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It's Nothing you can Buy

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The first time it happens, it’s a normal Thursday afternoon and Stiles walks into his bedroom, drops his backpack on the bed and shrugs off his jacket. And there it is, a small white box in the middle of his desk. It isn’t wrapped, there’s no note… just the small box, right next to his books and pens and the rest of the mess on his desk. 

Stiles grabs it, opens it, and sure enough, just like the logo on the box says… a brand new iPhone is staring up at him from inside the box. He picks it up, turns it around like it holds a big secret or something. Fingers scrambling in the box, through the cables to see if maybe he missed a little note, but he finds nothing. He looks on his desk, shuffling around papers. He crouches down underneath it, checking if maybe something fell. But he finds nothing to explain where this brand new iPhone – latest model, black, exactly what he wanted – came from. 

Stiles fishes in his pocket and picks out his own, old phone. The screen is cracked, evidence from the latest werewolf-related fight he was in – and  yes , he bitched about his phone getting messed up, a lot. To pretty much everyone. 

So he calls his Dad, cracked screen against his ear. 

“What’s up, son?” his father’s voice rings through the phone. 

“Dad, did you by any chance buy me a new phone?” Stiles asks, ‘cause he really can’t see who else would leave him such an expensive gift. But then again, it isn’t really his Dad’s style either. 

“A new phone? What? No,” his Dad tells him, “I thought yours still worked?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, staring at the new iPhone in his hand, “But the screen is cracked and it’s annoying to read messages on.” 

“Well, you can always ask for a new one for your birthday,” his Dad suggests. 

“Yeah, no need,” Stiles tells him absentmindedly, fingers firmly wrapped around his mysterious gift. 

“Well, alright then,” his father says, “Listen, I gotta go. There’s dinner in the fridge, okay?” 

“Okay, thanks Dad,” Stiles calls out before ending the call. 

He drops the old phone on his desk and takes out the charging cable for the iPhone to plug it in. 


He does it because it bugs him. That’s why. Ever since the incident in the pool – yes,  that  incident – Stiles’ watch has tiny water bubbles underneath the glass. And it bugs the hell out of Derek. He knows he’s crazy for even noticing it, but once he’s got his eyes fixed on it, he can’t  not  see it. And in a way, it’s all his fault anyway. 

Which is why he finds himself looking at men’s watches through the shop window, imagining which one would look good on Stiles’ wrist. Nothing too big, Stiles’ wrists are relatively small, his fingers long and slender. And yes, Derek has noticed that too. A big-ass watch wouldn’t look right on him. Nothing too flashy, too obvious. It just wouldn’t be Stiles’ style. But nothing too fancy or grown-up, because that wouldn’t feel right either. 

He settles on a matte silver one. Water resistant – for obvious reasons – and just a few accents of dark red in it. Derek thinks it will go well with Stiles’ red hoodie, his red lacrosse outfit. It’s stylish without being too much. And most importantly, it doesn’t have tiny water bubbles under the glass. 

He waits until Stiles is at school and the Sheriff at work to sneak back into the house and deposit the watch on Stiles’ pillow. 

He doesn’t leave a note. 


“Nope, don’t even!” Stiles calls out as he slaps away Scott’s hand – brand new watch on his wrist, and it fits perfectly.

“Can’t this go any faster?” Scott asks, exasperated. 

Stiles sighs. “Look, I don’t know what’s wrong. It keeps crashing lately, or going agonizingly slow…” 

His fingers run swiftly over the keyboard of his – old and definitely not cooperating – computer. 

“But you getting your grubby paws on it won’t help,” Stiles says pointedly. 

Scott huffs, turns to Derek who is sitting on the edge of the bed, looking irritable as ever. 

“At this rate, this thing is going to disappear before we can even do research on it!” Scott calls out at Derek. 

“Hey, it’s not like new computers just grow on trees, alright?” Stiles snaps, annoyed at Scott’s impatience. “I just don’t have the money to buy a new one right now. And if you don’t like it, go find someone else to do your research for you.” 

Even though Scott has to know Stiles doesn’t really mean it, the remark is enough to shut him up, but it would bring Stiles more satisfaction if he didn’t feel the urge to throw his own laptop on the floor, ‘cause seriously? How many times can a computer freeze up in one evening? 

“This is no use,” Derek mumbles when the computer refuses – once again – to do what is asked. “Just look it up on your phone…” 

And huh, why didn’t Stiles think of that? He whips out his new iPhone – he still has no idea where the thing actually came from – and starts tapping away. It’s about a million times faster than his computer right now anyway. 

They find the information they need, Scott and Derek go save the day and… three days later, Stiles finds a brand new Macbook Pro stuffed in his school locker. 

“What the fuck?” Stiles mutters, carefully taking the box out of his locker. 

“You buy a new laptop after all?” Scott asks, admiring the box. 

“You didn’t buy this for me?” Stiles asks, eying Scott. 

“Me?” Scott asks confused, “Just how much do you think I earn at Deaton’s?” 

