Jensen: I’ll give you 15 seconds to make me laugh. And if I don’t laugh, you’re in bed by ten o’clock. If I do laugh, I’m keepin’ your ass up all night. [x]
I was on my way to work, zoned out listening to some old school Shania Twain to get my life right, when two construction worker types got on the train at Penn Station. They were both middle-aged white guys with Long Island accents, mustaches, dirty jeans — the type of guys you’d expect to see on a building site. I caught a piece of their conversation when the music died before the song changed, and I decided to record them.
AU: Stiles can’t keep his hands out of other people’s pockets.
Someone needs to write this…. please~
Derek wakes up way too early; slips out of bed without waking Stiles and heads to the kitchen to drown some water. When he pads back to the bedroom, he can’t help but to stop in the doorway and just take in the sight in front of him.
The room is bathing in light as the sun rises outside the apartment window. Stiles is lying on his stomach; his arms hugging the pillow which he’s got his face buried into. Derek’s pillow. Just the fact that he reached for it in his sleep is enough to make Derek’s heart flutter.
Stiles’ skin is still pale, despite him being outside a lot lately. Derek knows he in fact tans easily, but Stiles prefers shade, and Derek really doesn’t mind. He loves Stiles skin. It’s smooth and warm and covered in moles. Stiles’ hair is a mess; longer than he ever let it grow back in High School. He never said it out loud, but Derek thinks Stiles decided to let go of his past and razor at the same time.
He asks himself how he got this lucky. How, after everything that happened in Beacon Hills, Stiles still wants him. Still wants to be with him. Even after things had gone back to normal, the way they were before they first met and this boy got sucked in knee-deep in werewolf filth, and there was really no reason for Derek to stay. And he hadn’t stayed, because Stiles had left with him.
Then Stiles shifts and turns his head towards the door, catching Derek standing there watching him. His eyes are still half-closed and the smug smile spreading on his lips is a tired one.
“Dude. I thought you’d stopped being a creeper by now.” His voice is muffled because he still got one cheek pressed against the pillow.
Derek huffs and tilts his head a little in embarrassment for being caught. “If you mean watching you, then no. Never.”
Stiles hums, blinking tiredly with heavy eyelids. His eyes are sparkling with fondness and Derek can see it even on this distance. They both remain motionless for a moment before Stiles pats on the spot next to him.
“Come back to bed.”