it's instinct to want the good things

for tv it’s seinfeld or schitt’s creek; book i’m gonna say @seaweed-water’s fic Devil Town (this totally counts ok. i downloaded it to ibooks, therefore it is a book)

5) Song on Repeat

the songs that have been on repeat in my head for many many years are “the long and winding road” by the beatles and “…and counting (acoustic)” by lights. they are my calming comfort songs

6) My last hyperfixation

hahaha same with asyndetonic; teen wolf, heated rivalry, and also learning to sing properly if that counts as a hyperfixation (it does, based on the amount of youtube vids i’ve watched about it) oh and dan and phil, always (if you’re reading this pls come talk to me about dnp)

7) Oddly specific thing that brings me joy

plushies, soft things, cute things. sorry this isn’t specific. ok a wolf plushie similar to what @queer-stilinski wrote a cute fic about the other day <3 how many times will i mention this wolf plushie idk but i love it and so should you

8) What smell instantly makes me happy

brownies, maple syrup, banana muffins, petrichor, the forest/mushrooms/earth

9) Something I loved as a kid that I secretly still do

………plushies, animals, fairies

10) Phone wallpaper right now

this forest that has been my wallpaper for years <3 (i did not take the pic but omg can you imagine)

11) Are you an Early Bird, Night Owl, or something else?

neither, none, nothing lol. midday? whenever i happen to be functional? i get up early but that doesn’t mean i’m functional then lmao

"I have so! I follow the GPS all the time—"

"You take your own 'shortcuts' and then get lost."

"Yeah, that's called 'creative problem solving' and also 'saving time,' ever heard of it?"

"Shut up, Stiles." This is what Derek says when he figures there's no use arguing anymore. He'll never win. "You gonna help me build this or not?"

"You know what, I think I'm gonna need an incentive," Stiles bargains, leaning into Derek's side and propping his chin on his broad shoulder, staring directly at his face.

"You're such a brat, you know that?" Derek finally turns his attention away from the paper to meet Stiles' eyes at last, which are sparkling with mirth and mischief, like always.

"So I've been told," Stiles says smugly. "How about it, big guy? BJ for whoever puts the final piece together?"

"If that's what it takes," Derek rolls his eyes. "Get started, dumbass."

"Wait, shake on it," Stiles urges, grabbing Derek's hand and shaking it with his own.

Then he just holds it contentedly, without letting go, shifting his focus back to the instructions innocently. He starts to play with Derek's fingers, fidgeting, and Derek can't believe he's dating this ridiculous man.

"You really just wanted an excuse to hold my hand," Derek huffs, amused. "You do know we're already dating, right?"

"Oh, I'm aware," Stiles grins, smacking a loud kiss onto Derek's cheek. "Hey, who do you think the allen wrench is named after? Like who was that guy. Why does he deserve a tool. Oh my god, maybe he was a tool and that's why—"

"Okay," Derek interrupts loudly, "pass me this piece," he says, motioning to a bag of pegs poorly illustrated on the diagram and pointing to where they're laying across the floor.

"Yes, Alpha," Stiles winks. He reaches over, stretching his arm out to grab it. It's just far away enough that he really should have knee-walked over to it, but he knows what he's doing. A strip of skin from his arched lower back exposes itself when his shirt rises up, and he lifts his ass up teasingly, so it's right in Derek's face, taunting him. Derek's face colors without his consent and he lowers his eyes. Now is not the time to get distracted; they have a stupidly convoluted Ikea wardrobe to build.

"Ung," Stiles suddenly moans, still reaching for the damn bag. It should be a perfectly innocent noise, common while stretching, but again, this is Stiles, and he knows what he's doing.

Finally, he grabs the stupid bag and sits back on his heels at last, turning to Derek with a permanent smirk on his mole-speckled face. He holds up the ziploc of wooden pegs. "Doesn't this just make you wanna… peg me?" His face is faux-innocent and his eyes are wide, his pretty mouth in a pout, but it turns into a grin soon enough as he watches Derek's face turn even redder.

"Sure," Derek plays along, reaching for the hammer by his hip, "I'd like to hammer you into the floor, nail you against the wall. How does that sound?" It's a miracle he can keep a straight face, but then again, he's had a lot of practice.

"That sounds, uhhh, awfully violent," Stiles replies once his brain comes back online. "Just the way I like it."

"Mm-hmm, I'm sure," Derek hums idly. "Get over here and hold this straight so I can hammer it in," he directs, grabbing the bag of pegs from Stiles' hand and pulling one out, selecting the right piece of wood to go with it.

"I'm afraid that's not possible," Stiles taunts as he shuffles over and does what Derek asks anyway, "I'm not straight, you see. I can hold it bisexually, though, if you want?"

"The lord is testing me," Derek mutters under his breath, closing his eyes for a brief second before hammering the peg in easily.

"Ow," Stiles yelps, "you hit my thumb!" He takes his hand away and shakes it out, wincing dramatically.

"Really? You don't smell like you're in pain," Derek says in a faux-sweet voice, dripping with sarcasm. "You know what? You actually smell… like you're full of shit."

