Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.

Summary: "Studying,huh?" Scott questioned as his eyes narrowed. He had skimmed over one about them "studying."

"...yes, we're studying," Stiles replied. The line was silent for a few tense moments before Stiles' concerned voice sounded once more. "Scott, are you ok? What happened?"

Scott swallowed hard. "Sterek happened."

Or, the one where most of Beacon Hills may or may not ship Sterek.

(They totally do.)

Author's Notes: Heh heh... Yeah, don't even ask...

XOXOXOXO

Scott stared at his laptop screen with large, unblinking eyes, his jaw open so wide he was surprised it wasn't resting on the carpet. He barely managed to get a grip of himself as he closed his mouth and scrubbed furiously at his eyes with his fists.

"I've got to be dreaming," he whispered to himself. "Yeah, that's it. I'm going to wake up in a few minutes and laugh about this..."

As he peeled his hands away from his eyes, he slowly opened his brown orbs, only for them to go wide once more as he saw the exact same thing as before.

"Shit," Scott whispered, swallowing thickly as he leaned in closer to get a better look. "I'm not dreaming."

He reached blindly for his phone as he refused to remove his eyes from the laptop screen, knocking empty pop cans and chips bags onto the floor. When he felt the hard, smooth material, he latched onto it and flipped it opened. He pressed the 1 button, knowing it would start dialing Stiles. He held it up to his ear as his eyes frantically swept back and forth over the words on his screen, wanting to keep reading and stop reading all at the same time.

"Scottie! What's up, bro?" Stiles voice sounded through the phone, making Scott jump at his best friends loud voice.

"O-oh! H-hey, Stiles!" he replied cheerfully, tearing his eyes away from screen as he forced his chair to spin around and face the wall. He forced himself to let out an amused sounding laugh before his entire expression fell to something more serious, his voice taking on a heavier tone. "Stiles, there's something you need to see. Like, right freaking now."

"Uh, is everything all right, buddy?" Stiles asked, his voice low and gentle in Scott's ear.

"Uh, I'll leave you and Derek to figure that one out," Scott replied, running a hand through his hair and pulling on it desperately. "Is Derek with you? He needs to get his ass over here, too."

"Y-yeah," Stiles stuttered. "We were doing some research. He was also helping me study for the history test."

Scott gulped loudly, shrugging out of his sweater as he felt the room grow hotter.

"Studying,huh?" Scott questioned as his eyes narrowed. He had skimmed over one about them "studying."

"...yes, studying," Stiles replied. The line was silent for a few tense moments before Stiles' concerned voice sounded once more. "Scott, are you ok? What happened?"

Scott swallowed once more. "Sterek happened."

"Um... excuse me?"

"Look, just get your asses over here! You need to see this for yourself."

With that, Scott hung up, tossing his phone onto his bed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he turned his chair to face his laptop once more. He reached out with a shaky hand before quickly minimizing the page. He let out a sigh of relief as the page disappeared from his sight.

He swiped the back of his hand across his forehead, getting rid of the small sheen of sweat that had gathered there. He had just tried looking up the history of Beacon Hills High for a school project, but of course things didn't go the way he planned. One link had led to another, and that link had taken him to some crazy sex shop's website, where he had stumbled upon a local writing forum that he didn't know existed.

He should have really stopped there. He should have hit the back button until he was back on the Google home page, but his damn curiosity had gotten the better of him. That had led to him scrolling through some weird type of category list, which had a link for the Beacon Hills High section near the top. He had clicked on it without hesitation, only for his innocent eyes to widen in horror at what he found.

Sterek.

There were stories of them. Drawings of them. Photo shopped pictures of them.

Them being Stiles and Derek, of course. Stiles and Derek doing things together. Sexually.

And it was all drawn and written by his fellow high school students. And by the looks of the username, "coach cupcake," Scott guessed the coach was in on it as well. And quite possibly others faculty members.

Without another moments hesitation, Scott closed his laptop and did a full body shudder. He felt almost guilty for having read a few of those stories about his best friend. It made him feel like he was invading Stiles' privacy, even though his fellow peers obviously had no qualms about it.

