januarylight: (violet sanctuary)
[personal profile] januarylight
Summary: Derek and Stiles go house-shopping. They blame Lydia. Poor Sumiko just blames Derek.


“No,” Derek says.

“Oh, come on—“ Stiles wheedles.

“Absolutely not.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, tilting his head back to look at the ceiling innocently. “That’s fine.”

“Good,” Derek says after a minute, sounding suspicious.

“No skin off my nose. It wasn’t even my idea.” Derek’s silence sounds suspicious now. “It was Lydia’s. She and Allison delegated it to me because they’re busy. Prom next week.” He ventures a look at Derek; he looks apoplectic. “But it’s fine if you don’t want to do it. I wouldn’t want to do it.” He sidles towards the door. “I just couldn’t say no to Lydia, you know, when she made me ask you, and everything she was going on about being afraid of the beams going out and the house falling down around us while we’re having sex—I’m not really afraid of that happening, I mean, I wasn’t, until she said it—but I’m sure you’ll manage to brush her off better than I did.”

“I will.” Derek doesn’t sound certain, but Stiles is almost out the door, so he doesn’t care.

“And if she’s that determined, I’m sure she won’t mind cancelling her dress-shopping to get it done—“

“Fine,” Derek says, stopping Stiles halfway out the door.

“You’ll do it with Lydia?”

“No,” Derek says. “You’ll do it.”

“The realtor’s coming by at three tomorrow,” Stiles informs him. “Lydia chose her. I’m sure she’ll look after you.”

“I’m not doing it,” Derek says. “You’re doing it.”

“Oh,” Stiles says. “Okay, that’s fine. But then you’ll be stuck with whatever I choose.”

“Right. Fine,” Derek sighs, and Stiles is about to make a break for it, gleeful at having gotten this done so painlessly, when Derek continues, “I’ll see you at three.”

“For—houseshopping?” Stiles squeaks out. “Together?”

“Whatever,” Derek says, narrowing his eyes grumpily, but he doesn’t take it back. "Don't be late."

“Fine, whatever,” Stiles says. “I don’t know why you said that like I’m going somewhere, it’s not like I’m actually going to turn down sex here.”

“Shut up,” Derek says, and reels him in.


“No,” Derek says.

It’s pink. Stiles likes it.

“The inside is very modern and—“


“We’ll just take a look inside and you—“

“No,” Derek says.

Sumiko starts the car.


“No,” Derek says.

Sumiko starts the car.


“No,” Derek says.

“I like this one,” Stiles says, and Sumiko stops with her hand on the key, throwing him a hopeful look. He opens his door. “Come on.”

A child on a bike almost knocks Derek over as he crosses the street, and he’s glaring at Stiles when he catches up with him.

“There probably aren’t that many kids around,” Stiles says, trying to ignore the swingset in the garden of the house they’re walking towards. “That kid probably belongs to our house, and when you buy it she’ll be gone.”

“This is a great neighbourhood,” Sumiko says brightly, jogging up behind them. “This street is very family-oriented and welcoming. Now, this house is—“

Derek is already on his way back to the car.


“No,” Derek says.

“Yeah,” Stiles says impatiently, getting out and yanking Derek’s door open. “I do have other things to do today, you know.”

Stiles is pretty sure Derek’s face is going to get stuck in that glare if he doesn’t cut it out.

“Lydia says she thinks people would want to buy your land,” Stiles says encouragingly. “To build on.”

The glare intensifies, and Derek glances back towards Sumiko’s car.

“I don’t believe there are any children on this street,” Sumiko says, leading the way towards the house. “The residents around here are mostly older people, retirees, or close to it.”

“Hard of hearing!” Stiles says, pleased.

“Uh, possibly,” Sumiko says, looking between Stiles and Derek uncomfortably. “Your dad knows you’re dating, right?”

“Yes,” Stiles says blankly. “No! No, I wasn’t talking about sex, god!”

“I don’t judge,” Sumiko says. “Anyway, it’s a very friendly community, they have an active neighbourhood watch programme, and the house is traditional and quite lovely—“

It takes her a few steps to realise Stiles and Derek are waiting for her back at the car.


“Most of the residences on this street are apartment buildings,” Sumiko says, navigating towards their next stop. “But yours is a house, as requested. I wouldn’t expect to get to know your neighbours much, but it’s a very safe area, and the house is only a few years old.”

“Sounds good,” Stiles says, and Derek grunts in something that isn’t actually disagreement.

“And very convenient for you!” she says to Stiles, as she pulls over. “Right next door to the sheriff’s office!”

“No,” Stiles says.


“They’re big houses,” Sumiko says, distinctly unenthusiastic at this point. “Very nice quality.”

“Okay,” Stiles says, glancing over at Derek. “We’ll take a look.”

“I don’t need to find a new house,” Derek says. “I don’t know what Lydia was thinking. I don’t even want this.”

“Totally her fault,” Stiles says. “We’ll just take a quick look though.”

“It’s the last one I have,” Sumiko says, pulling into the driveway.

