spicy doughrito

it’s nothing he hasn’t done before.

with this new target on his back, derek’s never been luckier to have no family. no close associates, no friends.

he’s kidnapped stiles, but he leaves him alone. he’s not the monster emory is.

he’ll get stiles somewhere safe, and he’ll swear he lost him.

stiles doesn’t take being saved as well as you’d think.

it takes him four hours to get bored.

“you’re bored,” derek says. “you’d be more entertained, if he was still terrorizing you.”

“i don’t know, it’s the adrenaline,” stiles says. “it gets addictive. i’m really fucked up now,” he adds, and his voice shakes. “in case you haven’t... noticed, i’m not exactly...”

derek has no idea what to say to that. he has no idea.

he says nothing. and stiles says, “hey, sourwolf. anyone in there?”

“derek,” derek says, finally.

“derek,” stiles says, and looks at him assessingly. “you don’t look like a derek.”

“funny,” derek says. “you look exactly like a stiles to me.”

“heh, he’s got jokes,” stiles says. “there’s a sense of humor under that dour face.”

he’s still wincing. and a flash of rage lights derek’s vision red for a second.

standing over emory, wrapping that belt around his throat—

but he quiets his head, eventually.

the scent blockers kick in soon enough. stiles could—go for a walk, if he keeps his head down, if he’s careful.

“no thank you,” stiles says, and derek can’t blame him. but one of them has to, because stiles eats his way through everything derek thought to grab in the forty seconds before there were guns on them.

“you could’ve told me,” stiles says, ridiculously stubborn for someone who, half a day ago, had to modulate every expression on his face. “i would’ve grabbed stuff too, if i knew you were actually planning a prison break.”

bold of him to think that wouldn’t’ve gotten him tackled on the spot. and maybe he knows that, deep down.

“whatever, i could've done something,” he says, like derek’s wearing all that on his face. “i could’ve grabbed the nearest blunt object...”

like he isn't hurt badly enough. derek’s jaw locks tight.

“fine, great,” stiles says grumpily. “i was a total damsel. feel better?”

there’s nothing better about it. nothing short of a nightmare.

there are some jobs where, the second you take them, you need a plan. either getting out and taking it all down when they least expect it, or going out fighting, taking out as many of them as you can.

but this one had stiles. stiles, who grabbed his arm before derek could leave the safe house. who said, “don’t you dare freaking leave me alone here. after that?”

“it’s safe,” derek said. “fortified. he can’t track your scent.”

“yeah, and not to sound ungrateful or anything, but... what, do i just live here now?”

“he’s gonna be looking for you,” derek said, and stiles said, “yes, thank you. so i’m just waiting for him to die?”

“something like that,” derek said. stiles raised his eyebrows at him, whistled.

“i hope that’s half as foreboding as your face thinks it is.”

“so do i,” derek said, and stiles grinned.

“you got any method in particular planned?”

“a belt feels poetic,” derek said, and stiles’ grin went wider.

“you couldn’t’ve done it while i was there?”

no. sometimes, things take time. and in that time, a lot of things can happen to onlookers.

“yeah, you’re a real badass,” stiles said, and derek said, “he wouldn’t be the first one.”

“really,” stiles said. “what’s your kill count?”

and derek really shouldn’t have answered him. he’s still not sure why he did.

“eleven,” he said, and watched the grin drop off stiles’ face.

he rebounded quickly. derek shouldn’t have been surprised.

next to emory, everyone’s a saint.

and it’s a survival instinct. making the best of a bad situation. making friends with the tiger in your cage.

“so you’re a tiger, huh?” stiles says, tearing through the last of the onion rings derek brought him. “tigerwolf. your fursona.”

derek had no idea stiles was this talkative.

“yeah, you’d never believe what the constant threat of harm’ll do to a person,” stiles says, and derek’s vision fills with a future emory's choking face. he’ll need to look at the belts, find a sturdy one. one that’s thin enough to really pull taut.

“tiger beat,” stiles says. “your favorite magazine. it’s not pictures of beat-down tigers,” he adds. “it’s, who'd make that magazine?”

emory, probably.