Scott face palmed himself, coming to a conclusion. All of those times at school when he had caught people staring at Stiles, or even caught them whispering to their friends as they made it blatantly obvious whom they were gossiping about, they were never trash-talking about how much of a nerd or a loser Stiles was. Hell, from all of the thousands of stories he had just skimmed over, he was 99.99999% confident to say that Stiles might actually be the most popular person at school, even if he was completely oblivious to it. No, all this time they had probably been chit-chatting about the latest piece of smut that they had read about Stiles and Derek doing the horizontal tango.

Scott blushed as red as a tomato as he remembered each and every time he walked down the hallway with Stiles and noticed the more beefy, muscular jocks staring at Stiles with an almost hungry look on their face as they covered their crotches with their textbooks. Of course, that had been only mere seconds before they would dive into the nearest bathroom. Scott finally understood why the bathroom always reeked of sex. And it was all because of Stiles.

"Ok, Scott," he muttered to himself. "Just keep calm until they get here. Just don't think about it and you'll be fine." Oh, how he wished he could believe himself, but it was quite hard to ignore the problem when it had given him the most uncomfortable, confusing boner in his entire life.

XOXOXOXO

Stiles didn't bother knocking on the front door. He just twisted the knob and stumbled inside, feeling Derek's hand's grab his waist to steady him.

"Scott!" Stiles yelled, hurrying up the stairway to Scott's bedroom. He didn't need to look behind him to know that Derek was following. He could feel the warm outline of his torso pressed up against his back. He prayed to every god there was that he wouldn't accidentally pop a boner in his presence.

"Scottie?" Stiles called, pushing the door to Scott's room open. He stopped in his tracks when he spotted his best friend lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling as if it were the most fascinating thing in the world. He shuffled into the room a little more, peeking up at Derek with a confused look. He watched as the older man sniffed twice at the air before a grimace fell onto his face. Stiles widened his eyes in realization.

"Jesus, Scott! On the phone you made it sound like there was a dire emergency. And yet you find time to rub one out while you're waiting for us?"

At Stiles' words, Scott sat up with what was supposed to be a glare on his face. In Stiles' opinion, it looked more like a sad frown.

"I couldn't help it!" Scott protested, the hundredth blush of the night making it's way onto his cheeks. He pointed an accusing finger at the pair. "Besides, it's all your fault!"

Stiles spluttered, his eyes going wide. His mouth fell open like he was going to respond to Scott's outrageous claim, but he just ended up looking like a gaping fish because what in the holy hell was he supposed to even do with that information?

"Um, excuse me?" Stiles finally managed to choke out. He cast a look towards Derek, finding his usual 'I'm bored' look firmly in place. Stiles felt the strong urge to smack him right across his stupidly good-looking face. But Stiles was rather fond of his throat, and he'd rather not have sharp, pointy fangs anywhere near it, thank you very much.

Scott leaped up from his bed and stalked over to his computer, making a 'come hither' gesture with his hands. "You guys need to see this." He looked over his shoulder at the two, squinting his eyes in a look of suspicion. "Unless you already have..."

Derek let out an impatient sigh and gently pushed the small of Stiles' back with his hand, steering them towards Scott's laptop. Stiles leaned forward and placed his palms flat on Scott's desk, waiting for him to flip the laptop back open. Stiles drummed his fingers on the desk as his teeth started munching on his bottom lip, his nervous habbits rushing in like a tidal wave as he realized that Derek's crotch was inches away from his ass. And it really wasn't helping his nerves when he could feel the warm puffs of Derek's breath hitting the back of his neck.

As Scott plopped down onto his leather chair, the air was released from it in a small whoosh. The serious, wide-eyed look he cast his friends would have normally made Stiles laugh hysterically, because, come on. Scott's expression on an every day basis looked like a combination of being oddly smitten and having to take a dump. As for looking serious? Just no. At best, he looked like a frightened cartoon deer with large, overly drawn eyes. But this time Stiles let it go because he was honestly a little frightened of what Scott was going to show him.

