Sterek One Shots (boyxboy)

Jinx

Jinx by theroguesgambit
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"Oh you've got to be-" is all he has time to get out before the next disaster hits - an entire tower of canned soups collapsing as he makes his way up the aisle. At least this one isn't life threatening, Derek thinks in a quiet, resigned sort of way as a wave of metal cans slams into his legs, sending him tripping, stumbling, and falling to sprawl out helplessly on his back in the middle of the store.

Not life threatening. He tries very hard to hold onto that.

A few seconds after the last cans are done rattling, Derek hears a low whistle.

"Man, looks like those cans really had it out for you."

"They're just foot soldiers," he grumbles at the too-bright ceiling light, trying to remind himself of that so he doesn't end up crushing about a hundred and fifty hands with his bare fist.

"Just following orders, huh?" The voice teases. "Well then, I've gotta give them credit. It was a pretty good ambush."

A shadow shifts over him, a hand being offered out. Derek redirects his sullen stare to find a young man with mussed brown hair and smirking, amber eyes standing over him. Derek huffs for a second, but takes the hand and lets himself be pulled upward.

"The universe got a grudge against you or something?"

"Or something," Derek agrees, dropping his hand back to his side the second he's on his feet. A store clerk is making his way over, and Derek's teeth grit. So much for being home in time to make dinner.

"I'll help restack it," he says before anyone can start shouting. After all, he might not have touched the cans, but he'd decided to walk past them knowing full well he's cursed.

.-

Uncle Peter had always said that dating witches is a bad idea. Which isn't strictly true. Breaking up with them, however, is.

.-

The next time Derek sees the amber-eyed kid, he's making his way across a parking lot, heading for the library and their clandestine section about spells and curse-breaking. He's watching the sky for threats when a stray patch of wet ground leaves him stumbling (and what the hell, it hasn't rained in over a week) and then there's the sound of a car moving, a screech of wheels, and Derek has no time to do anything more than tense and prepare for impact.

Until a hand's gripping his arm, wrenching him out of the way hard.

The car continues to rumble through the lot, its driver oblivious or unconcerned about the man it had just nearly run over. Derek scowls after it, and a hand smacks down on his shoulder.

"Do you have any self-preservation instincts? Close your eyes and wait for the end, my god."

It's the same guy from the grocery store: soft looking spikes of brown hair and pale, mole-covered skin that's started to go flushed from frustration. Derek glances down at the hand still gripping his arm, before his gaze flits back up. The guy doesn't get the hint though, still gripping his sleeve like he might have to jerk Derek to safety again at any moment. (Which he might, considering, but it's not like he knows that.)

"Wouldn't have killed me," Derek offers, shrugging a little. "We're in a parking lot."

"Oh, so broken bones and bleeding's no big deal though, huh? Look, I didn't sign up to be traumatized by your organs spilling out all over the parking lot, or having my day wasted calling 911 and waiting for paramedics to show. Be a little considerate to the people around you, geez."