Love, Swings, and Hospital Things.

Stiles wants to go on record and say, for the love of all that is holy, this is not his fault. Okay, maybe it's partially his fault. Like, 85%, tops. But honestly, who could resist Derek Hale?

No one. That's who.

It's just that three hours ago, things seemed like a good idea. They'd gone to the park because Stiles was determined to show newly-human- Derek how much fun mundane human stuff could be. Derek had been skeptical, obviously. But Stiles had a way of dragging Derek into things he never thought he'd enjoy, which is why they ended up at the swings.

__________________

Three Hours Earlier:

"You've never swung on a swing before?" Stiles gasps, his eyes wide with mock betrayal.

"Wolves don't really do playgrounds," Derek deadpans, his hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. He's still adjusting to the slight chill of November air now that he's lacking his usual werewolf resilience.

"Well, my dude," Stiles says, clapping a hand on Derek's shoulder, "prepare to have your entire mind blown. Swings are, like, the peak of human revolution."

Derek raises a skeptical brow but let's Stiles tug him toward the swing set. The playground is empty, the perfect setting for Stiles' brand of mischief. With dramatic flair, Stiles drops into one swing and kicks his legs out.

"Observe!" he calls, leaning back as he starts to pump his legs. "It's all about rhythm and—oh yeah, freedom, baby!"

Derek rolls his eyes but sits on the swing beside Stiles. "You're a child."

"And yet, you're here, swinging beside me," Stiles counters, grinning.

To Stiles' delight, Derek starts to get the hang of it. At first, he's stiff, his legs awkwardly kicking out at odd intervals. But soon, he's swinging higher and faster, his dark hair catching the faint glow of the streetlights. For a moment, he even laughs—an actual, genuine laugh that makes Stiles' chest ache in the best way.

And that's when the idea strikes. Because what better way to celebrate Derek's newfound humanity than by being recklessly stupid? "Hey, Derek," Stiles says, slowing his swing down just enough to twist sideways. He leans toward Derek, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know what would make this more fun?

Derek narrows his eyes. "Whatever you're thinking, don't."

Stiles ignores him, planting his feet on the ground to stop his swing. "Come on, sourwolf. Live a little."

Derek mutters something about how he's already regretting this, but he lets Stiles guide him out of his swing. And that's how they end up trying to share one swing, arms tangled awkwardly, faces inches apart. Stiles is laughing so hard he can barely breathe, and Derek is glaring, but there's a flicker of amusement in his eyes that softens the look.

"You're impossible," Derek mutters.

"And yet, here we are," Stiles replies, leaning closer. "Now kiss me before you chicken out."

Derek sighs dramatically, but he closes the gap. Their lips meet, and for a moment, everything is perfect—until the swing lurches violently, and they crash to the ground in a heap of limbs and curses.

__________________

Present Time: The Hospital

"So let me get this straight," Sheriff Stilinski says, arms crossed as he fixes Stiles with his patented, you're-about-to-regret-your-life-choices glare. "Derek broke his arm because he's human now?"

"Yep," Stiles says, nodding a little too quickly. "Apparently, the spell lasts 72 hours."

"The sheriff pinches the bridge of his nose. "And the call I got about two young men engaging in 'public acts of indecency' at a neighborhood playground around 11:05 p.m.—that wasn't the two of you, was it?"

Stiles freezes. Behind him, Deputy Parrish chokes on a laugh, and Melissa McCall hides her smile behind a patient file.

"Uh..." Stiles winces. "Define public acts of indecency?"

"Stiles," Noah says, slinging an arm around his son's shoulders and pulling him in close, their faces just inches apart. "Let me remind you of something. I will not hesitate to throw both my son and his boyfriend in jail for falling off a swing and breaking an arm during a make out session in public. You understand me?"

Stiles opens his mouth to protest, but his father cuts him off. "Now go get Derek's discharge papers and get out of here before I decide to press charges."

Stiles grumbles under his breath but does as he's told. At the front desk, Derek is leaning against the counter, his right arm in a sling and a cast that's already been signed by Melissa (complete with a doodled wolf paw). He hands Stiles the discharge papers without a word.

"You ready, lover boy?" Stiles teases as they start toward the exit.

"This may be the painkillers talking," Derek begins, his voice low and almost playful, "but do you want to try that again when I have my healing powers back?"

Stiles breaks into a wide grin. "Are you kidding me? Dude, of course!"

Derek grimaces. "Don't call me 'dude.'"

"Don't be such a sourwolf," Stiles fires back, bumping their shoulders together.

Derek rolls his eyes, but there's a small smile tugging at his lips as they step into the cool night air.

__________________

It's totally not Stiles' fault. But he'll take the blame if it means Derek keeps smiling like that.

i just thought this was a fun and cute little idea!
i hope you enjoy ❤️
vote and comment my sweets ❤️