"Ok, guys. Brace yourselves," Scott whispered, slowly reaching his hands out to grab his laptop. Then, like someone quickly ripping off a band-aid, Scott flipped the top open and a hand-drawn picture assaulted Stiles' vision.

Now, as someone who couldn't draw to save his own life, Stiles had to give the artist props. The two people, both males by the look of it, were both drawn very well. The outline of their bodies twined intimately around each other was very impressive, and the obvious look of sheer ecstasy on the smaller ones face made Stiles feel like he was looking at an actual picture that was in black and white. Not to mention, the incredible detail of the older man's scruffy jaw and the cute moles on the younger-

-andholyshitthatwasStiles. Stiles and Derek. A picture of them having sex. A picture of them having sex that someone frickin' took the time to draw. By hand. Of Stiles!

Stiles knew his mouth was hanging open when he spun around to look at Derek, but he really didn't care. He was in shock, ok? And by the small glare Derek was sending the computer as he crossed his arms over his chest, he clearly wasn't amused. Especially with the way he was slightly shaking his head 'no.' It was quite obvious that-

"They drew my eyebrows wrong."

-that Stiles' brain was seriously going to explode and leak out of his ears, because what the actual fuck? Had he just heard Derek correctly?

"What?" Stiles squeaked. He snapped his mouth shut, his teeth clicking together audibly as his eyes widened to the size of the moon. Out of all the things to come out of Derek's mouth, he had not expected to hear that.

Derek huffed impatiently. "I said they drew my eyebrows wrong. They're not that big."

Silence.

The room was silent for a few moments as Stiles and Scott processed that information, Derek staring at them the whole time. Stiles cocked his head like a puppy at he stared at the alpha, his mouth opening to say something, but instead of words coming out, loud, obnoxious laughter bubbled out instead.

Derek frowned deeper.

Scott looked like a frightened kitten.

Tears of laughter flowed down Stiles cheeks. It was just too damn funny.

"Stiles!" Scott yelped. "I just found an entire internet community dedicated to you and Derek having sex! And what do you do? You laugh like it's normal!"

That made Stiles stop laughing, a semi-serious expression taking over his face. "You mean there's more?"

Scott rubbed his eyes wearily. "God yes. There's thousands."

Stiles gave him a funny look. "Jesus. How long have you been looking at these?"

Scott blushed.

Derek snickered.

"Oh my god," Stiles mumbled under his breath. "And I thought I was perverted."

"Hey!" Scott protested, minimizing the page on his laptop, only to click on another tab.

"Oops, sorry. Forgot you had super hearing."

"Mmhm," Scott hummed, eyes narrowing in suspicion. He gestured awkwardly to his laptop once more, blushing as he did so.

Stiles blinked and leaned in closer, eyes scanning the words on the screen. His eyes widened once again.

"Holy fuck," Stiles exclaimed, voice low and raspy because he really needed a glass of water right now. "Thirty-thousand story entries?!"

"I told you!" Scott whined, gesturing wildly to his laptop. "There's tons of them!"

"Yes, Scott. Thanks for stating the obvious," Stiles snarked, arms flailing.

An annoyed huff brought Stiles' attention back to Derek, whom was casually leaning against Scott's wall and examining his fingernails like a bratty, teenage girl.

"And you!" Stiles blurted, pointing a long, accusing finger at Derek, whom just stared at him through squinty eyes. "Oh, don't give me that look, mister. Why the hell aren't you acting more surprised?"

"Because I'm not."

Well.

Fine then.

Stiles really really really wanted to ask why, but he was a little afraid of the answer Derek would give him.

"What do you mean you're not?!" Scott, god bless him, piped up, eyes large and filled with horror. Stiles sort of wanted to kiss him silly for being the person to ask.

Derek sighed and connected eyes with Scott. "I already knew about them. They've been there for a few years now."

"What the fuck,Derek?!" Stiles squeaked, fanning himself with his hand because was it getting hotter in the room, or was it just him? "So, what? You read these, these-"

"Fanfictions," Scott volunteered.

