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Much Ado About Twilight

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Stiles prided himself on occasionally having extremely amazing ideas. The kind of ideas that made his and his friends’ lives so much better than that of boring people. In short, ideas that would make the uninspired marvel at his ingenuity and that would make the envious weep at their utter lack of equal awesomeness in their lives.

Making Derek read the Twilight saga had not been one of these ideas.

He had almost come to find that out the hard way. Literally.

Luckily, he had been able to duck out of the way as Breaking Dawn had merrily sailed through the air, whooshing past his head before it connected with the wall with a satisfying thud.

Derek’s look of disgust as he looked at the offending piece of literature rivaled the one he had worn when Scott had hijacked Stiles’ computer to read Allison an original Scott McCall love poem via Skype during her semester abroad in France.

Scott might have been a True Alpha, but a True Poet he was not. It had been abysmally bad. Especially the metaphors – in fact, Derek still refused to eat Twinkies.

Stiles shot an accusatory glare at Derek. Granted, he had just happened to walk out of the kitchen area at the wrong moment and he was almost 99 percent sure that Derek hadn’t meant to almost hit him with the book, but he still felt the need to make a point.

“Hello? Still human here, remember? My skull doesn’t heal as quickly as yours does.”

Derek’s features softened for just a tiny bit, shooting him a quick look of apology, before he resumed his scowling.

“Imprinting!”

Stiles grimaced. “Yes, well …”

Derek interrupted him.

“No, there is a line. And the line’s been crossed. I was willing to ignore the whole part where Bella becomes catatonic because a sparkly man, whose family tries to eat her when she gets a paper-cut, broke up with her. Regardless of the message it sends to young girls, namely, that your entire happiness is connected to a man and you cannot function without him, thus making it perfectly acceptable for them to become suicidal when they’re single.”

Stiles groaned. ‘Willing to ignore’ was a rather euphemistic phrase to describe Derek’s New Moon-related two hour rant about outdated norms, archaic patriarchal values, and his not necessarily subtle threats of what would happen to Stiles’ genitals if he ever lent these books to Cora.

Derek, however, wasn’t done yet.

“I also tolerated the roughly one hundred thousands reminders that vampires are cold and werewolves are hot to the touch – clearly, the most important distinction between them –, never mind the fact that the werewolf gene just went to sleep for a century only to suddenly re-awaken because Edward the Emo wants to make epic, sparkling love to the Princess of Pouty-Face. I didn’t even say anything when I wasted four hours of my life reading about an angst-filled love-triangle with an utterly predictable outcome. Not to mention that if I wanted to hear stories about dysfunctional wannabe threesomes, I’d just invite Isaac, Allison and Scott for dinner.”

Stiles couldn’t help but bristle a little at that comment, partly because of yet another euphemism – Derek had been anything but tolerant while he had desperately tried to make it through Eclipse with his sanity intact – and partly because of the criticism aimed towards his best friend.

Derek might be his mate, but that didn’t mean he was allowed to make snarky comments about Scott’s complicated love life.

Except, of course, when it came to his love poetry. Stiles enthusiastically welcomed any and all criticism of Scott’s literary prowess, since, even though he would have never admitted this to Derek, he was also no longer able to look at a Twinkie – now forever and regrettably known as the Twinkie of Love – without wanting to bleach his brain and that just wasn’t right.

“I am also not even going to talk about the religious proselytizing, or the way Bella and Edward wait until marriage and then – surprise – she gets pregnant after her first time. But the imprinting went too far!”

Derek’s hands were angrily slashing through the air as he talked and Stiles watched them with fascination, expecting his mate to release his claws at any moment.

Derek cleared his throat to make Stiles’ pay attention to his face again as he talked.

“The representation of werewolves in this book is terrible, Stiles, just terrible! I don’t even understand why you wanted me to read this. Werewolves don’t suddenly gain a hundred pounds of muscle and double their shoulder size over night. That’s just ridiculous! No self-respecting werewolf would fight a vampire for a girl, either. Vampires are overrated anyways! They don’t sparkle, they don’t drive sports cars, and when they see a pretty girl they don’t try to woo them for three years, they pounce on them, bite them, and kill them. End of story.”

That little tidbit of information picked Stiles’ interest. Vampires were actually real? Not that it should have surprised him, but still! Before he could ask if they spoke with a Transylvanian accent, Derek continued his rant, this time actually getting up and pacing in front of the couch.

“Most importantly, werewolves don’t imprint on babies! Meyer can try to make that sound less creepy all she wants, imprinting on a baby is wrong! It’s not romantic; it’s illegal! And wrong! And it doesn’t happen! Imprinting isn’t even a thing!”

Stiles walked over to the wall to pick up the book. He gingerly opened it up to the page Derek had been on before he had decided to throw the book across the room in outrage. Stiles made a disapproving sound at the back of his throat when he saw that Derek had actually sliced his claws halfway through the page on which Jacob saw the baby for the first time.

“Dude, you need to be more careful with my stuff!”, he complained, sitting down on the couch and rifling through the next pages.

“I know the first two parts are a little tough to get through – thank God Meyer uses Jacob’s perspective in the second part, the whole pregnancy from Bella’s point of view would have been excruciating – but I promise, the last part is actually pretty good. There are tons of new interesting vampire characters. And then there’s a fight! You love fight scenes! Well … I guess it’s not really a fight, but hey, the new vampires are really interesting!”

Derek resolutely shook his head.

“No way. I am done,” he huffed. “And you didn’t answer my question! Why would you force me to read this in the first place?”

Stiles carefully sat the book down and tried for his most charming smile.

“Because I wanted to test the limits of your love for me?”

Derek glared.

“Because I actually think they are excellent books and I love you so much that I wanted you to share the joy of reading them with me?”

Derek growled.

Stiles sighed.

“Fine! I totally ship Edward/Jacob and I know you should totally play Edward because no one broods like you do but you are the werewolf, so you have to be Jacob, obviously and I want to be Edward and have you rub your paws all over my body with shimmering body lotion and we can have sparkle sex in the woods. And I needed you to know enough about the character so you could role-play correctly and I though it would be … fun.”

He trailed off, finally taking in the look of utter mortification on Derek’s face.

“Uhm … no sparkle sex for Stiles, then?”

Derek’s horrified expression suddenly morphed into a wide grin - a rather wolfish grin with lots of teeth.

“Of course we can have sparkle sex honey. But only if I get to suck the white cream out of your Twinkie of Love.”

Stiles gagged.

No sparkle sex it was.