Chapter Text
Derek bangs on his sister’s bedroom door. “Laura, did you use the last of the milk again?” She doesn’t respond, so he throws the door open, and nope, she’s not there, so he opens a new text message.
Your room is a mess. Also, did you finish off the milk?
I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT, she replies, so he hits her speed dial. He’s internally practicing his we live together, and if you kill it, you fill it speech, so it takes him a second to process the voice answering. Because it’s definitely not Laura’s voice.
“Hey baby. What can I do for you?” the guy on the other end practically purrs.
“Um, hello?”
“First time? Don’t worry, I can always take the lead.”
“I take it this isn’t Laura’s number.” Derek glances at his phone’s screen, and yep. She’s so dead.
The guy Derek is talking to is apparently named Stiles, and his prank ideas would make Laura punch Derek in the face. Though, to be fair, she does that a lot anyway, but still. Derek’s mom taught him to respect his alpha. Even if his current alpha is an asshole who leaves empty milk containers in the fridge and lives an ALL CAPS kind of life. Even if she reprograms his speed dial.
When he goes out to buy milk, he stocks up on saran wrap too. Just in case.
“Derek.” Laura comes storming out the bathroom, pants still unbuttoned and unzipped. “I swear to fucking god, you’re so dead.”
“Hmm?” He looks up from his book and tries to look as innocent as possible. It doesn’t work.
“You, me, outside, now.”
He rolls his eyes and follows her into the backyard. It’s dark out, so they’re safe from neighbors watching as Laura proceeds to, as predicted, kick his ass while they spar.
Fucking alphas.
It’s not Derek’s best idea ever, but he goes into his recent calls and dials the 1-900 number. He’s about to back out and hang up when someone answers and asks what he’s looking for. “Is there any way you can connect me to Stiles?” Derek’s weirdly nervous, but the guy connects him.
“Hey there, what can – ”
“I did it,” Derek blurts out.
“Excuse me?”
“The saran wrap on the toilet.”
“Derek?” And he’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but it seems like there’s an added note of excitement in Stiles’s voice. But it’s enough to keep him talking for a while. There’s a slightly flirtatious edge to most of what Stiles says, but hey. The guy talks dirty for a living; it makes sense.
Derek’s in the middle of making a clever technology innuendo when he hears Laura’s key in the lock.
“Shit, Laura just got home.”
When Stiles tells Derek to put glitter on her bedroom fan, he tells himself he won’t.
He does it anyway.
Derek turns around in his desk chair to see Laura standing in his doorway. The dramatic effect of her silent appearance – to the point where Derek couldn’t hear her at all – is completely ruined by the glitter coating her entire outfit. He snorts, and she throws her hands in the air dramatically.
“Oh, yeah, go ahead and laugh. This is hilarious, Derek. Herpes of the art world, all over my favourite dress. I’m going to kick your ass so hard.
He smirks, waiting for her to follow through on that, but no. She does way worse.
“Derek,” she growls, I’M YOUR ALPHA voice in full effect. “Do my fucking laundry.” She pulls off her dress and throws it at his head before walking out of the room in just her underwear. It gets glitter everywhere, all over Derek’s stuff. He takes a deep breath and considers calling Stiles again, but when he tries, he’s told Stiles has the day off.
He’s trying to focus on his workout when he hears Laura get back. “…phone sex he’s not even having,” she’s saying. Derek freezes, because this probably means she’s hunted down Stiles and is going to kill him. “Goodbye!”
She collapses on the couch and kicks off her shoes. One of them hits Derek. He growls and throws it back at her, but she just catches it and laughs. “So I got you your boyfriend’s number,” she tells him. “Because I’m an awesome sister. And therefore you’re going to stop pranking me. We clear?”
Derek rolls his eyes. “Just give me his number.”
Laura folds a small piece of paper into an airplane and throws it at him. It misses, so Derek picks it up off the ground and unfolds it to reveal a California-based number, from somewhere around where he used to live. He ponders that for a sec, then starts to compose a text.
Apparently he’s taking too long, though, because Laura steals his phone out of his hands and sends something before tossing it back at him.
“You think he’s ‘good for me’? Also, congrats on the lack of caps. Very convincingly me.”
“Caps lock is cruise control for cool, Derek.”
Derek’s phone buzzes, and he glances down at it. dude your sister is cray
He couldn’t agree more.
OH REMINDER THAT YOU HAVE A JOB INTERVIEW IN TWENTY MINUTES.
What? I’m pretty sure I don’t, actually. He knows he doesn’t. The job hunt’s been going slowly lately, because half of a degree means nothing in this world. Insurance from the fire pays their rent, Laura’s job pays for her car, and Derek landed his bike through one of their neighbors. His days get boring, sure, but at least they’re not starving on the streets. He’s even considering getting the second half of his degree.
UH HELL YEAH YOU DO BECAUSE I’M THE BEST SISTER/ALPHA EVER.
She texts him an address, and he goes.
Bartending wasn’t exactly on his list of potential careers, but the owner of the bar takes one long look at him, head to toe, and declares that he’s hired.
It’s not much, but it’s something, and he gets to brag about it at Stiles, right up until he falls asleep.
The next night, Stiles’s texts start becoming less and less coherent right when Derek gets off work. It’s around one in the morning – ten PM, for California.
hey baby hey baby heyyyy
Hey?
there is nothing in this world i love more than tequila
Followed by scratch that, there are a lot of things i love more than tequila
OH MAN OH MAN how much do you want to bet i can get danny mahealani to make out with me
Stiles, you’re drunk.
damn right i am. also danny said no :C :C :C :C i'm fucking hearstbriken
Was that supposed to say heartbroken?
you bet your pretty little ass it was
Derek gives up on responding somewhere around there, instead choosing to go to bed. When he wakes up to go for a run at seven the next morning, though, there are more:
tewqila is wierd
*tequla
tequila fuck
lettrs are weird toooo
dfkasdlfjl like why isnt that a word
man you suuuuuck why ar you aselep
spekaing of sucking i bet yuo have a gr9 dick
(thats like gr8 but more)
man i bet that’s creep y if me to say
but like
THATS OAKY
BABY I AM A FIRWORK AND MY COLERS BURST
IS IT WERID THAT im wEARING SOMONE ELSES SHOES
IS IT WEIRDD THAT SCIENCE MAN I FUCKING LOVE SCEINCE
SO MANY THIGNS ARE WEIRD
LIK
*LIKE
IS IT WEIRD THAT I WANT TO HAVE ALL KIDNS OF SEX WITH YUO EVEN THOUGH IVE NEVER EVEN SENE YOU I GUESS IM ATRACTED TO YOUR BRAIN. UGH THOUGH I BET YOURE SO HOT. HOW BIG IS YUOR DICK?
And the messages just keep going.
Derek’s going to tease him for this forever.