The Bravest of the Pack (Sterek)

Part Four

"Get your claws out Fido" Stiles finally said after failing to find a screwdriver.

"Ha ha you're so very funny" Derek answered back with a sarcastic grimace on his face. He let his claws grow and with a gentle 'pop' the tin of paint was open.

"Hey look, you are useful. How about that" Stiles said poking Derek lightly in the ribs before taking the tin off of him. He ignored the light pink on Derek's face and kneeled down on the floor to pour some paint out.

"I'll go uh get the uh paint roller thing" Derek trailed off as he scuttled out of the room. He's been acting so strange Stiles thought to himself as he placed the paint pot back onto the floor. He grabbed tape from a nearby table and started to cover places they wouldn't be painting.

The house was blisteringly hot as summer was still in full spate, leading Stiles to the uncomfortable decision to take his shirt off. Plus he needed to let his tattoo "breath" to help it heal fully.

As he slowly pulled the bandages off he noticed small spots of blood which, understandably, were there since he did have hundreds of needles stabbing him. The more he thought about it the worse he felt so he quickly removed them and carried on taping the walls.

"Found them" Derek stopped when Stiles turned around.

"What the..? When did you get that?" He asked, looking down at Stiles' torso and the intricate art work on it.

"This morning, I was going to tell you guys. Guess I just forgot" Derek placed the paint rollers on the sofa without taking his eyes off of the tattoo.

"Wow it's...good. You'll have to tell me who did it, they're really good" He said, trying to seem slightly less interested in Stiles' chest and more on the art on said chest.

"Yeah, sure. Pass me one of the rollers?" Derek nodded, finally tearing his eyes away. After grabbing two, and passing one to Stiles, they got to work.

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"Painting's hard" Stiles exclaimed, wiping sweat off of his forehead with the back of his hand.

"I give up" he said, dropping his paint roller on the plastic sheet spread across the floor and collapsing onto his sofa.

"What? It's only been like three hours" Derek looked at him with his arms crossed, "you always have so much energy, why are you suddenly lazy now?" Stiles lifted an arm up and, with his eyes shut tight as if he were a toddler pretending to sleep, pointed to the kitchen. Yes, good, coffee. Just what we need, Derek thought as he strolled into the next room.

For the second time that day, Derek peered into a kitchen cupboard, looking for two cups. Inside he saw one with a sheriff's badge printed on the side, and four which were plain grey. Concealed behind the mass of grey was a sudden flash of colour which had caught his eye. Derek reached for the bright orange mug and gripped it in his hand. It was a Fox and the Hound mug. Derek smiled lightly as he placed it next to his white one and filled it with fresh liquid energy.

"Sit up" Derek announced as he walked back into the living room a few minutes later, "here"

"You're a God, Derek, thank y-" Stiles cut himself off when he looked at the mug which had just been handed to him.

"Just making sure the present I gave you hadn't gone to waste"