Teenage dream tonight!

“Hiiiiiii,” Derek said happily, when Isaac broke down the door, and he and Scott and Stiles burst into the room. “I’m chained up!”

Stiles looked at Scott, who looked at him, and then they both looked at Isaac, who was too taken aback to even blink, apparently. Derek was indeed chained up. Again.

That wasn’t the surprising part.

“I’m really glad to see you,” Derek said, rolling his head against the fence. He was barefoot and dirty, and he was slurring his words just enough to be noticeable, but there was no blood anywhere Stiles could see. “Are you glad to see me?”

“We’re, um, yes?” Scott said, like he wasn’t entirely sure.

“We’re really, really glad to see you,” Isaac said, in the tone of voice you’d use to talk to a little kid. “Aren’t we, guys?” He shot threatening looks at Stiles and Scott.

“Right, yes,” Stiles said immediately as Scott said, “Absolutely! Super glad!”

“Are you all right?” Isaac asked Derek, taking a wary step closer. They were all off balance now, unsure of what they’d walked into.

“No,” Derek said petulantly. “I want to hug you but I can’t.” He frowned and tugged against the manacles on his wrists. “You’re my best friends in the whole world.”

“I think he’s okay,” Scott said after a long, awkward silence. “Except. You know.” He made a vague gesture at Derek, who didn’t seem to be hurt, specifically. Just very…un-Derek-like.

“We should—we don’t have much time,” Stiles reminded everyone, but it still took a few more seconds for someone to move, all of them completely thrown by the way Derek was acting. They’d been prepared for gore, for carnage, maybe for a dead body. They hadn’t been prepared for this.

“I was hoping Stiles would come,” Derek said dreamily, eyes fixed on him while Scott started on the manacles with a bolt cutter.

“And here I am,” Stiles said unnecessarily, throwing his hands out in a little flourish before he awkwardly shoved them in his jacket pockets. Derek’s dirty, beaming face was freaking him out.

The last manacle came apart under the bolt cutters and hit the floor next to Derek’s bare toes with a loud clang. “I care about you guys so much,” Derek gushed, slumping over into Isaac’s arms.

“This is way worse than I imagined,” Scott said under his breath, shaking his head.

“Guys, I’m serious. We gotta go,” Stiles said. They’d already been here too long, and every little noise was making him jump.

“Stiles says we gotta go,” Derek muttered. “Stiles is always bossing me around and I like it.”

“Oh my God,” Stiles said faintly, into the shocked silence. Isaac looked like he was trying not to laugh. Scott was looking at Derek like he’d grown a second head.

“You are so stoned, man,” Isaac said, shaking his head, and Derek promptly launched into another repetition of I’m so glad you guys are here. Isaac propped him up while Scott slipped his shirt over his head, both of them humming agreement to every single one of Derek’s declarations of love and happiness.

There were some syringes, most of them empty, one of them still full of a cloudy yellow liquid, scattered on the floor. Stiles grabbed the full one and carefully put it in his pocket while Scott and Isaac helped Derek into his shoes.

When they finally got him out to the Cruiser, it looked like Derek was going to get in willingly enough, until he saw Stiles head for the driver’s seat, at which point he balked, bracing his arms against the door frame like a cat trying to avoid the kitty carrier. “I want you to ride in the back with me, Stiles,” he said, refusing to budge. “I missed you.”

Stiles paused, hand on the door handle, and wondered how this shit kept happening to him. He wanted to bang his head against the Cruiser’s window, but that wouldn’t help anyone. “Please stop talking,” he begged Derek. “Just get in, okay?”

Derek glared at him, and for one reassuring second it was like the real Derek was back, until he said, “You’re hurting my feelings.”

“Jesus Christ,” Scott said, with feeling.

“Fine!” Stiles hissed, because shouting was a bad idea when you were escaping with someone’s prisoner. He marched around to the back door and handed the keys to Scott.

Appeased, Derek caught the front of Stiles jacket in his grubby hand and held on as he got in, practically dragging Stiles with him. As soon as Stiles’ butt hit the seat, Derek was right there, pressed against his side, trying to burrow under his arm.

“You need to put your seat belt on,” Stiles protested, shoving at him to no avail. “Safety first!”