Stiles scowled. "Yeah, thank you, Scott." The heavy sarcasm in the words made Scott visibly cringe, but Stiles really didn't care at the moment. He turned his attention back to an amused looking Derek before continuing his rant. "So you just sit in your little wolf den and read fanfiction about us fucking, and then just come up and talk to me the next day like everything is normal?! Like you didn't just read about how I had my dick up your ass?"

Derek tilted his head to the side in thought. "Usually it's the other way around," he pointed out in a casual tone, like he was commenting about the weather.

Aaaand Stiles was done.

He had just been the survivor of a complete and utter mind-fuck. And seeing the utmost horrified expression on Scott's face, he was 100% sure his best friend had just survived a mind-rape.

Stiles closed his eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply and out slowly. His fingers twitched at his sides.

"You did not just say that," Stiles hissed, crossing his arms over his chest and tapping his foot on the floor.

Derek mirrored Stiles' body language and stepped closer, a freaking smirk spreading out across his lips. Derek leaned forward, face inches away from Stiles' before murmuring, "But I did."

Oh. It was on.

"All right!" Stiles grouched, throwing his hands up in defeat. "That's it! I've had enough for today. Stiles is officially done. Done I tell you!" Stiles looked at his best friend, who was still staring at Derek with a completely terrified expression, jaw hanging wide open. "I'll see you at school tomorrow, Scott. And for gods sakes close your mouth, otherwise Derek here might get the wrong idea."

Stiles knew the jab was childish, but he couldn't help it. His poor brain had suffered enough for one night. He wasn't thinking straight. Heh, pun intended.

"And you!" Stiles continued, grabbing a handful of Derek's shirt, glaring up into the amused looking face. "You and I are going back to my place and having a nice, long chat about why it's considered impolite to read gay porn online that features you and your friends, and, and..."

And fuck. Shit, shit, shit. Now he was thinking about what Derek's dick would feel like in his mouth. Would it be as warm as Derek's hands? Or would it be warmer? What would it taste like? Perhaps it would be a little salty, mixed with the sharp, sweet smell that always seemed to follow Derek around.

Stiles, stop it. Get ahold of yourself, damn it.

He needed to stop his thoughts as soon as possible before his dick started to catch up with them.

As Stiles sent one last glare towards Derek, who was freaking smirking, the dumb jerk, he pulled on the front of his Henley, dragging him out of the room. Well, Stiles supposed the word dragging was a bit over-exaggerating. He knew better than anyone that Derek was a pure wall of solid, 250-pound muscle. Derek couldn't be dragged by anyone even if he wanted them to. Which, come to think of it, why would Derek want them to?

Anyways, that was beside the point. The real point was that Derek weighed 1000 freaking pounds and was definitely aware of it, but decided it was probably best not to agitate Stiles further and go along with his crazy teenage ideas.

Either way, Stiles didn't remove his hand. He just kept 'dragging' until they were outside and crawling into their respective sides of Derek's Camero. Stiles had wanted to take his jeep over to Scott's, but somebody had vetoed that option by claiming "that piece of scrap metal is an accident waiting to happen."

Stupid Derek.

The drive back to Stiles house was a quiet one. Neither of them spoke. Stiles just slumped in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest, shooting daggers at Derek from the corner of his eye every once in a while. Derk just looked smug if the upward curl of his lips was anything to go by.

When they finally arrived back at Stiles' house, Stiles didn't bother trying to drag Derek with him. He knew he'd follow. So instead, he marched into his dark house, letting the door bang loudly against the wall. What he wasn't expecting was to hear a high-pitched scream come from the darkness of his kitchen.

Stiles jumped backwards, his back plastered to the wall as he gripped his chest with his hand, letting out a scream of his own. And if anyone tried to say that his scream sounded like a little girls, well, he really couldn't argue with them.

The only thing that stopped the screaming was the lights abruptly turning on, courtesy of Derek, whose face looked downright ruffled. In fact, the look on his face would have made Stiles burst out laughing in hysterics if he wasn't concentrating so hard on not pissing his pants.

