bakerstreet | picture prompt meme.

picture prompt meme.

the picture prompt meme

I — Comment with your character.
II — Others will leave a picture (or two, or three...)
III — Reply to them with a setting based on the picture.
IV — Be aware that this meme will likely be image-heavy. That's kind of the point.

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Because Stiles was imagining Derek putting him in bed one of three ways. Either he'd just dragged him by an arm or a leg across the floor, in which case he'd probably have some residual pain from that, or he threw him over his shoulder and dumped him in bed, or... he carried him. Like a girl. That idea both bothered him and did something weird to his stomach.

He nodded, hand moving into his pocket to make sure his keys were still there. "Yeah, yeah. I think I'm good now that I'm actually conscious again."

Considering Derek wasn't a caveman and he hadn't been physically fighting Stiles, the dragging option was pretty far off from ever happening. Over his shoulder was always possible, but that seemed like a position that was better when someone was awake. Carrying him like he had was the only option he'd seen and he would've done the same thing again.

"If you tell me you're fine, leave here, and end up in an accident..." He paused. "Just make sure you're okay for it. I can drive you if you're not."

"You'll what, scold me? Ground me? Take away my Nintendo for a week?" The reply was habit and he actually felt bad about it after, especially considering that Derek hadn't tossed him out on his ass.

"Sorry, I guess I'm still a bit tired. And you driving me home is just dumb since you'll have to either run back if you drive my jeep or drive yourself home." Which would leave him to come back somehow for his car.

The reply was shrugged off easily enough. Derek was used to it and, had the situation been any different, he would've fed right into it and bitten back.

"I can take a cab if I have to. Don't argue with me. You're not more stubborn than I am." Honestly, it was more likely that he'd end up running home in the end, but it wasn't like Stiles needed to know that.

"Wanna bet?" Again, he just couldn't help it. "You might be bigger and hairier, but I can definitely be more bullheaded."

He moved away from the couch to approach Stiles. "I'll wrestle your keys out of your hand and carry your ass down to your jeep if I have to."

He'd been jingling those keys in his hand and that stopped when Derek came closer and made that threat. His eyes narrowed and he fixed them on the werewolf. "You wouldn't..."

The look and the statement had Derek leaning in slightly, making no move to grab for Stiles right away. "Try me."

Later, he was going to beat himself up over this. Later, he'd call himself an idiot. But for some reason, Derek leaning in like that and giving him an ultimatum had him narrowing his eyes briefly before he suddenly bolted and headed for the door. Eat his dust, wolfman.

That Stiles thought that running was a good way to get away from him was almost enough to make Derek laugh. Almost. He might've been horrible at fighting, but running was one of those natural werewolf abilities that, unfortunately for Stiles, were almost always on point.

Stiles had maybe a second head start on Derek before he took off after him and they'd barely made it out of the loft and toward the stairs to head down when he caught up, grabbed him, and pinned him to the door leading to the stairwell.

"Seriously?"

Well, this was a familiar position. He gave Derek an innocent look, trying to play it off. "Hey, you can't blame me for trying, right?" Since he'd somehow managed to stay alive all this time, he'd sort of thought running had been his forte. He was so very, very wrong.

There was a huge difference between running for his life and running for the sake of proving somebody wrong, which probably had something to do with it.

"It was a good effort. Now, hand over the keys." He had one hand pressed to the door on one side of Stiles while he held the other up, expecting him to hand the keys over.

"No?"

Those keys slipped back into his pocket and he gave Derek a slightly stuck out chin. "I don't need a babysitter, you know."

He raised his eyebrows slightly, glancing down and watching the keys disappear into Stiles' pocket. Then he weighed his options since letting Stiles go wasn't an option.

After deciding that sticking his hand in Stiles' pocket to take his keys himself was going to be a last resort, Derek pulled him away from the door with a firm hold on one of his wrists as he pulled him back in the direction of the loft. "Then you can stay here for a while longer. I'm not trying to babysit you, Stiles. I just wanna make sure you're okay before you drive on your own."

"Hey!" He actually dug in his heels, or tried to, a hand reaching out for the door frame to try to cling to it. "This is called kidnapping. Illegal confinement. It's a federal offense."

Yes, he would know that.

"Then let me drive you home. Otherwise, you can call your dad and tell him I kidnapped you." Derek stopped pulling when Stiles grabbed hold of the door frame, standing there as he stared at him without letting go of his wrist.

"You're not driving me home." He didn't know why he was being so stubborn about this, but he'd drawn a line in the sand. Derek wasn't his babysitter. Stiles was supposed to be his emissary. He was supposed to take care of Derek, not the other way around.

"Then you're staying here." He didn't know what the problem was with it either, but he refused to let Stiles go until he could bring him home himself or he was sure he was alright to drive. So, he let go of Stiles' wrist just to lean down some and pick him up the same way he did last time, no warning given in advance.

That had an outright squawk coming from the teen, arms flailing as he realized that yes, Derek Hale was freaking carrying him like a girl. Jesus. He could feel his dick actually shriveling up and dying. Hello, mangina. "What the hell? Put me down."

Derek leaned back slightly, expecting to get hit by the arm nearest to him as he picked Stiles up. Then he turned and carried him back down the stairs and into the loft again, not actually listening to the request until he was by the couch, depositing Stiles on it.

He landed with a huff, staring up at Derek with an incredulous look on his face. "I can't believe you just did that. You can't do that. What the hell?" He moved to get up, face set in a stubborn look as he was now intent on leaving.

"Don't make me sit on you to keep you here," he threatened, standing over Stiles to prevent him from actually getting up from the couch again. Derek had every intention of being just as stubborn to keep him there.

His attempt to get up was failed by a sudden werewolf crotch in his face. Thanks for that, Derek. Glaring up at him, he actually attempted to crawl around Derek on the couch, not giving up quite so easily.

Yeah, no. Derek moved, pushing Stiles back against the couch as he tried to get around him. And, once he had him against the couch, he dropped down, sitting on his legs. Immature? Yes. But also effective.

"Oh my god, what are you? A wererock? You weigh a ton. My poor legs. Oh god." He lay on the couch, trying to pull at the arm and squirm his way free, legs valiantly trying to kick out from under one Derek-ass.

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