Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 
Art by Piratetattoos

As soon as the first chord began to play, a hand instantly reached out towards the radio and switched stations to something else. It wasn’t that he hated the song that had begun to play—the complete opposite, in fact—but the radio had this innate ability to overplay popular songs to the point where he started to hate them. 

It was one of his biggest pet peeves, and why he firmly believed that a song should not be allowed to play more than ten times in twenty-four hours. He hated that the radio recognized a song was popular and then let it play ten times a freaking hour, because that meant that he could hear the song over and over again until he started hating it. 

He didn’t want to hate this song, it was one of his favourites. It was a few years old by now, but still extremely popular, probably because of the overall theme of the song. It was called ‘The Darkness in Me’ by AllAboutMischief, and he actually loved the overall exploration of the secret parts of people that they tried to keep hidden. 

It had been most people’s favourite of his songs since the album had come out, which was why he didn’t want to listen to it again because it had already played at least twice in the past hour of traffic he’d been stuck in, and he didn’t want to lose his taste of it. 

Derek Hale leaned his head back against the headrest, eyes on the car in front of him while he waited for the stupid thing to move. Not that it was that car’s fault, but he was getting low on gas and this idling was bad for the environment. Apparently there was an overturned semi on the highway leading out of the city, so that was backing up traffic for everyone. 

Not that it helped him any, since he was heading out of the city. He didn’t even fucking live here, he’d just been dropping a co-worker off at the airport as a favour since she didn’t have a car, and was now stuck experiencing this shitty karma despite his good deed. That was supremely unfair, in his opinion, and it was going to impact his desire to do any more favours for anyone else. 

It was kind of a shitty situation all around for him, and he was annoyed he’d forgotten his phone charger because at least then he could’ve done a stream or something. He didn’t often record streams or videos in general on his phone, but having his chat around to entertain him for the next however many years of his life he was losing stuck in this traffic would’ve been appreciated. 

When the song on the radio ended and the DJ came back on, he only half-listened to what the man was saying before immediately switching stations again because ‘The Darkness in Me’ started to play again. Seriously, AllAboutMischief had other fucking songs, could they maybe alternate them every now and then? 

To be fair, his most recent album from two months ago didn’t have any bangers on it. The guy was good, no doubt about it, and he wrote all his own songs—lyrics, composition, instrumental, the works—but Derek felt like maybe he was burning out because he wasn’t overly impressed with this last one compared to his four others. 

He actually had a video coming out about it in the next few days, and he’d have been able to finish editing the fucking thing today if he wasn’t stuck in the world’s longest bout of traffic ever. He might die of old age before he moved another few inches. 

His eyes shifted towards his dash when the music playing cut out and a call came over his Bluetooth. When he saw who it was, he reached out to answer it immediately. 

“Remind me never to do anyone any favours ever again.” 

“Except for me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he agreed. “You’re excluded.” 

“I feel so loved. Why are we no longer doing favours for anyone ever again?” 

“I drove Claire to the airport this morning as a favour, since she doesn’t have a car. I’m now going to die of old age before I even reach the highway.” 

“Oh, are you in Sacramento? I heard there was a huge blockage heading out of town into our neck of the woods.”

“I can confirm this is the case, seeing as I’ve been staring at the back of a lime green Smart car for the past...” he checked the time before continuing, “hour and thirty-two minutes.” 

“Ouch. Might as well walk home, you’d get back faster.”

“Probably,” he admitted. Though honestly, if they didn’t start moving soon, he actually might have to because he was dangerously low on gas. He’d been turning his engine off periodically throughout his wait time, but every time traffic moved even a little bit, someone from another lane would cut in front of him before he could turn it back on.

Because getting ahead even one car was worth it, apparently. It had happened four times, so he was just leaving it on now, despite knowing he shouldn’t. 

He just wanted to get home before the apocalypse, it wasn’t too much to ask.

“On the bright side, your last video just hit five-hundred thousand views.”

“And how many of those were you?” 

“Only about ninety-five percent of them,” his best friend teased.

Derek smiled, because while he knew Kira Yukimura would one-hundred percent watch his videos over and over again to help him get good numbers, she didn’t have to do that. He’d clawed his way up from the bottom like everyone else, and while gaming channels and cooking channels would always be at the top of the algorithm on YouTube, he was at least making a name for himself in the commentary community despite his topic being fairly niche. 

In a way, it didn’t matter to him if he was YouTube famous or not, since it was only a hobby, but he wouldn’t lie and say he was upset about having the large following he did. He’d legitimately had a bit of a weird mini freakout when he’d received a Silver Creator Award from YouTube, because he’d honestly never thought he’d reach a thousand subscribers, let alone one-hundred thousand subscribers. Especially for a commentary channel, that was huge. 

He was only a few thousand subscribers away from the Gold Creator Award, which was one million subscribers, and he honestly didn’t know what he would do the day he received that one. Probably something crazy, like sing live on his channel while letting his sister dye his hair green. 

Okay, probably not that, but considering he’d started this as a hobby on the side to de-stress from work, consistently bringing in views on his videos meant so much to him.

It was why he wished he could stream right now, because at least he’d have something to do, and would be able to talk about his grievance related to radio stations. He’d already written the idea down and started a rough draft of what he wanted to talk about on his phone half an hour ago, but having this as a stream instead of a video would’ve been way better. 

Lesson learned about his phone charger. He should just buy a second one so he always had it in his car. 

“I already know what my next one is going to be,” he informed Kira, silently thanking the Heavens when the car in front of him moved forward a little bit. Every little bit counted! 

“Is it about how much you hate traffic in big cities, which is why you still live in this dumb little town despite being a millionaire?”

“Not a millionaire, and no.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, mostly because he didn’t want to accidentally rear-end the car in front of him. “Repeat songs on the radio.” 

“Oh my God, I hate that!” Kira agreed. “I legitimately hate two Ed Sheeran songs I used to like because they’re over-played! Though Lizzo’s new song is good, but it’s also starting to hit that overplayed threshold.” 

“I just change station when a song I like starts to play,” he admitted.

“That’s because you’re weird.”

“No, it’s because I want to continue to enjoy the song. I don’t have a problem when I hear Ed Sheeran’s ‘Bad Habits’ song.” 

“I really liked that song, too,” Kira admitted with a sigh. “Now I hear it start and I just turn the radio off.”

“That’s why I switch stations,” Derek repeated. 

“Sorry, oh great one. Not all of us can afford to buy common sense.”

Derek did roll his eyes this time, because his friends and sisters always gave him a hard time about his job and his YouTube channel. They insisted he should quit his full-time job and just commit to YouTube, but he didn’t want to do that. 

For one thing, security, and for another, he felt like he’d start to hate making videos if he had to do it all the time as a job. It was a fun hobby, and he liked his upload schedule because it was relatively chill for him. But having a regular Monday to Friday, nine to five job just felt safer. He didn’t understand how some people could be so brave and take risks like becoming a full-time YouTuber, or moving to LA and chasing dreams of fame. The thought was terrifying. 

But because he had a full-time job, and a popular YouTube channel, his friends and family always insisted he was secretly a millionaire, which he was not. He made a good chunk of change with YouTube, he wouldn’t lie, but he was only just barely breaking three-hundred thousand a year with YouTube, and that was only for the past two years. He wasn’t like the big channels—Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, MrBeast—who made millions upon millions a day. 

Maybe not a day, but they had a yearly salary of over a million dollars. He knew, he’d checked. 

While his full-time job didn’t give him as much of a salary as YouTube was right now—he was at ninety-thousand yearly as of his last raise—it at least gave him some comfort in knowing that if something happened and his YouTube channel got banned or cancelled or whatever, he still had a steady income. 

And honestly, the tax hit he took was painful because he technically had two jobs, so he was by no means anywhere close to being a millionaire, no matter what his friends and family said. 

“I am going to die in this car,” Derek informed Kira, leaning his head back against the headrest once more. 

“I’ll make sure to put something snappy on your tombstone.”

“Better be impressive, or I’ll haunt you.”

“The most impressive,” she confirmed. “I’ll have to find something more sincere for your Twitter and YouTube though. Don’t want people to mistake you for the sassy asshole you are, it’d ruin your image.”

He let out a small laugh at that, because he doubted any of his followers missed the fact that he was sassy or an asshole, but Kira could think what she liked. 

He wasn’t rude or anything, but he had a lot of opinions about the music industry as a whole, which was primarily what he talked about in streams and videos. He’d majored in business at university, but he’d always liked music and had ended up doing a minor in music theory, which came in very handy when he did his videos. 

Admittedly, he got a lot of hate when he did videos on popular singers—he was never going to forget the backlash of his One Direction video, some of those death threats had been particularly graphic—but he never made videos about them to be assholes. He only ever really spoke about reasons singers did or didn’t work, and even then, that was just his own opinion. 

He wasn’t going out there telling people not to listen to One Direction—though they’d broken up, so a moot point now—he was just trying to explain why he thought some singers were better than others, and provided facts from his minor as to why he thought that. 

No one had to listen to him, and if they chose to, that was their own prerogative. He didn’t understand why people online always got all butthurt when someone didn’t like something they did. That was why there were so many different genres of music, because not everyone liked the same thing. 

“I should let you go,” Derek said with a deep sigh, still resting his head back on the headrest. “My phone’s probably on its last little bit of battery, and I need to be able to call my mother to explain how I want my possessions to be distributed.”

“I get your YouTube channel, right?”

“You get my Twitter, Cora gets my YouTube channel.” 

“What? Why?”

“She called dibs.” 

“Okay, so kill Cora, then kill you, got it.” 

Derek laughed at that, somewhat grateful that Kira was managing to make him feel even a little better despite his shitty mood, and bid her farewell. When he ended the call, the music cut back on, and he let out a sigh when he heard AllAboutMischief’s voice coming through his speakers. 

He was too lazy to change it, and it sounded like it was at least halfway through, so he just sat there and let the song play, mouthing along to the words of the chorus. 

“You can’t change me
You can’t fix me
You just have to accept me

Please allow me to be
The best me that I can be
So I can fight off the darkness.

The darkness in me.” 

Derek was getting frustrated with everything being against him right now when he was just trying to get his video rendered and posted. He felt like there was some higher power involved here trying to stop him from posting this video, because it was already almost a week overdue and that was frustrating as hell.

He’d had to clip parts of his last stream and post that as a video on Wednesday to avoid missing one of his upload days, but he hated doing that because it felt cheap. His streams were available for anyone to view at any time, and clipping parts of it for a video made him feel like he was trying to double up on views for something he’d already talked about.

But this video was just not cooperating with him. First he’d gotten stuck in the world’s longest traffic jam—it had really only been two and a half hours, but it may as well have been an eternity—and then his editing program had decided to crash and not restart for no reason. Once he’d re-downloaded it and gotten started again, the video file was somehow corrupted and wouldn’t open. Thankfully he was a paranoid person because of work, so he had three different copies of his raw videos saved, which was good because it meant he didn’t have to do it again, but he had to re-edit the whole thing a second time when he’d been close to done on the corrupted file. 

After that shit-fest, he’d tried uploading it to his channel, and his internet had crashed so the upload had predictably failed, and now he was trying yet again to have it render and upload before he went to bed. A whole week of fighting with one video.

A part of him kind of just wanted to let the damn thing run overnight, but with his luck the video would crash halfway through and he’d wake up having to do this whole thing a third time. And he wasn’t going to miss his Saturday morning upload, those were the ones that got the most views, presumably because people watched them while eating breakfast or when waiting on friends or something. 

He could readily admit he always ate his cereal on Saturdays and Sundays watching YouTube, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one. 

Truth be told, he was a little... not nervous, but perhaps concerned about this video. Not because he said anything untrue, or even mean or rude, but just because he didn’t want to get shit on for it. 

Derek lived in a small town in California, and this singer—AllAboutMischief—happened to also come from this small town. He honestly didn’t really remember him, though they’d gone to the same high school. He’d been a senior when Mischief had been a freshman, so their paths hadn’t crossed very much. 

He also happened to be the current sheriff’s son, and while this was a free country and Derek could have whatever opinions he wanted about everything, he did acknowledge it was risky to be posting a video about Beacon Hills’ most famous individual with his own face plastered across the screen. 

People recognized him around town because of his channel, and while none of them ever made a big deal about it, he still go some people asking him for pictures or whatever. That was something he’d never understood, asking YouTubers for pictures. He supposed to some, having a platform made them something of a celebrity, but Derek was just posting videos because he enjoyed it. 

He hadn’t changed anything about his videos from when he’d had one view per video to now with over five-hundred thousand views per video. Sure, the camera itself and the editing were better, but he hadn’t changed his approach at all because he wasn’t doing videos to cause drama. He just did them to have a good time and to talk about something he was passionate about. 

Picking up his phone when it went off, he twisted back and forth in his chair while reading the text from his sister, replying back that no, he was not coming over for breakfast tomorrow, because every time she invited him over, her fridge and pantry were magically empty and they ended up going to the store for groceries that he paid for. 

[Cora]
cheapskate 

[Derek]
you have your own $$$

[Cora]
yah but you’re FAAAAAAMOUUUUUUS 
[Cora]
you can afford to buy your poor hungry sister some tacos 

[Derek]
why tf are you having taxos for breakfast?
[Derek]
don’t actually care 
[Derek]
go eat at laura’s if you’re too cheap to buy your own tacos 

[Cora]
BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Rolling his eyes, he tossed his phone onto his bed, doing a full spin back around to look at his computer. Thankfully, it was almost done rendering and he could shut down his computer and head to bed soon. It was almost midnight, and while that wasn’t late for most people, he didn’t like staying up too late on weekends because it affected his schedule during the week. 

Debating whether or not his computer would betray him if he walked away from it, he decided to risk it and stood, moving out of his room and walking down the short corridor towards his bathroom so he could get ready for bed. 

Relieving himself and brushing his teeth, he took his contacts out, putting them away in their little containers and grabbing his glasses, rubbing at his eyes for a few seconds. He knew that was a bad thing to do, but he couldn’t help it, his eyes got all dry and itchy when he took his contacts out. He usually wore his glasses on weekends, but work was easier to tolerate with his contacts, especially if it rained since their parking lot wasn’t covered. 

Putting his glasses on while heading down the corridor, he went downstairs to check that his front door was locked before turning off the lights on his way back up to his room. Once there, he let out a relieved sigh when YouTube showed his video was uploading—finally—and went to change out of his clothes into a pair of sweats. He went to plug in his phone and set it on his night stand as soon as he was dressed and his clothes were in the laundry. 

He was done before YouTube was, because the website was a piece of shit intent on making him suffer, so he just stood behind his chair with his arms crossed over his bare chest and watched the progress bar move. He knew he was only making his own life miserable, standing there watching, but he was kind of stubborn that way. 

After another eternity and a half—seriously, was the universe trying to warn him out of posting this video?—it finally uploaded and he let out a sigh of relief. He set it to publish at seven in the morning on Saturday—which it now was, given how long this had taken—and waited for everything to be confirmed before closing out of Firefox and shutting down his computer. 

That had taken way too long, and he was kind of annoyed now, which would probably make it hard for him to sleep. 

He attempted not to let the video’s horrible issues bother him as he turned off his light and climbed into bed. Setting his glasses down on the night stand, he rolled onto his side and stared at the dark, blurry wall across from him, trying not to think about how this could all blow up in his face. 

His work had always been really good about his YouTube channel, and they’d never said he couldn’t have it, or had any complaints about it. But this was someone from their small town. This was someone from Beacon Hills specifically. Derek didn’t think they’d be dicks about it, because again, everyone was entitled their opinion, but what if they got pissed because his boss’ daughter’s best friend was like, Mischief’s girlfriend’s brother’s nephew or something?! 

That was the shitty thing about living in a small town, it was entirely possible he would step on some toes. And while he’d always heard the sheriff was a nice man—he’d never met him personally—he didn’t know how he’d react to this video. 

And again! Derek wasn’t being rude or mean! He just felt like Mischief had been slacking in his most recent album, and he firmly believed it was because of burnout. After all, AllAboutMischief had put out five albums in six years. That was a lot of music, especially considering he’d been going on tours and talk shows and all that other stuff that came with being a famous singer. 

Derek didn’t blame the guy for having burnt out, he just wished he hadn’t let pressure force him into releasing another album that was subpar compared to all his others. 

It took him a long time to fall asleep, but thankfully he eventually managed it. He kept debating getting up to take the video down before it went live, but at the end of the day, he was determined not to let fear get the better of him. He’d never had a concern about a video going public before, this one was just a bit different because of the fact that it was someone from his own home town. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep for, but he woke with a start at the sound of his phone ringing annoyingly right beside his head. Letting out a grunt, he debated ignoring it, but he always worried it was someone calling about an emergency, or one of his friends calling for help. His sister Cora usually called him when she was alone on her way home from work—or getting back late after a night out at a club or bar—and needed to be on the phone with someone. 

Even if he was sleeping, or it was like two in the morning. That was kind of what siblings were for, and he never got mad about it. He’d rather be grumpy with her than ignore her call and have something happen to her. 

Reaching out for his phone, he pulled it closer and peeked open one eye. Speak of the devil, it was Cora. 

He had to shift to unplug his phone from the charger, then answered the call, rolling onto his back while rubbing at his face with his free hand, his legs getting tangled in the sheets. 

“What?” he asked in classic older brother fashion. 

“Dude, are you sleeping right now?!” Cora demanded, sounding almost offended at the mere prospect of him not being awake. 

