Stiles hated that man that lived next door. He was too perfect to be true, honestly. Plus, he didn't seem to understand that his motherfucking roadster was to be parked in front of his own house ! Stiles didn't have any room left in the street for Roscoe, and was usually forced to park like thirty yards from his front door. Maybe that neighbor thought that being richer allowed him to put his black Camaro wherever he liked? Well, fuck you Mister.
On this Saturday morning, everything was fine and typical. And Derek Hale has again put his car just under Stiles' windows. The scenery didn't enchanted the young man who just got up. His mind still clouded by his bad dreams and agitated sleep, he groaned and took his keys.
"That's it. I'm done."
He didn't even take the time to dress up. He didn't care if his neighbors saw him in his pj's. Nothing was more important that teach that asshole a lesson. Walking like everything was fine in the world, Stiles approached the car all keys exposed and 'SKREEEEEEEEK!'. A nice, long, and ugly scar barred the side of the Camaro as a shining line of silver onto the black-as-the-night paint.
"Serves you right!"
"What the fuck are you doing?"
Derek popped out of his house like the devil out his box, shouting and looking pretty angry. Stiles childishly tried to hide the keys, but what was done was done. And Derek saw it all.
"Get the fuck out of here!" Derek yelled.
For a split second, Stiles thought of pleading innocence and lying bald-faced to his neighbor, then he decided that was useless. And that he was fed up with this man's shit.
"No, YOU get out of here! I'm tired of seeing your fucking car in front of MY house!"
"The street doesn't belong to you, asshole!"
"There's plenty of room at your place, just take your ugly piece of garbage and put it there!"
"Are you really calling my car an 'ugly piece of garbage'?"
"Why not? You're trying to compensate something, driving such a thing?"
Bam! Well played, Stiles.
"Wha… Fuck you!"
"Fuck you too!"
Derek began to run toward Stiles, but the young man quickly withdrew to his house, hiding in his father's skirts. Not that Sheriff Stilinski wore any dress but… Well, that's not the point. The important thing is that Derek didn't chase him further, and moved his damn car that day.
And all was fine. Would be, in fact, because on the Sunday morning - Sunday noon, more precisely, Stiles had the chance to have a real nice night of sleep - it was Roscoe that had been wrecked. Eggs and toilet paper everywhere. Derek has spent the night rolling Stiles' car into toilet paper, sealing it with smashed eggs. Stiles got out of the bed furiously and sat in the front of his laptop. Now he needed a plan. A motherfucking battle plan. Derek wanted a war? He'd have it.
First, Stiles went to searching for a good rock music playlist. The tag ? 'Fuck you'. As Sully Erna was shouting 'I fucking hate you' on the top on his lungs through the window, Stiles browsed his drawers for a kraft envelope. He just woke up, and he didn't have his morning shit yet. What a better use for it that a nice krafty thing he'd set fire to, just on Derek's doormat. Have a nice day, fucker.
Stiles went on with his plan after dressing up. Trying to be as stealthy as he could be, he put the envelope on the floor - welcome to you too, asshole - and lit it up. He also rang the doorbell before disappearing back to his home, watching the scene from his garden.
Looking suspicious, Derek opened the door and nearly set his own foot on fire with the envelope. Then, like any normal person he just… stamped on it. Shit splashed on his feet and legs, spreading out onto the doormat and the little white stone alley leading to his frontdoor. Under the ruckus of Corey Taylor howling 'People=shit', Derek could almost hear a boy laughing. Revenge, vendetta… It was a spiral with no end. Stiles would regret pushing Derek this far. Oh yeah, he'd regret it.
After taking a nice long shower, Derek went to clean his frontlawn from all Stiles' shit - really? Does this guy have no shame at all? - and then rushed to his computer. He had an idea, and he thought it was a brilliant one. Ok, he'd surely lost money on it, but this was the perfect lesson for an immature young man like Stiles. Anyway, Derek lost like $500 to a very noble cause that day.
Three weeks passed with nothing noticeable. Stiles and Derek were still at war, but it's become a very cold one, almost glacial. They didn't talk to each other, they even avoided to cross gazes. Derek parked his now repainted Camaro a little further, and Stiles had been satisfied with it. After all, hadn't he won? No, of course not, because it wasn't fucking over.
On this bright and warm Friday, his father had received a parcel for him.
"Did you order something?" he asked his son.
"No… Why?"
"Cause you have a delivery. Here."
It was a big cardboard box, with no 'fragile' warning. Stiles took it - damn it was heavy - and listened to it. No suspicious ticking, and when he shook it a little, no sign of glass or anything else. The things inside made soft and heavy sounds.
"Ok, let's open it then. I don't think it's booby-trapped." Stiles declared.