“Hi, Mr Argent,” Stiles says, waving through the windscreen. “No,” he tells Sumiko apologetically.

“Fine,” she says. “Want me to drop you somewhere?”

“You don’t have anything else?” Derek asks.

“No,” she says, sounding a little bit sulky, and not in the mood to indulge Derek at this late stage. “I already said.”

“Really,” Stiles asks, when he can look away from Derek’s unresponsive face, “there’s nothing else?”

“No,” she says. “Well.”

“Well what?”

“There’s nothing nice.”

“Can we take a look?”

“It’s all the way over the other side of town,” she says, annoyed. “It’s almost past town limits. It’s late!”

“Please,” Stiles says, and when she looks undecided, “I promise we’ll get out of the car.”

“Fine,” she says, and she’s glaring at Derek, but she starts the car.


Derek doesn’t refuse the place on sight when they get there, and he follows Stiles out of the car without prompting, so Stiles is hopeful already.

“There are no neighbours whatsoever,” Sumiko calls after them, not bothering to keep up. “You’ll love that!”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, pretty much what we’re looking for,” Stiles says awkwardly, standing still to wait for her.

“It’s in terrible condition,” she says cheerfully. “Hasn’t had any work done to it in years. And it’s been on the market for almost a decade, but it’s being sold by Arthur Galbraith—You remember Mr Galbraith?” Stiles does, and he doesn’t think anybody has ever shuddered in horror at the mere mention of their kindergarten teacher, but he isn’t ashamed, because everybody here knows Mr Galbraith, and he saw Derek flinch. “And he isn’t willing to take a lower offer. It’s overpriced for what it is.”

“Derek can afford it,” Stiles says. Derek doesn’t even frown at him. “Okay. Can we look inside?”

“If you want to,” Sumiko says, digging through her bag for the key.

Derek doesn’t say anything when they get inside, either, as he looks around at the paper peeling off the walls, the damp patch on the ceiling, the floorboards that are starting to rot. “Everything else is way nicer,” Sumiko says in dissatisfaction. “I was told you wanted something nice.”

“Is it structurally sound?” Stiles asks, watching Derek run a cautious hand over the wall, stick his head through a doorway.

“Well, it is,” she says, “technically. But—“

“And what about the—“ Stiles says, trying to remember what he’s supposed to ask. “Water? Piping? Electricity?”

“Functional,” she says reluctantly. “Barely.”

“Any questions?” Stiles asks Derek.

“No,” Derek says, and starts up the stairs. They creak ominously.

“We’ll just—“ Stiles says, waving vaguely after Derek. “Can you stay here?”

“Yes,” Sumiko allows, narrowing her eyes at him. “But no sex! That bed is really old and noisy, so I’ll be able to hear you!”

“Yikes,” Stiles says, and follows Derek quickly.

Derek is looking out the window of the front bedroom when Stiles finds him.

“So,” Stiles asks, coming up behind him. “You want it?”

Derek shrugs. “No,” he says.

“You want it.”

Derek shrugs again.

“It’s almost as bad as your old place,” Stiles says, baffled. “You don’t want something nicer?”

“I can—I could fix it up.”

“You could find somewhere you didn’t have to fix up.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Derek says. “I’m not buying it. I’m not—“

“Hey,” Stiles says. “You don’t need to buy somewhere new. If you could fix this up you could fix up your own place.”

“No,” Derek says. “No, I’m not—I can’t change anything.”

“Oh,” Stiles says. “Okay. You’re not—Yeah, okay.” He settles his head on Derek’s shoulder tentatively. “It’s a nice view.”

“Yeah,” Derek says quietly.

It is a nice view, if you’re a werewolf: a long, empty road to run down, and the setting sun over the treetops of the forest, swaying in the breeze.

“Okay, so,” Stiles says thoughtfully. “You’re buying this one.” Derek’s shoulders jerk in negation, but he doesn’t turn away from the window. “You don’t have to sell your family’s house, though, right, you can keep it.” Derek’s shoulders lose some of their tension under his chin. “You just can’t, you know, live there.”

“I can,” Derek says, “I could. I was going to.”

“Yeah, I know. But not anymore. You don’t have to do that.” Derek jerks again, but Stiles says, “It will still be there. You don’t have to stay,” and Derek shakes, doesn’t speak.

“I said no sex!” Sumiko yells up the stairs. “You’ve been up there too long, I’m coming up!”

“We’ll be down in a minute!” Stiles shouts. “So,” he says, settling back down on Derek. “My dad might be able to convince Mr Galbraith to accept an offer. He knows things about what Mr Galbraith’s cats get up to, and I think he’d use that on this.”

“Okay,” Derek says, and Stiles relaxes.

“And what do we do next?” he asks, lightened by relief, rubbing Derek’s stomach. “Pick out curtains?”

Derek stifles a laugh. “I think I’d need some convincing,” he says, and Stiles watches the sun dip below the skyline as he considers how he might go about that.

September 2012


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