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It’s Saturday and, barring the odd supernatural attack, that meant training and pack bonding. Derek had been fine with calling it a day with training, but Stiles convinced him that a little pack bonding would go a long way towards soothing the sharp edges that still existed between all of them after Gerard.
After the first pack night in the abandoned train station, it was unanimously agreed that the Stilinkski house would be the gathering place of all future pack nights. Which suits Stiles just fine. He had the requisite video games, TV and DVD player, and a Netflix account. Stuffed with pizza and soda, the pack draped themselves across the Stilinski living room furniture. Erica and Boyd cuddled together on the loveseat. Scott claimed the sofa by face planting on the cushions and didn’t budge when Isaac picked up his feet, sat down and dropped them in his lap. Lydia curled up in the wing back chair next to the Sheriff’s recliner that Derek commandeered as Stiles stood in the middle of the living room floor and scrolled through his Netflix account looking for a suitable flick. He jumped from British comedies to supernatural films and stopped at the heading of creature feature. What the hell, he thought. Surely something here will be good for a laugh.
The name jumped out at him – Nathan Fillion – and he stopped on Slither. A quick glance at the description and he was sold. Grinning, he clicked on the icon and brought up the detail screen.
“And we have a winner!”
“What the hell is that, Stilinkski?” Boyd asked.
“In the small burg of Wheelsy, housecats are turning into hellcats and townsfolk are morphing into zombies, prompting Sheriff Bill Pardy and the concerned wife of one of the town's richest citizens to uncover the dark forces at work, “ Lydia read. “You cannot be serious, Stiles.”
“Aw, c’mon! It’ll be great. Zombies and hellcats! And let us not forget the wild Nathan Fillion.”
“Whatever, Stiles. Just hit play already,” Derek mumbled.
Grinning, Stiles complied and then looked around the room. Boyd was rolling his eyes as Erica snuggled closer. Scott just groaned something about cheesy sci-fi and tradition. Derek glared in his general direction and Stiles floundered a bit trying to decide if he’s brave enough to sit on the floor by Derek or if he’ll just settle for flopping where he stands. He started for the couch but changed his mind and veered towards Derek, dropping to the floor. He sat there, elbows on his knees and chin resting on his fists as the movie started.
From the opening scene, it was obvious, to Stiles at least, that this was going to be grade-A B-movie gold. Sure the beginning drug just a bit but it’s character development, so Stiles was okay. The rest of the pack, not so much.
“Where are the damn zombies, Stiles. And what the fuck is wrong with this town and their obsession with antlers,” Erica muttered.
“Obviously, hunting season is a big part of the local economy, Erica.”
Moments later, there was a collective groan and faint gagging noises as a truly painful to watch make out scene occurred. Fortunately, it was interrupted by the arrival of the monster.
Much laughter ensued.
“Did that guy actually glow or was that just the worst special effect I’ve ever seen,” Isaac asked as the villain of the film dropped to ground writhing in pain and suddenly seemed to turn transparent. Sorta like a really bizarre x-ray.
“I’m going with worst special effect ever,” Scott muttered.
The pack groaned and laughed in turn as the plot unfolded until the big reveal. The villain-turned-alien zombie sliced a man in half after molesting a spectacularly awful animatronic cow.
“I take it back. That was the worst special effect ever,” Scott mumbled, shaking his head.
“Hush, philistine.”
“What?”
“Seriously, Scott?”
“Shut up, Stiles.”
“Oh, that’s original, Derek.”
Derek just growled. Stiles shut up. He was starting to remember this film. He might have watched it months ago during one of his frequent bouts of insomnia. He knew what coming next, though, and stifled a giggle.
The revolting blob with a head that used to be the villain-now-zombie alien’s wannabe girlfriend blew up and thousands of vaguely penis-shaped worms filled the barn. Howls and groans filled the living room as everyone felt the need to complain.
“That’s just wrong, Stiles. Wrong. Why are you making me watch this?” Lydia complained.
“It’s hilarious, Lyds. Plus, Nathan Fillion. You can’t go wrong with Mal, man,” Stiles scoffed.
“I need brain bleach,” whimpered Isaac.
“Aw, don’t worry, man. Scott will save you,” Boyd said cheerfully.
“Boyd,” Isaac whined, drawing out the vowel.
“Shut up all of you, I can’t hear,” Derek interrupted.
The grumbling died down after that. There were still plenty of groans and some laughter as the film continued.
“What the fuck. Is it just me or do those slug things remind you of a dick,” grumbled Scott.
“Ten bucks says the chick bites it in the bathtub. Death by swimming slug,” Erica called out.
“You're on,” Stiles replied as the aforementioned slug dropped into the tub and started swimming towards the teenage heroine.
“Nope, Scott,” Lydia said in a slightly horror-struck voice. “That’s not a giant red penis it’s an enormous red sperm. Ew.”
Stiles rolled on the floor laughing as the naked chick fights with the alien slug and random alien memories flashed across the screen. When she killed it with her curling iron, he actually howled and pumped his fist in victory.
“I will take my ten now, good lady,” he retorted, hand out-stretched towards Erica.
“I still say she’s gonna bite it.”
“Double or nothing says she one of the last ones standing.”
Erica frowned and glared at Stiles. “You’ve seen this, haven’t you?”
“Nope,” he replied with a pop. Stiles was counting on the fact that Erica still had trouble reading heartbeats.
Leaning back into Boyd’s embrace Erica shrugged. “Whatever, Stilinski. I still say she’s toast.”
