Sterek One Shots

Bargain Werewolf

Bargain Werewolf by Muffintine

~~~~~~~

"What the hell," Derek freaking Hale snarls at him, looking devastatingly charming in his bad boy leather chic, eyebrows furrowed and freaky eyes glowing blue.

Glowing. Blue.

Stiles drops the ratty old book he'd bought at the half-price bookstore with a surprised squeak. "Oh my god," he exhales, eyes going wide as saucers. "It worked."

Derek prowls around the inside of Stiles' crudely drawn mountain ash pentagram, nails frighteningly sharp and teeth elongated to points, growl resonating deep from within his diaphragm. "Why am I here," he roars. "What have you done." His eyes flash a brilliant blue once more as he hunches his shoulders forward, the movement clenched and hostile. "Answer me," he demands.

Stiles gapes, simultaneously intrigued and two seconds from pissing himself. "I didn't think it'd work," he chokes out hysterically. "I was just bored—magic isn't real!" And yeah, okay, so he's panicking. He's totally freaking out. But, given the situation, he thinks he's quite allowed to flip out about the fact that Derek Hale has magically appeared in his attic in a puff of white light, has fangs, claws, and eyes that glow. Seriously, they glow! What the actual hell?

"You have got to be kidding me," Derek snarls even as his shoulders relax. His pointy teeth and scary claws remain, unfortunately.

"This is a dream," Stiles says nonsensically. "Some really weird fantasy that I will never, ever, tell anyone about cause dude, my subconscious is on drugs and not the fun kind."

This only seems to further piss Derek off. "You're not dreaming," he says through clenched teeth, flexing his claws menacingly.

"You're not ... human?" Stiles says slowly, his voice hitching upward in pitch, questioning, as he stares at Derek with thinly disguised curiosity. His wary interest is winning out against the confused panic ebbing away at his brain, it seems.

"You don't say," Derek mocks, baring his teeth.

"Then what the hell are you?" Stiles asks, barely keeping himself from facepalming. Don't poke the snarling human-beast, he reminds himself.

Derek settles on glaring mutely at him.

Stiles crosses his arms stubbornly. He's not afraid. He's not.

Derek's lips pull back in a soundless snarl.

Okay, so, maybe he's a little scared. But only a little.

Stiles sighs dramatically. "Look," he says, pressing his fingers to his forehead and then thrusting them outwards as if to make a point, "I found a that shitty book," he points at the worn book sitting innocuously on the floor, "in the used book store. I thought, heh, magic, that's utter bullshit—great way to spend my Saturday evening." He pauses, swallowing as he dares to sneak a peek at Derek.

And yup, still glaring. Awesome.

Derek makes an angry, jerking, go on motion.

"So I uh, tried one of the phony spells," Stiles says and wow, his throat is really, suddenly very dry. "And poof. Magic is real. Derek Hale is some sort of super creature. Good to know."