Stiles’ eyes fly down to his watch. He can feel his iPhone burning a hole in his pocket. And now this? When did Stiles acquire a mystery Sugar Daddy? 


Derek notices it when Stiles pays for a few drinks from the soda machine in the school hallway after lacrosse practice. There’s stuff that Scott and Isaac need to know, and so Derek catches up with them at the school. 

“Just this once I would love it if you came by with some good news, you know?” Stiles says as he fishes his wallet out of his backpack and searches for some singles. “Like, there’s a pack of adorable fluffy kittens in town, instead of always mayhem and supernatural creatures out to eat our skin or something.” 

Derek just shoots him a look, and his eyes fall on the ratty-looking wallet Stiles is holding in his hands. It’s ugly and orange and made of nylon and there’s a hole in the back of it. Stiles doesn’t seem to care though as he stuffs his wallet back in his pack and hands Scott one of the cans of soda. 

“Yeah, sure, next time I’ll come warn you when there’s a rainbow above the lacrosse field,” Derek deadpans, resisting rolling his eyes. “Can we get serious for a second here?” 

“Serious is your default setting, Derek.” Stiles sighs. “It’s all you ever know. It’s more than a bit scary.” 

And somehow Derek wants to protest, wants to tell Stiles that he’s wrong, wants to ask him how Stiles would act if he’d have had the same life as Derek, even though he knows that’s not entirely fair, because he knows about Stiles’ mother. So he shuts up and lets Stiles think that he’s all business and grump and doesn’t have any other feelings. 

The next day, he buys a new leather wallet and leaves it in Stiles’ car. 


“Okay, I don’t even know what to think of this,” Stiles calls out to Scott, holding up the shirt. 

“It looks nice!” Alison says, running her fingers over the fabric. “Good quality.” 

“Yeah, and exactly my size too! Which creeps me out a little bit, I have to say,” Stiles says, his voice high pitched. 

“I don’t get why you’re complaining,” Scott says from where he’s sprawled out on Stiles’ bed. “You’re getting tons of free stuff.” 

“But I don’t know where it’s coming from!” Stiles says, riffling through the sack of new clothes he has acquired in the last few weeks. “The phone, the watch, the wallet…” 

“The laptop!” Scott interjects. 

“Yes!” Stiles says, “And then the clothes! Every single time my clothes get messed up or blood-stained because of one of your crazy werewolf related catastrophes, I find new clothes!”

My  crazy werewolf catastrophes?” Scott asks, indignant. “I’m not the only one, you know!” 

“He wouldn’t be involved in it if it wasn’t for you though,” Alison remarks, and Stiles could just  kiss  her, because it’s so true. Not that he blames Scott for any of it. 

“Traitor,” Scott growls at Alison, but he’s already smiling that sickeningly sweet I’m-so-in-love smile at her, and she blows him a kiss. 

“This is an awesome hoodie,” Alison says, her voice full of admiration as she looks through the pile of clothes. 

Stiles sighs. “It’s gorgeous.” 

“Looks like you have a secret admirer,” Scott says, and Stiles can’t help but snort. 

“It does look like it,” Alison interjects, still eying the dark hoodie. 

“It’s ridiculous,” Stiles says, “Who do I know that has that much money?” 

“Lydia,” Scott laughs. 

“Don’t even joke about that,” Stiles huffs. 

“Jackson!” Alison grins, and it earns her a stern look from Stiles. 

“Oh my God, imagine it being one of our teachers!” Scott calls out, horror on his face. 

“Oh God!” Stiles pretend-retches, arms clutched around his stomach. 

“Whoever it is, seems like they’re shy,” Alison says. 

“Not shy enough to have any scruples about breaking and entering my bedroom uninvited,” Stiles counters, as he sags down into his desk chair, hand sweeping over his beautiful new Macbook. 

“Should I even be using this stuff?” he asks, twisting the watch around his wrist. “How do I know this isn’t some wackjob?” 

“Well, they’re in love with you, so a little bit crazy is a given,” Scott teases, and Stiles throws a stray pen at his head, which Scott easily catches – damn supernatural reflexes. 

“I hate you,” Stiles mumbles. 


Derek pauses before climbing through the window of Stiles’ bedroom. The scent of  Stiles  fills him, even though he can tell Stiles isn’t in the room. He takes another look at the car he’s parked right outside, then at the keys and papers in his hand. 

He’d heard through Isaac that Stiles was having more and more problems with his Jeep, and Derek can understand that it hasn’t exactly been the same since Peter ripped out its battery and messed up the engine that night at the school. It’s been in the shop more than not lately, which is exactly where it is right now because Derek knows for a fact that it wouldn’t start yesterday morning. 

So the brand new Jeep parked outside the Stilinski’s house will be more than welcome, Derek figures. Even though he knows he’s maybe going a little overboard with the gifts lately, he can’t seem to help himself. Stiles seems to bring it out in him. 

So he quietly creeps in the bedroom and drops the papers of the car on Stiles’ desk. He’s still got the keys in his hands when the door suddenly swings open and Stiles runs in, slightly out of breath, lacrosse stick thrown over his shoulder. 

