flint

I like the theme of this episode of evolution. I think this season has been all about evolution in general, because the show has evolved past Bobby and is introducing new characters and storylines. here they r punctuating the ways in which everyone has changed since we met them. Buck wants to settle down! wild! Eddie has learned to trust his instincts as a father. he believes in himself and leads from a place of love now.

this perfectly sets them up for a romantic storyline. Eddie finally being able to trust his gut I think is a sign of him in the future needing to trust his gut with something else. Buck wanting to settle down, being put off by Eddie’s reaction, running to his side whenever he needs. he effectively already is Eddie’s “person” in that way, they just haven’t noticed it yet.

Eddie raising his heckles over the bidding war AGAIN as well was crazy…several lingering shots of him looked pissed off….no one else is upset, everyone is cheering buck on. It’s similar to when Eddie was leaving and Buck was the only one freaking out. the show keeps telling us that they do not respond to each other like friends do.

As much as I LOVE Stiles raising a baby/having a baby/ finding a baby and being naturally good at it while Derek is out of his depth when you break it down, it makes no sense.

Stiles and Scott? As only children and BOYS when did they ever have a chance to look after children? (While I think boys are perfectly capable of caring for children parents tend to favor girls in child care so like when would they have even had an opportunity?)

DEREK, on the other hand....

A) he has a younger sister with a fairly significant age gap. B) he had a pack that canonically is referenced as to having children, and with family/pack dynamics, it would not be a stretch that Derek has at least SOME experience with children, especially since it's implied Cora is closer in age to Stiles and co whereas Derek is in his early 20s in season one. (Obviously, we all know what a mess the Teen Wolf timeline is, but for the sake of this post early 20s)

Derek's not good with teenagers... As we know... *insert every early interaction with Stiles and Scott ever* But kids and babies? No problem Think about how he is with everyone in the show but then how he was with those little trick-or-treaters. He scared them sure but he also gave them candy, when he could have just as easily ignored them.

I just feel like if you gave him a baby, he would just be like: "I'm a father now, yes I need the most expensive diapers possible!"

Which after having this conversation with my roomie, I realized would make magical Nemeton baby Eli (My favorite explanation) make SO much sense. Found a clearly werewolf baby in the woods? Guess he's a dad now.

Now don't get me wrong, I do think Stiles would pick up very quickly on taking care of a baby, he's very empathetic and cares very deeply, but initially, I think he wouldn't have a clue what he was doing. He would love the baby and WANT to take good care of the baby but wouldn't really know what he was doing. And babies, especially younger babies can be overwhelming.

So what I'm saying is I need a fic where Stiles finds a baby, has no clue what he's doing and Derek is like: "No that's not how you hold a baby/change a diaper/ hold a bottle" and Stiles falls in love so I'm going to write one

It’s nice enough that Stiles could probably fall asleep like this.

Derek is holding him piggy-back through the preserve, and Stiles isn’t so much as holding onto Derek as much as he is just lying against his back.

He has his arms crossed against the back of Derek’s neck, resting his head on them and watching the trees go by. Derek holds up the entirety of Stiles’ weight with ease, hands curled under Stiles’ thighs as Stiles swings his feet absentmindedly.

Through the mating bond, he can feel that Derek isn’t at all bothered by Stiles slumping his full body weight against him and putting in zero effort to stay on. In fact, Derek feels a sort of primal, smug satisfaction from carrying his mate. Like he’s succeeding in his sole biological purpose to spoil him senseless.

Stiles snorts.

He can’t see Derek’s face, but he can see that Derek’s ears turn pink. “Don’t,” he growls.

Stiles grins. “Didn’t say anything.”

“Keep it that way.”

Stiles throws his head back with a laugh.

His sneakers kick the brush as he swings his feet, but Derek hasn’t said anything about the noise. Usually Derek does territory patrols in total, unnerving silence that speaks of a sort of stealth only gifted to the supernatural. Stiles knows Derek takes these patrols seriously, he’s seen him snap at his betas to be more silent and stop fucking around.