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he let his free hand slide off his face, squinting at the screen to check the time, then returned it. “Yes, Cora. I am still asleep at seven forty-three in the morning on a Saturday,” he said dryly. “Why aren’t you asleep this early on a Saturday?”

“I haven’t slept yet,” she said, almost breathlessly. That made sense, par for the course with Cora. Before he could get a word in, she continued immediately. “Have you not seen Twitter?”

“Seeing as I just confirmed I was still sleeping, why would I have seen Twitter?” he asked sleepily, closing his eyes and trying to get this conversation over with as fast as possible so he could go back to sleep. He didn’t sleep in often, and he was honestly a little annoyed Cora was calling him this early on a weekend for nothing. 

“You’re trending!”

That woke him up, his eyes slowly opening and a frown on his face. He sat up, rubbing at his face once more while struggling to figure out what the fuck she was saying. 

“What? What do you mean I’m trending?” 

“I mean you. Are. Trending! AllAboutMischief atted you on Twitter and now your name is literally everywhere!” 

Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach at those words and he immediately wrenched his sheets off his legs, climbing out of bed and snatching up his glasses. 

“What? What did he say?” 

Was Cora fucking serious, or was she just messing with him? Because how was it possible someone as well known as AllAboutMischief happened to find his YouTube video?! Sure, people often sent his videos to the artists that he covered, but none of them ever watched them. Or if they did, they didn’t bother replying because most of them didn’t care about what some random YouTuber said about them. 

“I mean, he was pretty upset.”

Fucking Christ, really?! The one stupid singer he fucking covers from his own hometown, and the guy can’t take even a modicum of criticism? This was so fucking stupid, he couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“I’ll call you back,” he insisted, hanging up on Cora and bending over in front of his computer. He turned his laptop back on, tapping the fingers of his left hand impatiently against his desk while he waited for it to boot back up. 

He knew he could technically check Twitter on his phone, but it took too long to load, and it was harder to check what was trending and his atts and whatnot. He wasn’t procrastinating, of course not. Why would he be procrastinating? No reason to procrastinate. 

When his computer finally booted up, he input his password and had to wait an additional few minutes for everything to load. Once he could get Firefox opened, he went to Twitter with some trepidation, wondering how salty and childish AllAboutMischief was going to be. It was disappointing to find out he was going to be a baby about Derek’s video, especially since it was just his fucking opinion. 

When he got Twitter open on his browser, he saw that he was indeed trending. He had to wonder how many people were looking up TheRealMusicLover to have his name trending like it was. It also made him a bit nervous about how popular AllAboutMischief actually was considering his entire fanbase was clearly looking into him. 

He wondered how many thousands of dislikes his video had gotten in the past fifty minutes since it went live. He’d probably lost a shit-ton of subscribers too, which sucked. 

Steeling himself for what was coming, he went to look at his atts to see what kind of baby response AllAboutMischief had made, and read through the whole thread, kissing his entire YouTube hobby goodbye. 

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
@TheRealMusicLover My man, I have never been so utterly OFFENDED in my entire freaking life! I’m sorry, but like, you have to understand where I’m coming from here. Just to make sure you understand, I’m talking about your latest YT video. (1/?) 

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
Imagine my surprise when I wake up and log onto YT to check out some of the newest videos. Right on my front page, your video comes up. I’m intrigued, I’m interested, I’m sold, all that fun stuff. I click on the video. I see a marble statue, a God, a perfect man. (2/?)

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
And this perfect man, with the perfect voice, and AMAZING cheekbones, sprouting out all kinds of facts and just nailing everything on the head, has the audacity, the AUDACITY, to be sitting there with a can of PIZZA PRINGLES on his desk. PIZZA. PRINGLES. (3/?)

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
Now I don’t need to tell you that everyone knows that is the absolute WORST flavour of Pringles that ever dared grace the shelves of this, our beloved country, and yet somehow you, the most perfect of men, with the most perfect of faces, actually has that on your desk. (4/?) 

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
I demand, DEMAND, that you explain yourself, good sir. I demand a formal response, with that perfect face, that sinful voice, and your stunning intellect, in the form of a video, explaining to me PERSONALLY how you would DARE eat that disgusting flavour. (5/?) 

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
Looking forward to your response, and it better be good. IT BETTER BE GOOD, @TheRealMusicLover!!!!! (6/6) 

Derek... had no idea what to say. Or how to react. Or what to even feel. 

What the hell was going on? 

He immediately went to YouTube to check his video, and the first thing he noticed was that his subscriber count had indeed changed, just as he’d suspected. 

Except not in the direction he’d anticipated. 

When he’d gone to bed, he’d still been a few thousand subscribers away from one million. Something like seventeen or eighteen thousand away. 

He was now staring at his subscriber count sitting at over one million by a fair margin.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself, and went to look at his newest video about AllAboutMischief. It was sitting at three-hundred thousand views in the first hour, and had more comments than he’d ever gotten on any of his videos since he began uploading. 

“What the fuck?” he whispered again, a little more desperately. What the hell was happening? He’d been freaking out about this video because of the people in town who watched his content, only to wake up to more subscribers and AllAboutMischief himself ragging on him. But he wasn’t even ragging on him for the content of the video! He was ragging on him about his choice of fucking Pringles! 

Scrolling to his comments section, he looked over the first few which, predictably, were all hate about his opinions, and how he was stupid and didn’t know what he was talking about, and that AllAboutMischief was perfect. 

The crazy thing was that there was a comment from AllAboutMischief himself, using his own personal YouTube channel. Derek would’ve thought it was someone who just took care of his account, but the response was so genuine that there was no way this wasn’t the man himself. 

AllAboutMischief ✓
It’s obvious that you take a lot of care to listen to what the lyrics are, and the whole composition of the works you’re reviewing. I hate to admit when someone is right, but you hit the nail on the head in your video (my PR team is gonna roast me for this, but whatever, it’s true). 
This year’s been rough for me, and I haven’t been finding inspiration as easily as I used to. This last album wasn’t a labour of love, it was a hard-fought battle that ended in a draw. My fans deserve better, and I acknowledge that. I’m sorry I let you down with this recent album, I’ll make sure I don’t force out the next one and maybe it’s time to take a break from cranking out new material and just be happy with what I have so far. 
The only thing I can claim is wrong about your whole video is the fact that you are an extremely attractive man, but I just can’t condone your choice in Pringles. Who eats pizza Pringles? Someone with no taste, clearly. 
Good vid man :)

Seriously, was Derek still asleep and dreaming this whole thing up? This was insane, what the hell was happening? His phone’s home screen kept lighting up, since he had notifications turned on but with no sound, and he just kept seeing notifications for Twitter and YouTube popping up constantly. Considering how he’d jumped up in his subscriber count on YouTube, he was quite worried to check his Twitter. 

He kept scrolling through his comments, and realized, quite startled, that all the hate he got around the time of AllAboutMischief’s comment had responses from Mischief himself telling people to chill the fuck out. More politely, but still, what the hell was happening? 

He stopped on one comment from a hater, reading it over, and then checked Mischief’s response, completely floored by how fucking chill and literally nice this dude was. Regardless of how fucking famous he was, he was very clearly still down to earth and hadn’t let his fame get to his head. 

MakeMeMakeYou
fuck you! mischief is perfect! fucking trash! 

AllAboutMischief ✓
Please don’t speak to people like this, the person on the other end of the screen is a real person and you don’t know what they’re going through in life. Also it’s just bad manners, please be respectful, not everyone has the same opinions as you and that’s okay. 
And don’t put me on a pedestal, I’m afraid of heights and will definitely fall off. 

Was this guy for real? Was this guy actually for real? 

Derek picked his phone up, ignoring all the messages he was getting from various apps, and unlocked it to get to his contacts. He called Cora back, his sister answering before the first ring had even concluded. 

“Did you see? Did you see what he said?! This is so cool, he watched your video!”

Yes. Yes he did.

And Derek had no fucking idea how to deal with this. 

Derek avoided all of his social media the entire day. He turned notifications off on his phone, because it was becoming a little overwhelming and he honestly had no idea how to react to what had happened. 

Kira had called him to freak out a little bit, since she was also an AllAboutMischief fan like him, and she couldn’t believe Derek had actually caught his attention. 

Derek couldn’t believe he’d actually caught his attention! 

This literally wasn’t the first time people had sent his videos to the people he was talking about, but none of them had ever replied or responded. He assumed it was because they figured he was entitled his opinion, and while Mischief seemed to be of the same mind overall, he’d still actively replied and basically shot Derek up in popularity. 

It was a weird kind of popularity though, because some people hated him, while others thought he was amazing. A few people were clearly salty about his last video, but he had a whole slew of new comments from people whose names he’d never seen before—thus concluding they were new watchers—who were admitting they’d also noticed the last album AllAboutMischief had put out was a little lackluster when compared to the others. 

Derek felt kind of bad, if he was honest. It wasn’t that he’d hated the album, because it was still a good album, it just hadn’t had the wow factor of all his other ones. And honestly... Derek was kind of worried. 

Mischief’s response about how he’d had a rough year and was struggling to find inspiration worried him because... what if he’d made it worse? What if his video had unintentionally demotivated Mischief and he was now going to take a hiatus? Derek would feel fucking awful. 

That was never the intention of any of his videos, they were just meant to be his own personal opinion, and something he and his more chatty subscribers could talk about. He had a few of his original followers on Discord, and they often talked about his videos and their opinions. They didn’t even always agree, but they were always respectful. 

He figured it was because they’d been with him from the beginning, and while one of them was only turning twenty-one this coming year, the others all tended to be in a similar age-range to him. He was going to be twenty-nine in November, and the other people he spoke to regularly ranged from twenty-seven to thirty-four. 

There was one outlier who was sixty-two, but that guy was a fucking legend and Derek loved chatting with him. He’d seen Queen in concert many times before the death of Freddie Mercury, and Derek had a great time talking to him about his experiences. He wasn’t great with Discord, but he seemed to have a good handle on YouTube so Derek responded to his comments sometimes just to keep up with how the old man was doing. 

Derek normally got scripts written up for new videos on Saturdays, or he streamed for a little bit if he didn’t have any ideas he felt like writing, but not today. This Saturday was spent with him sitting in front of his TV, not really watching what was playing, and wondering if he should make an apology video. He’d never had to make an apology video before, and he didn’t like that he felt like he might have to, but he was actually kind of worried about Mischief. 

Why was he lacking in inspiration? Maybe he was starting to get overwhelmed with the weight of his fame? After all, Mischief was the same age as Cora, only twenty-six. He’d risen up through the charts at rapid-fire speed over the past few years, but he’d really only been doing music for six years. That meant he’d started all of this when he was twenty, and with how famous he was, Derek knew the guy couldn’t go anywhere without being swarmed by fans if they recognized him. 

He couldn’t imagine how overwhelming that was. Derek himself got recognized around town, and he was only a fucking YouTuber. And not even a super famous one—though that was likely to change given Mischief’s tweets. It must be so suffocating trying to go to the store and being stopped every two seconds for pictures or an autograph. The paparazzi probably followed him around sometimes, too. Overall it sounded horrible, and Derek felt like maybe Mischief wasn’t as used to it as a lot of the other celebrities. 

After all, he’d grown up in a tiny town like Beacon Hills, so it was probably a huge change for him. 

“You’re not making an apology video!” Derek insisted aloud to himself. Because he wasn’t. He absolutely was not. He had nothing to apologize for. He was just feeling weird because none of the other people he’d made videos about had ever called him out in any capacity before. 

He was still sitting on his couch glaring at his TV when he got a text from his mother, asking if he was on his way. He didn’t understand why at first, but then realized it was the first Saturday of the month, and his family always got together for dinner twice a month every other Saturday.

Shit, he’d forgotten. This whole AllAboutMischief thing had kind of derailed his entire day. 

Texting his mother back that he would be there shortly, he hurried to grab his keys and wallet and headed out of his house, locking up behind himself. He tried to avoid people as much as possible on his way to his car, and was thankful when he didn’t run into anyone. He could hide in his house tomorrow, but Monday was going to be... interesting. 

His parents’ place wasn’t far from his own, so it only took him about eight minutes to get there. It would’ve been less if he hadn’t gotten stuck at literally every light he passed. Cora’s Honda was already parked in the driveway beside his parents’ car, so Derek parked his own Camaro on the curb in front of their house. 

Stepping out and locking it up, he started for the door when a shadow loomed behind the window near the front door. He sighed the second it opened, because it seemed he couldn’t even get into the damn house before getting a lecture. 

“I can’t believe you did a piece of the sheriff’s kid,” Laura said, leaning sideways against the jamb and crossing her arms. “You have a death wish or something? You know the man has a gun,  right?”

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, and I was respectful,” Derek argued, climbing the porch steps and stopping in front of his older sister. “Not like I’m the first person to ever say anything remotely negative about AllAboutMischief.” 

“Maybe, but you’re the first person to be dumb enough to do it while living in his hometown. You know he has friends here, right? And his dad? What if your boss is a huge AllAboutMischief fan and gets mad you brought shame on our small town hero?”

“I didn’t bring shame on anyone,” Derek insisted with a sigh. “His recent album was underwhelming, I was just being honest. No one has to listen to me, and they don’t have to agree with me.” 

Laura just sighed, like she understood he’d never see things her way and shifted to the side to let him into the house. He walked through the doorway, Laura closing the door behind him, and they both headed for the kitchen. 

His father was out on the back patio, manning the grill, and his mother was checking something in the oven. Cora was sitting at the kitchen counter demolishing a bag of pistachios, and clearly had been for a while, given the pile of half-shells in front of her. 

“There’s Mr. Big-and-Famous,” she said with a brilliant grin when he walked in. “So, scale of one to ten, how mad do you think your boss will be on Monday?” 

“Cora, behave,” his mother insisted, having straightened with a baking sheet, which she placed on the stovetop. It looked like regular dinner rolls, so she’d likely just been warming them up. 

Talia turned to him while removing her oven mitts, smiling as she headed towards him and reached up with one hand to pull him closer so she could kiss his cheek. 

“Hi mom,” he said in response. 

“Hi sweetie. I hear you had an exciting day.” 

“It wasn’t boring,” Derek agreed sourly, moving around Cora to grab a handful of pistachios for himself and beginning to break them out of their shells, popping them into his mouth one at a time. 

“Are we not gonna talk about the fact that our family’s about to get boycotted because he went after the golden boy?” Laura asked, arching an eyebrow at her mother as she passed her to head back for the dinner rolls. 

“Your brother didn’t do anything wrong,” his mother insisted, grabbing for the bread basket and beginning to transfer the warm rolls from the pan to the basket. “Anyone who decides to cause problems because they didn’t like what a stranger on the internet said needs to reevaluate their life.” 

“He was getting death threats,” Laura insisted, evidencing that she’d read through his comments. Great. 

“He got death threats on his Cardi B video too,” Cora insisted, grabbing for more of the nuts in front of her. “One of them was me.” She turned to him. “I still can’t believe you think Nicki Minaj is a better rapper than Cardi B.” 

Derek shrugged. “It’s my opinion. Agree to disagree.” 

“Oh, I disagree, because you’re an idiot,” Cora informed him. 

He just shrugged again, then turned to reach out and open the back door for his dad when he saw him heading for it with a large plate of grilled chicken. 

“Thanks Derek. And congratulations, by the way.” He beamed at his son as he passed him, heading for the dining room. “I hear you broke a million subscribers.” 

“That’s right!” Talia turned to him, also smiling. “Congratulations. Are you going to get another YouTube plaque?” 

“Oh my God, gold play button!” Cora thrust both fists in the air, as if she was the one who’d get it and not him. 

Talia smiled fondly at her antics, picking up the bread basket and motioning for them to head into the dining room. They all took their usual seats, the five of them always having been seated in the same places since Derek was a kid. 

His mother seemed to recognize he didn’t want to talk about what had happened anymore and made sure to change the subject, asking his sisters how they were doing, how work was going, all the usual things parents asked their kids. Laura was still hard at work trying to get things organized for the new year. She was an accountant, and no one ever expected to see or hear from her between January and the end of April. It was hit or miss between May and July, depending on how many people she was helping with their corporate taxes. 

Cora was still spending all her money at the club she worked at. When she wasn’t behind the counter bartending, she was on the other side of it partying and drinking enough to make a grown man feel small. His sisters were both very different people, but Derek knew Laura could have a good time when she wanted to. 

She always got a little snarky when one of Derek’s videos gained too much traction, because she worried about someone trying to hurt him. While it was true some people out there were crazy, Derek highly doubted anyone was going to come to Beacon Hills, California in search of him. They’d stand out too much, the town always immediately noticed when new people moved to town. 

It got annoying sometimes when Laura was in this kind of mood, but he understood. It was older sibling syndrome, he was like that with Cora. 

Dinner passed relatively quickly, the five of them conversing and bringing each other up to speed about what new things were happening in their lives. His parents wanted to remodel the kitchen before Christmas, which Derek thought was a bit of a tight deadline since it was now October, but he didn’t comment on it. 

When they were finished eating, Cora went to clean off the barbecue while Derek helped Laura with the dishes. It was only fair they clean up when their parents had been the ones to cook. 

“How are you losers doing?” Cora asked, moving to stand beside Derek and watching as he dried one of the larger items that didn’t fit in the dishwasher, Laura in the process of cleaning the sink of any grime from the rinsing process. 

“Surprisingly, we’re capable of washing dishes,” Derek informed her. “Shocking, I know. But we managed somehow. It took two of us, but putting our heads together really helped.” 