“What the fuck!” he shrieks when he sees Derek, nearly tumbling back into the door, and Derek freezes with the keys dangling from his fingers. 


“What are you…?” Stiles starts, stick dropped to the floor, and he’s still clutching his heart. “What is that?” 

Derek looks at the keys, and how could he not hear Stiles approach? How could he have let Stiles sneak up on him? 

“Are those…?” Stiles takes a good look at the object in Derek’s hand, then rushes over to the window to look outside. “Oh my God, have you lost your mind?” 

Derek sighs and drops the keys on the desk, right on top of the ownership papers of the Jeep. 

“Tell me that is not a new car!” Stiles screeches, pointing at the sparkling new Jeep right outside the window. 

“With yours in the shop, and probably beyond salvation…” Derek starts, mumbling. 

“Oh my  God , Derek,” Stiles yells, “It was  you ?” 

Stiles’ hands run through his hair, looking from the Jeep out the window to Derek. 

“The laptop, the phone, everything?” Stiles says, and Derek can tell he’s freaking out big time, and suddenly Derek is having second thoughts about the whole thing. 

“Will you calm down?” Derek all but growls, “It’s not that big a deal.” 

“Not that big a d…?” Stiles cuts off, swallows hard before shrieking, “That’s a car out there, Derek!” His arms are flailing at the window, as if Derek didn’t know exactly where he’d parked his car -  Stiles’  car. 

“I know,” Derek says calmly. “And it’s still not that big a deal. You needed new stuff, I got you new stuff.” 

“But why?” Stiles asks, bewildered. 

Derek shrugs. “I have the money…” 

“You live in a burned down piece of crap!” Stiles calls out. 

“And that burned down piece of crap and my burned down relatives got me a huge insurance settlement!” Derek snaps, and he regrets it immediately ‘cause he can visibly see Stiles shrink back, and it makes him feel horrible. 

“Look,” Derek says, reigning himself in a bit. “Take the car, don’t take it. Do what you want.” 

And he’s moving towards the window, towards a way out, but Stiles stops him, hand on his arm. 

“Wait…” Stiles says, and he actually seems speechless for once. 

But Derek waits, doesn’t shrug off the touch on his arm. 

“Why don’t you fix up the house?” Stiles asks eventually, his voice calm and steady. “With all that money… Or buy a new place somewhere? Why don’t you use it for you?” 

‘Because I don’t deserve it,’ is what Derek wants to say. ‘Because I prefer spending it on you.’ ‘Because I can’t rebuild what I lost.’ 

But Derek doesn’t say anything. Just looks down at the hand still resting on his arm. 

“Why didn’t you tell me it was you?” Stiles asks then. “Why not give all those gifts to me in person?” 

“Because I knew you’d make a big deal about it,” Derek says, and as he shrugs, Stiles finally removes his hand and that’s not at all what Derek wants. 

“I could have told you how grateful I was,” Stiles says, and there’s a small smile appearing on his face, and Derek can feel it all the way inside his stomach.

“And how unbelievably creepy it all is,” Stiles adds, but he’s grinning full-on now. 

“You’re not used to me scaring the crap out of you yet?” Derek asks, and he dares a smile of his own. 

“You know…” Stiles says, and his hands are back, tentatively reaching out either side of Derek’s arms. “It’s a special brand of crazy, but I think I can grow to like it.” 

“You just want more gifts,” Derek says, deadpan. 

“Yeah, no,” Stiles shakes his head. “I think it might be my turn to give you something in return.” And Stiles leans in, closer to Derek. 

“No, wait, that’s not why…” Derek pulls back, taking a step away from Stiles, because if Stiles thinks that he  owes  him in some way, then this is not at all what he wants. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” Stiles frowns. “So in all that time you spent pining for me – and don’t even pretend that you weren’t, because seriously? The gifts and the sneaking around my room and stuff, a dead give-away. So all that time you creepily got to know me better, did I ever once strike you as the kind of guy that would put out simply because he thinks he’s been bought?” 

Derek swallows hard, but doesn’t say a word. 

“Didn’t think so,” Stiles continues. “So if I’m doing this, it’s not because you got me expensive,  ridiculously expensive , stuff. Stuff that I really like by the way, ‘cause who knew you’d have such good taste?” 

He looks down at his sweater, and yeah, it’s one that Derek bought him. 

“But yeah, if I’m doing this, it’s because  I  want to,” Stiles says, and he’s stepping inside Derek’s space again. 

“But the gifts…” Derek mutters, and he feels so  lame  right now, in a way he just wants to disappear and forget this ever happened, but Stiles is so close to kissing him that he’s frozen to the spot. 

“Showed me a different side of you,” Stiles says, and then they’re not talking anymore because Stiles presses his lips against Derek’s, and Derek figures Stiles must like this different side of him because he is throwing his arms around Derek’s neck, and is twisting his tongue inside Derek’s mouth, and Derek just wraps his arms around Stiles’ frame and holds on. 


“Got any more new stuff?” Scott asks Stiles the next day at school. 

“Just a new boyfriend,” Stiles smiles.