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29 November 2015 @ 09:29 am
Title: Cosplay
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Stiles / Derek
Rating: Teen
Word Count: 1362
Summary: Stiles drags Derek to a ComicCon

This is in response to Tlouey's cute AU fanart! CHECK IT OUT

“Oh my gaw— Derek, would you stop clenching?” hissed Stiles, grabbing onto Derek’s bicep while sending an annoyed glare in the direction of the three giggling Harajuku girls.

"What? Clenching?” asked Derek in confusion, his eyes looking glassy with just how out-of-his-element he was in the massive crowd of cos-players and obsessive geeks alike.

Stiles let out a high-pitched groan of frustration and led Derek around the denser part of the crowd and toward the main doors.

“Yes, clenching,” he said, holding up his con pass where it hung from his neck to show the security guy who let them move through. “Dude, your ass is already more glorious and firm than a gladiator’s, you don’t need to—”

"I wasn’t,” cut in Derek, suddenly,  his voice tight with embarrassment (well, at least that’s what Stiles would have called the emotion on anyone else, but it was hard to imagine a creature of the night with absolutely no regard to regular social cues ever being embarrassed), “I wasn’t doing it on purpose.”

“Nervous?” asked Stiles, trying to sound sympathetic.

“What are we even doing here? What’s the point of all this?” asked Derek, instead of dignifying Stiles’ question with any sort of answer. It was answer enough, where Stiles was concerned.

“For fun!” said Stiles with a laugh as he continued to direct Derek through the crowd.

Now that they were inside the building’s foyer, it was even more congested with so many people in such a small space. It wasn’t that small of a space, but considering the size of the crowd, well, yeah.. it was cramped.

“Fun,” repeated Derek unconvinced.

“You know, that thing that us regular, non-creepy people like to partake of every once in a while,” said Stiles, patting Derek’s stupid, big bicep where his hand had still been resting. He quickly pulled it back when Derek quirked an eyebrow at him. “Fun,” he concluded.

“Non-creepy,” Derek deadpanned, and what was with Derek and his derisive, judgy, one-worded statements?

Stiles was about to patiently explain to him, yet again, all the ways in which Derek was creepy when he suddenly realize Derek was gesturing with his eyebrows at a group of cos-players to their left. Stiles looked and grinned. Okay, so perhaps “non-creepy” wasn’t the proper descriptor for that group of people.

“Point,” admitted Stiles with a bright smile, “but even zombie my little ponies need to get out and have some fun once in a while”

“Right,” said Derek and there was that one-worded judgement, again.

Stiles gave Derek his best, quirky, awkward wink and smile before heading through the nearby doors into the large arena where the vendors were set up.

“Scott is going to be so bummed he missed out,” exclaimed Stiles near breathlessly around a gasp.

The place was huge and completely full of tables upon tables of every sort of kid-in-a-candy-store item that Stiles wanted to blow his hard-earned cash on. It was amazing. He reached back to grasp Derek’s hand in his, two and a half years of secret pining forgotten in that moment where all Stiles wanted from the touch was grounding and the knowledge that someone was there to experience this with him.

“It’s glorious,” he whispered and Derek squeezed his hand in response.

Stiles smiled to himself at that before stepping out into the massive, languorously-moving crowd of geeky shoppers. They only made it four paces before an unfamiliar voice stopped them.

“HOLY SHIT, you guys look AMAZEBALLS,” exclaimed someone and Stiles swung around to see a short, plump girl with long, funky-coloured hair and plenty of piercings grinning at them.

“Can I get your picture?” she asked holding up her camera and grinning.

Stiles grinned right back at her, pulling Derek around and nodding emphatically.

“Totally!” Exclaimed stiles before glancing at Derek and biting his lip. “Uh, just no flash… Sensitive eyes”.

“sure thing. Aww, You are probably the cutest Nightcrawler I’ve seen all weekend,” she said raising her camera with the huge lens up to her face.

“C’mon, Derek,” said Stiles, elbowing him, “do your wolfy face.”

Derek growled in annoyance.

“Perfect,” said Stiles, “now show those claws.”

He felt Derek brush against him as Derek moved to pose beside him and tilted his head to the side to watch as Derek allowed the spring-loaded, prop claws to unsheathe with a satisfying metallic, sliding sound. They were so totally worth the $90 on eBay.

“He looks even better as Wolverine than Hugh Jackman,” said a voice, catching Stiles’ attention.

"Awesome costumes” came another voice, and suddenly Stiles realized they were surrounded by people with cameras.

“Thanks, guys,” called the first girl after having taken a few pictures. Stiles called out a “no problem”, but made sure not to move too much considering there were at least five other cameras trained on him in that moment.

He could practically feel the discomfort and annoyance radiating from Derek beside him. What the fuck, it was good for Mr. Surly Pants.

Finally, when the small crowd had moved on and Stiles and Derek we free to continue on, Stiles caught sight of a table selling comic books by one of his favorite illustrators and headed in that direction. He slid through the crowd and got a few paces ahead of Derek in his eagerness.

“This is not what I’d call fun,” said Derek, when he finally caught up. Stiles glanced sideways at him, but was busy perusing the covers laid out on the table for anything he didn’t yet own.

"You’d probably prefer stalking fluffy woodland creatures and ripping their throats out with your teeth,” said Stiles distractedly, the theme of the comeback so familiar, he barely had to use a single braincell to form it.

Derek let out another annoyed sound and moved to stand closer to Stiles, his broad chest bumping against Stiles’ shoulder and arm. He really did made a good Wolverine —better than Scott would have. Poor Scott, laid up at the animal hospital with a puppy emergency while Deaton was gone to Cuba on vacation, Stiles would have to make sure to get him something super cool before they left.

“I am dressed in an idiotic, plastic, bright-yellow suit two sizes too small, wearing a stupid-looking, too-hot mask, stuck in the middle of a huge crowd of strange people wanting to take my picture and even stranger people dressed up in other idiotic costumes, I’m hungry and thirsty, my couch at home is covered in smears of blue paint, and I have the wedgie the depth of the Mariana Trench, and you think this is fun?”

"I told you not to wear underwear under the costume,” said Stiles, trying his best not to crack up at Derek’s "Mariana Trench” comment. The asshole shouldn’t be allowed to be witty on top of everything else he had going for him… like that ass, and those cheek bones, and they way he filled out that spandex Wolverine costume, and.. fuck, this was a bad idea.

“I don’t care about underwear lines,” hissed Derek.

"Well, you should, man,” said Stiles, ignoring the scandalized look he was getting from the woman beside them and giving Derek a grave look. “They are a serious problem in modern civilization.”

Derek rolled his eyes and straightened from where he had been leaning against Stiles.

“Have I thanked you recently for being my stand-in BFF for the day?” asked Stiles, batting his eyes at Derek and hoping he looked just stupid enough to be endearing.

It must have worked because Derek let out a sigh, his shoulders slumping, and just nodded.

“Can we at least get something to eat before you do any more shopping?” he asked in resignation.

Stiles beamed at him.

“I could kiss you,” he said and Derek’s eyes widened in response, his cheeks turning a tinge pink.

“That… won’t be necessary,” he said awkwardly and Stiles rolled his eyes at him. Heterosexual guys were so uptight about shit sometimes.

“C’mon, Logan,” said Stiles, with a happy grin, “lets find you something to eat before you get all grumpy.”

"Who’s Logan?” asked Derek in confusion.

Yeah, Stiles definitely could kiss him. Damnit.