“Can’t believe you guys figured it out,” Cora teased, turning to hop up onto the counter, watching as Laura rubbed at a greasy spot in the sink. 

Derek eyed Cora for a moment, still drying the same item he’d been holding for a while now, and asked, “Hey, you were in the same grade as Mischief, right?” 

“His name is Stiles, and yeah, I was,” Cora said, still watching Laura. 

“What was he like?” 

She shrugged. “We didn’t really interact much. We had our own friends, and we didn’t really overlap. Seemed pretty chill, though. He got in trouble a lot. Harris gave him detention like, every other day.” 

“Harris gave everyone detention every other day,” Laura muttered, reaching for a paper towel and returning to her scrubbing. Derek had no idea what she was doing, but he didn’t question it. “I don’t get teachers like him. If you hate kids so much, why are you a teacher?” 

“Power,” Derek argued. “Bullies like being in positions of power. And even if he wasn’t a bully in school, and was instead someone who was bullied, being able to bully kids as an adult probably made him feel like he had some kind of payback for his own shitty school life.” 

Laura hummed in agreement, but didn’t say anything else so Derek turned back to Cora. 

“I was thinking about maybe doing an apology video,” Derek admitted to her. 

Cora arched an eyebrow at him. “What? Why?” 

Derek shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I might have made things worse for him if he’s been struggling with his writing.” 

“Nah,” Cora insisted, waving one hand at him in dismissal. “I might not have hung out with the guy, but he’s literally super chill. I have his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend on Instagram, and she says he hasn’t changed at all since high school.” 

“Best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend,” Laura repeated, turning to give Cora a look. “What does that even mean?” 

Cora looked towards the ceiling, like she was thinking, and ticked them off on her fingers as she named them. “Stiles’ best friend is Erica Reyes, who’s dating Vernon Boyd, whose best friend is Lydia Martin, who I have on Instagram.” She stuck her tongue out at Laura. “Lydia and I chat every now and then, she comments on my pictures when I make super colourful drinks at work. She was part of Stiles’ friend group back in school, and they still keep in touch. She says he’s still super humble and down to earth.” She looked back at Derek then. “I don’t think you need to make an apology video. He didn’t seem mad at all, he was just offended at your choice in Pringles.” 

“Everyone’s offended at his choice in Pringles,” Laura insisted with a snort. 

“What’s wrong with pizza Pringles?” Derek demanded, motioning for Cora to move so he could put what he was holding away in the cupboard behind her. She just leaned to the side instead of getting out of the way, because his sister was annoying that way. 

Whatever, he still got the item put away in the end. 

“What isn’t wrong with pizza Pringles?” Cora asked with a snort. “How many people actually like that flavour?” 

“Enough people for it to still exist,” Derek countered. 

Cora rolled her eyes and slid off the counter when their mother called to her, asking what episode of Selling Sunset they were on. It was some kind of real estate show for mega rich people or whatever. Derek hadn’t seen it, he attributed it kind of to that guilty pleasure reality show category like The Bachelorette and that wasn’t his thing. 

When he and Laura were done with the dishes, they went to bid their parents a good night. Cora was already splayed out on the couch with their mother while their father sat in his armchair playing cards on his iPad. Out of the three children, Cora was the one who hung out at their parents’ place the most, because her schedule was super weird and kind of all over the place. 

Derek and Laura headed out once they’d bid everyone farewell, and his father called congratulations to him once again as they exited the house. 

Walking to the Camaro, Laura kept in step beside him. She didn’t drive anymore, having gotten into one too many accidents because she struggled to focus on too many things at once, so she always got a ride in with Cora and a ride home with Derek. 

“Can we stop for ice cream?” she asked as they climbed in, Derek fixing his mirror since Laura had knocked it slightly. 

“No.” 

“Oh come on, like you wouldn’t go for an Oreo McFlurry right now,” she insisted, shoving at him. “Let’s go to McDonald’s, I want a sundae.” 

“No,” he said again, pulling away from the curb and heading down the street towards Laura’s place. 

“I’ll buy your McFlurry for you,” Laura insisted. “Come on, Derek. I need the sugar, I have work to do when I get home.” She leaned into his side heavily, chin on his shoulder, and pretended to pout. “Please? Please?” She poked at his cheek. 

“You’re annoying,” he informed her, but turned towards the McDonald’s anyway. “And I want a large one, don’t be cheap and order me the snack size.” 

“Some of us have to save money, we’re not all rich YouTubers like you.” 

“Not rich,” he insisted on a sigh. 

They drove the rest of the way to the McDonald’s in silence, the radio playing another one of those songs Derek heard five times an hour. It was one he didn’t have an opinion on though, so it mostly worked as background noise. 

He went through the drive-thru to order their ice cream, and then went to park so they could both eat it without Derek’s melting into soup. Turning off the engine, and taking the McFlurry when Laura held it out to him, he took a bite of it, and was quite happy it seemed to be relatively well mixed, for once. 

Sometimes all the oreo was in the top, with the bottom being regular vanilla ice cream. That was always super disappointing. 

“I don’t think you should either, for the record.” 

Derek turned to his sister, plastic spoon still in his mouth, and pulled it out to stick it back into his ice cream. “Don’t think I should what?” 

“Do an apology video,” she said. “I’m worried about you, especially because you went after Stiles fucking Stilinski while you live in Beacon Hills, of all places, but I don’t think you owe him an apology. As much as I don’t like that you made that video, I don’t think you were wrong. And if that really was him replying, he doesn’t think you were wrong, either.” 

Derek licked some ice cream off his bottom lip, looking down into his cup and mixing it a bit more with the plastic spoon. “No one’s ever replied to me before. I guess I’m just worried he might find it even harder to get anything else out because he got called out for slacking on his last album.” 

“I don’t think so,” Laura said. “He was pretty clear in his comment that he was pushing himself too hard and that a break was warranted. Maybe you just gave him a reason to actually take one. Maybe he didn’t notice he needed one until someone called out how mediocre his last album was.” 

“They can’t all be bangers,” Derek argued. 

“True, but he hasn’t missed yet. And while his last one wasn’t the best, it’s still good. Like, I think four of his songs are still in the top ten, and it’s been out for a few months.”

“He’s a good lyricist,” Derek admitted. “You could just tell these ones didn’t really have anything personal behind them. Most of his others songs have a lot of himself buried in the words. ‘The Darkness in Me’ is about his battle with depression, and ‘Hollow’ is about his feelings after his mother passed away. He always uses personal experiences to put more life into his songs, even when they’re just goofy or boppy. My favourite of his is definitely ‘The Darkness in Me,’ but of the high-energy songs he sings, I really like ‘Losing Control.’” 

“That’s the one about ADHD right?” Laura asked with a frown. 

Derek nodded, using his spoon to scrape the sides of his container so he didn’t keep getting ice cream on his fingers when he tried to dig deeper. “Yeah, he wrote it to raise awareness about it when one of his fans said his parents didn’t believe ADHD was a real thing. Mischief has it himself, so I think hearing that from the kid hit home a little bit.” 

“Yeah, his music always has really strong messages,” Laura agreed. “Though I have to admit, my favourite is ‘Standing in Line,’” Laura said, which was one of AllAboutMischief’s more chaotic songs. It played a lot in night clubs, Cora said she heard it enough times to probably figure out how to play all the instruments in it. 

“That one was about his trip to DisneyWorld with his best friend,” Derek informed her with a small laugh. “Apparently the lines were horrible enough that it warranted a song.” 

“He wrote one for her, didn’t he?” Laura asked, licking chocolate fudge off her hand when it flicked off her spoon. “His best friend?” 

“Yeah, ‘Platonic Soulmate.’ I think she tours with him, I haven’t ever really looked into her, to be honest. I just know she was there when he started making it big. I think she used to help him edit his videos.” 

AllAboutMischief, aka Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski though Derek always thought of him as Mischief in his head, had been another YouTube discovery similar to Justin Bieber. He’d been posting himself playing his guitar on YouTube with songs he’d written himself while he’d still been in high school. Erica was in the background of some of them, sometimes being a goofball, and other times taking jabs at his word choices, but it was obvious it was all in good fun and they had a stellar relationship. 

Derek knew from his research for his latest video that Mischief hadn’t finished university before fame found him. He’d only gone for one year, and had gotten a record deal during the summer between his first and second. He’d put university on hold, and often said he had plans to go back, but he probably hadn’t expected to make it as big as he had. 

Honestly, Derek was pretty sure the AllAboutMischief channel that had commented on his video was Mischief’s original channel. It had just been converted into his professional channel once he’d made it big. That was what had happened with Justin’s, as far as Derek remembered. His video on Justin Bieber was fairly old, he couldn’t remember everything about his research on him anymore. 

“I’m happy for him,” Laura said, Derek focussing on her again and not on his own thoughts. This whole situation had really affected him. “It’s always nice and unexpected when someone really talented from a small town makes it big, and keeps their head on straight, you know? He really does seem like a good guy.” She turned to him, smiling and nudging him lightly with her elbow. “Don’t do the apology video. He doesn’t want it. He just wants an explanation on your bad taste in Pringles.” 

Derek rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to explain anything to him, least of all why I like pizza Pringles.” 

Really. Derek owed him nothing. He’d listen to his sisters and not do the apology video, and by next week, Mischief will have forgotten all about him. 

Mischief did not forget about him. 

Derek had shown up to work a little nervous on Monday morning, but nobody had treated him any differently. One of the girls he’d run into when he went to the break room to grab a coffee admitted she agreed with him on Mischief seeming to be burnt out, but otherwise, it was business as usual. 

It was weird to think that maybe people silently agreed with him about Mischief working himself too hard. A lot of people in town actually knew him, consequence of it being a small town and him being the sheriff’s son, so maybe some people were worried about him. Maybe they’d watched Derek’s video, and instead of being indignant and calling him out for—whatever, something, they’d instead paused and thought about what he’d said, and had realized that he was right and Mischief needed a break. If not from the touring, then at least from the pressure of pumping out albums almost once a year. 

A lot of his songs from previous albums were still often over-played, so Derek knew there was exactly zero risk of him becoming obsolete. 

By Wednesday, he’d managed to get a good stream in, and had finished editing and posting another video about jazz music. He liked to sprinkle in some music genres every now and then, because it was always interesting to talk about things he enjoyed, which was music in general. 

When Friday rolled around, he was looking forward to the weekend, and was pretty sure he could get his script written for his review on the music from Camila Cabello’s Cinderella movie done by tonight—yes, he’d watched it, because so many of his followers kept asking him to give his opinion on it. 

He was in the break room waiting on the coffee machine, texting with Kira about catching a movie tonight, when his screen blacked out for a second and began to ring, Cora’s face flashing back at him. He swiped to answer and brought the phone to his ear. 

“What do you want?” he asked in way of greeting. 

“Dude, have you seen Twitter?!”

Oh God, what now? Was there a famous jazz musician out there tearing apart his jazz video? 

“No, I’m at work.” 

“Check Twitter!”

Cora hung up. 

Derek pulled his phone away from his ear, and hesitated, the screen having returned to his text messages with Kira. He’d turned alerts off on all his social media mostly because he was a bit overwhelmed—and honestly, intimidated—by the attention from AllAboutMischief’s tweets, both good and bad. 

Cora calling to tell him to check Twitter meant something had probably happened, and while a part of him kept hoping it was Louis Armstrong’s daughter coming to tear him a new one—though that would also be devastating—he was pretty sure Cora wasn’t freaking out over someone commenting on his jazz video. 

Sighing to himself while checking the coffee machine’s progress, he determined he had enough time to check out whatever fallout he’d have to deal with later and opened Twitter. He didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know where this was going. He just went straight to AllAboutMischief’s page, and stared at the first tweet at the top. 

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
@TheRealMusicLover I still haven’t received my explanation on your horrible taste, so I decided you needed more motivation to explain yourself. 

There was a link to a YouTube video in the tweet. Derek expected it to lead back to his own video about Mischief, but he clicked on it anyway just to see if the view count had gone up. It had received over three million views when he’d last checked, so it was probably beginning to stall out by now.

It was not his video. 

It brought him to AllAboutMischief’s page, opening on a video he’d posted today, with the singer sitting on an expensive-looking couch with an acoustic guitar in his hands. 

His posture was relaxed, and he was grinning at the camera, wearing a red hoodie and a pair of blue jeans with a beanie. He looked comfortable, like he’d just done this during some downtime in his tour schedule on a whim and had posted it on the internet for fun. 

Oh God, was he about to get completely destroyed by AllAboutMischief because of his video?! 

“Hey TheRealMusicLover,” he said, his voice surprisingly crisp given how far he was from the camera. He probably had a microphone set up out of frame. Or maybe he had a microphone on his person, he was a celebrity after all, he probably had an entire sound department at his beck and call. “I noticed you still haven’t provided me with an explanation on why you have pizza Pringles on your desk which, rude,” he said, giving the camera a look. 

Derek felt hot all over, because what? 

What?! 

Was AllAboutMischief literally waiting on a response from Derek about fucking Pringles?! 

Cora hadn’t been lying about him being super chill, because why else would he be calling attention to Derek’s channel just because of Pringles? Obviously he was having a good time with this little rivalry, and maybe he felt seen by Derek for what he’d been saying? 

Then again, maybe not, and Derek was looking into it too much. 

“So,” Mischief continued, eyes dipping to his guitar as he began to strum at it, then fiddled with the tuners, “I figured if you were going to stay quiet about your horrific offence, I was going to show you why you’re wrong. I wrote you a little song. It’s not perfect, and it’s still a little choppy, but I hope it helps you change your taste in Pringles.” 

He’d fucking what?! 

Mischief cleared his throat dramatically, strumming his guitar a little in preparation, and then started up a somewhat jaunty-sounding tune before looking right into the camera with a big grin and beginning to sing. 

“It’s not every day you see the face of God
Whose choice in Pringles is a little odd
Can sprout out facts like no one else 
With a voice so sinful it makes you melt

But bro I can’t get over what was on your desk
It made your whole damn room truly grotesque
How a man who looks as hot as you
Would spoil it all with such an awful view 

You got a pretty face, and an awesome smile
I’d love to visit you for a little while 
But man we have to talk, this is serious 
Your taste in Pringles is delirious 

My man I don’t judge, and I don’t play jury
But your choice in Pringles fills me with fury
Please understand where I’m coming from
Pizza Pringles taste like fucking cum.” 

Derek instantly whipped around to make sure no one was near him, because holy fuck that ending! He had not been expecting that to come out of Mischief’s mouth, the guy didn’t even swear on Twitter, for crying out loud! Having him end a song about fucking Pringles with the words ‘fucking cum’ was so jarring Derek felt like he needed to sit down.

Mischief looked completely unrepentant, and Derek could just barely hear someone with a hyena cackle somewhere in the room with him. It was probably Erica Reyes, because only she would condone this kind of thing from him. Derek was sure his PR was sobbing and trying to make him take the video down. 

“Well, that’s all I have for you. I hope you understand my position, and that you respond with your counter-argument soon.” Mischief stood, heading towards the camera. He bent down, hand extended, like he was about to turn it off, then paused and said, “For the record, if you don’t like the right kind of Doritos either, I’m going to end up writing a whole bunch of songs about chips.”

With that, the man winked into the camera—and probably had every straight girl, bisexual, and gay guy on the planet swoon and cream themselves—and turned the camera off. 

The video ended there, providing him with recommendations for what he could watch next. As if to mock him, his own video about AllAboutMischief was the second one being recommended. 

Mischief’s video already had over a million views, and an obscene amount of likes. Derek scrolled down to check the comments, noting the name of the video was literally “TheRealMusicLover likes pizza Pringles and this is why he’s wrong.” 

Good fucking Lord. 

Most of the comments were overwhelmingly positive, with a lot of people laughing about the lyrics, even while others agreed with him that pizza Pringles tasted like ass. There were a few comments sprinkled in here and there about how he shouldn’t be using that type of language, because he was meant to be a role model and what sort of message was he sending to children, but a lot of those messages actually had little hearts beside them from Mischief himself, denoting he’d read them and clearly didn’t care. 

To be fair, the ‘children’ had probably heard far worse in their own households, not to mention anything else they could find on YouTube. There were far worse videos out there than a song parody written by an artist about hating pizza Pringles. 

When he scrolled back up, his video was still staring him in the face as the second recommended video, and he bit the bullet, clicking on it to see if Mischief’s video had impacted his own in any way. It looked to have jumped up in view count—over four million now!—along with a few more thousand likes, and probably a couple hundred new comments. Jesus Christ, it had only been one week!  

Art by Piratetattoos

Derek caught sight of the time and realized he’d been standing waiting for his coffee for much too long, the pot having finished brewing at least five minutes ago, and he had to head back up to his desk. But his hands were shaking with adrenaline when he put his phone away and reached out to pour the brewed coffee into his waiting mug. He didn’t understand what was happening right now, this was kind of surreal. 

He knew Mischief kept commenting on how ‘pretty’ he was, but the guy was fucking famous, he probably saw people twice as stunning on a regular basis! Truth be told, Cora had originally insisted Derek only had as many subscribers as he did because he was attractive, but she’d stopped using that line a long time ago when it became clear his following liked his commentary. Sure, he probably had a few thousand people who were only really interested in his looks, but there was no way over one million people had subscribed to his channel just because he was nice to look at. 

Derek went through the rest of his day on autopilot, because his brain wasn’t sure how to handle what had just happened. He saw a few people sneaking looks at him whenever they passed his desk, but he honestly didn’t know if it was because he looked weird, or because they’d seen Mischief’s video. 

