Word: Frippery
...
"I still don't understand why you need all of this frippery," the snarl came from outside of the dressing room. "You've got enough clothes already!"
"Just because you have the same shirt in five different shades of black, it doesn't mean we all have to dress like you do, honey. Now shut up, and go get this for me in the next size down," the reply came snippily, an item of clothing flying over the top of the dressing room door.
Sighing, Derek gave up on his attempt to reason, and headed back out into the store. He was almost bombarded by an overeager salesman that probably worked on commission. He was also the same fucker that had insulted Ginger when she came in, stating they wouldn't have anything for him in a sneering way that had Derek sorely tempted to deck the bastard. But that would probably get him arrested, so instead, he ignored the guy, shoved past, and continued to where the sequinned skirts were.
Ginger was one of the girls Stiles had met his first night at the Jungle, and they were some of the few that still didn't know about the supernatural happenings in Beacon Hills. Which was probably why Stiles wanted to invite the girls to his 21st birthday party at the Jungle, Derek mused. Well, his first legal party at the Jungle, that is, he amended, thinking of the past three years' worth of parties.
"Here, Ginger. How are you going with the rest of it?" Derek asked, his very unsubtle way of asking how long he had to wait for her to finish.
"About ten more minutes, honey. Oh, it fits! You better stand back, honey, 'cause I look fabulous in this outfit," Ginger exclaimed, opening the stall door and stepping out with her arms splayed.
"Wow, you do look great."
She snorted at him. "Don't sound so surprised. I can make anyone look good in drag, honey," Ginger said, giving Derek a very obvious once-over.
Derek was still trying to avoid the whole dress in drag theme Stiles had picked for the night, no matter what Lydia and Kira were saying about Stiles' dress and feather boa. It wasn't that he wouldn't be comfortable in a dress - he'd been shoved into so many dresses and skirts when he was a child and Laura still had a say over what game they had to play (and then Cora, because she was the youngest and they all had to dress up for her too) - but it was freezing at night now (damn you, Stiles, for being born in winter), and he just knew he was going to freeze his dick off if he wore anything as short as Ginger's dress.
"I've already got my outfit," he lied.
Ginger raised an eyebrow in a motion that put his to shame, but just gave a sigh. "Whatever you say, honey. Just don't leave it to the last minute. Now, when I've bought these, how about we go get something to eat? I'm starved."
That was possibly the best news Derek had heard all day.
...
Derek arrived to Stiles' party fifteen minutes late because he didn't want to be the first one there, and he wanted to slip into the club when people were dancing and less likely to notice him. It didn't quite work out like that; Stiles had suspected people would arrive late to avoid being seen, and had convinced the owner to put a spotlight on everyone that came through the door. Which is how within seconds of his arrival, everyone in the Jungle knew that Derek was wearing a red dress with a thigh-high slit in it, and red stockings (it was freezing and the stockings helped. A bit).
He immediately got nicknamed Rabbit (presumably after Jessica Rabbit, so he couldn't complain) and Ginger met him by the bar with a wide smile and a kiss on the cheek. He was led across to the VIP section where Stiles was surrounded by their friends. He was wearing a gold dress that showed off his shoulders and ribs with specific tears in the fabric, a large silver boa wrapped around his shoulders.
"Derek! You made it!" Stiles called, sounding a bit tipsy already as he smiled over at him broadly.
"Oh no, he's Rabbit now, honey," Ginger called, grinning.
"I can see why," Lydia said with a smirk, adjusting the tie on her Hugo Boss suit. "Well, who wants to buy me a drink?"
"Scott'll do it, won't you, Scotty?" Stiles asked, blinking up at his friend.
"Yeah, sure. You have to come with me to the bar, Lyds, I'll probably order something like sex on the rocks and you'll hurt me," Scott lamented, adjusting the top of his blue dress carefully.
"You just want me to protect your virtue," Lydia said with a laugh, taking Scott's gloved arm and dragging him to the bar.
