UNTITLED TEEN WOLF FIC

[roguemariel]

Fandom: Teen Wolf
Characters: Allison Argent, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Lydia Martin, Peter Hale, Scott McCall, Stiles Stilinski
Pairing: Vague Scott/Allison
Rating: G
Prompt: Write a short fanfic based around the Round Robin written during Meeting 004.



Untitled Teen Wolf Fic

It started as it usually does. Stiles was sitting in his apartment, waiting for the oven to ding, when his phone buzzed.

From: Derek
7:00. Loft.

Stiles rolled his eyes as he responded to the text. At least it didn’t seem to be an emergency. Derek tended to use more words for those. Eyeing the clock, Stiles realized he had about three hours to finish everything, clean up, and head over.

With any luck, someone would bring pizza.

--

It didn’t take very long for the meeting to spiral into violence. It had started reasonably enough. Derek had bought pizza, and no one had minded sharing. They had even been polite enough about the last few slices. (It helped that Stiles had split up the pizza so that everyone got an equal amount of slices. Jackson had growled at that, but Derek had growled back, so Stiles counted it as a win.)

Then Stiles brought out the cookies and war broke out. He’d made sure that the cookies were separated into neatly labeled bags, but people still managed to steal them from each other. And that led, as it usually did, into war.

There was one cookie left. Stiles couldn’t help it. As he looked around, he began to laugh, and then he couldn’t stop.

Erica growled at Lydia, who was actually growling back. Isaac jumped from Scott to Derek, unclear as to what he was supposed to be doing. He looked very guilty. (Which, Stiles thought, was only fair, as he had been the one to steal Erica’s bag of cookies in the first place, and he had tried to take the last one.)

Derek looked torn between laughing and crying. Stiles figured that Derek had brought this all on himself, though. He picked them. Well, most of them.

“So, Scott,” Stiles stage-whispered, “On a scale of one to homicide, how would you rate this argument?”

Scott hummed mock-contemplatively, his earlier tension relaxing. “I’m thinking… ‘I will rip your throat out with my teeth,’ give or take.” He exchanged a brofist with Stiles.

Derek ground his teeth and scowled at the group at large. “Would it kill you to take this seriously?” he growled, staring at Stiles like it was all his fault. Which, clearly, wasn’t fair. At most it was 47% his fault. Probably less, if you took the cookie bags into consideration. Really, this was probably Isaac’s fault. Derek continued with no consideration for Stiles’ inner monologue. “I will kill you if you don’t. Guaranteed. With my --”

“Teeth!” Stiles yelled.

“Bare hands!” Erica cried.

“Pillows?” Isaac offered. The rest of the group paused, looked at him, and turned away, deciding together to pretend Isaac hadn’t spoken. He pouted.

Jackson, meanwhile, had eaten the cookie.

“As lovely as this is,” Peter interrupted, “shall we get this meeting back on schedule? I thought we were here to discuss the rebuilding of the house.”

“We’re rebuilding the house? I have so many thoughts about this,” Stiles added, perking up.

“How are we gonna do it? It’s a house. Do we need to take it down or build around it or--” Scott was interrupted by the kick Stiles gave to his leg. “Hey!”

Derek shifted uncomfortably. “I guess the entire earlier foundation has to be removed before we start to rebuild--” he began softly.

“Well, yeah,” Stiles cut in. “But like, what about the design? Are we basing it off your old house or making something completely new? Just for us?”

Derek stared at him like a deer in headlights.

“...Ooookay. Right. How about--”

“The place is a burnt out tomb, laying in ruin on top of a crumbling foundation and the bones of more people than are sitting at this table,” Peter pointed out, filing his nails. He pointed his file at Stiles for emphasis. “There is no point in picking out paint or curtains before it’s even started.”

“Nooo. But we should have an idea of how many rooms, rough size -- there are things that need to be done, so why wait?” Stiles asked

“Are we going to remove it ourselves, or hiring a company?” Lydia asked, pulling out a notebook.

“Uh. Well--” Derek started.

“Why pay people to tear it down?” Jackson asked, crunching on something he’d had in his bag.

“Jackson. Why should we do it? Clearly it’s less effort for us to pay people,” Lydia asked.

“But--we could demolish a house! That’s an option. Why are we not jumping for this?” Scott was pouting.

“In case we do it wrong?” Isaac tried.

“Oh my god, tearing down a house can’t be that complicated.” Jackson rolled his eyes.

“Okay, we’re hiring,” said Stiles.

“No one has decided that, Stilinski.” Jackson was almost snarling.

“We’re hiring,” Stiles repeated, “and before the company comes, we can go as crazy as we want destruction-style, but we’re hiring. Derek?”

Derek still looked overwhelmed but he was the alpha, and sitting there in silence was sadly not an option. “Stiles is right.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open, but before he could say anything, Erica cut in. “What’s the worst that could happen if we do it ourselves? It could be like pack bonding! You’re always saying how we need more of that, right?”

Derek stared at her blankly. “You want to bond over demolishing my childhood home?”

“No, no, of course not,” Stiles soothed, glaring at Erica.

(Erica thought about disagreeing, but remembered that the last time she had done something like that, Stiles had taken away her cookie eating privileges. It hadn’t been a good week.)

“We can bond after, with ice cream!” Scott said, eyes going hazy in happiness. He really liked ice cream.

Lydia rolled her eyes at the group. “Fine,” she decided. “But you need to get your anger management issues out by the 23rd. I’ve scheduled demolition for that day. You don’t mind that I used your payment information, right Derek?”

Derek looked like he was going to argue for the sake of it, but opted against it. He was the alpha, but Lydia was a little bit frightening. He shook his head.

“Okay!” said Stiles, clapping his hands together. “The 23rd. I’ll make a pot roast.”

He got blank looks in reply.

“Cool bro. Sounds good.” Scott was the only one not looking at Stiles oddly.

“...A pot roast,” Lydia asked flatly, looking between the two of them.

Stiles nodded. “Yes.”

Derek sometimes wondered how he had ended up surrounded by these people.

“Glad that’s decided, then.” Lydia shook her head. “Jackson, give me a ride home now. It’s time to leave.” She stood and walked out the door. Jackson quickly followed.

--

Building a house, they found, was surprisingly difficult, particularly when Derek wouldn’t let them take time off work to help. They had to deal with non-pack, and that was always fun. (Stiles was really entertained when the pack made sure to touch every single object used for building when the construction crew wasn’t there. At one point, Scott had lined up a row of boards and rolled. Even Allison had given him an odd look for that one.) It had also take awhile to decide how many rooms there should be and where they should be in relation to the other rooms.

Finally, the house was built, and the pack was ready to decorate.

There were paint swatches and tile examples. Stiles was torn between amusement and horror. He was glad Derek had decided to let everyone decorate their own rooms, but he really wished Derek hadn’t decided to let everyone had input on the rooms everyone would use.

Like the kitchen.

If the arguments kept up, Stiles was pretty sure he was taking Derek’s credit card and going shopping by himself.

For now, though, he was happy enough sitting on the floor of their built-but-not-ready-to-use family room, eating the lasagne and cookies he had brought over from his dad’s. Soon enough the house would be furnished, that sawdust smell would go away, and everyone would move in.

As someone threw a plate, he sighed. Definitely taking the credit card and buying things on his own.