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Getting Laid

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Stiles looked up from his math book, grateful for any distraction the heavens granted him. Lydia looked down at him, red lips pursed in disapproval. 

Maybe not this distraction. Stiles had learned that Lydia was a force to be reckoned with, and he had the good sense to be a bit fearful of the redhead. 

"What?" He asked, confused. 

"You know what." She said, taking a seat across from him. "Your getting laid." 

Stiles almost fell over. "What?"

Defiantly not this distraction. 


"Don't look at me like that," Lydia scolded. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

Stiles furiously racked his brain for an excuse- and came up empty. "Um."

Lydia smiled triumphantly. "So, who is it?" she prodded.

Stiles groaned, dropping his face in his hands. Lydia waited. 

"Um, Derek?" He peeked out through his fingers.

"Derek Hale?" 


She stared. "As in werewolf Derek? as in sexy-leather-wearing Derek?" 

Stiles flapped his hands at her frantically. "Not so loud, Lydia." Passerby's were turning to look at what seemed to be the beginning of a tantrum. 

"Well score," she almost squealed. 

Stiles looked blankly at her. "Pardon?"

"I mean, the guy is hot. Personally he's not my type, but I'd totally do him-"


She rolled her eyes in a perfected manner. Stiles wondered if she practiced in the mirror before school. 

"So hows the sex?" She inquired, leaning forward. 

Stiles spluttered, face warming slightly. 

"It's obviously good, it being Derek and all." She continued. "I always pictured him as a kinda kinky guy. I mean, does he use handcuffs or anything on you because I can totally see that."

"Well stop seeing it!" Stiles cried.

Lydia applied another layer of lipstick. "Well, I want details."

"No, no details, I- no, uh uh, stop right now." 

She leaned forward even more. "Does Scott know? Does your dad know?"

Stiles shook his head vehemently. "Of course my dad doesn't know he's a cop. And if you haven't noticed Derek isn't exactly the picture of innocence."

Lydia smirked. "I'll say." 

Stiles gaped. " I meant with the whole wanted criminal thing!" 

She rolled her eyes again. "Whatever, Stiles. Not the point- how's the sex?"

He dropped his head down on the table.




"Your an asshole," Stiles says, throwing his pen at Derek. He catches it easily. 

Fucking werewolves.

Derek just rolls his yes, the slightest hint of smile tugging at his mouth.

"And your annoying." He stated, walking out of Stile's room. 

"And take a shower- you smell like dog." He called after the werewolf. Which was a lie. Derek smelled like woods and spice and soap- though Stiles would never tell the man that. 

"Fuck you." Was Derek's answering call. 

Stiles jumped up from where he was seating, sticking his head out of the doorway. "I wish you would!" 

He heard Derek laugh, and then Scott came into view, a confused and slightly scared look on his face.

"Did you just tell Derek to have sex with you?" Scott asked warily.

Stiles scratched the back of his neck. "Well, I mean, it wouldn't be the first time."

Scott's eyes went wide, and more laughter came from the kitchen. Stiles sighed.

"So you still want to do homework or...?"

Scott stared at him.