"Dad?" Stiles wheezed, taking in the sight of his dad sitting at the kitchen table. His dads face was pale and he looked incredibly startled, which was probably a mirror of Stiles' own expression.

"Christ, Stiles!" the sheriff shouted, though not neccesarily sounding angry. "Are you trying to give me a heart attack?!"

Stiles really didn't know how to respond to that. He just didn't know.

"Me?!" he blurted, eyes going wide with shock. He gestured to his father with his hands, flailing them wildly. "Why on earth are you sitting here in the dark?!"

The sheriff looked a bit embarrassed at the question, choosing to scratch as his head with one hand and gesture at the closed laptop in front of him with the other. "I wasn't in the dark," he replied in a slow, gruff voice. "My laptop is on and the screen was illuminating the room."

Stiles let out a sarcastic snort. "Obviously not enough if I couldn't see light through the window." The sheriff just opens his mouth like he's going to reply, but then abruptly closes it, which allows Stiles to continue with 20 questions. "And, why are you sitting here without the lights on, dad? I know for a fact that you paid the electric bill this month."

At the question, the sheriffs cheeks and neck flush a dark pink color, making Stiles raise his eyebrows in confusion.

Derek snorts out a laugh beside him, and Stiles throws him a questioning gaze. Derek just looks back towards the sheriff, then back at Stiles before he huffs out another laugh. Stiles just scratches at his head in serious confusion because what the hell is so damn funny?

He just glances back and forth between his dad and Derek, the former looking a bit pinker every second that ticks by, and the latter laughing so much that it's sort of scaring Stiles, to be honest. Stiles lives for figuring out mysteries and solving puzzles, but he just gets more confused by the second. He also feels like the giant elephant in the room because he feels like he's the only one whose missing something in this picture, like his dad and Derek are having some private conversation using their own telepathic communication.

"Derek," Stiles says awkwardly, not really knowing how to deal with a laughing Derek. Moody and full-of-sas Derek? Now, that's the Derek that he's familiar with. However, this new, alien-like Derek who actually laughs for more than a few seconds is completely foreign to Stiles, and he has no idea whatsoever how to make him snap out of it. He supposed a punch to the face like usual would be frowned upon being his dad was sitting less than 10 feet away.

"Derek," he tries again, his voice a low hiss this time and he pokes the werewolf in the side. It works a little. Derek stops his hooting and shoots Stiles a watery-eyed look. "Derek, knock it off," he presses, grabbing the werewolf's hand in his own. Derek does stop after that, surprisingly, and looks down at their intertwined hands before shooting the sheriff a look out of the corner of his eye.

Stiles follows his gaze and frowns. His dad is looking towards the two of them, but his eyesight is focused lower than that. His jaw is a bit slack and he looks like he's about to drool any second. His skin in now in a full flush, sort of like how Stiles cheeks got when he was super turned on and...

And wait a second...

Was his dad-

No. No. Not possible...

...Or, was it?

Stiles' body tensed up as he slowly turned his gaze to where the sheriffs was directed, which happened to be...

Which was right where Derek and Stiles hands were linked together.

Stiles snatched his hand away like it was burned, casting a scandalized look towards Derek, who had the audacity to just give him The Eyebrow. His head whipped towards his father whose trance had been broken. Instead, he was wringing his hands nervously over his laptop and shifting his eyes every which way, using the same mannerisms that he did when he felt really guilty about something.

"Oh my god," Stiles whispers to himself, running a sweaty hand through his hair. "Oh my fucking god."

"Stiles," his father blurts out, looking highly uncomfortable and only a little constipated. "I can explain-"

"Oh, uh, geez!" Stiles interrupts, lifting his wrist to check his non-existent watch. "Wow, the day really got away from me. I, um, I have some homework to go finish, and, um, yeah I'll just, uh, I'll just go and-"

Stiles doesn't even finish his inane rambling. He just bolts. He bolts right up the stairs and into his room, not bothering to close the door because he knows Derek will be right behind him. And in the meantime, he just paces his room, his hands gripping his hair as he tries to erase every single memory that he's gathered from the past few hours. In fact, it would be best if he could just forget this whole day completely, but the only way that will happen is if he hits himself hard enough over the head with a heavy object to get a concussion. The only flaw in that plan is he really really doesn't like pain, so that's a big, fat no.