“yeah, i guess that’d be on brand, huh,” stiles says. like he can just read the name on derek’s face. “what a fun guy! pillar of the community.”

but a second later, every inch of bitterness is gone. “did you ever read those types of actual magazines? the teen heartthrob stuff. with folded up posters of hilary duff in the middle. zac efron... i had freaking jesse mccartney up on my wall for a while as a kid, and no, i did not realize it was obvious. why, what kid doesn’t love jesse mccartney?”

he’s laughing. impossibly, like he’s been through nothing at all.

“hey, no,” he says, wagging his finger at derek disapprovingly. “don’t give me that tragic face. i just ate hot fries for the first time in... i don’t even know how long. don’t bring down this moment with all your downer energy.”

“you ate onion rings,” derek says. “you’re still eating them.”

“which should just tell you how much i missed hot fries, then,” stiles says, and licks his fingers. “don’t get the wrong idea! definitely bring me more onion rings. and curly fries.”

“the hot ones,” derek says, and stiles says, “yeah, i see how that can get confusing. the... i mean, they are spiced, technically. and hot in terms of actual serving temperature. but yeah, unrelated to the bagged convenience store crunchy guys. although, if they do make a snack kind of curly fries now, i probably would wanna try it. out of morbid curiosity, at least.”

derek nods studiously.

“i can make a list,” stiles says, and that is probably a better idea than derek just trying to remember all of this. it’s a little harder when rage isn’t involved.

“aww,” stiles says. “yeah, the guy taking down my snack order is super scary. tigerface.”

“you do remember that i’m a werewolf, right?” derek says.

“a cuddly one,” stiles says. “you’re a bodyguard, that’s not... you’re a guard dog. hey!”

he’s grinning again.

“guard-wolf,” he says. “guard wolf-dog. man’s best friend.”

it’s impossible to argue with him. it just turns into word association. to stiles walking into a pun, and gaping at him, so surprised at it himself that it’s hard not to absorb half of his excitement.

derek’s really not used to living with other people, but he’s sure it didn’t feel like this before.

“Tour Guides”

Even though he’s in a room with the two people he’s supposed to feel most loved by, he’s trembling with the worst feeling of fear he’s ever felt in his life.

Worse than his first encounter with the Upside Down, worse than his fight with the Demodogs, worse than fighting a giant flesh monster and watching Billy die.

He’s watching his mother, staring at her, willing her to say something, to protect him from what’s about to happen.

“Steven. Don’t look at her. Look at me. She can’t help you now.” His father snaps.

Steve’s eyes don’t move from his mother’s face. Eyes pleading that she stop this. Just this once, can she step in?

His father approaches, “Steven, do you know what this means? Do you know what would happen if this got out?”

He doesn’t look away from his mom.

“Look at me, son.” His father steps closer “imagine how I feel? Can you just think about how shocking it must be for me? How shocked I am to find out that my son, my boy, is a homosexual?”

His mother has tears streaming down her cheeks, but she still won’t look at him.

His father sighs “I don’t want to have to send you to a camp, Steven. That’s not ideal for anyone. Can’t you just ignore this until you move out? You’ve graduated now, you can move out. You can be this… whatever you are, away from us. You can leave. That reflect poorly on no one.”

His mother turns away completely.

“You have to understand, son, this affects all of us. I can’t have the town finding out about this, do you understand?”

Steve nods.

He uses a silly pseudonym and lowers his voice to a sultry whisper, to disguise himself and set the mood. His becomes a cult favourite, a shared secret around town.

Rumours swirl around Steve's age group that he might be the host because, well... Some of the advice this radio love guru is giving out is very specific. Steve earned a reputation for a reason *wink.

Eddie listens. Oh boy, does he.

Huddled under the covers with his radio on low (even though his uncle is mostly at the Plant at that hour), Eddie has developed an embarrassing crush on the host. Context clues have helped him figure out it is someone around his age but, with three separate senior year books at his disposal, he can't quite pin down who it might be.

Imagine his surprise when he realises it is Steve (who he also has a crush on). Is it still two separate crushes if someone is masquerading as an Anonymous Radio Sex God?

Anyway, he about near falls out of bed when he hears Robin chiming in and a very Steve-and-Robin squabble ensues, live on air.