This entire thing was fucking nuts. In all the years he’d been making videos, this was the first time anyone had ever responded, and not even about the video! 

And Derek wouldn’t lie, that little wink at the end had been pretty hot. Mischief was a good looking guy, and Derek vaguely remembered the little beanpole in high school with the buzzed head and the overly dramatic flails. He’d really grown up since then.

He kind of wanted to find his yearbook now, just to be sure he was remembering Mischief properly from back then. 

When the day was finally over, Derek packed up his things and left work. He immediately went to Kira’s place, and arrived before she did. He knew she’d heard about what happened though, because the second she’d parked and opened her door, she hadn’t even fully exited the car before asking, “Did you see it?!” 

“I did,” he confirmed. “I was a little uh, surprised?” 

Kira started laughing explosively, opening the back so she could grab her purse and then shutting the door. “He said your favourite Pringles taste like cum. I mean, he’s not wrong, but holy shit.” 

“What are the chances he forgets about me if I don’t respond?” Derek asked, following her up the steps to her cozy little house. Derek felt like he’d bought too big, but it had been a good deal at the time, and he had a lot of space to do his recording. Still, Kira’s place felt more like a home as opposed to his, which sometimes looked a bit like a second office. 

“What? No,” Kira insisted, turning to him with her key in the lock. “You have to respond!” 

“I don’t even know why he’s giving me any attention,” Derek admitted. “I know tons of other content creators who’ve made videos about him over the years, why did he notice mine?” 

Kira shrugged, unlocking her door and pushing it open. “Maybe because he felt like you actually paid attention. Other people do videos for clout, you do it for fun. He probably watched your video and could tell how sincere you were.” 

Honestly, Derek had been thinking that, as well. It felt conceited to think that, but he knew he’d been very thorough, and had dissected every single song on AllAboutMischief’s new album. That was how he’d clued in that none of the songs meant anything to him. His fucking Pringles song had more feeling behind it than his last album. 

Derek thought about it the entire time he and Kira ate dinner, their movie not set to start for another hour. It was while he was sitting on her couch with a bowl of spaghetti—apparently she was out of plates, because who ran their dishwasher?—that he thought maybe... maybe he would reply. He didn’t expect this to be a constant thing, Mischief was probably just waiting on a response because he’d asked for one, and his fans probably expected him to follow up until he got it. 

After all, lowly commoners like Derek didn’t just ignore a huge musical star like AllAboutMischief. Once Derek responded, he was sure Mischief would forget he existed. 

Pulling his phone out, he opened his messages while Kira ate her pasta beside him, complaining about the lead girl in the show they’d turned on to pass the time, and found Cora’s name. 

[Derek]
hey can you ask that lydia person if she thinks AAM would be offended if I took a jab at his lyrics in the pringles song? 

By the time Cora replied, Derek was already sitting in the theatre with Kira, eating overpriced M&Ms while the pre-show played. He pulled his phone out to check her response, and found a print-screen of the conversation between her and Lydia Martin on Instagram.

[Cora]
TheBestHale
heyyyy so my dumbass brother (you know, the idiot who started a twitter war with stiles and is losing horribly because he hasn’t responded) wants to know if stiles would be offended if he tore apart his lyrics again on that fucking HILARIOUS pringles song lolol
LydiaMartin
Stiles literally does not care as long as he explains why he has such awful taste in Pringles. 
LydiaMartin
This whole thing is ridiculous, Erica won’t stop playing that stupid song. 
TheBestHale
LOLOL IT IS SO GOOD THO!!! how can you not like it?! it’s so fucking funny and

The print-screen cut off, but Derek didn’t need to read the rest, he’d gotten his answer. Putting his phone away, he let out a slow breath and decided that he could post a YouTube short and a highlight reel from his last stream tomorrow instead of a real video. 

He’d answer Mischief, this would all be over, and the famous singer would never think about him again. 

Derek’s plan for responding to Mischief consisted of posting his YouTube short first with his explanation of his love for pizza Pringles—there was nothing wrong with that flavour, everyone was just being ridiculous—followed by his stream highlights video. He felt like he needed to post the YouTube short first, because he didn’t want Mischief to think he was ignoring him again. 

He’d decided when he went to bed that he was going to record the short first thing in the morning. He’d put out a community post to say his Saturday video would be up late, but that was because he didn’t want to wake up at seven just to do the stupid short. His plan was to record it in one go, without editing it or any re-shoots. He figured putting out a genuine response would be the best way to conclude their interaction and then both of them would go back to their regularly scheduled lives. 

When he finally woke up on Saturday morning a little after nine, it took a bit of convincing for him to climb out of bed and get ready for the day, mostly because he knew what he was planning and was trying to procrastinate it. 

After showering, getting dressed, eating breakfast and texting with Kira, he’d finally run out of things to do and went to his study on the first floor where his YouTube recording studio was located. He had a desk up in his room with his laptop, but he did all his actual recording in his study since he had a bunch of equipment set up for it. 

Sitting in his chair, and letting out a slow breath, he got everything set up and turned on his ring light, then pulled his can of pizza Pringles closer. 

“One take,” he told himself. “Doesn’t matter what happens. Record it, post it, be done with it.” 

Exhaling sharply once more, he took a second to calm himself down, and then started the recording for the YouTube short. 

“Hi, this is TheRealMusicLover,” he said into the camera, holding up his can of Pringles. “I’m going to start this off by saying this video is not sponsored, but someone felt the need to shame my Pringles choice so I’m here to defend myself. I ask you, audience, do you like pizza? Do you like chips? If you do, then these Pringles are the ones for you.” Christ, I sound like a used car salesman, Derek realized, but he’d committed to one take so he just cut himself off by shoving a chip into his mouth. “I don’t care about the naysayers, these allow me to eat an entire can of chips with absolutely no guilt. It’s the equivalent of eating a whole pizza, with literally one-sixth of the calories, so who’s really winning here?” He motioned myself. “I am. And for someone whose song about Pringles was better than his entire last album,” Derek said, and internally winced because maybe that was a bit too harsh, “I don’t think you’re in any position to judge. Cute face, though.” 

Derek stopped the video, and sat there regretting his own decision of not allowing any re-shoots. That last comment had been tacked on kind of in an attempt to be petty, because Mischief kept saying Derek was ‘pretty,’ so he figured he’d call him out for being cute. 

Or something. 

The short wasn’t long, it was only forty-two seconds, but before he could talk himself out of it, he replayed it to ensure the sound was okay, wincing slightly when the loud crunch of the chips he’d shoved into his mouth got picked up by his microphone, and bit the bullet. He uploaded the short, and then quickly published his Saturday video, hoping that gained more traction. 

He doubted Mischief was just sitting at his computer staring at YouTube waiting for the response, so Derek clenched his jaw and went to Twitter. He’d never atted a celebrity before, and it felt intimidating to do so, but he sucked it up and just typed up the tweet, embedded the link, and posted it. 

TheRealMusicLover - @TheRealMusicLover 
@AllAboutMischief Sing all you want, but you’re the one with no taste if you’re out here writing songs about MY Pringles choice being awful and not outing your own. 
[Youtube]

It was done. It was out. He’d replied, Mischief would see it, he’d watch the video, hopefully he wouldn’t get offended, and this would be over. 

He was meant to be streaming later, but he hadn’t set a formal time yet, so he could afford to go be an adult for a while. He had to get groceries, and he should do some laundry before he ran out of clean shorts. He didn’t know how that happened, but he somehow always managed to run out of underwear before anything else, even though he felt like he had an obscenely large number of boxer-briefs. 

Getting his laundry put in the washer, he went to the kitchen to look into his fridge and pantry to figure out what he needed to buy. He didn’t write it down, trusting his memory, even though he knew ninety percent of the time when he went to the store, by the time he got home he cursed himself for not having written a list because he always inevitably forgot something. 

Still, he didn’t bother writing a list, he just looked through his kitchen, then grabbed his keys and wallet so he could head out. Laura hated it when he left his place with the washer going but he didn’t worry about it. If the washer leaked, the worst that would happen was water damage which would definitely suck, but at least his house wouldn’t catch on fire. He never left with the dryer on, but the washer wasn’t as big of a deal. 

Kira called him while he was in the Camaro heading for the store, and he answered it as he turned right into the store’s parking lot. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“You’re a brave man. You know you’re basically inviting him to spar, right?”

“What? No I’m not. He asked for my explanation, and I gave him one.” 

“Uh, yeah genius, and you followed it up by challenging him to reveal his favourite flavour. I don’t know this guy, but if his tweets and general responses to you so far are anything to go by, this is far from over.”

“I am sure Mischief has better things to do than care about and respond to some random guy on the internet.” 

“You’re not random, though. You know that your information is out there, right? Like, people know your real name is Derek Hale and that you live in Beacon Hills. There’s websites that show all that stuff about YouTubers.”

Derek knew that. He also knew there were some websites that showed how much specific YouTubers made. But did he really think someone as busy as AllAboutMischief was going to go on a research spree and figure out who Derek was? 

Okay, admittedly, it wasn’t hard or anything, it was actually relatively easy, but still. AllAboutMischief was on freaking tour right now, it was slated to end near mid-November, if he recalled correctly, presumably so he and his dad could be together for the holiday season in December. 

Derek knew that his last few tours had all overlapped with any and all holidays in December, and he knew the guy didn’t come home often, if at all. Not that Derek blamed him, someone as well-travelled as him, why would he want to come back to this bullshit town in California? 

Not that Derek didn’t like his hometown, or he wouldn’t still be living there, but he could imagine someone who had a mansion in Las Vegas—which was where AllAboutMischief lived, for some reason—wasn’t interested in returning to Beacon Hills. 

“He doesn’t care about anything I say, he was just following through on his insistence that he wanted an answer. He’s got one now, I’m sure he’ll be more interested in his tour going forward.” 

“I think you’re wrong, but I’ll admit I don’t know anything about celebrities except for you.”

“Not a celebrity,” Derek insisted on a sigh. 

“I mean, you kind of are, especially now Mr. One Million Subscribers.” He could hear the tease in her voice and rolled his eyes. “Did you get your play button yet?”

“No, but they might send it to my parents’ place. They emailed me to ask if the address they had for my first play button was still accurate and I said yes just to avoid the back and forth. Last time was a huge pain, figured I’d make things simpler.” 

“Cora’s gonna steal that, you know.”

Derek snorted, leaning back in his seat, having shifted into park while sitting in the store’s lot. “And do what with it?” 

“Who knows. She’s your sister, shouldn’t you know better than me?”

“Probably,” he admitted, though he never really knew what kind of crazy shit Cora got up to. As long as she never got hurt and never did anything illegal—or, didn’t get caught doing anything illegal, at any rate—she could do as she pleased. If she wanted his play button, he’d let her have it if it made her happy, even though he always insisted to her that he wouldn’t. “Anyway, I’m at the store so I’m gonna let you go.” 

“Sure. Want to grab dinner later? Or are you too famous to hang out with commoners now?”

“You’re an idiot,” he informed her. “Tacos?” 

She let out a small hum, like she was thinking. “Had a bad experience last time we went, but there’s that burger joint right next door. Maybe we can do takeout from both and eat at yours?”

“Sure, sounds good.” 

“Text me your order and I’ll grab the food on my way to yours. Six-ish?”

“See you then,” he confirmed, and hung up when she called farewell to him. 

Climbing out of the car, he collected the re-usable bags he always left in the trunk and headed into the store. Grabbing a cart, he slowly made his way through the aisles, grabbing various items and dropping them into it as he went. He honestly couldn’t remember if he needed milk or not, so he ended up standing in front of the dairy for a while, debating whether or not it was better to buy some or leave it. Deciding he’d rather have more milk than not enough, he grabbed a smaller carton and put that in his cart. 

When he reached the snacks aisle, he was going to bypass it, but paused. Feeling a little bold, even though he was positive his not-war with AllAboutMischief was over, he walked down the aisle towards the Pringles, scanned them all for the pizza flavour, and grabbed it off the shelf. 

He didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t being petty about it, he just immediately pulled his phone out to take a picture of his hand holding the can of potato goodness. He put the Pringles in his cart while unlocking his phone so he could post the picture up on his community page on YouTube. He almost wanted to post it on Twitter, but he didn’t want to edit his already existing post so he just did it on his community page. 

Not bothering with a title or an explanation—he figured the ones who knew would know, and the ones who didn’t probably didn’t care—he just posted the picture up and then closed out of the app. He was about to put his phone away when he noticed he had a text message. He thought it might be Kira, but when he tapped on it, he paused when he saw Cora’s name. 

He didn’t even have to tap on her message to see what she’d said, but he did anyway just in case some of it was cut off. 

[Cora]
LOL HIS RESPONSE!!!!! XDXDXD

Okay, that at least was less concerning than any of the other things she’d said to him since this whole thing had started, so he opened up Twitter, moving along the aisle quickly when he heard someone huff in annoyance behind him—seriously, it was the middle of the day on a Saturday, who had the energy to be that annoyed about someone on their phone in front of the Pringles? 

When he checked his replies, he saw one from AllAboutMischief, but it wasn’t any words at all. It was just a picture of surprised Pikachu. Derek let out a weird sort of laugh, because he hadn’t been expecting that. It felt like such a weird thing for a celebrity to do, use a meme, though he supposed maybe he was the weird one for thinking that.

Celebrities were still people, after all, why wouldn’t they use memes? 

“This guy’s pretty funny,” Derek decided, liking the tweet and then putting his phone away. He’d always thought AllAboutMischief was pretty humble in interviews and whatnot. Finding out he was so chill was actually kind of nice. There were a lot of really nice celebrities, of course, but there were so many more assholes that it was always satisfying seeing the truly kind ones who didn’t take life too seriously and didn’t let their fame get to their heads. 

Derek went through the rest of the aisles relatively quickly, figuring everything was over now that he’d gotten a response on Twitter, and waited in line at the checkout. He was in the process of putting his groceries on the belt while the teller rang through the lady in front of him when he quite literally froze at the words that reached him from the till at his back. 

“Afternoon, sheriff!” 

There was no fucking way he was in the store at the same time as Sheriff Stilinski. Literally no way in heaven or hell that this was happening. 

“Hi Hayden, how are you today?” 

Apparently it was happening, because that was definitely the sheriff’s voice. 

“I’m doing well, thanks. How are you?” 

“Pretty good. Work’s been a little less stressful this past week so I can’t complain.” 

“That’s awesome to hear!”

“Sir?” 

Derek’s head snapped towards his teller and realized the woman in front of him had paid and was loading her bags into her cart. The teller didn’t seem to recognize Derek, which was probably the best thing to happen to him this month, and he hastily finished loading everything onto the conveyer belt, being sure to keep his back to the till behind him in case the sheriff happened to recognize him. 

The man seemed to come by a lot, because he and the teller—Hayden—were chatting pretty animatedly about various things. Derek thought he might be able to get out of here without anyone recognizing him and bringing up his video, but alas, no dice.

Well, half-dice he supposed. No one recognized him, but Hayden asked the dreaded question while still ringing the sheriff through. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry about that video that went out about Stiles. That guy was out of line, saying all that stuff about Stiles’ last album. I think it’s a great album.” 

“Thanks Hayden, but Stiles is actually pretty happy about that video.”

What? 

“He is?” Hayden asked, sounding as surprised as Derek felt. 

“We had a chat about it last weekend when the video first came out, he sent it to me and basically said, ‘This guy gets me.’ Honestly, I’m proud of him for recognizing that this Real Music fellow wasn’t trying to be rude, he was just being honest. And he was right, this last album wasn’t Stiles’ best work, but that’s because he hasn’t taken a break since he made it big. I think this was a big eye-opener for him and he’s going to start taking his health a bit more seriously.” 

“Has he been sick?” Hayden asked, but before Derek could hear the sheriff’s response, his teller shifted to get further into his line of sight and looked to be resisting waving a hand in his face. 

“Excuse me? Sir? Are you okay?” 

Shit! Right, he was eavesdropping right now.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, a little annoyed he’d missed the sheriff’s answer, and paying for his groceries. He realized he’d been so distracted that he hadn’t even handed over his re-usable bags, so he’d been charged for as many plastic ones as he’d needed for his groceries, which was annoying.

Whatever, as long as he got out of there without the sheriff noticing him. Thankfully he did, the man still chatting with Hayden by the time Derek wheeled his cart out to the lot to put his things away. 

Was Mischief sick? Derek hadn’t heard anything about health problems, and he’d been pretty thorough about his research before posting that video. But his dad wouldn’t have said that if something wasn’t wrong with him, right? 

Derek was so focussed on that part of the conversation that he honestly completely missed the part about how his video was the main reason Mischief was going to be taking a bit of a break for his own good. 

Derek was late for his own stream because he fell down a rabbit hole of looking into whether or not there were any reports of AllAboutMischief being sick or having any health issues. He didn’t find anything, but that was only because he was convinced he wasn’t looking properly. 

It wasn’t until one of his mods messaged him on Discord—the alert startling him so badly he actually bumped his knees—that he realized what time it was. He felt very disorganized ever since everything with AllAboutMischief had started and he hurried to set up his stream. 

His recording studio was in the study downstairs, but when he did his streams, those were in his room. He’d set it up so the back wall was full of music-related posters and general paraphernalia from various artists he’d managed to buy, so no one could even tell it was his bedroom. His bed was right beside his desk, purposefully out of frame. It was just easier this way so he didn’t have to buy a second computer, or move his laptop into the study every time he did a stream. 

Getting everything set up and messaging his mods to make sure they were all set, he opened up the stream and winced when he saw a few hundred people were currently in the waiting room. Shit. 

