FBI (For Basic Idiots) [FemStiles&Derek]

Weremates

“Weremates?”

“I –“ Derek chuckles, then, purses his lips and widens his eyes when he registers the actual word. “Wait, what?”

“Wait –“ Stiles holds up a finger and says, “Before I make a complete idiot out of myself... that is what you were gonna tell me... right?”

“Well, I... um... yeah. Shit.” Derek chuckles again, though, this time, is shaking his head and letting out a breath of relief when she shoots him a pleased grin. “You know, I’ve been spending all day working out how I wanted to tell you... at least, in a way that didn’t totally freak you out.”

Stiles’ grin widens with amusement when he pouts over his words. “Is that what the milkshakes were gonna be for? You stalling, while buttering me up?”

“No, actually.” Derek says, tone edging on snooty. “You like milkshakes. I like milkshakes...” He trails off with a thoughtful and slightly worried frown before speaking again. “We’re gonna be out in the woods for a few hours – are you hungry?”

“Oooh, why??” Stiles shoots him a flirty, bordering on a teasing smirk. “Are you gonna be a good boy and go hunt some dinner for me?”

Derek narrows his eyes in a pathetic glare (pathetic, because he’s trying to focus mainly on calming his racing heart and twitching cock... BOTH over her words and those sensational bow lips.)

“What?” Stiles smiles innocently back at him, bats her lashes (just for good measure.) “Isn’t that part of the presenting thing?”

Derek scoffs at her cheeky little grin then. “Yes... in ancient times... And I was just thinking I make you a picnic, or something...”

Stiles’ grin only widens as she creeps back into his personal bubble. “Sooo... you don’t wanna be a good boy and hunt some dinner for me...??” She pouts, and he groans then; grabs her roughly by her shoulders and takes her bottom lip into his mouth. “Is that a no?” She mumbles, flicks the tip of her tongue along his top lip and smirks smugly when he lets out a soft growl.

Derek lets her lip slip from between his teeth, another groan of defeat tearing from the base of his throat. He presses his forehead to hers, shoots her another pathetic glare. “Are you being serious, or are you just trying to drive me insane?” (Christ, he sounds even more pathetic.)

“As weird of a turn on as that actually is for me, no, I’m not being serious.” Stiles smiles, presses a sweet kiss to his lips when he lets out a tiny (disappointed) huff. “But we’ll see where the night takes us?” She suggests, smiles encouragingly (and OK, she’s part of the problem with the whole loving her cheeseburgers and steaks, but that doesn’t mean she’s got the stomach for –) “Wait a second...” Her eyes widen in horror at the thought. “Do I have to eat it raw?”

Derek smirks at that. “That’s not a gonna be a problem.” He sighs when she looks at him in complete confusion. “Please don’t throw up or pass out, but... the mate of werewolf, whether they’re a shifter or human, or whatever... uh... well, your stomach acids are a lot stronger than normal... strong enough to kill any harmful bacteria or parasites...”

Stiles eyes widen even more. “Wha... ew.”

Derek blinks, then, chuckles at her response and the cute little wrinkle of her nose. “So, you don’t like your steak bloody as hell?” His tone is laced with sarcasm as he arches a brow then and waits for her answer.

Stiles scoffs loudly, then, sputters out her words. “I do NOT like it bloody, I just like a little rrr–ohh...” She trails off quickly at his smirk, glares back up at him.