Hi guys! This is a roleplay between me and my sister, (known as british-teacup and sherlockcharade on tumblr)! For more information visit britishcharade on tumblr.
Sherlockcharade:
It was early in the morning and the sun was beginning to rise on Derek's shoulder while he roaming though the woods, on the look out for hunters. Suddenly, he stumbled across a smell he didn't recognise. Sniffing it out and following the sound of its heartbeat, Derek finally found the owner of the strange scent sleeping on the damp soil of Beacon Hills Reserve. It was a baby. In fact, to be precise it was a werebaby!
"What the…" Derek growled a little, at the sight of the naked, unprotected child, "I shouldn't… But I will," Derek picked up the little fuzzy child in his hands and wrapped the it in his jacket. He then set of to his house instantly to make sure the little ball of fluff didn't get hurt.
When he arrived at his house, he unlocked the door using his key's, carried the baby in and placed him or her [he hadn't had time to check], on his ugly green sofa. Derek had rebuilt the house, as it was crumbling down on him from the arson attack 10 years ago, and refurbished most of the rooms. Some were still awaiting treatment.
While he was pacing around, wondering what to do with the kid, abandoned on his sofa, it started crying, "Great what do you want?" Derek growled at the baby. He tried talking to the baby and holding it, but nothing would stop it from crying, "Last resort…" He sighed, picking up his phone, "I've got to text Stiles."
[ "Get your ass down to my house right now I've got a problem." ]
British-Teacup:
Stiles groaned when his mobile phone began violently thrashing about on his night stand, alerting him that he had a text. Obviously the stupid, little communication device believed that the message and it's sender were more important than his precious sleep, because it had decided to wake him during the climax of his epic dream — in which he was some sort of comic book style hero.
Stiles rolled over and glanced at his alarm clock. He squinted at the large, glowing, red numbers and groaned once again. It was 6 AM! On a Sunday! Not cool dude. Annoyed, the teen decided to check his phone, to find out what was more important than having super powers and sleeping. The message was from Derek.
Get your ass down to my house right now I've got a problem.
Stiles read the message a few times, as if it was written in a language he wasn't quite fluent in. Or maybe it was because his eyes were betraying him and causing the words to become fuzzy. At first he thought Derek had sent a text message revolving around Stiles' ass. But that was silly. Why would the wolf even think about his ass anyway?
The big question was, why on Earth did Derek need Stiles immediately at 6 o'clock in the morning? Furthermore, why was he even awake yet? Did he have some evil plans to ruin Stiles sleep? Or were all frowny werewolves awake at such a sinful times at the weekend? Nah, perhaps it was just Derek. He probably liked to get up early to intimidate a few wild rabbits or something…
The tired teen set his mobile back down on the night stand and rolled back into a comfortable position, pulling the covers further around his body. It was no use. No matter how sleepy he was, he would never be able to get back the sleep, because he couldn't get the image of Derek suddenly appearing and ripping his throat out for not obeying his orders.
That was all the motivation he needed. With lightning speed — or the speed of lightning that had just been woken up and hadn't get had a chance to get coffee yet — he got dressed, started up his Jeep and began heading towards Derek's spooky house in the middle of the forest.
Sherlockcharade:
Derek was starting to get annoyed with Stiles and his exceptionally late timing, so he decided to send him another text.
["You don't get here right now, your throat, my teeth."]
"Dammit where is he? This thing is thing is going off like a fire alarm!" He fiddled around with his mobile nervously. Yes, the baby was still crying! It was so loud that Derek was glad he was the only person who lived in the forest. He wouldn't be surprised if the babies wailing had woken anyone else up, beyond the edge of the forest however. It was so loud. Especially to sensitive, werewolf ears.
It had been a couple of minutes and his house was starting to stench like rotten eggs, "My God what is that? Please don't tell me that is you," he sighed as he sat next to the baby, "Uegh, hopefully it isn't so it doesn't have to be on my nice leather jacket."
Finally the Jeep turned up outside his house with Stiles inside. Derek unlocked his front door for Stiles so he didn't have to knock and make any more annoying noise. But then again, this was Stiles…
British-Teacup:
Stiles was watching the road ahead of him with sore eyes, trying helplessly to fight off his sleepiness, when he received a sudden threat from a certain grumpy werewolf. No matter how many times Derek used the same threat on Stiles, it always managed to freak him out a little. Well, okay. Maybe it freaked him out a lot!
Eventually, after what felt like forever — forever being the equivalent of 10 minutes — Stiles pulled up outside Derek's previously burn down house. He tried to step out of his car with the delicacy of a sugar plumb fairy, but his foot got caught on something and he ended falling out and face-planting the ground beneath him. Despite what weird nature programs say, mud and crunchy Autumn leaves do not taste good!
Stiles half expected Derek to suddenly appear and pin him up against a nearby tree, but alas, he did not. The forest around the still creepy looking house was silent. Then suddenly the ground practically shook as a heart-wrenchingly painful sound came from the fixed up shack Derek called home.
He rushed to the front door and pushed at it experimentally, curiosity getting the best of him as usual. The wood began to move and creek under Stiles hands as the door swung open voluntary, beckoning him to enter. The sound continued non-stop like a broken record and luckily, the teenager didn't even need super hearing to find where it was coming from.
Stiles froze at the sight before him as he closed in on the source of the wailing. Derek was hovering over his ugly green sofa — did he know how ugly it was? — looking down at a bundle hidden inside his leather jacket. Derek perked up and stared at Stiles as he slowly began to enter the room.
Sherlockcharade:
Derek stared at Stiles when he stepped thought the living room door, looking at the little fluffy child on his sofa, "Your late," Derek growled "I text'd you because its crying and I have no idea how to shut it up," He sighed when Stiles gave him a confused look, "I'll explain later, just make it stop…"
Derek was so tired. His eyes were bloodshot and he had such a frown on his face. If looks could kill the whole of Beacon Hills would be dead. He had been out in the forest all morning and he hadn't even slept yet. He hadn't slept properly in weeks. Could you blame the guy? He still has nightmares about the arson attack and his family dying 10 years ago.
Suddenly his ears perked up like a domestic dogs, as he smelt a human sent. No wait wet dog. Uh nope again, more like a snake. He was getting worried, "Stiles stay here for a minute," Derek said pushing him out the way to inspect. As soon as he stepped outside the smell had gone and not even the faintest heartbeat could be heard...