He whips around as he hears the familiar creek of the floorboards, blinking large eyes as Derek walks into his room and closes the door behind him. He gives a huff and opens his mouth to say something, but Stiles beats him to it.

"My dad is reading gay porn about us!" he blurts, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. He shakes his head a little at how absurd the statement sounded out loud. Seriously. On his list of top 10 things he never thought he would ever say out loud, that declaration pretty much took up all 10 spots.

"Yes. Yes he is," Derek replies, raising an eyebrow and smirking.

"Derek," Stiles whines, making fists with his hands. "Can't you take this seriously?"

Derek snorts. "No. No I can't."

Stiles crosses his arms across his chest and just glares.

Derek just sighs and rolls his eyes. "Stiles, a lot of people read gay porn. It's no big deal."

"No big deal?!" Stiles squawks. "Last time I checked, most parents don't read porn about their kids!"

Derek just rolled his eyes. "And last time I checked, there was no such thing as werewolves."

"Don't turn this around, damn it!" Stiles growled, flopping back onto his bed, a whoosh of breath leaving his mouth.

"Stiles," Derek said, crossing his arms across his broad chest. "I really wouldn't be surprised if the old woman next door read it too. Every town has it's secrets, you know. This just happens to be Beacon Hills'."

Stiles propped himself up on his elbows and just stared.

"That's our secret?" Stiles asked. He blinked dumbly at Derek for a few moments. He hoisted himself up off of the bed and caught his reflection in the mirror. He looked a little dumbfounded. Oh, hell. He looked a lot dumbfounded.

He gave himself a sarcastic smile in the mirror. "Why, what else would be the big town secret, Stiles?" he asked himself, not even bothering to look at Derek's face. It would probably just be amusement or disappointment. "Oh, surely not the fact that there are werewolves crawling around at night. Certainly not that."

"Are you done being an idiot?" Derek growled.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Stiles bit out, spinning on his heels to face the alpha. "Am I wasting your time? Time you could be using to go read gay porn about us?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Derek chuckled, an almost predatory grin falling onto his lips. And, yep, Stiles was starting to get a bit creeped out again. Especially when Derek was crowding into his space and pushing him up against his wall and, yeah, this was all pretty familiar.

"I-I don't see what's so ridiculous about that question," Stiles stammered, eyes looking everywhere except for at the face in front of him. He gulped audibly when two, strong, muscular arms rested against the wall on either side of his head. And, ok, when did his heart start fluttering like a little girls?

"I find it ridiculous because I don't read any of it," Derek replied, his voice low and silky. His warm, sweet breath ghosting across Stiles' cheek made Stiles' pants start to feel a bit restricting. Derek leaned in close to Stiles' ear, causing Stiles' eyelids to flutter shut and a pathetic whimper to leave his mouth. "I write it."

The words had been whispered so quietly that Stiles was sure he hadn't heard correctly. But when he realized the words had actually been spoken out loud, his brain skidded to a halt, which meant that the obscenely loud moan that left his mouth had been all on him.

Derek just chuckled throatily, turning his face at an angle so both of their lips were inches away. One of the alphas fingers trailed seductively down Stiles' cheek, making the younger boys eyes roll to the back of his head. "Good night, Stiles," Derek purred. Then he was gone, just like that.

Stiles blinked his eyes open and stared blankly at his closed door, wondering what in the ever living fuck had just happened. It had almost seemed as if... as if Derek had come on to him.