The rest of the movie played on in relative quiet. Occasional grumbles at ridiculous moments aside, the pack seemed to be enjoying themselves. Stiles certainly was. So much that he leaned back against the recliner and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles as Fillion and his stalwart teenage sidekick fumbled their way towards the big finale. He didn’t notice that he’s pressed up against Derek’s leg until the alpha shifted in his seat and the chair rocked slightly. Stiles started and leaned forward until Derek rested a hand on his shoulder and pulled him gently back.
“Relax,” Derek mumbled.
Stiles would, except that Derek’s hand didn’t leave. It just stayed there, all warm and tingle inducing. He remained tense and unable to focus on the film until Derek’s thumb started rubbing circles on the back of his neck. Stiles’ eyes dropped closed and he leaned back, releasing a quiet breath. The catcalls from the pack as Fillion’s character failed with the grenade returned his focus to the film. The big finish wasn’t high art but it was pretty damn funny.
As the end credits rolled and the song started, the pack stirred.
“I was promised hellcats. Where were the hellcats? I’ve been cheated,” Lydia proclaimed as she stood up, stretching.
“How the fuck did that get three stars,” Scott asked as he rolls off the couch.
“Dude, the only reason this piece of shit got 3 stars is cause the Nathan Fillion fanboys are idiots. And yes, Stilinkski, I’m looking at you.”
“Whatever, Erica. You owe me 20 bucks.”
Erica swore and dug in her pocket. She tossed a 20 at Stiles' feet as she headed for the kitchen.
“So, what did you think?” Stiles smiled as he leaned his head back to look up at Derek. While everyone else had wandered off in search of sustenance, Stiles and Derek hadn’t moved.
Derek looked down at Stiles upturned face and a tiny twitch at the corner of his mouth had Stiles grinning wide. “You knew the girl was gonna survive cause you’ve seen it before.”
“Yep,” he replied, popping the final p. “Gonna rat me out to Erica?”
Derek slid his hand up the back of Stiles’ head and pushed him out of the way as he stood. Stiles rolled to his knees and took Derek’s extended hand to pull himself to his feet. Derek’s finger brushed across Stiles wrist and he smiled as he caught the uptick in the heartbeat underneath.
“She needs to learn to listen better.”
“Cool. I still haven’t forgiven her for hurting my baby last year. Your girl pup is viscous.”
Derek leaned in, invading Stiles space and causing him to pull back a bit. He grinned as he halted Stiles’ retreat with the hand still on his wrist and whispered in his ear.
“You know she just heard you.”
“Fuck,” Stiles groaned, throwing his head back.
Derek released Stiles wrist and headed towards the kitchen, shaking his head. Stiles stood in his living room, rubbing his hands across his face and contemplating the ways that Erica was going to kill him until Derek’s voice interrupted his rambling brain.
“This was a good idea, Stiles. But let someone else pick the next movie.”
“Oh, no way, Sourwolf. I know just what we need to see next. Seriously, dude, it’s gonna be epic. It’s a must see with this crowd.”
Derek stopped and turned to face Stiles, eyebrows crawling towards this hairline. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”
Stiles flipped through the menus onscreen and cursed before giving up and hitting the search feature. As he started typing in the title, Derek stepped up behind him and looked over his shoulder at the screen. Once he saw the suggested results start popping up, he reached over Stiles and wrested the remote from his hands.
“We are not watching Teen Wolf.”
“Dude! Michael J Fox was awesome!”
“Not. Watching.”
The rest of the pack returned laden with snacks and soda as Derek and Stiles stared at each other. Or rather, Derek stared, glared really, while Stiles flailed and made dying baby penguin noises. Scott snagged the remote from Derek’s hand and settled on the couch. He exited out of the search and started flipping through Stiles suggested film list.
“Stiles, what kind of shit are you watching?”
Stiles ignored his best friend and waved his hands between himself, Scott and Derek in some vague interpretative dance meant to convey the unjust nature of events. Derek just shrugged, took the bowl of popcorn Lydia offered him and retook his seat in the recliner. Stiles threw up his hands in defeat and stomped off to the kitchen. When he returned with two cans of soda, the opening credits of Kick Ass were starting. He handed Derek one of the cans, flopping down at his feet. Derek reached over his shoulder to offer the popcorn bowl. Grumbling under his breath about stubborn wolves and their unenlightened natures, Stiles grabbed a handful of popcorn and tossed it into his mouth.
While Stiles opened his soda and slurped at the erupting foam, Derek sighed and set the popcorn bowl and his own unopened soda on the floor. He reached down and grabbed Stiles under the arms and hoisted him into his lap. Stiles flailed, barely managing to keep from drenching Derek and himself with soda.
“Settle down, Stiles,” Derek groused as he wrapped one arm around Stiles’ waist and took the soda out his hand. Leaning over to set it on the floor, he ignored the snickers emanating from his pack. He popped the footrest up as he straightened and then leaned back.
Stiles sat perfectly still through it all, perched on Derek’s lap and his eyes wide. Derek just tugged him down and reached up to rub his thumb across the back of Stiles’ neck. The teen sighed in defeat and wiggled around a bit until he was draped across Derek, his head resting on Derek’s chest and his arm tucked around the older man’s waist.
“If this is how pack night’s are going to be from now on, I might be willing to concede the need to pick the movie. But I reserve the right of veto. It is my house, after all.”
“As you wish,” Derek growled softly.
Stiles stopped moving, stopped breathing really. His heartbeat thudded almost painfully as he closed his eyes. Derek’s hand squeezed his neck and Stiles moved his head oh so slowly until he buried his nose under Derek’s chin. He pulled a deep shuddering breath into his lungs and whispered against the older man’s skin.
“Do you mean it?”
“Yes,” Derek whispered back, closing his eyes and listening to Stiles rapid heartbeat as he breathed in the scent of arousal spiked with the barest hint joy. “Are you…okay?”
“Okay? If you want, I can fly.”