He knew why they were all there, they wanted to talk about his bold statement that morning in response to AllAboutMischief. It was starting to feel like his channel wasn’t even so much a music channel anymore, but a channel dedicated solely to this one artist who happened to watch his video and post a response. 

“Hi everyone, sorry I’m late,” he said when the stream was confirmed to be live, eyes on the chat as a few people greeted him enthusiastically. He watched his viewer count grow as the alert went out that he was live, but made sure not to stare obsessively at it. This was still just a hobby, and it didn’t matter how many people came to catch his streams. “How are you guys? How’s everyone’s weekend?” 

The first few messages he saw were people answering his question, but a few messages popped up about how he was trash, and how dare he be so rude to their favourite idol, and he should go jump off a bridge. All that fun, creative stuff. 

His mods were quick to delete those and presumably ban the users, but Derek didn’t let it bother him. This wasn’t the first time he got people like that in his chat, it had just become a bit more frequent since his video about AllAboutMischief. Having him actively call him out—about Pringles, but still—had kind of put Derek on his entire fanbase’s radar. 

His eyes caught sight of one person asking him about what was going on, because they didn’t understand his YouTube short about the pizza Pringles, nor the picture he’d posted on his community page. 

Deciding to show them pity, and to get this part of the stream out of the way so the people who didn’t actually want to be there for him and were just there for the drama could leave once he was done talking about it, he resigned himself to explaining it all. 

“Hi DrunkCoconut, sorry about the confusing short and comment on the board. I made a video about AllAboutMischief last Saturday, and he actually saw it somehow and decided to roast me on Twitter about my choice of Pringles.” He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Honestly, I thought he’d be more upset about the video itself, but he was just mad about the Pringles.” He pulled the offending can of chips closer to himself so it was clearly visible on the screen. 

There was obviously no chip emote on YouTube because his chat began to fill with potatoes, which was fine because it was a good alternative. 

“He wanted me to explain myself, and I didn’t, because I figured he was just being dramatic for Twitter, but he posted a song on his YouTube channel calling me out by name over my horrible choice of Pringles flavour, demanding an explanation. So I gave him one this morning.” 

The chat began to fill with more potatoes, along with a few ‘LOL!’ comments and Derek smiled a little. It looked like a majority of the chat was mostly positive about this, and found it kind of funny that Mischief had such strong feelings about chip flavours. 

He got a few questions about Mischief’s comment on his video, and he talked about that for a little while, mostly because people were respectful and curious about what it meant. Derek made sure to clearly state that he was in no way implying he knew anything about what was going on with AllAboutMischief, but his comment was incredibly polite and did bring into question whether or not he was overworking himself. 

Some people started speculating that it was the studio forcing him to produce content, but Derek tried to cut that discussion short because they had no proof of that and he didn’t want anyone to start hating on his record label because of something that might not even be true. 

From Derek’s reading of the comment, it sounded more like Mischief himself was the one trying to do too much, but he wouldn’t know that for sure unless he spoke to him directly. The chances of getting him on a stream or anything for an interview were laughable. It was one thing to have this joke fight about Pringles, but he wasn’t under any illusions that AllAboutMischief would ever have a real conversation with him. 

Surprisingly, the conversation didn’t stall on AllAboutMischief for long, maybe only about twenty minutes. A lot of people ended up leaving when he moved on, but he didn’t mind. He liked seeing the repeat names in his chat, and always made sure to show them he appreciated their support. 

They started talking about various topics people sent him Super Chats about, asking him questions about different singers and music in general. It was always interesting to see what kind of things people wondered about, and he had a good time answering them. 

He was in the middle of explaining to a particularly nasty person that no, Lil Nas X was not a trash rapper and was actually phenomenally impressive and happened to be one of his favourites when his phone rang. 

It was on silent, but the flash at the edge of his vision had him glance over at it, frowning slightly even as he continued to speak because he had a point to make. 

Cora was calling him, but she subscribed to him on YouTube so she knew he was in the middle of a stream since she’d have gotten an alert about it. It was still the middle of the day, so he didn’t let himself worry something was wrong and let it go to voicemail. 

He was still in the process of schooling the asshole in his chat, despite the mods deleting everything he kept sending in, and eventually banning him, when his phone rang again. He saw Cora’s name flashing once more, and honestly wondered if something might be wrong. She wouldn’t call him in the middle of a stream otherwise. 

It went to voicemail again by the time he came to a decision on whether or not he should answer it, but he got a text a few seconds later that popped up on his home screen. 

[Cora]
ANSDWER YOURPHOEN!!!

“Sorry chat, can you give me a second? I’m getting a call, it might be urgent.” He muted himself but didn’t turn off his camera, grabbing his phone in time for Cora to be calling yet again. Swiping to answer, he put his phone to his ear quickly. “Hey, is everything okay? What’s going on?” 

“How do I keep finding this stuff out before you do?!”

Derek frowned, because she didn’t sound in distress, and he doubted she’d have started with that if someone in the family was injured. “What are you talking about?” 

“Did you see his reply?”

“Surprised Pikachu face? Yeah, I saw it earlier when you te—”

“No, his new video! He did a YouTube short!” 

What? 

“Seriously?” he asked, surprised. He thought this was over. Was this not over? “Cora, I’m live right now, so if you’re fucking with me—”

“I’m not, I swear! I swear, it’s there! Go check for yourself!”

Fuck, he didn’t really want to do this on stream, but even as he glanced at his chat, he could see people beginning to spam the potato emote again and it looked like his viewer count had just shot back up. Jesus Christ, it must’ve just been posted, how was Cora so fast at this stuff? 

He was the YouTuber in the family—as a side thing, but still!—yet Cora seemed to be all over social media more so than he was. 

“Fine, I gotta go,” he insisted, and hung up on her. She’d said what she had to say, and he was just sitting there muted while his chat went crazy. Leaning over to unmute himself, he hoped he wasn’t about to regret this. “Sorry about that, chat. Apparently AllAboutMischief isn’t done with our Pringles war just yet, I’ve been told he posted a short recently. Since we started this stream talking about our potato chip war, I thought maybe we could go watch it together, if you’re okay with that.” 

He’d never seen so many people type the word ‘yes’ in such quick succession before. Looking at his other screen, he quickly opened up another YouTube tab and found AllAboutMischief’s channel. He could see there was a new video, so he brought the window over onto his stream, ignoring the fact that it clearly showed he was subscribed to his channel—Derek was a legitimate fan, he had no problems with people knowing that, AllAboutMischief was a great singer. 

“Okay chat,” he said, grabbing both arm rests of his chair and shifting a bit to get comfortable. “Let’s watch this newest video of his about the great Pringles war of 2022.” 

He clicked on the short, and waited for the page to load. The short boasted AllAboutMischief sitting on the edge of what was obviously a hotel bed, acoustic guitar in hand. He was wearing what Derek had deemed his ‘Clark Kent’ look, because it consisted of worn jeans, a dark tee, a plaid over-shirt and glasses. There was no preamble this time, he just started playing right as the short started. 

The tune this time was slower, and almost melancholy. It was actually hauntingly beautiful, which just made the words feel so utterly out of place because it was like Derek had wounded this man deeply with his love for pizza Pringles. 

“Dear music man from the Youtubes
The hottest of all the dudes 
I thank you for your kind reply 
It brought me joy, I cannot lie

Your words have made me question things
Such as the joys that chip-os bring
It’s been a while, you have to know
Since I’ve had chips, though I love them so

But in answer to your question sir
I’ll tell you which one I prefer
I love your face, you know it’s true
But original’s the best, so fuck you.”

Derek’s eyes shifted towards his stream when he got a notification that he had a new membership. He stared for an exceptionally long time, ignoring the chat going crazy with excitement, and a bit of mockery over Derek’s obvious stunned silence. 

AllAboutMischief has become a member!

His chat was moving so fast that it was just a wall of text, Derek unable to read even a single word of it. His mods were probably freaking out because it had literally never moved this fast before and he kind of didn’t know what to do so he did the very mature, adult thing to do. 

Derek ended his stream without a word. 

Kira was right. 

This wasn’t over at all. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek avoided any and all social media for the rest of the weekend, though he did feel a bit bad about just ending his stream how he did with no warning. He was sure people were talking about it on various platforms, too.

Not because of Derek himself, of course, but because of Mischief. Fans were probably laughing hysterically at how the celebrity had won a stand-off with a YouTuber or some shit. Not that Derek cared about that specifically, he just didn’t know why AllAboutMischief was bothering to keep playing this game with him.

Cora kept messaging him to laugh about things, but he told her to fuck off because his sister was being ridiculously annoying about this whole thing. He knew that was just her duty as his sister, to be annoying, but he kind of wanted his life to get back to normal and was hoping Mischief might just take the win and forget about him now.

Unlikely, considering that was what he’d thought before, but a man could hope. 

He missed his usual uploads and streams throughout the week, focussing instead of work and his friends. He went to dinner on Tuesday with a few of his coworkers, something he felt like he hadn’t done in years since he tended to stream on Tuesdays. He also hung out with Kira a lot. 

She wasn’t really the type to have a full schedule since she and her boyfriend the TV were in a pretty committed relationship—he kept teasing her that she’d run out of shows to watch one day—so it was easy to just drop in for dinner and watch something with her. She’s wasn’t particularly interested in any of the Star Wars shows on Disney+ so whenever he showed up unannounced, that tended to be what they watched since the likelihood of her having continued without him was slim. 

When Friday came around, he was thinking he should maybe post up a video tomorrow like normal. He’d missed uploads and streams before, but he always felt bad about it because a lot of his repeat commenters got worried, especially when he didn’t explain why he wasn’t uploading. 

He had a video mostly ready to go about Ava Max and her stellar vocals, but he’d have to stay up late editing it. Unless he just woke up early tomorrow and tried to get it done before the afternoon. He also wanted to do his radio video at some point, and the comment from the rude person in his stream had added a Lil Nas X video onto his list because that particular artist was talented and he would not accept any slander. 

Tomorrow was dinner with his family though, so maybe it would be best to try and edit the video tonight. Then again, he could always edit as much as he felt like he could, head to bed, and then finish the edit and post the next morning. He didn’t know, he’d see how he felt later. Maybe he’d just put off posting a video and get his next one up on Monday. He was pretty sure this coming Monday was a video post day since he did it every other Monday and was fairly certain this past one hadn’t been a posting day. 

He’d have to check, this whole AllAboutMischief thing had kind of turned his YouTube hobby upside down. 

“Derek Hale? Yeah, he’s over there.” 

Derek was in the middle of writing an email, so he didn’t turn at the sound of his name. It was probably someone looking to talk to him from another department, or maybe even that new girl in the mailroom who didn’t know where everyone sat yet. He had a nameplate on his desk, so she’d figure it out eventually. 

He was still typing when a shadow moved around the side of his cubicle, standing in the small entrance to it and clearing their throat. Finishing the sentence he was typing, Derek turned his head slightly, then did a double-take at who he found standing there. 

Holy shit, this probably wasn’t a good thing. 

“Derek Hale?” 

His life was officially over. 

“Sheriff.” He started to stand, figuring that would be polite, but then wondered if maybe that wouldn’t be polite and look aggressive instead so he stayed seated, hands on his arm-rests and half-tensed, like he’d spring up at any moment. “Hello. Was there—how can I help you?” 

What the actual fuck was the sheriff doing there? Derek hadn’t done anything wrong, or illegal, so he knew he wasn’t about to get arrested or anything, but his heart was still beating like a drum in his chest and his hands were sweating so bad he was surprised they hadn’t slipped off the arm-rests yet. 

“I was wondering if you had a minute,” the older man said, Derek’s eyes taking him in for a second before he panicked too badly. The man wasn’t in uniform, wearing worn jeans and a grey, long-sleeved shirt. He obviously wasn’t on duty, or else he wouldn’t be wearing that, right? 

“Sure,” Derek said, even though he’d rather not have. “I can—one second, let me just let my boss know.” 

“Absolutely.” 

Derek turned back to his desk, ignoring the ever-growing panic he was feeling, and opened Business Skype. He found his boss’ name in his contacts and sent him a quick message that someone had stopped by unexpectedly to see him and he would be taking a few minutes away from his desk. He promised he’d cut his lunch short later as needed. 

Not waiting for a response, Derek stood and turned to the sheriff. The man was standing there with his arms crossed, looking intimidating, but Derek didn’t think that was intentional. He seemed relaxed and was just waiting on him, so it was probably an automatic stance due to his job. 

When he turned to lead the way back towards the stairs, Derek’s eyes caught on the large logo adorning his back. He’d thought the shirt was just a plain grey shirt, but evidently it was one of AllAboutMischief’s merchandise shirts because his logo took up the entire back in white, contrasting well against the grey. 

He followed the sheriff all the way outside the building into the visitor’s lot. When the man stopped at the back of his cruiser, Derek waited for him to start threatening him, but he just sighed while pulling his car keys out. 

“I figured it would be less embarrassing for you to do this out here. Not that my showing up here was any better, but he’s my son, so he’s my problem.” He said it good-naturedly, like he honestly didn’t mind doing things for Mischief, but that he also recognized that he and Derek were on the outs. 

Though... were they? He wasn’t mad at Mischief in the slightest, he was just embarrassed at all the attention he was getting, if he was honest. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on the sheriff’s words for long though, because the man popped open the trunk of the cruiser, and motioned a large box while stepping aside. Derek eyed him for a second, concerned, but he moved forward anyway and pulled the tabs back so he could look inside. 

His eyebrows shot up as soon as he did. 

“My son is what you kids like to call ‘extra,’” the sheriff said on a sigh. “He made me go to three different stores to buy this so the box would be absolutely full.” 

The box wasn’t a small box. It was fairly flat, but it was long, and Derek felt like he could fit at least half his closet of clothes into it. It was not a small box. 

And that not small box was completely full of pizza Pringles. 

“Uh...” What did one say to the dad of a celebrity who’d just bought him at least three months’ worth of Pringles? 

Apparently nothing, because Derek’s brain kind of blanked out. 

The sheriff moved closer then, leaning into the trunk to grab at something. Derek noticed him pull out a folded piece of paper from between two Pringles cans, holding it out to him. 

“He had me print this out for you, too.”

Derek took it, not sure what to expect, but he unfolded it and saw only two typed sentences. 

I was just joking, I didn’t mean to offend you. I’m sorry :( 

Wait, he thought Derek was offended?! 

Shit, he... hadn’t considered that. But he supposed that was a logical conclusion for him to come to, now that he thought about it. After all, Mischief’s last words in his YouTube short song had been ‘fuck you’ and then Derek had immediately ended his stream and disappeared for a week. Crap, that definitely looked like he was butthurt or being salty or something, especially since he’d been avoiding Twitter this whole time. 

Turning to the sheriff, he felt the need to explain himself, even though he also knew he had no obligation to. “I’m not mad or offended or anything,” he insisted, motioning the note. “I know he was just having a good time, and enjoying our banter. Honestly, I was kind of just overwhelmed and embarrassed at the attention.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” the sheriff said with a small smile. “Stiles spent the past three calls I’ve had the chance to catch him for worrying about having offended you. He said that he really liked your video, and valued everything you’d said about him.” 

Derek didn’t want to admit he’d kind of been eavesdropping at the store, so he just tried to look surprised. Based on the look on the sheriff’s face, he probably didn’t succeed, but the man was kind enough to let it go. 

“Kid’s been working himself too hard ever since he made it big,” the sheriff admitted with a sigh, looking in at the box of Pringles. “He thinks he always needs to be doing something, always needs to be entertaining people. Fans always talk about how much they love his personality, and his music, and I think he takes that too seriously sometimes. He overdoes it in public. Stiles is a good kid, he’s always been friendly and excitable, but he ramps it up to one-hundred when he’s around his fans, because he knows that’s what they want.” 

Derek hesitated, not sure it was his place to say anything, but he spoke anyway. “I can’t even begin to imagine how exhausting that must be,” he admitted. “I don’t think his fans would be happy to know how much of himself he gives to them.” 

“Some of them, sure. But others feel like he owes it to them. He feels like he owes it to them, too. It’s why he forced himself to write that last album, even though he’s been struggling with inspiration for a while now.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Derek said sincerely. 

“A lot of people say that to me, but you’re one of the only ones I believe,” the sheriff admitted, turning to look at Derek and offering him a small smile. “I watched your video too, Stiles sent it to me.” 

Derek winced, but the sheriff just let out a small laugh at the reaction. 

“Don’t worry, son. I’m not upset about it, and whether you believe it or not, neither is he. Don’t ask me why, but he told me that somehow, having someone notice that he was trying too hard when he wasn’t feeling it made him relieved. He said it felt like it gave him an excuse to take a break and he’s going to take a year off from writing new material just to find inspiration again.” 

“Except for his Pringles songs,” Derek said before he could stop himself. 

The sheriff actually laughed at that and nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Except for the Pringles songs. Erica told me it’s the first time in a long time she’d seen him so excited about writing. He had fun working on those.”

“They were good,” Derek admitted. “Unexpected, but good. They both had catchy tunes, even the second one.” 

“Yeah, I think he enjoyed working on them because he knew it was just for fun. Kid likes to do that sort of thing in general, it’s how he started writing music to begin with.” He let out a laugh then, shaking his head. “He wrote a song about how bedtimes should be abolished when he was eight. He didn’t use the word ‘abolished,’ but that was the gist of the song.” 

“Smart kid,” Derek teased and the sheriff nodded, still laughing. 