He cut the tape and took a look at what was inside. Oh my fucking god. Sextoys. And not only one… There were five of them, fancy-colored, weird-shaped monster rubber cocks.
"…Stiles?"
The young man's cheeks went bright red with embarrassment.
"No no I swear it's not mine, Dad!"
"Then why is your name on the box?"
"I don't know, I didn't order anything!"
"Stiles, I don't mind your sexual life but PLEASE I don't want to know anything about it!"
"But it's NOT mine!"
"You know, it's ok, just… The next time you actually order something like that, try to remember it!"
Sighing, Sheriff Stilinski went back to the kitchen, letting his son meet with his new friends. Looking into the box, Stiles found the receipt.
"SWEET FREAKING JESUS!"
"I can hear you!"
"Oh… Sorry Dad!"
These toys were fucking expensive! Why would someone make a prank worth $500? And why the fuck would people buy a rubber horse penis? Stiles shook his head, and looking by the window, he remember his neighbor. The war that he thought was over just staged up to another level.
Without even thinking, Stiles took the box and went to Derek's. He knocked so hard on the door he was almost surprised he didn't actually break it. The handsome-but-nonetheless-completely-annoying man soon opened it. He took a look at the box, then at Stiles' face, and laughed. He just laughed at him, genuinely amused, like it was his best prank ever. Hell, it WAS his best prank ever.
"Oh my God, just look at your face, it's amazing…!" he said.
"Shut. Up."
Stiles pushed him inside and entered his house, putting the box on the closest table. Derek took the time to shut the door before walking back to Stiles.
"I knew you'd like them." he added.
"SHUT UP! I've had the most awkwardly awkward moment with my father right now and that's all because of you!"
"Well, you can just chill out and enjoy yourself. You have the choice now."
"Aaaaah I HATE YOU!"
Stiles took one of the toys - the biggest one, the blue and purple horse dick - and try to hit Derek with it. Hilarious, the man withdrew in his livingroom, ending on his sofa.
"You can try and hit me, these are of the softest silicon. It won't harm a fly!"
"I'll harm YOUR fly!"
Stiles went for the crotch instead of the head, looking pretty ridiculous waving a monster cock like that. He looked so silly he thought Derek would die of laughter.
"Calm down here… Take it easy!"
Derek patted Stiles on the head, which only made him angrier. And when he tried to hit him again, Derek only locked his wrists into his fists.
"Calm down. You're not hurting anyone. That was only a joke."
"That's no fucking excuse!"
"Well, that's for my car and my doormat."
"That's for Roscoe and parking in front of my house."
Stiles let down the horse dick, and Derek let him go.
"Why did you even parked there? You have all the room you want in front of your house!" Stiles added. "Was it just to rub your wealth under my nose?"
"No…" A shadow passed on the man's face. "I just wanted to…"
"What? You're telling me you're in love with my dad and you wanted to be noticed? Fuck you!"
"I'm not in love with your dad."
Derek's voice was so low and his light hazel eyes so damn serious, you'd have to be pretty dense not to understand what he meant.
"Then why?"
But sometimes Stiles could indeed be pretty dense.
"I'm in love with you, dickhead."
"So that's why you're buying me dicks? Because I look like o… What did you say?"
Stiles stayed still, mouth opened. His beautiful chocolate-fudge-brownie eyes filled with perplexity stared at Derek like it was the first time he met him. He was tall, fit, and sure a lot of girls would have find him attractive. At least, het-girls. And gay men too. Maybe.
"I love you." Derek repeated.
Copy that. Copy too much. Copy-I-can't-cope.
"Er…"
Falling silent, Stiles shut his mouth and waited for… something to happen. So when Derek took a step forward, he let him. Their eyes met, like earth and sky, and they kissed. Derek held him tighter against himself, letting him feel how pleased he was to finally touch him. It felt weird to Stiles, but the good-side of weird. How could he love so much being in these arms? After all they'd done to each other? It was like sometimes life was laughing at you, very proud of its joke. Anyway, Stiles shut his brain down, and simply enjoyed the kiss.
Derek lifted him to the couch and slide onto him, still putting his lips everywhere he could. As he was able to speak - and breathe - again, Stiles couldn't help but ask between feverish sighs:
"Ok you're… forgiven… but… why… horse dicks?"
Derek had a quick laugh and quit licking his ear.
"Horse, wolf, shark, and two different kind of dragons."
"You didn't answer."
"I just felt like it. I really love Bad Dragon. It's good quality."
"WHAT THE…"
"I also wanted to try those ones for a long time. And not on me."
"I can't believe you're saying what you're saying!"
Derek shut him up with a new kiss and wandering hands. They had all their time now to try out Chance, David, Bruce, Duke and Kelvin.