Has This Been Done Already

has this been done already

Imagine all the irritation when peter/sheriff and stiles/derek having a double wedding. "Would you mister stilinski marry mister hale?" // Imagine they send the wrong Hale to the sighning because they're late.

Bwahahahaha! 

“Listen,” John says later, unfastening his tie. “It’s just a clerical mix up, and it’s going to get sorted out after the weekend.” 

“Meanwhile, you’re married to my husband and I’m married to yours!” Stiles hisses. 

The mix up was only discovered after the joint reception. Luckily, because John knows otherwise Stiles would not have coped well with having to smile for the photos and play nice with relatives they haven’t seen in years with this hanging over his head. 

Peter wanders by, drinking champagne from the bottle. “So how do we do this? Stiles, are you sleeping in my suite tonight or should I come to yours?” 

“Peter!” John exclaims. “You’re not helping.” 

“I’m not here to help,” Peter leers. 

Derek sighs, and puts an arm around Stiles’s shoulders. “It’s just a piece of paper, Stiles. It doesn’t mean anything.” 

“Listen to Step-Daddy Derek,” Peter grins, and then chortles when Stiles throws him a murderous glare. 

“Dad!” Stiles wails. 

“Derek, take Stiles back to your room,” John says, pinching the bridge of his nose. “And make sure he drinks some water! And Peter…” 

“Yes, nephew-in-law?” Peter smirks. 

John sighs. “You’re never going to let this go, are you? This is what the rest of our life together is going to be like, isn’t it? This is what I’ve signed up for?” 

“Technically, it’s what Stiles has signed up for.” 

Derek catches Stiles around the waist before he can actually punch Peter in the face, but i’s a near thing. 

“Go,” John says to Derek, and Derek hoists a protesting Stiles up into a fireman carry and left the room. 

“Well then,” Peter purrs. “Alone at last.” 

“Oh,” John deadpans. “We couldn’t possibly. Not while we’re married to other people.” 

And he heads for the bathroom and shuts the door. 

“John?” Peter complains complains loudly from the other side. “John, seriously? John?” 

John smiles to himself in the mirror. No, not seriously, but let him suffer for a while. It serves him right for being a dick. And if John didn’t have at least a few tricks up his sleeve for how to deal with Peter in dick mode, well, he never would have agreed to marry the guy. 

Virginia Woolf, Night and Day/Sylvia Plath, The Unabridged Journals of Sylvia Plath/C.J. Hauser, The Crane Wife: A Memoir in Essays/ Richard Siken, War of the Foxes

For @emmmna who asked me for something to cheer them up. I went through my blog looking at fluffy otp prompts and found this: “‘Be nice to your seat partner. They might just be your future spouse!’ the teacher says, and you turn to me and wink. Are you even real??” au. I wrote it rather quickly but I hope it makes you smile, sweetheart!

Derek is a popular kid, and by law (according to every teen movie ever made) his brand of popular is not supposed to get this dumbstruck when the guy who once sneezed on his apple the first day of pre-school winks at him in the middle of Biology.

Derek doesn’t know what it is about Stiles Stilinski but he drives him insane– standing by his locker, talking to that McCall kid in class, sitting on the bench, fidgeting at lacrosse games. One moment Derek is a perfectly normal teenage boy with a perfectly functioning teenage brain and the next he’s that guy in a romantic comedy; all the lights dim and it’s just him, Stiles and whatever bizarre thing Stiles is doing. It’s horribly, wonderfully unsettling and Derek is 95% sure he’s in some kind of love. (He is still a little disturbed Erica had to physically drag him away last week when his eyes refused to stop looking as Stiles tried and failed to lick some kind of sauce – meat, Derek thinks it was – from his elbow.)

“What?” he asks, blinking, trying to look up at Stiles’ face. Unfortunately, his brain has other plans and he continues to remain fixated on the way Stiles is holding his pencil, twirling it between his fingers. He wonders, briefly, what they would feel like laced between his fingers or running through his hair before immediately stopping because no. Stiles also makes him want to bash his head against the wall 75% of the time. He’s a lethal combination.

Lethal.

“I said I’d like a fall wedding. They seem to be quite popular for some reason. Maybe it’s all the pretty leaves.”

Derek blinks again, suddenly struck by the image of Stiles in a suit surrounded by crisp, golden leaves to match his eyes. It’s a strangely lovely image and turning away a little, he scowls at the way his stomach flutters. He’s seventeen for Christ’s sake. He’s only kissed one person: Paige Krasikeva during a game of truth or dare. “You know Miss Byrne was kidding when she said we’d all get married, right? We’re not going to fall in love just because we got seated together in one class together.”

Derek hopes it will be just one class, anyway. He doesn’t think he’ll survive the year otherwise. At least, his grades won’t.