"He was going to wear orange; can you imagine? Orange with that skin tone," Stiles said, rolling his eyes.
"Mmhmm, that would've been a crime, honey," Ginger agreed, shaking her head. "Now, let me finish telling you about Derek being all growly and protective of me in the store. He's a keeper, that one!"
Stiles laughed. "Oh, trust me, I know he is. But he'll never let anyone get close enough to keep him. Right, Rabbit?"
By the time Derek realised Stiles was asking him a question, Ginger and Stiles were talking and he didn't have to reply.
...
Stiles didn't get as drunk as he thought he would, despite the number of drinks offered to him. He spent a lot of time on the dance floor with his friends - not just his pack, but the girls, and Caitlin too (before she left with a nice couple towards the end of the end of their fifth song dancing together).
Stiles was just reaching the other side of tipsy when people started leaving his party, calling out their goodbyes over the music and their own bubbly laughter. It was a good way to end a party, Stiles thought, especially given their usual track record. He made his way back to the VIP section to find Ginger sitting on the lounge, talking with Candy. It wasn't until Stiles went to sit down as well that he realised Derek was lying down with his head in Ginger's lap, and she was running her fingers through his hair gently. Derek looked like he was asleep, but then he joined in the conversation a heartbeat later. Stiles grinned, moving so he was sitting at the other end of Derek's body, moving his legs so they were on top of his lap.
"Enjoying your birthday, Stiles?"
"Sure am, Rabbit! No one gave me a nickname, though," Stiles added with a mock pout.
Derek opened one eye, then grinned at him broadly. Stiles hoped the music was loud enough to drown out the sound of his heart skipping a beat.
"Well, if I'm a rabbit, you can be a wolf tonight," Derek said.
Stiles burst out laughing and nodded his head quickly, even though Ginger and Candy didn't get the joke. "Oh, hell yes, my little królik." (Rabbit. Polish.)
"Little? Speak for yourself, wilk," Derek replied, grinning again. (Wolf. Polish.)
"All right, boys. We're going to leave you two to your little game of Polish pronunciation. We'll see you later, cutie. You too, Rabbit," Ginger said, leaning over Derek to give Stiles a firm kiss on his cheek before doing the same to Derek's forehead.
Candy hugged Stiles warmly, and then Stiles and Derek were left alone. Derek's head fell back onto the lounge and he frowned, sitting up to turn and put his head in Stiles' lap instead.
"All right there, królik?" Stiles asked, grinning down at him.
"Yeah, my wilk, I am," Derek replied with a slight grin and dark eyes.
Okay, if Stiles was reading this wrong, he was going to hate himself when he was completely sober in the morning. He shifted slightly, moving so Derek could tell exactly what he was about to do, and when he didn't bolt for the exit, Stiles wanted to breathe a sigh of relief. Instead, he kissed Derek eagerly. Derek sat up a bit so Stiles wasn't leaning down at such an awkward angle, his fingers threading through Stiles' hair and knocking his tiara askew. Stiles shivered as Derek's fingers pressed against his neck firmly and licked his way into Derek's mouth in the most filthy way possible. Derek seemed to lose control at that, and seconds later, Stiles found himself with a lapful of pure Derek.
They got kicked out of the club soon after (last call had been called ten minutes ago), and Stiles laughed when he realised that their dresses weren't doing a thing to hide their erections, but no one seemed to care. Stiles flung his feather boa around Derek's neck and led him over to his Jeep in the most obvious way possible, Derek's cheeks red in the cold evening air.
Not even the cold weather stopped them from making out in the back of the Jeep for the next half hour until Derek growled something about needing a flat surface to ravish his wilk on (and a blanket, 'cause it was the middle of the fucking night and it was freezing). As Stiles scrambled out of the Jeep to get to the driver's seat (his heels were lodged in the back somewhere, long forgotten), he realised that Derek was wearing his tiara and feather boa. His królik had never looked better, and Stiles was fast on the way to officially deciding that this was the best birthday ever.
...
End of word challenge.
Thanks for reading!
