Derek: *knocks* “Stiles, I’m at the door.”
Stiles stared in confusion. He considered the fact that he might have some internal ear drum damage from the explosion last week. He considered that his eyes might be deceiving him, if the shape on the other side of the opaque glass was anything to go by.
Upturned duck-hair? check.
Jacket (leather?) in the middle of a heat wave? check.
Almost visible stubble/scowl/eyebrows? check/check/check.
“Stiles, I’m at the door,” Derek said, obviously becoming impatient by Stiles’ hesitation.
“You’re at the door?” Stiles called back in disbelief.
“Prove you’re not a pod person.”
“What’s the safe word?”
At this, his dad lowered his newspaper and gave Stiles a look, a look that said ‘you better not have a safeword with Derek Hale.’
“It’s a magic safeword, dad.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” his father said. "Now answer the door.“
"Don’t answer the door!” Derek chided. "I haven’t said the safeword yet.“
"Derek’s right,” his father, ever the Sheriff, agreed, looking grudgingly impressed. "If your instincts think something is off, go with them.“
Seriously, Stiles’ life.
"What’s the safeword?” Stiles had actually been saving this occasion for maximum effect, and was a little disappointed that the only witness was his father.
Derek muttered something indecipherable.
“I couldn’t hear you!” Stiles hollered back.
“I SAID TWERK IT.”
Stiles barely refrained from snickering. "Use it in a sentence.“
"I don’t need this. I’ll just text Scott,” Derek decided through the door.
“No,” his dad decided. "Until Stiles accepts the safeword, I’m going to view you as a possible hostile threat.“
Stiles’ dad was seriously the best. He held up his fist for a bro moment, but his dad ignored him.
"I’ll retrieve my gun and the mountain ash.”
Seriously the best.
“The dancers were twerking it on the dance floor,” Derek finally said, distaste evident in the bite of his tone, like just saying the words were the worst thing that ever happened to him.
And this was Derek.
“Hmmm,” Stiles hummed. "Weak, I’m going to need a demonstration.“
At this, Stiles swore he heard his dad snort.
"Stiles,” Derek said aggrieved, and Stiles could see the shadow of Derek crossing his arms over his chest and look towards the sky. “I’m on your front porch.”
“I can see through the front window,” Stiles told him, parting the curtains to find Derek scowling at him at the other side. Creepy.
“I suggest you do as my son says.” His dad clicked the safety off his gun.
Derek narrowed his eyes. "I feel like something is amiss,“ he lied with the air of someone with a plan, and everyone knew how Derek’s plans went. "Stiles, I’m going to need your safeword.”
“No,” Stiles said, the gravity of the situation suddenly hitting him. "Not in front of my dad,“ he hissed.
"I didn’t know what my safeword meant when Stiles instituted it,” Derek said directly to the Sheriff. "So Stiles demonstrated.“
"I really do hate you,” Stiles decided, covering his face with his hands.
“Son, it’s within his right…”
“I’m going to need that safeword, Stiles,” they both spoke at once.
“JAILBAIT OK. Derek said my safeword was jailbait.”
“Get off my porch.”
(sorry, I merged 2 in one but I couldn’t stop laughing at the idea)