#paleesky

melt my heart just MELT IT

“What do you think,” Shiro mumbleshalf under his breath, “roasted garlic or Italian herbs and spice?”

“Gah!” the little voice says,punctuated with a grab to his ear that makes Shiro wince.

“Yeah, I don’t know the difference either,little man. Ten bucks says they taste exactly the same.” Frowning down at thetwo jars in his hands, Shiro slowly puts back the roasted garlic spaghettisauce.

“No!”

“No?” Shiro says, taking back thejar. “But I thought we didn’t know the difference.”

Suspicious silence reigns, and whenShiro reaches back, he finds several fingers stuffed into a tiny baby mouth.

“Is that what we do with ourfingers?” Shiro asks, laughing as he tugs him out. A wet hand lands on his neckin retaliation, followed by an outpouring of gibberish words. “Fine, I’ll getthe roasted garlic one. But if your dad doesn’t like it, I’m telling him it’syour fault, okay?”

More excited wet slaps on his neck.“Da!”

“Yup, your dad’s the one who wantsto make spaghetti,” Shiro says, tucking the jar into the cart slowly so as notto upset the precious cargo on his shoulders.

“Dadaba.”

“He does like spaghetti a lot. Morethan anything in the whole world, even.”

“I don’t know if I would say that,”Keith interrupts, laughing behind them. Shiro turns around with a sheepish grinon his face as Keith puts a bag of eggplants and a tub of breadcrumbs into thecart.

“You sure? I’ve seen the way youslurp down a plate of spaghetti, babe, and I really think there’s somethingthere.” Shiro waggles his eyebrows suggestively and gets an eye roll for hisefforts.

“You’re corrupting our son,” Keithsays, reaching up to pull him off Shiro’s shoulders and hold him on his hip. “Don’tlisten to anything he tells you, kid, it’s all slander.”

“I would never,” Shiro says,drawing closer because he can never stand this far away from his family for toolong. He puts his hands on Keith’s hips and presses a feather light kiss to hisforehead. Keith hums and lays a dry kiss on Shiro’s jaw in return beforepulling away.

10. A Shy Kiss

(This…probably wenta little different direction than what you expected, but a friend of minesuggested wolf!Derek and the concept sounded so adorable that I couldn’tresist.)

Stiles collapsed onto the nearest log and heaved in thedeepest breaths he could manage. This was what he got for joining the wolveson a full moon run: a stitch in his side and getting left behind in the middleof the preserve.

Okay, he wasn’t reallyleft behind, he could admit. He could hear the others in the woods around him, yippingand playing around, all close enough that he had a feeling they were keeping aneye on him, as well. And even then, with his magic, he was far from helpless.

Still. Kind of sucked to be the only one who couldn’t keepup running with the pack.

At least it was a nice enough night. It would be even worseif it were stupidly cold or stupidly hot. Stiles leaned back on his hands andlooked up at the star-speckled sky where it was visible through the trees.

He heard the soft padding of paws on the ground to his left,and saw Derek trotting up to him, two Alpha-red eyes and sleek black fur hecould barely see in the dark.

Stiles patted the log beside him. “You tired, big guy?Want to join me for a rest?”

Derek sat at his feet instead, his tongue lolling out as hepanted.

“Yeah, I hear you.” Stiles sighed and looked backup at the sky. “I probably should’ve stayed back. You guys are way fasterthan I am.”

Derek huffed.

“I mean, it’s true,” Stiles said. “But, youknow… I’m tired of always getting left behind when you guys run out and dowolfy things. I thought I could at least try and keep up.”

Derek’s cold nose brushed his hand, and Stiles looked downat him. Derek put his front paws on his lap, standing on his hind legs so thatthey were eye-to-eye.

“What is it?” Stiles asked. “Do you want meto throw a stick for you? Or, you know, a squirrel?”

He swore Derek wasgiving him a judging look, even with his wolf face. Which, you know. Score onefor Stiles, because he tried to work that look out of Derek at least once anight. He was pretty sure it was what Derek gave him instead of a laugh.

Derek leaned in and shyly licked his cheek, and thenimmediately dropped to the ground at Stiles’s feet and curled up there.

Stiles blinked and touched his cheek. “Did you just…kiss me?”

Whump went Derek’stail against the side of the log.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Stiles saidslowly. His brain was mentally reconfiguring to work with a world where Derek—orwolf!Derek, at least—wanted to kiss him. “Does that mean… you’re happyI’m here?”

Derek’s tail actually wagged at that.

“Oh.” Stiles couldn’t stop the smile spreadingover his face. “You likeme.”

Derek covered his face with one paw.

Stiles reached down and scratched behind his ears.“That’s okay, big guy. Because I kind of like you, too. A lot. Kind of alot. And to prove it, I’m going to show up at your loft tomorrow morning withhot chocolate and take you on a post-full-moon brunch date. Woof once if you’dbe into that.”

He swore Derek rolled his eyes, but he also gave a soft woof and put his head down on Stiles’sshoes.

“Okay.” Stiles scratched Derek’s ears once more. “Brunchdate it is. My treat.”

Derek actually sighed, which Stiles took to mean it better be.

“I promise!” Stiles said. “I’m going to treatyou right, dude.”

Derek pressed his head into Stiles’s knee and nuzzled there.And that, Stiles took to mean I know.