“Yeah, smart kid.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket to rake it through his hair. “Sorry I bothered you at work, I just wasn’t sure how else to get this to you.” 

“How did you find me, if I can ask.” Derek doubted a man as law-abiding as the sheriff had used nefarious means to gain this information. 

“Stiles knows who you are, he’s been following you on YouTube for about two years.” 

What? 

“When he realized you’d disappeared from the platform and weren’t responding to Twitter, he got one of his friends to ask your sister where he could have something delivered.” 

He took that back, very nefarious, though Mischief was the one who’d used those nefarious means as opposed to his father. 

Cora was the worst, she’d lead a fucking assassin to Derek’s front door if it got her a good laugh. To be fair, he was positive if Lydia Martin had asked her for his details, there was no reason for her to be concerned. Derek probably would’ve trusted Lydia too, and at least Cora had sent the sheriff to his office. 

While a part of him wanted to think it was about her embarrassing him in front of his co-workers, he knew it was only partly that. She’d likely felt uncomfortable giving out his home address, even to Lydia, and had opted for his work one. 

To be fair, Derek was pretty sure his address was available on the internet somewhere. Some of the people who managed those YouTuber websites were really thorough, especially considering Derek had never once given out his real name in any fashion, but whenever he looked at those sites, there it was for all to see. Sure, his face was all over his videos and social media platforms, but he didn’t feel like anyone he knew in real life would’ve legitimately gone out of their way to inform the internet what his real name was. It was more likely someone had figured out his IP and gone from there. 

People were scary sometimes, and what they could do with the internet was insane. 

“Do you have a car?” the sheriff asked when Derek stayed silent for too long. 

He didn’t understand the question at first, but when the man looked back at the box, he realized he was confirming he had a way to bring the chips home. 

“I do, yes. It’s in the employee lot around back.” 

“Let’s get this in your car then, having this many chips near me is a little tempting.” 

“I won’t tell if you want to sneak a can of Pringles,” Derek said with a small smile. 

“Thanks, but maybe if it was another flavour.” 

Why was everyone hating on his pizza Pringles? They were delicious! 

“Besides, Stiles worries enough without me making it worse for him.” 

The man reached into the trunk for the box, and Derek tried to stop him, but he insisted it wasn’t heavy and that Derek needed to get his car unlocked anyway. He obediently let him do as he pleased, but shut the trunk for the cruiser for him before leading the way towards the back lot. 

The sheriff was a really nice man, and Derek could tell just by the little things he said that he loved his son a great deal. He also didn’t miss how much he missed him, and figured that made sense considering AllAboutMischief didn’t have a lot of free time to visit. He was sure he flew his dad out every now and then to spend time with him, but the man was sheriff, so he likely didn’t have a lot of free time, either. 

Still, Derek was a little sad when he heard him talking about how he missed the sound of Stiles in his room playing his guitar to death and randomly coming downstairs to ask for help with specific parts of his songs when he got stuck. The man made a joke about how he could now watch his sports games in peace, but Derek could tell it was a forced, half-hearted joke, and a way for him to try and convince himself that he didn’t miss Stiles as much as he clearly did. 

When they got the box into Derek’s car, he walked the sheriff back towards the front, mostly because he felt like the guy was a little lonely, and at least having the opportunity to speak to Derek gave him a little bit of interaction. 

Reaching the cruiser, the sheriff opened the front door and turned to Derek. 

“Don’t let my son embarrass you off YouTube. He didn’t mean to embarrass you, I think he was just happy to have someone like you actually seeing him. As the person, Stiles Stilinski, and not the famous artist AllAboutMischief. He had fun writing those songs for you, and I think this little joke war between the two of you has helped him relax from the stress of doing a show almost every night.” 

Derek hadn’t considered that maybe this little verbal spar they had going on was something Mischief had been looking forward to, and he felt bad for making him think he’d upset Derek. He honestly hadn’t, and Derek was going to have to make sure he made that clear to him. 

“Well, I should let you get back to work.” The sheriff followed through with climbing into the car, but left the door open to add, “I hope you have a good day, and enjoy your weekend.” 

“Thanks, you as well.” Derek realized he was still holding the printed note from AllAboutMischief, but he didn’t know what to do with it. When the sheriff shut his door and started the car, a thought occurred to him and he called out to him before he could change his mind. “Hey sheriff?” 

He turned to look at him, then rolled down his window. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” 

The man stared at him with the most unreadable expression, and Derek realized how that might’ve sounded. He wasn’t asking him out, Jesus Christ. 

“My family,” he added quickly. “We have dinner together every other Saturday. I just thought maybe you might like to spend an evening eating good food with good company.” 

The sheriff watched him for a long moment without saying anything, and Derek wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have asked. He just felt kind of bad listening to everything he’d been saying. He missed his son fiercely, and he worked so much that it sounded like all he did at the end of the day was head home to an empty house to eat a frozen dinner. Derek just figured maybe he might like a change in his routine. 

“I should be free, but I’ll have to check my schedule,” he said after what felt like an age. 

Derek relaxed, trying not to make his relieved sigh obvious. “Of course, not a problem.” He gave him his parents’ address anyway, just in case, and he confirmed he’d think about it and see if he could make it before bidding him another good day and driving off. 

For a long while, Derek just stood in the parking lot, watching the car go until it was completely out of sight, and even then he didn’t move. He was still kind of in shock over what had just happened, especially since his father had admitted AllAboutMischief had been following his YouTube channel for two years. That didn’t sound right. He was checking that when he got home.

He wasn’t obsessive, he was just a disbeliever! 

When he turned to head back inside, it occurred to him that he’d invited the sheriff over to his parents’ place without... actually telling his parents. 

Pulling his phone out, he opened his text messages with his mom, and hoped she wouldn’t murder him in his sleep. 

[Derek]
hey mom
[Derek]
heads up I MIGHT have invited the sheriff to family dinner tomorrow
[Derek]
he hasn’t committed so he might not come but just fyo 
[Derek]
*fyi 

Worried about what kind of reaction he was going to get, he just shoved his phone back into his pocket and headed back for his desk. 

What a fucking weird ass month so far. 

Derek caught up on Twitter when he got home from work. It felt weird not to after what had happened at the office, and while he wanted to send AllAboutMischief a DM over the fact that he wasn’t mad or anything, it felt weird to do that too. They weren’t friends, and he didn’t even know why Mischief cared if he’d upset Derek.

He hadn’t, but he didn’t know that. 

The Twitter threads on AllAboutMischief’s Twitter didn’t really mention him directly. It was mostly people laughing about what had happened, and Mischief atting Derek’s Twitter every now and then to see if he’d join the conversation. 

He wasn’t being a bully about it, or even laughing at Derek. Most people were just enjoying the stupid Pringles songs he’d written, and a few people were talking about how fucking cute Derek’s reaction had been. 

Derek had re-watched the vod, his reaction was not cute. His entire face had gone super red and he felt like he could’ve passed for a fucking tomato if he’d dyed his hair green. Mischief was super nice about it though, and the one person who’d made a rude comment got thoroughly destroyed by him.

And he hadn’t even been rude about him, he’d been rude about Derek. 

BokBok MFs - @AggressiveChicken
woooow, rthat music lover dude is a fucking baby if he’s getting all butthurt over fucking pringles
maybe he should buy himself a pacifier so he can goo goo ga ga to his mom for the sick burns @AllAboutMischief’s been doling out lololol 

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
Replying to @AggressiveChicken
Please don’t be rude. This is all in good fun, and my videos are just jokes. @TheRealMusicLover isn’t being a baby, he has a full-time job outside of YouTube and is probably busy. He doesn’t owe me any form of response. Don’t be disrespectful please :) 

How was this guy so fucking perfect? Seriously, Derek was honestly a little annoyed about it, because he’d always kind of had a crush on him—and many other celebrities, it was a thing virtually everyone had in life—but those crushes didn’t usually acknowledge him. Sure, Mischief was just having a laugh right now, but still! 

After having caught up on a few things, including messaging some of his online friends on Discord since he’d basically disappeared from the internet for almost a week, he went down to his kitchen where he’d left the box of Pringles and stared down at it. 

He knew he had to respond, he was just trying to figure out how to do that. 

Sighing, he bent down to open the box, and then began taking the cans of chips out one by one, setting them down along his counter. There were so many he’d probably get sick of pizza Pringles by the new year if he ate them all.

Maybe that was AllAboutMischief’s goal. Well, he would not succeed. 

Taking a picture of the chips once he had them organized in a way they were all visible, he went back to his room while uploading the photo to his cloud. It didn’t take him long to open a new tweet and embed the picture he’d just taken of the Pringles, and he added a message before posting it and closing out of Twitter. 

After all, if he didn’t see it, it wasn’t there, right?  

TheRealMusicLover - @TheRealMusicLover 
Glad you understand that pizza Pringles are delicious @AllAboutMischief. Thanks for keeping me chipped up for the foreseeable future. 

TheRealMusicLover - @TheRealMusicLover
I am willing to call a truce in that I will acknowledge original is a good choice of flavour, but will not denounce my love for pizza Pringles. 
Thanks for the stock :) 

He opened up his editing software, trying to force himself to forget all about Twitter, and spent the rest of the night editing his Ava Max video. Kira texted him a few times, primarily to ask if he wanted to grab a bite since she was bored, but he’d already eaten by then. He offered to come over to hang out, but she told him it was fine and she’d survive without him somehow. 

She was so dramatic when she was bored. 

He edited until close to eleven, and then decided to call it a night. He planned to finish editing tomorrow morning so he could post, but didn’t think he’d stream. He didn’t always stream on Saturdays, so he was sure people wouldn’t miss him. Besides, he had some Marvel shows to catch up on, since Kira blasted through all of them the second they came out. 

When he woke up the next day, he was determined not to check Twitter, because this should be the end of it, right? He’d agreed to a truce, he’d thanked him for the Pringles, and it was over now. Right? Right. 

He ate cereal for breakfast while watching the second episode of She-Hulk, since he was a bit behind on that one. He was liking it so far, it was better than Loki, in his opinion—an opinion Kira was very unhappy about, since Loki was her favourite, but his was actually WandaVision. Still, She-Hulk wasn’t bad so far, he liked that she broke the fourth wall and that it was such a weird semi-procedural show because she was a lawyer. 

When he was done eating, he worked on finishing the edit of his Ava Max video, re-watched it to make sure it was okay, and then started the frustratingly annoying task of uploading it to YouTube. He ended up watching another episode of She-Hulk to pass the time while he waited, and thankfully by the time it was done, his render and upload was as well. 

He published the video with a less than creative title, because he still struggled with those, and then finally took a breath and convinced himself it was time to check Twitter, even though he knew nothing would happen. It was over, they’d concluded their little Pringles war, and he’d never hear from AllAboutMischief again. 

When he checked his replies, he saw that AllAboutMischief had replied, but all he’d done was add a two second video of him winking and doing a one-handed finger-gun at him. That was it. 

Derek sighed, rubbing at his face with both hands, because it truly was over. Now he could go back to his regularly scheduled life. 

He should’ve known it wasn’t that simple though, because Mischief’s fans were going bananas in the replies. He scrolled through the first few, but tried not to read too many so he didn’t get all overwhelmed again. 

Alyssa J - @PrincessAJ
Replying to @TheRealMusicLover and @AllAboutMischief
wait holy shit so they know each other irl??? 

Terrence Matheson - @yaboiterry
Replying to @Princess AJ
I think RealMusicLover lives in AllAboutMischief’s hometown? 

The floor is lava! - @LavaLover
Replying to @PrincessAJ and @yaboiterry
he does it’s on his about page
not sure if they know each other tho 

Derek kept scrolling, realizing that posting about Mischief sending him Pringles might not have been his smartest move, but at least the singer himself didn’t seem to care. 

Deciding he didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole, he instead closed out of Twitter and went to YouTube. He realized once there that he hadn’t looked into whether the sheriff was telling the truth or not about Mischief having followed him two years ago. 

He didn’t know why the sheriff would lie about something like that, but he wasn’t going to take his word for it! Because that was insane. 

Going into YouTube, he clicked on YouTube Studio and then scrolled to his recent subscribers. When he opened the main window and made sure the ‘lifetime’ option was ticked off, he started to filter by date, but then decided filtering by subscriber count might be faster for him to search. He followed a lot of the big YouTubers, so he knew he’d have a lot of them to wade through, but AllAboutMischief’s page had around forty million subscribers the last time he’d checked, so he should still be closer to the beginning of the list. 

Not that he would be there, and even if he was, it’d be recent. Like, since last week. Surely. 

Derek had filtered so the first page showed fifty names, and he was halfway down the page when AllAboutMischief came up. When he looked at the date, he honestly had no idea how to feel.

He’d been subscribed for two years. 

This man, this famous singer, this beloved idol, had literally been subscribed to Derek for two years. 

That meant no one had sent him the video he’d made. Mischief had said it was on his front page as being recommended, but Derek knew that was because a lot of the top part of the front page when he opened YouTube were recent videos from the creators he subscribed to. Mischief had legitimately logged on, seen a new video on his front page from Derek—who he was subscribed to—and had noticed it was about him so he clicked on it. 

Derek pulled his phone over and opened his messages, ignoring the one from Cora—probably her being a little shit, as usual—and opening the one he had with Kira. 

[Derek]
AAM follows me on YT

He had a few minutes to sit there disassociating before Kira replied. In her defence, she was probably busy with her boyfriend the TV. 

[Kira]
That makes sense 
[Kira]
I mean he became a memeber on your last stream 

[Derek]
no he’s been following for 2 YEARS

Instead of a response back, his phone began to ring, Kira’s name and picture showing up. He answered the call, putting it to his ear. 

“What do you mean he’s been following you for two years?” she demanded. Her mouth was clearly full, like he’d caught her while she was eating lunch. Or breakfast, it depended on when she’d woken up. 

“Don’t know how much clearer I can be,” he insisted. 

“So did he just see your video because he watches your stuff overall? That’s actually kind of awesome.”

“Why would he be following a dumb YouTuber?” Derek demanded, because this made no sense. “And why would he only do the pizza Pringles callout post now if that’s the case? It’s not like I only recently started eating those! They’re visible in other videos!” 

“Celebrities watch YouTube too, you know. And TikTok. And Instagram and everything else. I don’t think it’s weird, he probably found your channel a while back, thought you were good and entertaining, and decided to follow.”

“Then why only call out my chip flavours now?!” 

“Probably because it would be weird for him to just randomly say something about your disgusting taste in Pringles without a reason to. Or maybe he just wanted you to know he’d seen it. I mean, you get a lot of comments, he probably figured you wouldn’t have seen his and wanted to make sure you were aware he’d watched it.”

“This whole thing is crazy,” Derek insisted, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. Kira just made a noncommital sound on the other end, which was supremely helpful. 

When he glanced at the time, he realized he’d lost a lot of his day to this and that dinner was looming. He wanted to shower before heading out since his last one had been yesterday morning. 

He bid Kira farewell and then went to get ready for dinner, showering and changing into better clothes than sweats and a random tee. He contemplated putting on his contacts, but he liked to let his eyes rest on the weekend so he just kept his glasses on. 

He avoided looking at the Pringles still lined up on his kitchen counter on his way out the door and climbed into the Camaro without encountering any of his neighbours. 

By the time he turned onto his parents’ street, he’d completely forgotten about his dinner invite to the sheriff until he saw the cruiser parked on the curb across the street. He’d arrived before Cora this time so he took the spot in the driveway beside his parents’ car, and then climbed out, eying the cruiser for a few seconds and hoping he hadn’t made a mistake. 

When he walked into the house, calling out a greeting, his mother responded from the kitchen so he went to find her. She was at the stove stirring carrot soup, which Derek knew was always the appetiser for three-meal courses she and his dad did whenever they had company over. They always wanted to make sure people left feeling full and satisfied. 

“Hi honey,” she said with a smile, and he was glad she wasn’t mad about the last minute invite. 

“Hey mom.” He moved over to her and kissed her cheek, looking down into the soup. “Smells good.” 

“Thank you. It’s been a while since we’ve had company, I thought it might be nice to pull out all the stops.” 

“Sorry I kind of sprang that on you, the invite was out before I thought about it too much,” he admitted. 

“It’s fine, I’m glad you did. The sheriff does a lot for all of us, it’s nice to be able to thank him.” 

“Where is he, anyway?” 

“He and your father are out on the deck.” She nodded towards the back door. “There’s salmon on the barbecue, so he and John are just chatting over drinks. You should join them.” 

“I can help you here,” he argued. 

His mother turned to give him a look. “He’s your guest, so you can entertain him.” 

Right. He wasn’t going to escape that easily. He should’ve known better, moms had a sixth sense when it came to things like this. 

Sighing and conceding defeat, he grabbed a beer from the six-pack in the fridge—one was already missing, and since he knew his dad preferred wine, he could guess who the other beer belonged to—then headed for the back door. 

When he slid it open, he was immediately hit with the scent of cooking fish, and was actually quite happy they were having salmon. It’d been a long time. He hoped dessert was pie, he loved his mother’s pie even if she always made apple when his favourite was strawberry-rhubarb. 

“Derek!” His father called in greeting from the far end of the porch where they had a small table and some chairs set up. 

“Hey dad. Sheriff,” he said, nodding to the man while walking towards them. 

“Hi Derek,” the sheriff said in greeting, Derek moving to take a seat in the empty spot on his dad’s left. “Your father was just telling me about the renovations he and your mom want to do in the kitchen.” 

