bakerstreet | The Abrupt Kiss Meme!

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The Abrupt Kiss Meme!

The Abrupt Kissing Meme

Plain and simple: your character is being kissed. Abruptly. How did this happen? Were they talking too much to the point where it was the only way to shut them up? Was someone bidding adieu or just not able to hold in their feelings? Or was this some CPR class gone bad? More importantly—how do they react?

How this works:
→ Leave a comment with the usual information in the subject line: character name, fandom. Any preferences, including what you don't want, should be included as well. Congratulations, your character is being kissed by whoever tags them!
→ Tag around.
→ Feel free to roll RNG (1-9) if you cannot come up with scenarios of your own.
→ Have fun, and be excellent to each other!

1 — Simply put: I like you. (You may or may not know this already.)
2 — I did it to shut you up. (It worked, didn't it?)
3 — I've always been curious... (About what it'd be like to kiss you.)
4 — It was an accident! (I totally tripped!)
5 — Farewell. (I may never see you again and...!)
6 — Taunting. (Bet you didn't see that attack coming didja?)
7 — CPR (You were asleep and you suddenly woke up..?)
8 — No more waiting! (Ain't nobody got time for that.)
9 — Fuck da police. (In other words, the random/whatever option.)

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"Ah, well, I had a pretty kick ass blue/white deck that was almost unbeatable, except for my black/green." He gave a little nervous laugh, knowing that wasn't what the man was talking about at all, but hey, he'd been pretty decent at Magic before he hit high school.

"Who told you we were coming?"

Across from them, Derek let his head drop with a sigh at Stiles' joke. When he shifted on the couch, though, he realized something wasn't right. The movement felt off, like he couldn't get up if he tried. Then he did and, no surprise, his ass left the cushion for a second before he was yanked back down like the couch was some sort of werewolf magnet.

"A friend that sees things," the man offered, smiling as he watched Derek struggle with the couch. "I could teach you a few tricks, but that's not what you're here for, is it?"

Stiles looked over when Derek got up, partly, then sat back down. He had no idea what was going on, but the Alpha didn't look happy and that made Stiles even more unsure about being this close to the guy.

"Ah, no. No, we're here about a pack of homicidal Alphas who probably have someone who dabbles with them. I want to know how to keep them from doing any more hoodoo on us."

That was a key need for them. He didn't want to wake up an Alpha again, or worse. Was there a worse? Probably, and he bet they'd find it.

"The Alpha pack." There was a note of amusement in the man's tone that made Derek struggle to get up again because, no, they were definitely in the wrong place.

"I hear you were turned into a werewolf for some time," he said to Stiles, the smile still fixed on his face. "Did you have fun with it?"

"I was... wait, how did you know about that?" The look of dawning realization suddenly started creeping onto Stiles' face and he moved to get up, to move back to Derek.

A hand came out and clamped on his thigh, something like an electric charge passing through him and keeping him pinned in place. He made a pained sound, lids flickering before he managed to focus them on the witch. "You. It was you."

Derek ended up against the couch again as he watched the witch grab Stiles and he grabbed the cushion off of the other side, trying to chuck it at him out of lack of anything else to do. It didn't make it far, though. The cushion hit some kind of barrier that was surrounding the couch and landed on the floor at Derek's feet with a thump as the witch clicked his tongue.

"Sit still. I'll feed you soon," he scolded Derek before returning his attention to Stiles to smile at him again. "It was. Now sit down and tell me how it was."

He looked over at Derek, fear starting to replace the understanding. Shit. They were so screwed. So very, very screwed. He had something in his pocket that he was willing to use as a last resort, but he was honestly thinking it was full of crap.

But Deaton had said it was about intent. Intent and his will. He looked up at the witch, licking his lips again and trying to get his leg free from the grip he had on it. "How do you think it was? You gave me an Alpha's ability with no control behind it."

Reaching forward just proved that there was something solid in front of him. Invisible, but solid and clearly werewolf proof if Stiles came in and left it with no problem.

"The power, boy. Did you enjoy the power?" The smile was waning and it was clear that the witch was getting impatient, like he was testing Stiles over something and he wanted an answer so he could move on.

