramatically on the glass counter top of the kiosk, his pinkened face flushed with energy and his lips chapped from worrying them when Derek took the time to examine the phone.

“Yeah,” Derek says and mentally kicks himself for agreeing. Stiles’ eyes light up.

“Dude, you won’t regret it. This is amazing,” he says, gleeful and lunges across the counter for an awkward hug that has Derek even more bewildered as he gets a lungful of wintergreen mint and burnt coffee and something purely Stiles. The hug is over before he realizes it and Stiles is grinning at him.

Derek hates people. But somehow, Stiles is becoming an exception.

***

"Pumpkin Spice latte," Stiles says with a flourish, startling Derek from his inventory. His pencil lead snaps from the pressure. He looks up to see Stiles holding a venti sized cup of Starbucks.

"I said coffee," Derek says and mentally hears Laura berating him on his manners. Because free is still free. But technically he extended Stiles’ warranty to include falling into a storm drain so Derek doesn’t feel guilty at the hangdog expression Stiles is sporting. Not one bit.

Maybe a little.

Derek exhales his frustration. Things were easier when he worked at the used bookstore. He doesn’t go to Barnes & Noble on principle for running them out of business. Now he works here at WIND where he doesn’t even have an alcove to hide in.

Stiles recovers with a grin, forcing the cup into Derek’s hand. “Trust me, you’ll like it,” says Stiles. “And I got you a cookie. You like chocolate chip, right?”

Derek’s stomach gurgles at the sweet whiff of chocolate. Stiles smiles knowingly.

"Knew you had a sweet tooth," he says before awkwardly stuffing his empty hands in his pockets which leaves Derek to drink the latte to avoid staring at Stiles’ hips.

"Good right?" says Stiles. Derek can’t help his involuntary lips from quirking up at the spicy taste of cinnamon and pumpkin.

Stiles actually preens and leans up on the kiosk’s counter. “See? Delicious.”

"So it&#8217;s broken," says Stiles holding out his cellphone.
Derek knows Stiles Stilinski far too intimately in these respects. First name basis. Derek hates people talking to him. And he knows the irony. He works at a WIND kiosk. Laura mocks his pain a lot. But not too much. He got her the new iPhone. It&#8217;s the only perk. People keep talking to him. And by people, he means Stiles Stilinski. And yes, that&#8217;s the name on record. Derek checked. Twice.
"This is the third time this month," says Derek and his eyebrows do that thing where the climb up his forehead. He really can&#8217;t control that. He&#8217;s spent long night monopolizing the bathroom mirror trying. He stopped when Laura started picking the lock and posting the pictures on facebook.
And Stiles flushes, the pink hue creeps down his neck and it distracts Derek because Stiles looks embarrassed and twitchy.
"It&#8217;s still under warranty, right? Because Abercrombie and Fitch are only hiring Jackson-wannabes and I don&#8217;t look like a six-pack on &#8216;roids," Stiles says gesturing to his chest, a motion that has Derek&#8217;s eyes flickering to follow unconsciously. His eyes linger far too long on the lean frame of the guy in front of him. Luckily Stiles doesn&#8217;t notice. "Plus, working with Jackson. Urgh. No thank you. So I&#8217;m kind of stuck with a limited income. I&#8217;m already pulling triple shifts at Starbucks. Unless I can pay you with coffee? Barista discount?"
Derek blinks at Stiles, because he was only half-listening. Somehow distracted by Stiles&#8217; hands splayed dramatically on the glass counter top of the kiosk, his pinkened face flushed with energy and his lips chapped from worrying them when Derek took the time to examine the phone.
"Yeah," Derek says and mentally kicks himself for agreeing. Stiles&#8217; eyes light up.
"Dude, you won&#8217;t regret it. This is amazing," he says, gleeful and lunges across the counter for an awkward hug that has Derek even more bewildered as he gets a lungful of wintergreen mint and burnt coffee and something purely Stiles. The hug is over before he realizes it and Stiles is grinning at him.
Derek hates people. But somehow, Stiles is becoming an exception.

"So it’s broken," says Stiles holding out his cellphone.

Derek knows Stiles Stilinski far too intimately in these respects. First name basis. Derek hates people talking to him. And he knows the irony. He works at a WIND kiosk. Laura mocks his pain a lot. But not too much. He got her the new iPhone. It’s the only perk. People keep talking to him. And by people, he means Stiles Stilinski. And yes, that’s the name on record. Derek checked. Twice.

"This is the third time this month," says Derek and his eyebrows do that thing where the climb up his forehead. He really can’t control that. He’s spent long night monopolizing the bathroom mirror trying. He stopped when Laura started picking the lock and posting the pictures on facebook.

And Stiles flushes, the pink hue creeps down his neck and it distracts Derek because Stiles looks embarrassed and twitchy.

"It’s still under warranty, right? Because Abercrombie and Fitch are only hiring Jackson-wannabes and I don’t look like a six-pack on ‘roids," Stiles says gesturing to his chest, a motion that has Derek’s eyes flickering to follow unconsciously. His eyes linger far too long on the lean frame of the guy in front of him. Luckily Stiles doesn’t notice. "Plus, working with Jackson. Urgh. No thank you. So I’m kind of stuck with a limited income. I’m already pulling triple shifts at Starbucks. Unless I can pay you with coffee? Barista discount?"

Derek blinks at Stiles, because he was only half-listening. Somehow distracted by Stiles’ hands splayed dramatically on the glass counter top of the kiosk, his pinkened face flushed with energy and his lips chapped from worrying them when Derek took the time to examine the phone.

"Yeah," Derek says and mentally kicks himself for agreeing. Stiles’ eyes light up.

"Dude, you won’t regret it. This is amazing," he says, gleeful and lunges across the counter for an awkward hug that has Derek even more bewildered as he gets a lungful of wintergreen mint and burnt coffee and something purely Stiles. The hug is over before he realizes it and Stiles is grinning at him.

Derek hates people. But somehow, Stiles is becoming an exception.