“That’s what you think.” Derek feels his scowl deepen and Stiles throws his head back, sighing. “Yes, buzz kill, I do actually know what a joke is, thank you very much.” He blushes a little, ducking his head, and Derek instantly feels bad.

“I, uh…”

“Dude, look. It’s fine. Sorry.  I didn’t mean to, like, offend you or whatever.”

“You didn’t offend me.”

Stiles snorts. “Uh-huh. You moved your chair the moment you sat down next to me. I get it, it’s fine. I’ll shut up, I promise.” He mimes zipping his lips, blush deepening, and his eyes zero in on his textbook but Derek can tell he’s not taking in a word of it, even as he turns the page.

Opening his note book, Derek cringes, writing down the date. He looks to the clock. He’s got another thirty minutes of sitting here with Stiles.

Twenty-nine, he swallows.

Twenty-eight, sneaking a glance at him.

Twenty-seven: “I’m sure you’d make a beautiful bridegroom.”

Stiles’ head snaps up and he drops his pencil. They both watch it roll away. “What?”

Derek wants to slap himself. Of all the things he could have said, of all the fucking things, who the fuck says…that?

“I, erm-”

“You don’t have to mock me, you know,” Stiles hisses, defensive, embarrassed. “I get it. You’re the basketball captain and I’m on the bleachers. You don’t belong with me, whatever.”

Derek bites his lip, supressing a smirk. “Did you…did you just paraphrase Taylor Swift to me?”

Stiles’ cheeks colour again and Derek’s breath hitches. Fuck, he’s never going to tire of that.

“You knew I was paraphrasing Taylor Swift?”

They both burst out laughing at the same time, earning them a scowl from Miss Byrne and a guffaw from the back of the room. Turning, Derek catches Lydia Martin roll her eyes at them before shooting Stiles a knowing look. When he turns back around, Stiles is an even brighter shade of red, if that’s even possible, mouthing something to her. It’s utterly, utterly endearing and Derek kind of wants to do something stupid, like hold Stiles’ hand or draw hearts all over his notebook.

“You know,” he whispers, after a moment, feeling brave, “I’ve still never forgiven you for sneezing on my apple. Maybe you could buy me a new one, after school.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open. “That one is on you, buddy. Who actually brings an apple to give to their teacher on the first day of school anyway?”

It’s Derek’s turn to blush. Dammit. “Oh, I don’t know. People with manners?”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “That’s…the most adorable thing I’ve ever heard, dude.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god, but it is.”

“Are you going to buy me another one or not?” Derek asks, rolling his eyes, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself. God, what is wrong with him.

Grinning, Stiles reaches into his bag, presenting him with a –

“I don’t know what kind of apples you eat but that is an orange.”

Stiles curses, scratching the back of his neck, and Derek just about falls out of his seat with how tingly he feels looking at him.

He desperately hopes he’s not giving him heart eyes.

“Points for trying?” Stiles grins, hopeful.

Derek pretends to consider him before taking the orange and beginning to peel it. “Depends.”

“On?”

“If marrying me includes a date after school today.”

In the end, it’s Stiles who falls out of his seat, and Derek can’t stop grinning for the rest of the day thinking about it.

Pick you up at 6? comes a text the moment he sits down in History. Erica peeks over his shoulder, trying to pry as usual, but Derek hides his phone, heart pounding as he replies, I help coach the pee wee basketball team until seven. Pick me up then?

So. Darn. Cute, Stiles texts back.

“Derek…are you – are you blushing? Oh my god, you never blush. Who was that? Was that Stilinski?”

“Shut up, Erica.”

~

Stiles ends up taking him to an apple orchard and buys him exactly one hundred and one apples. 

“One hundred and one apples for forever and a day?” he asks, winking. Derek’s stomach flips.

“Sure,” Derek says, shaking his head fondly, biting into one and then, because Stiles bought him several different kinds, another.

~

“Forever and a day?” Stiles asks, fourteen years later, holding out an apple. It’s cut in half and getting down on one knee he opens it carefully, like a box. Inside is a ring.

“Sure,” Derek whispers, grinning so hard it hurts, falling to his knees and burying his face in Stiles’ neck to hide his blush.

“Dork.”

“Nerd.”

Stiles laughs. “Fair enough.”

stiles: we have a problem.

derek: No, YOU have a problem. I have an idiot who keeps causing them.

Barty *trying to get reg to agree to a party*: c'mon its not that bad! Alot of people you know will be there

Reg: Is this supposed to be convincing me???

Barty: Why don't you just think on it? I'll count you on the list for now and let you rumminate on it-

Reg: there's nothing to think about, there's no chance in merlins balls that I would ever agree to such a ludicrous, atrocious, and quite frankly disgusting social gathering-

Barty: Potter will be there.

Reg: And so will I.