"Ha ha," Stiles says dryly. "Lemme try, I wanna nail something."

Derek purposely doesn't take the bait or remind him that Stiles just nailed him last night. Stiles' ego is already far too big as it is. He just hands him another peg and the hammer, and holds the board still.

"You sure you know how to use that?" Derek teases.

"I know how to hit things, thank you," Stiles hisses, all too easy to rile up. But sure enough, he smashes his own thumb in the process, for real this time, and curses with a genuine spike of pain.

"Come here, you klutz," Derek sighs, grabbing Stiles' hand and slipping his thumb into his mouth to soothe the sting. Stiles' own mouth falls open and he stops flailing at once.

"Damn, maybe I should injure myself more often, if this is what it gets me," Stiles says happily, the pain fading instantly.

"Absolutely not," Derek growls, pulling Stiles' thumb out of his mouth, but Stiles just cackles, picking up another peg and handing it to Derek.

"Go fish. I don't think hammers like me. Oh, there's a hammer-head shark joke in there somewhere— and now a head joke, go figure—"

"Stiles, is it gonna take all day to build this? Because I'd really like to get on with the rest of my life already," Derek interrupts, already hammering in the other peg.

"Mm, harder," Stiles moans, smirk right back on his infuriating face.

"What the hell," Derek looks up at him, "are you cosplaying as the peg now? What is wrong with you?"

"Sooo many things," Stiles answers proudly. He shuffles away again to grab another random board, peering at the directions to figure out where it goes, his ass conveniently in Derek's face again. He picks up another peg, squinting in confusion. "Does it go in this hole? That's what he said," Stiles rushes out at the end with a triumphant grin on his face.

It's at this point that Derek knows he fucked up. By dating Stiles in the first place.

"What am I talking about," Stiles amends, examining the board, "there's only one hole here! That's what he said!" he singsongs.

"I'm breaking up with you," Derek mutters, covering his eyes with a hand.

"Sure you are, big guy. Wait, it's not staying up—" he says as he tries to balance the peg in the hole, badly. It's clear his talents lie elsewhere. Derek makes a mental note to never attempt building furniture with Stiles again. "—that's what he said! Oh fuck, now it's stuck. Oh no, I have to pull it out, that's what—"

"Shut the fuck up," Derek growls, before he lunges for Stiles, collapsing on top of him and pressing him down onto the floor. He shoves his lips onto Stiles' and feels Stiles grin against his own mouth. Derek kisses him and kisses him until the grin disappears and Stiles is panting instead, the hammer falling to the floor and Stiles' fingers sinking into Derek's hair instead.

When they part at last, their eyes meet, and Derek attempts to make a bargain.

"No more stupid jokes. No more innuendos. Just build this wardrobe with me and I will blow you when we're done, promise. Otherwise I'm tearing your throat out. With my—"

"—teeth, yeah, yeah, buddy, I've heard it before. If you wanted to put your mouth on me so bad, why didn't you just say so?" Stiles' grin is back, and Derek regrets his entire life.

"I'm locking you in this wardrobe when we're done with it," Derek mutters, sitting back up properly again and grabbing a few more pieces to work on.

"Cool, maybe I'll find Aslan in there!" Stiles sits up again too, foraging for the directions once more and peering at them again in disdain. "Hey, have you ever had Turkish delight?"

So the afternoon continues much like this, and Derek proceeds to have the patience of a saint, and Stiles keeps taunting him, and not getting any actual work done. But somehow, the wardrobe gets built after all, due to Derek's ease of following directions and efficiency of building things. And no thanks to Stiles.

The wardrobe is small and made of thin, cheap wood, and there's a mirror on the front of it. Derek settles it into the corner of the loft, and Stiles peers into it, admiring "their" handiwork. He tugs Derek to stand behind him, pulling his henley-clad arm around his waist and leaning back against Derek's chest.

"Look what a good job we did!" Stiles exclaims proudly, once again full of bullshit. "We built something! High five, dude." He lifts his free hand in the air and meets Derek's eyes expectantly in the mirror. Derek just grabs his hand from midair and wraps it in his own so both his arms are tight around Stiles' waist, and their hands are interlocked. Derek presses a kiss to the side of Stiles' neck and sways them both gently, like trying to soothe a child.

He glances up at the mirror, though, and can't help but notice how good they look together. Stiles is beautiful, all pale skin and sparkling eyes and messy brown hair, and although he's been full of stupid jokes, he hasn't kept the grin off his face all day, and Derek missed his smile. They've been under so much stress lately; he's grateful for this time they got to spend together and how good of a mood Stiles has been in. How rare that is, these days.

"Hey," Stiles breaks the silence at last, slipping a hand free from Derek's and reaching behind him to sink his fingers into Derek's hair. "Why do you look like you're about to compose some sad poetry or something?"

"Just thinking," Derek says, nuzzling behind Stiles' ear. "I missed you like this."

"What, you missed me being a pain in your ass?"

"Exactly," Derek smiles against Stiles' skin.