“Did he also tell you he wants everything done by December?” Derek asked, because maybe if someone else told his parents that was nuts, they’d re-think it. 

“He did. I think that’s very ambitious of them.” Good, sheriff was on his side. 

“It’ll be a lot of work, but I’m sure we’ll manage,” his dad argued, patting Derek’s shoulder and smiling. “Don’t worry, plenty of time to make a nice, big turkey dinner for the holidays.” 

Derek made a face at that, which the sheriff caught with a chuckle. “Not a fan?” he asked. 

“I don’t really like turkey,” he admitted. “I’d rather have a really nice ham, or even just some fancy fish. Cheaper, too. Less leftovers for my parents to try and pawn off on me when they know I’ll just eat it so the food doesn’t go to waste.” 

“We can’t eat a whole turkey by ourselves!” his dad argued with a laugh, setting his wine down on the table in front of him and standing with a groan. He didn’t say anything as he walked off, but Derek knew that meant he was checking the fish on the barbecue by the door. He’d probably done it a few times since the sheriff had arrived, so he didn’t look offended or anything. 

“So Derek, what do you do for work?” the sheriff asked, beer held loosely in one hand and resting on his closest knee. “I know I dropped the Pringles off there, but I didn’t actually pay much attention to the company as a whole.” 

Derek figured he hadn’t wanted to make things weirder for him, since having the sheriff show up at his office was probably weird enough without learning everything there was to learn about his company. 

“I work for a supply company. The back office side of it, so not so much the actual order and delivery aspect. I work in payroll, so I’m mostly in charge of making sure everyone gets paid on time.” 

“A lot of numbers,” he said with a small laugh. “I’ve never been good at numbers, so people like you are definitely instrumental in keeping a business going.” 

“I like to think I’m pretty useful,” Derek admitted with a smile. “My sister’s the one really good with numbers, though. She’s an accountant.” 

“Really?” 

“That’d be our eldest, Laura,” his dad said, coming back around the table and sitting down again with another groan. “She and Derek both found jobs they’re happy with and have stuck to them. Our youngest daughter is a bit more of a free spirit. She hasn’t really decided what to do yet, so she bartends at Jungle.” 

“How old is she?” the sheriff asked, and when his father confirmed she was the same age as Stiles, the man kindly said, “She’s still young, she’s got time to figure out what she wants to do.” He looked over at Derek then, beer near his lips to take a sip. “What about your whole YouTube thing?” he asked, following through on that sip before continuing. “I don’t mean to call it a ‘YouTube thing,’ I just honestly don’t understand how that works from a monetary perspective. But Stiles tells me you’re really popular on there and that you make a lot of money.” 

“I don’t make as much as everyone keeps thinking,” Derek insisted, though he had noticed a spike in his income since bypassing a million subscribers. Probably all of AllAboutMischief’s fans watching all his videos. Didn’t matter if they hated him and left him tons of dislikes, any kind of interaction on the video still benefited him. 

“It’s a hobby,” his dad said, reaching out to pat Derek’s shoulder again. “He does it for fun, it just kind of ran away from him. He’s pretty good at it.” 

“He is,” the sheriff agreed. “You seem to know a lot about music.” 

“I minored in music theory. I took one course by accident in first year and found it interesting, so when I hit third year I decided to minor in it since I’d taken a lot of the required courses in the first and second year for it.”

“That right?” the sheriff asked. “That’s lucky. And it makes for interesting videos, you do a good job. I’ve seen a few of them over the years, mostly the ones Stiles sends me, but I hear about you around town sometimes. People really like your stuff.” 

“Thanks,” Derek said, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

They all paused in conversation when Cora’s voice sounded loudly through the house, clearly heard outside because she had no volume control. Derek laughed at her words, but his dad just sighed, clearly wishing she wasn’t so chaotic sometimes. 

“Mom, someone’s getting arrested across the street! There’s a cruiser parked outside, someone is in trouble!” She sounded so happy about it, too. 

“And that would be Cora,” his dad said with a sigh, getting to his feet with his wine in hand. “Laura should be with her. The fish is almost done, so we can head back inside and we’ll introduce you.” 

“Sounds good,” the sheriff said, getting to his feet as well. 

Derek hadn’t known his mother hadn’t warned his sisters about the sheriff possibly being there for dinner, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on Cora’s face when the man walked into the kitchen. 

While he didn’t like sleeping in too much on weekends to not throw off his schedule, Derek ended up in bed past noon on Sunday. Dinner with the sheriff had been really fun, the guy was actually super interesting and funny. 

Derek had honestly been worried his family—particularly Cora—would ask him a million questions about his son, but surprisingly they barely talked about him at all. In fact, Derek felt like the most they’d been discussing him was in that brief moment outside when it was only Derek, his dad and the sheriff. The rest of the night they’d spoken about a lot of other things, and all of them—sheriff included—ended up staying there way later than intended. 

By the time everyone left, it was ridiculously close to one in the morning, and it had only gotten that late because nobody had noticed. They’d chatted before dinner, chatted during dinner, chatted after dinner, it was just a good time all around. 

His dad had even made plans to go golfing with the sheriff next week, and he could tell how happy that made him. Derek felt like the sheriff worked way too much and had probably sacrificed a lot in his life to make sure he kept a roof over his and his son’s heads and food on the table. When AllAboutMischief made it big, he’d probably thrown enough money at his dad for him to retire, but the sheriff didn’t seem like the kind of man who could just retire and sit around doing nothing all day. 

That was honestly probably the only reason he was still sheriff. Because he wanted to be. Still, he seemed to work too much and didn’t appear to have a lot of people to spend time with. Having his dad invite him out to golf seemed to be the highlight of the evening, and he hoped they actually went out to play together. 

When Derek finally rolled himself out of bed far too late the next day, he took his time waking up and getting some cereal. He didn’t have any plans for the day, but figured he’d get to work writing out a script for the next video he wanted to record. Thankfully he wasn’t falling behind since he’d skipped two uploads this week, but he hadn’t recorded in a while and wanted to make sure he always had a buffer. 

Deciding he’d do that after breakfast, he ate in front of the TV watching more She-Hulk before eventually putting his dishes in the sink and heading for his room and computer. He still had all the Pringles on his kitchen counter, and he grabbed one on his way by just because. His current can of Pringles was in his study, this one was for his room. 

Booting up his computer, he checked YouTube to see how his video on Ava Max was doing—pretty damn good, those extra subscribers were making a huge difference, holy shit—and then went to Twitter. There was nothing new from Mischief about him that he could see, so he breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that it was over.

He was a bit sad about it, because talking to someone he admired was insanely awesome despite being scary and a little embarrassing, but it was better this way. AllAboutMischief was going to forget about him eventually, it was safer for Derek’s ego—and delusions, if he was being perfectly honest—that the man forgot him now. 

Derek did notice he had a DM on Twitter though, so he clicked on it to check it out, assuming it was one of his usual followers who sent him messages, and paused when he saw AllAboutMischief’s handle. 

Why was he sending Derek a DM? 

He tried not to think on it too much, figuring maybe he was just sending another one sentence apology to be sure Derek hadn’t missed his note so he wouldn’t bitch about how rude Mischief was—Derek would never do that, the guy had been nothing but funny and polite this whole time. 

Clicking on it after convincing himself it was nothing, he instead got a huge amount of text that probably would’ve filled his entire phone screen if he’d been checking this on mobile. 

Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
Hey Derek (sorry, is it cool if I call you Derek? I know that’s your real name, but let me know if that makes you uncomfortable). 
I just wanted to send you a message to thank you for inviting my dad to dinner. He sent me a text to let me know he had a really good time, and that your parents are amazing cooks. He even said he has a golf date with your dad next week which honestly blew my mind, because my dad never does anything fun, he works too much. 
I know he gets lonely with me gone, and he doesn’t get out much, so I worry about him. It really does mean a lot to me that you invited him. You didn’t have to do that, especially after the video I posted. 
I’m sorry if it was offensive. I guess I didn’t consider ending it with ‘fuck you’ might be taken as serious instead of as a joke, so I apologize. But I’m glad you accepted the Pringles (even if the flavour sucks, BUT! I’ll leave you be about it, you can eat what you want :P)
Yeah, I just wanted to say thanks for a fun night out for my dad, he really needed it. 
Stiles 

“Can you please stop being perfect, I need you to have a flaw somewhere,” Derek informed his screen. How could this guy be so famous and yet so fucking nice and humble? He was literally acting like it was perfectly normal for him to be having a conversation with Derek, like they were old friends or something. 

They hadn’t known one another in high school, so that definitely wasn’t the case, but he was literally making it so hard for Derek to want to stop talking to him because he was funny and nice and just... 

He’d fucking sent him a thank you for inviting his dad to dinner! Who did that?! Someone overly nice, that’s who. Mischief seemed like such a nice person all around, and it just made him think back to what his dad had said in his work’s parking lot. About how he always made sure he was over the top so he didn’t disappoint his fans. 

But no one could see this, it was a DM. It was just a conversation between the two of them, and while yes, Derek could always print-screen and post it, that wasn’t the point. He was being so genuinely sincere in this thanks for Derek having made his dad’s night by inviting him to dinner, and had apologized again about the misunderstanding. 

If he wasn’t careful, Derek was going to make another video about him where all he did was look straight into the camera and insist AllAboutMischief was a treasure who needed to be protected at all costs. Though he remembered that he’d mentioned being afraid of heights and thus not liking pedestals, but still. 

TheRealMusicLover
@TheRealMusicLover
Hello. You can call me Derek, my name’s on the internet so it’s not a secret. And no problem about your dad, he and I chatted a bit when he dropped off the Pringles and I kind of just blurted it out. I worded it weirdly, he probably thought I was asking him on a date to be honest. Anyway, I’m just glad he had a good time, my parents did too. And I did. He’s a really interesting guy, I had no idea he originally graduated school as an engineer, so hearing his journey into the police force was really interesting. And I’m not mad about the song, please stop apologizing about it. I was never mad, I was honestly just embarrassed because you caught my reaction to it live. Thanks for the membership, by the way. You didn’t have to do that, but I appreciate it. Again, I’m not mad, I was never mad, I thought both songs were funny in their own way. And it’s obvious you had fun with them because the delivery and the tunes were stellar so I’m glad writing dumb songs about Pringles made you so happy. You’re a really talented person, we’re all lucky to have you. I hope you do take a break like your comment said and that you give yourself time to love what you do again. Thanks for the Pringles again and hope your tour is going well! - Derek. 

It was only once he sent it that he realized he probably should’ve broken the message up into paragraphs like Mischief had. And he’d literally sent him a fucking essay, Jesus Christ. Well, too late now, it was out there so he just let it be. 

He opened his word file and found the folder where all his ideas were saved, opening the one about the radio first and hoping he could maybe get this video, the Lil Nas X video and a third one he had planned about Dove Cameron since her move out of Disney all drafted today so he could record them after work throughout the week. 

It was always safer for him to have a multitude of videos recorded so that all he had to do was edit them to post them. While a more efficient person would probably record and edit one at a time, most YouTubers didn’t have full-time jobs on top of YouTube. And the ones who did usually didn’t post as often as he tended to. 

Kira kept telling him to get an editor, but he honestly didn’t know if he wanted to do that. Not because he liked editing, but mostly because he didn’t know how to choose someone to do that for him. He might’ve been in the YouTube scene for a long time, but he still had a lot to learn in general about it. 

He didn’t think about it too much while he wrote, and did manage to get all three videos drafted by the time he went to bed, having taken a break for dinner. He texted with Kira while getting ready, kind of annoyed at how awake he was since he knew he’d have a hell of a time passing out and he had an early morning tomorrow. As soon as he was settled, he watched an episode of a random show on Netflix on his phone while lying in bed in his dark room, mostly in an attempt to unwind, and then opened Twitter for one last check before bed. 

Derek’s eyes strayed to his DMs, because it showed he had another one. Surely it wouldn’t be AllAboutMischief again though, right? He’d thanked Derek, said his piece, and he was probably done with him, right? 

He clicked on the little icon, and when the messages loaded, he stared at AllAboutMischief’s name, Twitter showing he had a new message from him. 

“This is crazy,” Derek insisted to himself. “Why is he even talking to me? I’m literally nobody.” 

Didn’t stop him from clicking on the message though. 

Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
Hey Derek! 
I’m glad you weren’t mad about the video, that’s a relief! I just wasn’t sure how to take you logging off your stream like that, or the fact that you missed a few uploads. Dad told me he told you that I’ve been following you for years (what a traitor, amirite?) so I was honestly worried when I saw you’d missed a few. 
I really do like your videos, you’re really knowledgeable about music, and you’re always really polite and factual when you talk about things. Dad said you minored in music theory (traitor, like I said, but he plays both sides) so it makes sense you’d be so good at it. And like I said in my comment, you’re right about my last album, it was disappointing and I’m honestly mad at myself for having pushed it out. 
I was going to try and take a break, like I said, but I don’t know. Those two Pringles songs kind of brought back a little spark of inspiration and while I can’t actually write a real song about Pringles (I mean, I could if my people talked to Kellogg’s, but I don’t want to or it won’t be fun), I’ve had a few ideas since last weekend. 
But yeah, glad you weren’t mad, and really liked your Ava Max video! I met her once, and she’s AMAZING, so totally agree with you (also she is super hot in person, just saying haha). 
Have a good week and I hope to see a new video from you soon! But no pressure, burnout can happen to everyone, including you :) 
Stiles 

Derek debated whether or not to respond, but the little voice that lived in his head insisting this wasn’t going to last forever made him determined to prove it wrong. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Mischief would stop messaging him eventually, but for now, he just wanted to live in this little fantasy world where this famous musician actually wanted to talk to him so he began typing up a response. 

He was on his phone, so it was a lot shorter, but he tried to make it clear he wasn’t trying to be curt. He sent off the message, re-reading it after having done so, because apparently he was stupid and didn’t re-read before sending it out, but whatever. He was about to close out of the app and plug in his phone so he could sleep when a message popped up. 

Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
Omg hello! Are you on right now???

Derek hesitated for a second, and then typed back. 

TheRealMusicLover
@TheRealMusicLover
Hello. Yes, I’m here. 

Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
Holy shit, I caught you live haha. I never manage that! 
Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
I mean, I know you’re not streaming right now, but still, lol 
Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
Hey thanks again for inviting my dad to dinner, he had tons of fun! 

TheRealMusicLover
@TheRealMusicLover
No problem
TheRealMusicLover
@TheRealMusicLover
Like I said, he’s a really interesting guy 

Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
lol yeah, dad’s great 

Derek had no idea what was happening right now, but Mischief continued to message him. Apparently he couldn’t sleep, and had been browsing various websites when he’d gotten an alert on Twitter. As soon as he’d seen it was Derek, he’d immediately messaged back before even reading what he’d said. 

It was surreal lying there in bed having a conversation with AllAboutMischief on Twitter, but the more they chatted, the less weird it got, if he was honest. Mischief was just so normal, and he seemed like a really fun guy. 

They talked a bit about the dinner, and Mischief mentioned he was happy about what had been served since his dad had to watch what he ate. Derek didn’t ask why, but figured he had some kind of health issues. When he admitted he was sad about the pie, since it had indeed been apple pie, Mischief asked what he liked and upon informing him he liked strawberry-rhubarb, Mischief had thoroughly freaked out asking who in their right mind liked rhubarb. Derek had joked about whether or not he’d wake up to another song about his horrible life choices, and Mischief had dodged the question. 

Derek was honestly enjoying their conversation so much that he didn’t notice the time until a yawn cracked his jaw and he saw it was almost four in the morning. He didn’t know where AllAboutMischief was in the world right now, but he’d mentioned not being able to sleep so presumably it wasn’t regular waking hours for him either. 

TheRealMusicLover
@TheRealMusicLover
This is a really fun conversation, and we definitely need to get back to this, but it’s four am and I have to be up in three hours for work so I should sleep

Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
OMG IM SORRY! 
Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
I totally didn’t notice the time, fuck!
Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
Gogo, all good. It was nice chatting with you, I hope we can chat live again sometime :) 

Don’t get your hopes up, don’t get your hopes up, don’t get your hopes up!

Derek was so getting his hopes up. 

TheRealMusicLover
@TheRealMusicLover
Absolutely :) 
TheRealMusicLover
@TheRealMusicLover
Sleep well when you get there

He closed out of Twitter before they got distracted chatting again and leaned over to plug in his phone and put his glasses on his night stand. He shifted onto his side, staring at its blurry form in the dim light of his room, and couldn’t help smiling a little bit. 

Him being a famous celebrity aside, AllAboutMischief was actually really fun to talk to. Derek had enjoyed chatting with him, and their banter had been amusing. He was going to hate himself later when his alarm went off, but it was worth it because this had been really nice. 

As predicted, when his alarm went off, he hit snooze at least four times before forcing himself to get out of bed so he could get ready for work. He had a text message from Cora on his home screen, which he ignored until lunchtime. Once he finally read it, he went to check Twitter, and actually let out a loud laugh in the lunchroom at work. 

AllAboutMischief had written a fucking song about the horrors of strawberry-rhubarb pie. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek didn’t know what he and AllAboutMischief had, but he liked to think it was a rivalry-friendship kind of deal. He was trying to shift gears in his own head and call the man Stiles instead of defaulting to Mischief, because he’d accidentally slipped once in a reply and the singer had been horrified to find out he didn’t refer to him as Stiles in his head since he himself called Derek Derek. 

It was slow-going, but he was working on it. Whenever he thought about him, he consciously tried to shift into calling him Stiles, and every time he did, he kind of half-smiled to himself because it made him feel like they were actually friends. 

