Smut Please (boyxboy) #wattys2016

Amor Incantamentum (In English) (Sterek)

Its a long one.

Summary:

"I've been watching you," the witch continued, monologuing her heart out, like some cheesy paranormal romance villain. "And out of everyone in your stupid little pack, you two are my favorite. Wanna know why?"

Stiles and Derek get cursed by a bored witch threatening Beacon Hills. 

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So, apparently, witches were actually a thing. And one happened to stroll her wicked ass into Beacon Hills, and start some shit last week. Deaton, being the usual cryptic asshole he always is, told Stiles to "be the spark", again. He gave Stiles another strange powder in one of his little Celtic-symbol salt shakers, and shoved him out the door.

Derek was waiting by his Camaro, leaning up against the driver's side door, looking pissed off as per-fucking-usual. He was yelling at someone on the phone. Scott, probably. Ever since he returned home after taking off with Cora several months ago, the two werewolves were working together, sort of. Derek seemed content to basically let Scott run the place, and step in when needed. To be honest, it made Derek less of an uptight asshole. Stiles thought that it was probably better for everyone that Derek was no longer an alpha, especially for Derek himself.

"So, Deaton was his usual vaguely helpful self," Stiles informed Derek as hung up with Scott.

"What did he give you?" Derek asked as he straightened up from his slouch against the car.

Stiles shook the small bottle, and gave Derek a manic grin.

The typical patented Hale eye roll followed. "More powdered shit? Is that his plan for everything?"

"Well, that or convincing teenagers to kill themselves," Stiles replied, flailing his arms in the air for emphasis. "And, sorry, but if it's up to me, then I'd rather throw powdery substances at every monster of the week for the rest of my freakin' life than go in one of those death tubs again. Fuck you very much."

Derek cringed, and opened his mouth, probably to apologize for the millionth time.

"Don't," Stiles said before Derek could even start, and pushed on the werewolf's annoyingly muscled chest. "I'm tired of you apologizing for something that was not your fault. We chose to do that to save our parents. You didn't kidnap them. I'm sick and fucking tired of rehashing this every single time one of us mentions it."

"Yes, but I was the one who..." Derek tried, but again, Stiles was just not going to start this argument again. It was bad enough with the constant anxiety and depression after they did the ritual, not to mention the creepy ass nightmares he was having. Derek was starting to become an actual real friend to Stiles now, since he seemed to be crawling out of whatever pity pit he had dug for himself since Stiles first met him. And with Scott busy tending to his new flock, Derek was really the only one who was just as lonely as Stiles was. So the last thing he needed was his new buddy flogging himself over his past mistakes. Although it was pretty sad when Stiles was depending on Derek Hale to be the positive one in a friendship.

"No more!" Stiles yelled, opening the passenger door. "Get in the car so we can go kill this bitch. I'm starving and after we get rid of her, you are taking me to get food. Like terrible, greasy, artery-clogging food. Understood?"

Again, another eye roll. But thankfully he opened his own door, and sank into the driver's seat. Finally.

Stiles climbed in, dropped the bottle of magic powder, and somehow got himself tangled in the seat belt. Chuckling, Derek pulled out of the parking lot in front of Deaton's office, heading downtown.