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Marking the Spot

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‘Shut up, Stiles.’

Derek watches with barely suppressed fury as Brady covers Stiles’ mouth with his hand. He clenches his jaw and breathes out a slow breath. It’s his job to tell Stiles to shut up, and then Stiles will smirk and kiss him, remind Derek that he likes it when he talks, then Derek will roll his eyes, but he wouldn’t disagree, because he does love listening to Stiles talk, about anything. And fucking Brady, Mister Perfect Hair, Mister I Love Batman Too, Mister Hey You Can’t Physically Harm Me For Touching Your Mate And Taking Up All Of His Time Because That Might Screw Up These Negotiations, is taking all of that from him.

‘If we wanted audio commentary we would’ve used the ones on the DVD,’ Brady continues.

Stiles rolls his eyes, flips Brady off, and crosses his arms, leaning further into Derek. When Brady removes his hand Derek can see a smile playing on Stiles’ lips.

It feels like forever until the pack, and Brady, has left, and Derek is alone with Stiles again. Derek throws the windows open and grabs the vacuum. Brady’s scent lingering in the apartment is making his nose itch. Listens to Stiles hum and putting the dishes away, while he vacuums.

‘So sexy,’ Stiles says when he walks into the living room. ‘I love a man who can handle a vacuum.’

Derek snorts. ‘You ran to the kitchen to do the dishes when I said we had to vacuum.’

‘Hence my love for vacuuming men,’ Stiles says. He grins and walks over to Derek.

Derek knows that glint in his eyes and quickly turns off the vacuum and drops it, just in time to catch his mate when he jumps into his arms.

‘That does it for you?’ Derek chuckles. ‘Me doing household chores?’

‘It’s very sexy,’ Stiles hums. He presses their lips together, squeezing his legs around Derek’s waist, and running his hands through Derek’s hair, scratching the scalp just the way Derek likes it. ‘The only thing that would make it better would be a French maid uniform.’

‘Not a chance.’

‘I’ll convince you. Somehow.’

And he probably could, so Derek quickly presses their lips together again, and carries Stiles to the bedroom.


‘Where are all my shirts?’ Stiles asks the next morning as they’re getting dressed.

‘Laundry, probably,’ Derek shrugs. Nothing probably about it. He put them there.

‘Shit. I’m supposed to meet Brady for lunch. We’re going over some of the details of the pact. Fuck.’ Stiles dives back into their closet.

‘Just wear one of mine,’ Derek suggests. ‘Half our wardrobe is shared anyway.’

‘Good point.’ Stiles dashes over to where Derek is sitting on the bed, pulling on his socks. He plants a kiss onto his cheek, then dashes back to the closet. ‘I love you.’

It takes Stiles a couple more minutes to find a shirt, then he disappears into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

‘Christ, Derek,’ he mutters. ‘I said I like a guy who can handle a vacuum, not a guy who is one.’

Derek grins.

‘There’s no way I’m gonna be able to cover these up!’

‘Then don’t.’

It’s suddenly very quiet in the bathroom.

‘Derek.’ Stiles’ voice is low, both a warning and a question.

Derek grabs his phone and pretends to check his messages as he innocently peeks up from under his eyebrows. ‘Yes?’

Stiles is standing by the bathroom door, hands on his hips. ‘You know I love you, right?’

‘You told me two minutes ago.’

‘And I tell you every day, so what in the hell is with all the marking?’ Stiles asks. He gestures at his neck, where two very large hickies are clearly visible, and plucks at the shirt he’s wearing. ‘Brady knows I’m taken. The whole being married and being mates, kinda gives it away.’

Derek blushes, but doesn’t respond.

‘And if you’d actually talked to him, and not just about pack stuff,’ Stiles continues, ‘you’d know that he’s taken too. He keeps showing me progress picks of his very pregnant mate. Their name is Anya, and they’ve been together since high school.’

Shame bubbles up in Derek’s chest. He looks away from Stiles. ‘I’m sorry.’

Stiles sits down on the bed next to him, and takes Derek’s hands in his.

‘You trust me, right?’

‘Of course, I do.’ Derek looks up. He’s relieved when Stiles doesn’t look angry. If anything, he looks amused.

‘Then…’ Stiles gestures at his neck.

Derek looks away again, embarrassed. ‘He told you to shut up.’


‘I’m the only one who can say that!’

Stiles laughs at that, head thrown back, his entire body shaking. He wraps his arms around Derek and pulls him down onto the mattress. He wiggles himself underneath Derek, wrapping his arms and legs around him.

‘You’re so weird,’ he chuckles. He bumps their noses together. ‘I can’t believe that’s the straw that broke the wolfy’s back.’

‘Shut up,’ Derek grumbles. He buries his face in Stiles’ neck, inhaling the deliciously mixed scent of them.

‘You like it when I talk,’ Stiles reminds him, and presses a kiss to Derek’s ear.