Stiles snorted to himself, because, yeah right. Derek was, like, a 1000 on the 1 to 10 scale of hotness. And Stiles, well, he was Stiles. He was an obnoxious smartass who had lanky, flailing limbs and zero sex appeal. Well, ok. Stiles may have been a bit obsessed with his own lips. It's just, they were so soft and pouty looking. Not to mention, on more than one occasion he had practiced kissing himself in the mirror, just so he could see what his lips would look like fitting against another human beings, but that was all beside the point. The point was, nobody found him attractive. End of story.

But as his dick throbbed in his pants, he thought that perhaps he's been wrong the whole time. Derek had just confessed that he wrote gay porn about the two of them! That had to mean something.

Stiles just groaned and massaged his temples, not really wanting to think anymore. He'd done enough thinking for the day, and look where that had gotten him. Yup, no more thinking for him.

Stiles crawled underneath his covers, still fully clothed, and pulled the blanket over his head. He closed his eyes and sighed impatiently a few times, trying to get comfortable enough to fall asleep. However, he found it hard to get some shut eye when his dick was so hard that it could slice his bed sheets in half.

"No, you're a traitor," Stiles whisper-hissed, glaring at his crotch. "You don't deserve to be touched."

As his refusal to relieve the pressure in his pants stretched on for a couple uncomfortable minutes, he really started to wonder who the actual loser in this scenario was: him, or his dick?

Despite the fact that his dick was still rock hard, he somehow managed to fall asleep.

XOXOXOXO

Stiles hummed happily to himself as he stuffed his things in his backpack the next morning, swinging his butt back and forth to the beat of the song. He felt good today, all fresh and tingly from jerking off in the warm shower he had just taken. It had melted away all of the stress from the horrible nightmare he had had.

He snorted quietly to himself as he remembered the details of it and how strange it had been. He had dreamt that all of Beacon Hills somehow had a thing for seeing him and Derek together. Like, sexually. And though Stiles can't deny the fact that Derek was smokin' hot, the fact that anyone would want to see a piece of eye candy like Sourwolf swap spit with someone like Stiles was just beyond ridiculous.

Oh! And the funniest part of the dream had been that Derek actually wrote fanfiction about them, and Stiles' own father read it! What a laugh! Derek would rather soon maim and kill Stiles before he ever would think about kissing him. And as for his dad, well, yeah, he just wasn't gonna go there. The thought was way to ridiculous.

Stiles sighed happily to himself as he shrugged, scooping up his backpack and throwing it over his shoulder. He grabbed his keys from his desk and practically skipped to the stairs. He grinned to himself as he heard his dad whistling downstairs, the smell of crisp bacon filling the air.

He quickly scampered down the stairs, grinning goofily at the back of his dads head. He darted over and grabbed four pieces of bacon, shoving one into his mouth.

"Morning, dad!" Stiles greeted cheerfully, plopping himself down in a kitchen chair, right in front of a glass of orange juice.

"Hey kid. Did you sleep good?" his father asked, turning around and facing Stiles.

Stiles was just about to nod his head before he went off on a rant about the history test he had today, but the sight of his father made his eyes widen and his jaw fall open in shock.

The sheriff looked at him expectantly, raising an eyebrow as if what he was wearing was the most normal thing in the world.

"Dad?" Stiles asked slowly, his voice sounding high-pitched and weird to his own ears. "What are you wearing?"

"Hm?" The sheriff looked down in confusion, his face lighting up as he tugged on the sides of the cooking apron strapped to his front. "Oh, this! Well, I just thought since you knew about me, uh, reading stories about you and Derek, then it would be ok if I could use some of my Sterek merchandise around the house."

Stiles just blinked at him, unable to comprehend anything other than the words "sterek merchandise," and the ridiculous apron his father was wearing. The apron itself was white, but there were two little colorful chibis of Derek and Stiles on the front. Stiles was clearly stirring something in a bowl and Derek was pressing big, cartoon-like lips to chibi!Stiles' cheek. Little red and pink hearts floated in the air above them, around the black-inked words of "Kiss the Cook."

All Stiles could really do was blink and stare because he really wasn't quite sure what the protocol for this kind of thing was. Fuck, was this even a thing that happened to people? Yeah, it was called in your dreams...