"Well, I happen to love your ass, and I also missed being a pain in it. It's my favorite place to be. That's what he—"

This time when Derek shuts him up, he doesn't stop kissing him for a long, long time.

After a while, they break away at last and Derek moves to gather up all the trash and recycling from the floor. He has to take a trip to the disposal area of the building, and as soon as he leaves the room, Stiles starts planning.

This is also when he has a major lapse in memory.

For someone so smart, Stiles really can be so stupid.

Feeling clever, Stiles opens the door to the wardrobe and slips inside, snickering. He's slightly too tall for it so he has to hunch, but he's slim enough that the doors close in front of him easily. Derek has good reflexes, but Stiles still looks forward to seeing the look on his face when he startles him.

But Derek's a werewolf, and he cannot be startled easily, and can also hear and smell Stiles from miles away. A fact that Stiles definitely remembers in this moment. Definitely.

So Stiles hides like a smug little gremlin in the wardrobe that Derek exclusively built. And when Derek comes back into the loft, he can obviously tell exactly where Stiles is and what he's doing, and he heaves another sigh and once again questions his choices in life.

"Stiles?" he calls out, playing along with his dumbass boyfriend. "Stiles?"

The room is dead silent in response. Other than the sound of Stiles' pounding heart and fast breathing, echoing in Derek's ears like a beat at an EDM concert.

"Stiles, where are you?" Derek says, putting a bit of worry into his voice, just to make Stiles think he's won for the time being. "Stiles?"

Stiles can hardly contain his giggling, a fact that Derek can also hear, and he moves impossibly quietly to stand directly in front of the doors of the wardrobe. He knows Stiles is ready to burst out at any point, unable to last much longer, and Derek just crosses his arms and waits.

He counts to ten in his head, wondering just how long it will take Stiles to "come out," but he barely makes it to five before Stiles is spilling out of the doors and crashing into his chest.

"Surprise," Stiles says weakly, lifting his flushing face off Derek's chest and glancing up at him guiltily. He has the decency to look embarrassed, at least.

"Did you forget something?" Derek prods, his face a stone wall apart from a raised eyebrow. He looks way too intimidating, but luckily Stiles is used to it.

"Uh, yeah. I'm bi! Happy pride!"

"First off, it's July. Second, I knew that already, dumbass. Third, you seem to have forgotten the fact that I'm a werewolf and knew exactly where you were hiding. I wouldn't be proud of that, if I were you," Derek snarks, voice hiding all of his secret amusement.

Stiles thinks fast. "I remembered that," he lies. "I was hiding because I know how much you like finding me. You know, with your alpha instincts and all that. I was doing you a favor, really—"

"I'm sure," Derek purrs as he steps forward easily, backing Stiles up against the wardrobe. Their fronts are pressed together now and Stiles' heartbeat is racketing up again. "I believe you mentioned a reward for whoever finishes building this. Remember?"

"Yeah, but then you said you'd blow me if I helped you and stopped making jokes, remember?"

"And did you?" Derek challenges back. "Did you stop making jokes?"

"Well, no, that's part of who I am, Derek, part of pride month is accepting me how I—"

"Then I think you owe me something after all."

"Well, when you say it like that, it doesn't really make me wanna do it, y'know? What happened to the romance?"

"It left along with your last brain cell. If you really don't want to, that's fine. I'll just go take a shower and deal with it my—"

"Nonono," Stiles rushes out, grabbing Derek's arm before he walks away entirely, looking far too smug. "I mean, I should thank you. For building the… the thing," he says, stuttering, entranced by the sudden mental image of getting on his knees for Derek. "I know it was… hard, and I made it worse for you, so before I make any more innuendos I think you should really find a way to shut me up—"

So that's how Stiles does end up on his knees in front of Derek, and the mirror on their new wardrobe. When Derek comes, he sinks his claws into the cheap plywood of it, but it only helps to christen it.

Then Derek returns the favor to Stiles, and Stiles can't help but stare at the pair of them in their reflection and get excited about all the mirror sex they can finally have now.

"See, that was totally worth it," he determines, panting, petting Derek's hair where he stands over him, recovering. Derek kisses his hip. "Two orgasms and a new piece of furniture. I wonder how many henleys and leather jackets it can fit! Hey, do you think it'd be sturdy enough for you to fuck me against—"

And if at the end of the night, the new wardrobe ends up back in as many pieces as it came in, well, at least they got a few more orgasms out of it, and a funny story that they will absolutely not be telling Stiles' father.

"Rest in pieces," Stiles says sadly as he stares at the remainder of the wardrobe, catching his breath as Derek pants into his shoulder, his arms around his waist, holding them both up. "Hey, doesn't breaking a mirror mean like seven years of bad luck? Do you think we can get around it if you've already had seven years of bad luck?"

"Baby, I think you're already my personal bad luck charm. We can only go up from here."

"Damn right we can!" Stiles cheers, missing the point, perhaps on purpose. He turns around in Derek's arms and kisses him until Derek forgets what he was complaining about.

Yes, Stiles is a menace. But he's Derek's menace, and Derek loves him.