"No, not really." He wondered if Derek would be able to hear the trip of his heart over that lie. He'd liked being different, being on a level playing field with people who'd easily pushed him around before. He liked not having to worry about being the fragile one, the one in the way. But he hadn't liked the constant state of fear he'd been in before he'd learned that small bit of control. Fearing over his family and friends, for for them from him. No, he hadn't liked that.

"My dad would be the first one to tell you I'm not responsible enough for that kind of power."

Derek did hear it, but it wasn't that much of a concern since he'd been on the other side of the gloating when Stiles had the power. He recalled it pretty damn well and he knew how much he'd liked it, so it wasn't a surprise to him. Derek was busy dropping to the floor in the small space between the couch and the invisible wall so he could peer under it and spotting a mark drawn on the floor.

The witch watched with some interest as Derek reached under the couch and then cursed and jerked his hand back after getting shocked. "He'll learn not to touch them eventually," the witch remarked, tilting his head as he returned his attention to Stiles. "That's a shame. I was hoping I'd be able to teach you everything."

"I'd say I'm sorry to disappoint, but I'm not. I was more of a Luke Skywalker guy than an Anikan guy." He reached his hand into his pocket, trying so very hard to be subtle about it.

"So how about you undo whatever spell it is you've got going here and me and my friend can go." It was a futile plea, but he had to at least see if it would work. Some people could be reasoned with, right?

Pushing himself back up on the couch, Derek rotated his shoulder, feeling a little like the electricity had run all the way through him rather than just sparking his fingertips. He looked at Stiles again, listening to him.

The witch watched Stiles then looked at Derek, slowly settling back against the couch again. "You can go," he replied to Stiles, glancing over at him, eyes darting to his pocket. "But your friend is my pet now. He'll have to stay."

"Didn't you see the little show downstairs? We're a couple." He had no idea where that came from, but hey, wit was wit. He stood, placing himself so that he could see both of them.

"Derek, run." He grabbed the handful of what he had in his pocket, pulling it out and throwing it in a wide arc that covered both Derek and the witch, his mind fully focused on this doing what he'd read it could do.

Salt was a great magical nullifier, rings of it able to keep a lot of spells at bay, but it could also disturb, distort, and dispel any enchantments or charms. Or spells being cast by evil witches that had some weird sort of gimp fetish.

Derek stared and pushed off of the couch the second the salt came through the walls that seemed to be surrounding him. He was freed from it and he moved clear of it, but he didn't head for the stairs because there was no way he was leaving Stiles there.

The witch, when hit with the salt, let out a yell and it only took a second for Derek to realize that the two guys at the stairs were on their way up to either see what the problem was or try to cast something of their own.

Unwilling to see exactly which it was, he moved in the direction of the stairs and kicked them back down them to buy him a little more time to make sure Stiles was getting out, too.

If they weren't facing the possibility of serious demise and destruction, and some possible Pulp Fiction connotations that, frankly, left him feeling pretty unsettled, he would have done a little victory dance.

Instead, he was moving away from the creepy man witch and over towards Derek, watching him kick the other two down with a sense of hope. Maybe they could actually get out of here with their lives (and other things) intact.

"Move, move, move." He chanted it at Derek, pushing him towards the stairs when he caught up with him.

He heard the voice behind him and he stopped to move behind Stiles instead so they could head down the stairs and he would serve as a buffer between the witch, who was looking royally pissed as he pushed himself up off of the couch, and Stiles.

They made it about halfway down the stairs before the witch hit the top and Derek sped up, glancing back and grabbing hold of one of Stiles' shoulders to make sure he didn't knock him down the stairs in the process of trying to make it down them quicker.

"You won't get away. You can leave now, but you two have more than Alpha wolves to worry about in your future."

How he managed to make it down the stairs without completely bailing, he had no idea. Adrenaline was making him feel spastic and jittery, waiting for something to drop out of the sky on them like a hanging spider of doom. He felt the hand on his shoulder, trying not to feel as relieved about it as he did, hitting the bottom of the stairs and sparing a glance back at the very pissed witch.

Shit. More threats. More people he had to watch out for. Did he have a sign over his head or something?

His hand came back to clutch at Derek's arm, not really needing to pull the werewolf along with him since Derek wasn't exactly making any effort to stop and face anyone, but he wanted to make sure the werewolf left when he did. "I'm going to kill Deaton."