Stiles buried his fingers in Derek’s fur and looked back up at the sky with a stupidly huge grin on his face. It seemed like it was a good idea for him to come out with the pack tonight, after all.

Ahhh thanks, love. You are sweet. I’m glad you enjoy my fic! :)

He’s tried everything he can think of–leaving him alone, asking if he’s wrong, making him food, trying to convince him to go out–but none of them have worked. Stiles’s sour mood has left Derek stumped on how to make him feel better.

They’ve only been officially together for a couple months, relationship too new for Derek to pinpoint exactly what’s upsetting Stiles and what’s the best way to fix it. All he knows is that he came over to Stiles’s apartment to find him laying on the couch, eyes red-rimmed, like he’d been crying or at least rubbing his eyes out of frustration maybe?

He’d asked the usual questions: Was it his dad? (no). Was it Scott? (no). Was it work? (no response). Want to talk about it? (no).

Derek is at a loss, and if Stiles didn’t want to talk about it, maybe he should leave him alone and leave. But as soon as he suggests him leaving, Stiles makes a wounded noise.

So instead he gently pushes Stiles over on the couch enough to sit down beside him, and as soon as he does, Stiles wraps around him like an octopus. They sit like that for a while, Derek running his hand up and down Stiles’s back and occasionally through his hair. He can feel Stiles relax little by little. There’s music from his phone playing softly in the background, left on from his previous attempt at cooking to distract Stiles.

Then he gets an idea.

“Hey,” he whispers. Stiles hums in reply. “Dance with me.”

Stiles lifts his head enough to stare back at Derek, his brow furrowed.

Derek nudges Stiles off of him and stands from the couch, hand extended to lift Stiles up. Stiles eyes the hand for a moment before accepting and letting Derek guide him over to a more open space, closer to the music playing.

He pulls Stiles into his chest, wraps an arm around his waist, and the hand holding Stiles’s he holds up to his chest. Stiles mirrors him, pressing his cheek to Derek’s, his free arm around Derek’s shoulders. They’re not really dancing, just shuffling side to side, rocking to the slow beat of the music echoing from the tinny speaker on Derek’s phone.

Derek hums along to the song, singing the words he does know… “I’m so in love with you, I hope you know…” as he hugs Stiles closer. He can feel Stiles smile against his cheek and knows that while he doesn’t know what Stiles was upset about or how to fix that problem, he can at least do this.

Yup, we do remember, this fic is total system failure by HalfFizzbin!

In which Stiles is the world's most inappropriate entrepreneur, Erica is a menace, and Derek is terrible at his job no matter how hard he tries.

(Or, the Harrowing Saga of the Gay Porn Doppelgänger.)

Thank you so much :D It’s so nice to have thought of me <3 so let’sdo this

 1. I have great taste in friends. I am lucky to have around me people Ilove AND admire, and I’m grateful for it everyday

2. My eyes, after years of not liking them.

3. I was brave enough to take some risks in my life, and it turned mylife for the better.

4. I am getting better at that “putting on nailpolish without paintingalso your finger/elbow/cat in the process” thing.

Derek had always loved rainy nights. Ever since he was a little pup in his mother's arm, cradled against her breast with a tummy full of milk.

He loved the way the sky darkened with thick clouds, an army of gray drifting overhead, bringing with it a blanket of hushed quiet. He loved the sound of the wind susurrating through the leaves and pine needles of the forest outside.

The pitter patter of rain on the roof and windows, the soft rumble of thunder in the distance, had been the best lullaby in the world, sometimes the only thing that could get him to fall sleep. The luminous moonlight that was only visible a tiny bit through the dark gray clouds had been his nightlight.

In New York the rain had seemed to taunt him, always too loud and too thunderous. For nights on end, the storms had kept him awake in he and Laura's little studio apartment in Brooklyn, the thunder sounding eerily like screams in the night.

Older and wiser now, back in the town that would always be his home, he loved the rain again. He cherished the scent of rain on the wind and the faint static sensation that danced through his hair when a storm was on the horizon.

But now he had someone to spend those cold rainy nights with.

Stiles liked the rain, too. He told Derek once that rain had been his mother's favorite, that she used to make hot chocolate with plenty of marshmallows and sit on the front porch to watch the storms that blew into town.

He had spent hours telling Derek about the times he and his mother had stayed up all night sipping hot chocolate and watching the way the lightning would splinter the sky. Derek had listened intently, running his fingers through Stiles’ hair and pressing kisses to his temple when he got choked up while telling him the story.

Now, they spent cold rainy nights curled up in bed together, their cat, aptly named Stormy, sprawled out on the foot of their bed. Derek spent the time running his eyes over Stiles’ back, the moonlight from the window tinting his skin a pale, misty blue.

“God, you're so beautiful…” He murmured, gazing dreamily at his boyfriend who simply blinked back at him, his eyes wide and dark, almost black in the dark of their bedroom. Derek raised a hand to run the backs of his fingers over Stiles’ cool cheek, tracing patterns over his moles.

“And you're drop dead gorgeous,” Stiles returned with a grin that lit up the whole room, tipping his hide to hide his smile in his pillow. Derek scooted a few inches closer, curling an arm around Stiles’ bare waist, his skin cool.

Stiles sighed contentedly, letting his eyes fall closed as he nestled into his pillow. Derek pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead and shut his own eyes. Curled up together, they let the rain lull them to sleep.