Teen Wolf human!AU: Derek is Stiles’ hot mechanic and, oops, the jeep keeps ‘breaking down’.
In his life, Stiles has managed to accomplish a sizable list of extremely stupid things. This time, however, he may as well be catapulting right past ‘stupid’ and landing in the territory of ‘stupid’s estranged brother that lurks like a goblin in his mother’s basement.’
Naturally, then, it’s just another wonderful day in the life of Stiles Stilinski: today, featuring adventures in gawking shamelessly at unsuspecting mechanics. Also, lessons in how to avoid fidgeting on tiny, plastic, butt-mutilating chairs (characteristic of only the best car garages), lest one feels the need to start awkwardly rubbing their ass.
At the moment, Stiles’ gaze is, quite pathetically, glued to his Jeep’s resident grease monkey-slash-Adonis, more officially known as Mr. Derek Hale, and sometimes unofficially referred to as ‘Mr. How-do-you-even-manage-to-look-like-that-in-a-tank-top-with-your-insanely-chiseled-arms-and-back-muscles-flexing-like-sex-on-a-Sunday-morning’ in the corny, dark confines of Stiles’ brain (and, yes, Stiles has been whittling away the time coming up with alternate versions to that title).
His phone vibrates, and it’s another hysteric text from Scott attempting to rationalize why the hell Stiles would willingly ruin his Jeep for a third time. Stiles ignores it, instead deciding that he’s probably going to have to pick up another— no, definitely going to have to pick up another job to pay for this. His dad may have bought the “well, I ran into a small tree and now the Jeep’s making a noise” excuse and the subsequent “it’s still making that noise?” bit, but he isn’t likely to buy, “my engine’s dead because I dumped multiple gallons of water into it?” Or, unofficially, “drove it into a lake,” which was the lie Stiles supplied to his criminally hot mechanic.
After several more minutes of poorly-concealed staring, Stiles feels the onset of a bad idea. Since he never manages to ignore those, he ends up jumping off his chair and walking over to where Derek is siphoning water from his carburetor. He ducks a little under his Jeep and is rewarded with an in-his-face view of a glistening, sculpted chest and an impressively angular jaw line set in concentration.
‘Really, Stiles?’ he thinks. ‘Glistening, sculpted chest? Angular jaw line?’
Man, he wants to punch this guy for turning him into a fourteen year old girl who eats romance novels for breakfast.
But then make out with him afterwards. Preferably. Because Derek has nice lips.
“Can I help you?”
“Nah, I’m cool,” Stiles answers immediately, and slowly realizes that, oh wait, that was Derek talking to him. And now Derek’s staring at him. Because he’s staring at Derek. Derek staring at Stiles staring at Derek staring at Stiles. Well, he could live with that.