The more threats part wouldn't have bothered Derek much if they were coming from anyone else. But seeing how the witch had clearly been to his apartment at least once, he figured it was probably worth taking seriously after the last couple of things that had happened and the entire getting trapped on a couch issue Stiles had just gotten him out of.

Stiles' hand around his arm didn't even get a look because Derek was just concerned with making sure both of them got out of there and they were clearly on the same page for once.

It wasn't until they were almost at the doors that Derek realized the entire club had emptied out. He didn't take any time to think about how weird that was as he shoved the door open so they could leave, turning his arm in Stiles' grip so he could grab hold of his hand and tug him in the direction of his car.

"I hate magic."

Stiles didn't even notice the club had emptied out. He was too busy trying to make sure they didn't get caught in any way. He still had some salt in his pocket if he needed it, but it was definitely a depleted supply. He'd be stocking up on that as soon as they got out of here. If they got out of here.

But they'd made it out of the doors and Derek's hand was gripping his and tugging him along like an errant puppy and Stiles, for once, had no complaints about that. He also, for once, fully agreed with the words that came out of Derek's mouth. "Maybe Salem had the right idea."

Not really, but he could severely empathize right now.

In any other situation, they would've started fighting after the hand on Stiles' shoulder on their way down the stairs. Unsurprisingly, crazy witches out for blood were a good way to nullify their differences.

"I wouldn't be against burning that guy," Derek commented, not slowing until they made it to his car. He unlocked the doors, left Stiles off on the passenger's side, then circled around to the driver's to quickly climb in and start the car up.

It wasn't until he was actually pulling away from the curb to head back to the main road that some of the tension started to ease out of his shoulders.

Stiles clambered into the passenger seat, again, fully in agreement with Derek. Maybe this was all a bad dream and none of this had happened. Maybe he wasn't really sitting in a car with Derek right now after almost becoming probable sex slaves to some witch after going there looking for help only to discover that was the very asshole they'd been looking for. Maybe he hadn't had to come here in the first place, which meant that he hadn't been subjected to being kissed by Dere--

Oh god. He'd been kissed by Derek.

There was a whole new level of silence from Stiles' side of the car.

The silence was fine with Derek at first. He drove with the point of just putting as much space between them and the witch as possible even though there wasn't much point to it. Not when he knew where to find them. That definitely had Derek reconsidering a move to another place.

But, after a little while, once they were closer to Stiles' house, Derek glanced over so he could look Stiles over.

"Are you alright? He grabbed you when we were back there. Should we go to Deaton now?"

"Huh?"

Stiles looked down at his thigh, rubbing at the spot that still sort of stung, but he was too busy with his mental calamity to be overly concerned. "No, it's fine."

Derek had kissed him. And not like, a quick little peck on the lips. He'd kissed him. All that had been missing was the music in the background and the cheesy audience.

Stiles had ideas. He had hopes and dreams for how things should go. His first kiss was supposed to be with Lydia and she was supposed to look up at him after and profess undying love. Just like his first time would be with... Lydia. And there would be candles and rose petals and music and everything would go according to plan.

You peed on his plan, Derek.

Derek stared at him for a second because the lack of anything from Stiles' side of the car combined with the brief answers seemed off. He was willing to chalk it up to near death and the threats they had looming over their heads, though, because he wasn't sure what else would have Stiles not at least alert enough to be paying attention to what he said.

He didn't question anything else until they got back to Stiles' house, where he came to a stop and looked over at him again.

"I don't think he'll come after either of us tonight. We can go talk to Deaton tomorrow to see about keeping magic away from your house."

"Yeah, okay." Did that make him the girl in the whole kissing scenario? Probably. Not like he could see Derek in a dress with lipstick or anything. Not even a kilt, though those were supposed to be the epitome of manliness.

Stiles was so not wearing a dress. Or lipstick. Or anything else. No way, man. He was not the girl, even though he'd pretty much been stunned into submission by that. It wasn't like it was the world's greatest kiss or anything (not that he'd have anything to compare it to). It was Derek goddamn Hale.

He was so distracted he hadn't realized they were at his house.

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