So CharWright5/Kitstiles has been such a cool person. Taking my prompts. Taking my terrible yet not so terrible ideas and running drabbles with them. (I mean, if you put Grant Ward and Derek Hale in front of me… I have super mega first world problems) I thought it was time to give back. So she gave me:

Sterek, #40: "Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

Does this count as a bribe? Can this count as a bribe? If it does yay! If it doesn't… uh… I'll think of something later.

Don't own anything. Teen Wolf belongs to… whatever copyright. Probably MTV. And Jeff Davis. Not me.

So yeah, 1st time writing Sterek. Hope ya like it.

Also, be mindful of your drinks at parties.

Try the Punch

The party had ended abruptly. That seemed to be the trend for any party Lydia threw, whether she planned it or not. This time it'd ended not with a death, but with a mild skirmish that hadn't escalated enough to be considered a melee… or a brawl. Not that Stiles remembered much of it. Well, he'd remembered it well up to a certain point. Something to do with Ethan, Aiden, Jackson, and a purple giraffe. That didn't sound completely right, but it didn't sound wrong either. And then he drank the punch. Maybe that's when the purple giraffe showed up. Sounds about right. And it all went downhill from there.

Somehow he'd wound up back in his Jeep. In the passenger seat. With Derek Hale driving. Wait, how the hell did Derek get the keys to his Jeep? Aw, he looked so cool driving with that determined look on his face. It'd probably look a lot hotter if they were in Derek's Camaro.

Wait. Hold the phone. Ending thought process. What?

"You really need to stop drinking her punch." A gruff voice broke the silence in the Jeep.

Yeah. Drinking punch. Man, good things never happened when you drank Lydia Martin's punch. Damn. And now he was alone with Derek. This probably wasn't going to end well. Stiles was probably gonna wind up maimed. Or worse, in his inebriated state, he might cause the werewolf to finally follow through on his threat to rip his throat out. With his teeth. Oh yeah. That was real attractive.

"Stiles?" Now one of Derek's hands was on his shoulder, squeezing it, breaking Stiles out of his trance.

"Huh?" Stiles hadn't realized that Derek had parked, gotten out, and opened the passenger door.

"We're here." The older male said, pulling Stiles from the Jeep.

"Here?"

"My place." Stiles' eyes gazed skyward to the face of the building that housed Derek's loft, windows dark against the moonless sky. He allowed Derek to drag him to the elevator and into the loft, his feet stumbling over themselves as he tried to walk. When they got to the metal stairs, Derek just hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him up to a bedroom.

"I finally get to see upstairs." Stiles grinned from behind Derek as the taller man yanked his shoes off and threw them off to the side. "Stripping me? Derek. You shouldn't have." Stiles let out a grunt as Derek tossed him onto the king sized bed. "This where the magic happens sourwolf? Are you gonna take advantage of poor, defenseless, little Stiles?"

Derek scoffed, turning away but even with his hazy vision, Stiles caught a glimpse of a smirk beneath the stubble the werewolf was sporting.

"Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?"

That comment was met with a shirt being thrown at his face, followed by a snarl as Derek disappeared into the adjoining bathroom. Fine. Stupid sourwolf. Couldn't even take a joke. Stiles pulled the shirt off his face and leaned back onto the bed. Wow it was soft. He could sleep here for the rest of his life. It smelled clean too. A snorting sound drew Stiles' attention to the bedroom door, where Peter now stood, eyeballing the teen laying on the bed. In an instant, Derek was there.

"Out." He growled at his uncle, Peter smirking, stepping back as Derek closed the door in his face.

From behind the door, Peter called. "I left some toys under the bed." A book hit the closed door followed by a loud snarl before the older man's laughter disappeared.

"You have toys?" Stiles whispered, now struggling to sit up.

"No. Stiles. Not those kind of toys." Derek said firmly, pushing Stiles back down. "You. Bed. Now."

"You're no fun." Stiles grumbled as Derek glared back at him. "No smiles at all."

"Arms up."

"Seriously dude?" The teenager huffed, but raised his arm and allow Derek to undress him and change his shirt. "Did you like the show, sourwolf?" To which Derek growled, and was on top of him, pinning him to the mattress, his eyes glowing red, their faces inches apart. They stayed like that, Derek slowly allowing their foreheads to touch as their eyes locked. And then Stiles promptly began making generic kissing noises while puckering his lips. The werewolf growled and pulled away.

"Go to sleep Stiles."

"You're a killjoy Derek. A real stick in the mud." Stiles mumbled, his eyes closing as he curled up amongst the sheets and pillows. When Derek returned to the bedside with painkillers and a bottle of water, Stiles was fast asleep. And snoring. After setting down the painkillers and water on the table next to the bed, Derek tucked Stiles under the covers and climbed in. Between Stiles' snoring, and constant shifting on the bed, he wasn't getting any sleep anytime soon.

Derek really had to stop being Stiles' plus one to parties.

When Stiles' hand wound up whacking Derek in the face an hour later, the werewolf decided that there would be no more punch for Stiles either.

The End

I think that was my first prompt. Thanks Char! You're awesome! And if you guys like Sterek... Kames... go read her stuff. It's pretty awesomesauce.