Derek scoffed at the idea of a seatbelt as he wormed a little closer and put his head under Stiles’ chin. “I want to sit by you,” he said stubbornly. “You smell nice. I like you. I want to touch you. I think about you when I—”

“Okay!” Stiles yelled, slapping his hand down over Derek’s mouth before he could finish that horrifying sentence. “I think I get it.”

Stiles fully expected to get bitten, but instead Derek gently took his hand and tugged it away. He didn’t let go, just rubbed his thumb over the knob of Stiles’ wrist as he lifted his head so he could stare into Stiles’ eyes. Isaac was right–Derek was completely stoned. His eyes were almost all pupil.

“Do you?” Derek asked Stiles earnestly. “Do you really get it?”

“I think he’s gonna get it,” Isaac snorted up front.

“You’re not helping,” Scott gritted out as he started the engine. He didn’t look happy to suddenly be the getaway driver, but tough luck. Stiles was the one dealing with the real problem here.

Derek was still waiting for an answer, with wide eyes and a painfully open expression on his face. Stiles swallowed and said, “Can we—if I promise we’ll talk about this once we’re alone will you stop? Will you please stop?” Derek was twining their fingers together, Stiles realized, aghast. “Just wait until we’re alone, okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said, and put his head back on Stiles’ shoulder and didn’t say another word until they got to his place.

“Oh, we will definitely celebrate but you are not invited… unless Shane has suddenly gotten very cool about a lot of stuff.”

“Ilya. No.”

Ilya always had been a light sleeper, so no matter how lightly they stepped he was awake moments after the first shocked gasp.

Ilya knows it’s over for him. There’s no mistaking that there’s a man asleep on his chest in a clearly non-platonic cuddle. Usually Ilya would be punching the intruder, threatening violence to try and ensure they kept their mouth shut but he has quickly realised something far more important. With the way they are sleeping, Ilya on his underneath on his back and Shane on his stomach on top with his face pressed into the gap between Ilya’s neck and the couch, they can’t see his face.

He quickly pulls Shane’s hood up over his head to hide hair and rests a hand over it to gently discourage Shane from moving it should he start to wake up.

So Ilya just stares down his team and goes “you can be upset, but are going to be fucking quiet about it because if you wake my guest I’m sending all my blackmail on you to your wives, and then start fucking them to help them get over the divorce.”

So the whole “You’re fucking gay!” “No, I’m a fucking bi who is fucking a gay” conversation happens at a furious whisper, with Shane blissfully sleeping on Ilya’s chest as life implodes around him.

Shane may be a deep sleeper - and the argument in whispers - but even he starts to stir at the noise.

Ilya can’t have him moving his face into visibility now, so he just scruffs the back of his neck harshly and pressed him deeper into his shoulder.

Shane lets out a pleased (and not at all quiet) moan, and - worried that he is going to start talking - Ilya realises he needs to shut him up.

So he glares at the Bears to be quiet, while suddenly putting on the softest voice they have ever heard him use as he goes, “shhh quiet time now mоя любовь. Back to sleep.” And then shoves his fingers into Shane’s mouth.

The entire Boston roster piling behind Marly as he types, trying to decide what to say that could save them because their captain has been possessed by the spirit or a soviet military trainer with knife shoes and if they are forced to make double bagskates again they will either puke or die or both.

Look at this man experiencing freckles and awkward Canadian politeness and developing a fat crush.

My favourite part however is as Shane is leaving clearly uncomfortable with how their conversation went (he does a head tilt like "well, that went horribly")

Ilya notices and that's when he chirps, immediately making Shane more comfortable as he chirps back. And thus, their lovingly teasing, when they say "asshole" and "boring" they really mean "I love you" dynamic is born.

it's well made, well shot, well directed, the music is interesting, the costumes are both thoughtful and subtly period accurate, the sex scenes are intentional and, again, accurate to what hooking up when you're like 18 actually feels like...the actors are of course attractive but they look like real people. the characters are varied and well fleshed out, the acting is really, really strong

so many shows and films shoot and then slot in whatever music kind of fits or could be licenced in the budget after time, but you can tell that the scenes in hr were shot with that specific music in mind. and the same intentional approach runs through the whole thing