derek custard

badinthelatin  asked:

Hi, for the ficlet thing how about Sterek and number 4 “I’m flirting with you.” ^_^

Stiles has this terrible habit of taking up too much space. He leans into Derek in cars. Sometimes, he’ll start walking into Derek on the sidewalk. Even if Derek veers him back onto his own damn side, he still somehow ends up closer than ever, ten seconds later. Their fingers brush, and it’s awful. It makes Derek’s palms sweat. 

Every so often, Stiles touches Derek’s arm, catches his wrist, rests his chin on Derek’s shoulder when he’s leaning over him to read something. Derek grew up in a tactile pack. He used to give his sister monster hugs, and they drove her crazy, crumpled her dresses, but she always laughed and returned them.

Cora runs her hands through his hair when she stays over, and he falls asleep on the couch. She vehemently denies it when Stiles teases her about doing it, points out that Stiles is forever touching Derek, and Stiles shrugs! He doesn’t even try and deny it!

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memekon-deactivated20160414  asked:

YOU HAVE TO TELL ME MORE ABOUT STILES EATING CREPES MESSILY AND SLOPPY AND SUCKING ON HIS FINGERS WHEN HE'S DONE AND MOANING LIKE HE'S-- LIKE HE'S DOING SOMETHING ELSE ENTIRELY AND GRABBING AT HIS STOMACH BECAUSE IT'S SO *FULL* AND DEREK KEEPS BANGING AGAINST THINGS. PLEASE, PLEASE TELL ME MORE. TELL ME EVERYTHING.

DEREK HALE HAS BEEN IN THE KITCHEN AS LONG AS HE’S BEEN ABLE TO WALK.  Derek Hale LOVES the kitchen, RESPECTS the kitchen, feels in perfect sync with his kitchen.

And YET since Stiles discovered his tiny little restaurant tucked away on a dank side street, Derek Hale has somehow managed to injure himself more than he probably ever has in his life.  

He has burns on his hands from grabbing hot pans from the oven barehanded because he was too distracted by the way Stiles moans, low and hoarse when he’s trying to savor the last few bites of his crepe.

He almost lost a pinky last week when he was chopping fruit, mechanical and efficient, and somehow lost his concentration because Stiles had his fingers in his mouth, was licking at them, sucking away the last remnants of filling.  The masters he studied under would be ASHAMED of him.  He’d be a LAUGHINGSTOCK. 

The worst is when Stiles follows him back, swings up to sit on the corner of Derek’s worktable and it’s INAPPROPRIATE.  What would the health inspector say?  This is unacceptable, but he lets it happen, lets Stiles get in his space while he works, until Stiles slyly tries reaching for an almost empty bowl of vanilla custard, and Derek smacks him a moment too late, when the bowl was almost in his grasp.  All it does is make the custard fly out, and hit Stiles in the face.

“Oops,” Stiles says ruefully, and reaches out to thumb a bit of the mess from his cheeks, chin, the side of his mouth.  

Derek turns around and walks right into the open door of the fridge, and ends up with a black eye and a concussion. 

“I’ll come to your place and watch over you,” Stiles says, apologetically.  "It’s the least I can do.“