But Derek never says anything to him.

Even when Stiles is rambling and stumbling through the forest with about as much stealth as a frazzled squirrel, Derek always seems happy to listen to him talk. Maybe Derek trusts his senses and instincts even with Stiles’ noise… or maybe Stiles really does just get away with everything like the pack says he does.

It has Stiles biting back a smile.

“Stop,” Derek snaps.

Except, apparently, when it came to Derek Hale.

Because Derek Hale had a Camaro. And abs. And smolder. And the audacity - the sheer audacity - to walk around Beacon Hills like he didn’t know he was a leather jacket wearing Greek god carved from marble and dry wit.

So when Stiles saw Derek stroll into the coffee shop with Dina from the bookstore, smiling (actually smiling, like his face muscles remembered how), Stiles saw red. Bright neon red, like Comic Sans on fire.

“Oh no he did not,” Stiles muttered, spilling sugar packets all over the counter. Scott raised an eyebrow from across the table, halfway through his muffin.

“Did not what?”

“Derek Hale,” Stiles snapped, pointing a dramatic finger, “just walked in here with Miss Booksmart Dina With the Perfect Bangs like he’s suddenly the star of a romcom. No. Absolutely not.”

Scott blinked. “So? He’s allowed to date.”

“Date?” Stiles scoffed. “He doesn’t date. He broods. He scowls. He sulks in abandoned train depots like a rejected DC villain. He doesn’t go on cutesy coffee runs with a girl who probably writes poetry about the moon. That’s-” Stiles shoved his chair back and declared, “-treason.”

He marched straight over.

Derek, naturally, looked up the second Stiles loomed nearby. His green eyes narrowed. “What are you doing?”

“Me?” Stiles plastered on a too-bright smile. “Oh nothing. Just watching you commit character assassination against yourself. Coffee dates? Really, Hale? What’s next, a couples’ pottery class? Should we call you Patrick Swayze now or later?”

Dina blinked at Stiles. “Do you… know him?”

“Oh, intimately,” Stiles fired back without thinking. “I mean - not intimately intimately, like, biblical intimately, but, you know, in the trenches of chaos kind of intimately, where you share a car crash and mild trauma. But hey, I’m sure he’s just thrilled to tell you all about his favorite pastime of glaring people into therapy.”

Derek’s jaw flexed. “Stiles.”

“No, no, don’t Stiles me,” he cut him off. “I see you sitting here, all cozy, with your little latte, and it’s giving me big ‘new boyfriend’ energy. Which, by the way, rude. Some of us have loyally spent years being mocked, insulted, and emotionally tormented by your resting murder face, and suddenly you’re Mister Sunshine with Miss Indie Romance Novel over here? Fuck you, Derek.”

The coffee shop went quiet.

Scott slapped a hand over his face.

Dina excused herself very quickly.

And Derek…Derek leaned back in his chair, crossed his arms, and smirked. Smirked. “So you’re jealous.”

“I - what? No. Noooo. Don’t flatter yourself, Derek. I wouldn’t be jealous of you if you - if you-” Stiles flailed. “Okay, fine, maybe a little, but only because your stupid jawline is illegal and your Camaro is my emotional support vehicle and-”

“Stiles.” Derek’s voice dipped low. “You could’ve just said you like me.”

Stiles froze. His brain short-circuited like an overheated Windows 95 desktop. “…Excuse me?”

“You don’t need to cause a scene in public.”

Stiles sputtered. “Okay, well, maybe so, but it’s only because your face makes me irrationally angry, and your leather jacket smells like masculinity and woodsmoke, and I hate it, okay? I hate it.”

Derek stood. Close. Too close. “You hate it,” he murmured, “so much you can’t stop talking about it.”

Stiles’s heart did backflips. His mouth, however, betrayed him. “…Fuck you.”

“Yeah,” Derek said, lips twitching, “I got that.” Then he kissed him.