...and ok, so Stiles knew he hadn't been dreaming about the previous day, but one could really, really, really hope, couldn't they?

"Merchandise?" Stiles finally managed to squeak out, cheeks going red.

"Oh, yes," his father replied, turning back around to flip more bacon. "There's online Sterek stores. A couple of them, actually. They've got all kinds of things like kitchenware, clothes, household items, phone cases-"

"Jesus," Stiles whispered to himself, scratching at his neck. He didn't know what was weirder. That people actually bought this so called "Sterek" stuff, or that his freaking dad apparently knew all of the great websites to buy it all.

Stiles cleared his throat, hoping his voice wouldn't come out as a squeak. "So... how much of this stuff do you actually own?"

The sheriff gave him a big smile over his shoulder. "Oh, a lot. Let's see, I've got a calendar, about ten coffee mugs, some sweaters, a blanket, two pillows, the station has a couple art pictures hanging on the walls-"

The station? So, this wasn't just a school wide/dad thing? It branched out to the freaking police station? Where else did Sterek branch out to?

"-was really thinking about purchasing a Sterek couch for the living room-"

Stiles head snapped up at that, his eyes wide open in horror.

"Nope," he blurted. "No. Nu-uh. Not going to happen. I am not sitting on a couch that has my own face on it."

As ridiculous as it was, the sheriff face freakin' drooped.

"But," the sheriff spoke up, waving a spatula in the air. "It's on sale."

"Jesus christ," Stiles muttered, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "Look, dad. I gotta get to school. Be careful at work."

His father smiled brightly as he shoved a paper plate into Stiles' hands. Stiles looked down at the plate of crispy bacon, just starring as he noticed the meat had been torn into smaller pieces so it could spell out one word: Sterek.

"Right," he said, voice flat. "Thanks, uh, for the bacon."

"You're welcome," John replied, going back to the stove. "Have a good day, bud. And say hello to Derek for me!"

Stiles frowned heavily, but walked out the front door anyways.

"I'm never talking to Derek again. Never ever, ever," he muttered. He continued to grumble on his way to his jeep, only to let out a girly yelp when he noticed the state of his poor vehicle.

All four tires were flat. And not just the sort of flat where you could still drive on them until you made it to the nearest air pump. Nope. Flat, like, the tires turned into giant, rubbery noodles flat.

Stiles just stared with wide eyes, hoping in place from foot to foot, incomprehensible noises falling from his mouth. If he didn't have a plate of bacon in his hands, they would have been failing all over the place. Finally, he just let out a loud whine and stumbled towards his jeep, wanting to find out exactly how this had happened.

Upon closer inspection, his found slash marks. Claw, slash marks. Claw, slash marks from a werewolf.

A blaring horn startled him, making him spin around... only to see Derek sitting behind the wheel of his Camero.

Stiles glared towards the werewolf, shifting his eyes back and forth from his tires to the alpha. It didn't take a genius to figure out who had slashed them.

Stiles took a deep breath and straightened up, walking stiffly towards the car with as much dignity as he could muster up. Which, truthfully, wasn't much.

He opened the car and got in, movements mechanical. He stared straight ahead as he buckled himself up. He could feel Derek eyes boring a hole into his head, but he ignored it. Instead, he shoved the plate into Derek's hands.

"My dad sends his best," Stiles said, voice flat as a deep frown marred his expression.

Derek snickered.

Stiles fumed.

Stiles heard the crunch of bacon between Derek's teeth before he saw the plate being offered to him.

He gave a slight shake of the head. "Just drive me to school."

Derek rose one of his stupid eyebrows before opening his mouth to reply but Stiles cut him off.

"Just drive!"

Derek just shrugged, shoving the rest of the food into his mouth and chewing carefully, backing up out of the driveway. "Your loss," he commented.

"Oh, I wish," Stiles mumbled, glaring at the trees.

He could already tell that this was going to be a long day. And it was just beginning.

XOXOXOXO

You can find my weird ass on tumblr under "hero-complex-girl"