Which they were. They DMed on Twitter a lot. Even when one of them was busy, the other just sent messages to be answered later. Stiles tended to do it more often than Derek, but it was always really nice finishing work and seeing a bunch of random DMs from Stiles on Twitter. 

Every now and then, he’d have this weird little doubt in the back of his mind about whether or not it was actually Stiles texting him, because where did he find the time? Eventually, he asked Stiles how he had so much free time. Not in that way, obviously, because that would be rude, but Stiles just told him that while he was on tour, though he was busy and did a lot of talk shows and meet-and-greets, he also spent a lot of time on his bus going from place to place. 

Stiles found it hard to sleep on the bus, so while he’d love to be able to just pass out and recharge, he never managed it which was why he ended up messaging Derek so much. It was also how he’d ended up finding Derek. Stiles had already been a star when Derek had begun to see traction in his own videos on YouTube, and Stiles watched a lot of YouTube when he was on the bus—apparently he had an issue with streaming services, probably capitalism, but Derek didn’t ask because he’d have to admit he was subscribed to three of them. 

While scrolling through the front page of YouTube one day, Stiles happened upon Derek’s video tribute to Whitney Houston and had watched it. He’d enjoyed it, so he’d checked out some of his other videos—embarrassingly going all the way back to the beginning, when Derek’s editing was awful—and realized he really liked him, so he’d started following him. 

The fact that Derek posted regularly was also a plus for him because it meant he could switch between a bunch of different YouTubers regularly and never really run out of things to watch. 

Derek always knew when Stiles was busy, or possibly even on stage, because when he was free he would send Derek messages constantly. Videos, memes, fun things he found on the internet, all that stuff. But then he’d disappear for four or five hours without a peep. Derek would assume he was sleeping, but then after that stretch of silence, he’d get another message about how he was so tired and hated that he couldn’t sleep, usually because he was on the bus overnight. 

It was such a weird little dynamic, but Derek didn’t hate it. He had a good time chatting with Stiles, and he almost forgot he was speaking to someone famous sometimes. Stiles acted like any other one of Derek’s online friends, and it seemed surreal to think they were online friends. But he was pretty sure they were, at this point. 

At first during their first two weeks of chatting, he’d assumed Stiles was literally just bored enough to talk to anyone who replied, but after a few back and forth conversations in that time frame, it became clear Stiles genuinely enjoyed their conversations. It was probably also nice for him to reference things about home and have Derek understand. Likewise, Derek could talk about a random street off-hand without much thought, and Stiles knew exactly where that was. 

How strange to think this famous musician came from such a small little town in the middle of nowhere, California. A part of Derek wondered if maybe he’d settled in Las Vegas because he hadn’t wanted his home overrun with people, but he didn’t ask. They may have been friendly, but they weren’t that friendly. 

At least not yet. 

Work had just finished on a bleary Friday afternoon, the sun long gone and overshadowed by dark rain clouds that made everyone in a sour mood, considering the veritable downpour outside. Derek offered one of his co-workers a lift home, since they lived on the way and usually went out on Fridays so had bussed into work that morning. 

While he was waiting for her to pack up, he saw he had an alert from Twitter, and only caught the first sentence before his co-worker appeared beside him, prompting that she was ready to go. 

Derek wished she’d taken an additional ten seconds, because all he’d seen of the message had caused his stomach to bottom out, and he desperately needed to know what he’d done wrong. 

Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
ok so listen, while I love talking to you, I hat...

Stiles hated something. Hated talking to him? No, he’d literally said he loved talking to him. Fuck, what kind of mixed signal bullshit was that?! He wanted to keep reading, but he didn’t want to be rude to his co-worker, so he just walked towards the stairs with her while she thanked him profusely for driving her home, even though it was on the way and absolutely no trouble for him. 

They had to run to his car once they got outside, since the lot wasn’t covered, and Derek felt like he’d never be dry again by the time he got into the car. 

Caitlin was chatty the whole ride back, which Derek didn’t mind. He quite liked her, she was very nice, and she made the best shortbread around the holidays in December. Right now, he’d have done anything for her to not be in the car though, because he was literally going crazy trying to figure out what he’d done that had made Stiles send that message. 

Had he said anything in his last text to him that may have upset him? Maybe he was starting to get annoying? Derek didn’t message him back that often. Then again, maybe that was the problem? Maybe he didn’t respond enough? He had a job and a time-consuming hobby and local friends, it was hard for him to respond as often as Stiles did! He did his best, he was only one person! 

Fuck, Stiles was probably done with him now. He’d probably thanked him for the good chats and was now moving on. 

Well... whatever. Derek had known it was too good to last anyway. 

Dropping Caitlin off in front of her building, he waited at the curb, watching to make sure she made it in all right, because it was the polite thing to do, and the second she was out of sight, he immediately pulled his phone out and unlocked it. Opening Twitter with a sense of trepidation, he clicked on his DMs, read the message, and let out a small sigh of relief. 

What the hell, was Stiles trying to give him anxiety? 

Come at me Bro!
@AllAboutMischief
ok so listen, while I love talking to you, I hate twitter’s bullshit dm system. Do you have discord or anything? I use discord a lot to chat with people back home (except dad because, you know, old man can’t even work a computer LOL!!! don’t tell him I said that...)
but yeah, if you have discord, I’d rather move there. if you don’t, all good, we can keep going here. 
discord: AllAboutMischief#0412

Derek never would’ve had the nerve to ask him to switch platforms to chat, because who was he in comparison to someone like Stiles? But God did he appreciate this, because he also wasn’t super fond of Twitter when it came to chatting. Twitter was just for tweeting in his opinion, so he was more than okay switching to Discord. 

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he started the car and made his way home, trying not to smile to himself the whole way there. But seriously, he was also annoyed he’d gotten so freaked the fuck out. He’d legitimately thought Stiles was about to tell him he was done with their conversations, so he was pretty happy to hear he wasn’t. 

Parking in his driveway, Derek stared at his front door through the sheet of rain on the other side of his windshield. 

The good news was, he was home. It didn’t matter if he got soaked through again, he could just take a hot shower, grab some sweats and a loose shirt, and then be nice and comfortable inside while the rain continued to fall outside. 

Still. He’d have to run to the door and he’d get soaked again. 

Sighing, he gathered all his things, reminded himself he was an adult and rain wasn’t going to hurt him, then hurried out of the car. He raced to his covered porch, still managing to get completely soaked in a millisecond, and then locked his car with his key fob from the safety of the porch. 

Getting inside, he knew he was going to track water everywhere, but didn’t really have a choice. At least he didn’t have any carpet, he supposed. 

He walked through his home to his laundry room, deciding it might be best to just leave his stuff there for now to dry as much as possible. He stripped while standing in the small room, leaving the pile of wet clothes on top of the dryer before heading back out. Some of what he’d been wearing couldn’t go in the wash, but he was going to parse through that later when he wasn’t soaked to the bone and shivering. 

He dropped his wallet and keys on the hall table on his way by, then walked into his room in his shorts, leaving his phone on his desk. He wiggled his mouse to get it out of sleep mode—conversing with Stiles had made him feel less inclined to wait on it to boot back up every day—and then opened Discord once he was logged back in. 

Moving to his friends list, he clicked on the “add friend” button, feeling like this was kind of surreal, and checked his phone for the full name. Sending off the request, he knew Stiles would know it was him since his Discord was under the same name as his YouTube channel. 

Still shivering a little, since it wasn’t getting any warmer, Derek turned to find a pair of fresh shorts, then headed into the bathroom for a quick shower, wanting to warm up. He didn’t mind the rain, but only when he was inside where it was warm and dry and all he had to do was listen to it fall. It was actually quite nice in those times. 

When he headed back to his room in his dry shorts, having left the wet ones in his sink because he lived alone and could do what he wanted, he pulled on a fresh pair of sweats and a loose shirt, then sat down at his computer. 

He had to finish editing his video for tomorrow, but he knew he had Stiles to chat with while he was free. He was pretty sure Stiles had a concert tonight, but that shouldn’t be for another few hours or so. Derek was fairly certain he and Stiles were in the same time zone now compared to last week. The guy really did travel a lot, he didn’t ever seem to take breaks. Probably wasn’t healthy for him. 

He hadn’t even opened his editing program yet when he got a pop-up from Discord confirming Stiles had accepted his friends request, and then a message immediately afterwards from said individual. He smiled a little, clicking on it instantly to bring him to the new chat between him and Stiles. 

AllAboutMischief
hello hello! o/ 
man this is so so much better ugh
I love discord
my home away from home! haha

TheRealMusicLover
yeah twitter’s not great about dms and stuff
didn’t know you even HAD a discord

AllAboutMischief
what am i ancient? 
o’m a musician dude, not a dinosaur LOL 
*i’m

Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles was typing again before he could even reply, asking how his day was, how things were going, what his weekend plans were, all the usual things he asked Derek on Fridays. 

Or, had been asking him since they began speaking, at any rate. 

Derek just told him he was editing his video, and Stiles got all excited about it like a little kid because Derek had told him earlier in the week that his Saturday video was going to be about another YouTuber who managed to create classical versions of some of the most famous and heaviest rock metal songs. Stiles was really into that kind of thing, which made sense. 

They chatted for a while about Derek’s weekend plans, and Stiles’ concert—it was starting in two hours, so he was already at the venue getting spruced up. That sounded like a boring two hours, in Derek’s opinion, but he didn’t say so. He was just glad he could be there to maybe help entertain him a little bit until then. 

TheRealMusicLover
so what’re you most excited for when you get home? 

AllAboutMischief
sleep
100000000000%
gonna fall onto my bed and just zzzzz
and play some games o guess
whose brilliant idea was it to have i and o beside each other?
the number of times i typo that i s2g

TheRealMusicLover
lol
that’s cool about the gaming
what games? what consoles do you have? 

AllAboutMischief
o’m a PS kind of guy
I SWEAR TO GOD, I HATE THE LETTER O!

Derek just laughed, because he’d noticed in their general texting after becoming friends that Stiles did typo his I’s a lot when he was trying to type just ‘I’ or ‘I’m’ or ‘I’d.’ Anything that was in reference to himself he typo’d, but not so much in words. It was kind of funny, honestly. 

TheRealMusicLover
that’s cool
i like nintendo myself

AllAboutMischief
uh obviously, because you’re not a psychopath pfft
who DOESN’T like nintendo???

TheRealMusicLover
you might disagree when i tell you why i like nintendo

AllAboutMischief
..... it’s.... it’s for mario right?
you... you like it becuase it has mario? right?
riiiiiiiiiiight??????

TheRealMusicLover
donkey kong

AllAboutMischief
OMG WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?????

TheRealMusicLover
my sisters ruined mariokart for me 
and my older sister always knocked into me or would be a general bitch whenever I played the regular mario games
so i started hating them
i’m really good at dk though 

AllAboutMischief
HISS
HEATHEN!
HORRIBLE PERSON! 
jfc
next you’ll tell me you have an xbox instead of a ps

TheRealMusicLover
i got it for halo
you can’t get halo for ps

AllAboutMischief
im telling dad to arrest you when he sees you next
unbelievable
man owns an xbox but not a ps
ridiculuos

Derek couldn’t help laughing at the way Stiles got so incensed at things they disagreed on. Fake-incensed, of course, but still. It was kind of funny to see how many things they disagreed on, which was why Derek always referred to his friendship with Stiles as being a rivalry-friendship, because Stiles couldn’t handle the way Derek had such a pretty face but horrible taste in virtually all things. 

He’d gotten another song written last week about how Derek was clearly in need of a life overhaul because he’d dared—that was the word Stiles had used, dared!—to suggest that Superman was better than Batman. Stiles was a huge Batman fan, and while he didn’t mind Superman, when Derek had admitted he was much more inclined to go see a Superman movie than a Batman one, it was like he’d just announced he was going to kill half the people on the planet with the way Stiles reacted. 

Knowing it was all in good fun made it hilarious to Derek, but it was also kind of endearing to see how passionate Stiles could get about literally everything. And he was never an asshole about it, either. He played it up because that was the kind of person he was, but when they’d been discussing the topic again the next day, while Stiles still made jokes about Derek’s taste, they’d had a really long conversation about how shitty so many of the DC movies in general were, including most of the Batman ones. 

Really, the only one that Derek had admitted to enjoying out of all of them was the newest one with Robert Pattinson—who’d been a weird choice at first, but good Lord had that man delivered—and Stiles had said all was forgiven because at least he liked the right Batman movie. 

Derek hadn’t realized there was a right or a wrong Batman movie to like, but was thankful he’d chosen properly. 

When his doorbell rang, he turned to look out of his room, as if he could see the door from where he was. He wasn’t expecting company, but he could think of a few people who would stop by unannounced. Why anyone would stop by in this weather, he had no idea, but he stood and headed for the stairs so he could find out. Opening his front door, he found a very disgruntled-looking Kira on his porch, soaking wet and carrying a duffel. 

“My power’s out, umbrella broke, this weather’s the worst and I hate everything.” 

Derek wasn’t touching that, he just moved aside and swept one arm out to motion her in. She walked into his house while handing over her bag, which he took. She went straight to the laundry room, which he appreciated, because he didn’t want her tracking water through his house. He had some of his spare towels in there, so he was sure she’d grab one before emerging to change. 

He set her bag on the counter and used one of his dish towels to pat it dry. Thankfully it didn’t seem to have soaked through the material, so he just dried it off as best he could and then went to put it in his guest bedroom, which really was just Kira’s second bedroom since she was usually the only one who used it. 

Not like Derek had many guests over who needed a place to sleep. Kira only stayed over when she’d overindulged and couldn’t drive home. 

He and Kira met at the top of the stairs, his friend having found a towel as he’d expected. She still looked really sour, and he was pretty sure he was going to be going out at least once more today to get them some food with how unhappy she looked. 

Oh well, what were friends for, right? 

“You wanna grab a shower to warm up?” he asked, motioning the bathroom.

She turned to it, making a face, but said, “Yeah, probably should.” 

Derek moved aside so she could grab some clothes from her bag, probably her pyjamas, and then waited until she was in the bathroom before heading for his room again. He paused when the door opened immediately, turning back to her, and saw Kira giving him a look while motioning something in the room. 

“Really?” 

Arching an eyebrow, Derek headed back towards the bathroom, peeking into it, and realized his shorts were still in the sink. Right. 

Grabbing them quickly, he just shrugged at her. “I live alone. And don’t tell me you’ve never done that before, I grew up with two girls, the number of times I’ve walked into our shared bathroom to find underwear soaking in cold water because of accidents is literally too high a number for me to remember.” 

“Oh no, how awful.” Kira rolled her eyes and shut the door again. Derek just smiled, shaking his head, and went to add his wet shorts to the pile of wet clothes steadily growing in his laundry room. 

When he went back to his room, he saw Stiles had sent him a few messages about how much he hated make-up, and the fact that he didn’t understand why he even needed to wear any for a concert because the lights were so hot it all melted off, and nobody was ever close enough to him to see the zit he had on his chin anyway. 

TheRealMusicLover
you have a ZIT????
what?!
but you’re FAMOUS!
famous people don’t get zits!!!

AllAboutMischief
haha fuck you 
asshole
hate having to climb back down this pedestal
o hate heights why do people keep insisting on shoving me up here? 

TheRealMusicLover
because you’re SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO PREEEEEEEEEEEETTTTYYYYYYY 

AllAboutMischief
that’d be you my guy
look at that pretty face
such a pretty wittle facey wacey! 
too bad about your taste in literally anything 

TheRealMusicLover
you know you’re insulting yourself right?
since i called you pretty? 

AllAboutMischief
i know what i said!

Derek laughed, shaking his head, and asked Stiles about how he was feeling with tonight’s concert. He couldn’t get what he’d overheard the man’s dad say in the store out of his head, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask outright, so he tried to gage how he was feeling a bit more subtly. 

Stiles was as cheery and optimistic as ever, and Derek didn’t know how to ask in any other way, so when the musician changed the subject to ask Derek about if he’d ever thought to cover the best and worst duets in the past ten years, he allowed the change of topic. 

They were still discussing the pros and cons of certain duets that they surprisingly seemed to agree on fairly well when Kira walked into his room behind him, towel-drying her hair. 

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked, sounding less angry than she had before the shower. 

“Just talking to Stiles,” he admitted, turning in his chair to look at her. “You ready for shows?” 

“You can keep talking to him,” she insisted. 

“He has a concert coming up he needs to prep for anyway, and I’m not gonna ignore you when you’re literally in my house,” Derek argued. “Queue something up, I’ll be there in a second.” 

Kira shrugged but obeyed, clearly making like she honestly didn’t care if she was left out in the living room alone, but Derek wasn’t going to ignore her for Stiles. While yes, it was awesome and amazing chatting with Stiles, he’d really only known him for a few weeks whereas Kira was his best friend, so she’d always come first. 

Besides, it was bad manners to ignore someone who was literally in his home with him, and his mother would smack him for it. 

TheRealMusicLover
it was fun chatting with you, as always, but i need to go
kira came over because she lost power at hers so i don’t want to ignore her 
but good luck tonight, i know you’ll crush it :) 

AllAboutMischief
thanks
sorry about her power that sucks
hope you have a good night!

Derek closed Discord but didn’t log out, letting it live in the background for now and then heading out of his room. Kira was still scrolling through Disney+ when he walked into the living room. She was obviously in a bad enough mood she didn’t want to sit through anything Star Wars but it’d be hard to find a show for her to continue that Derek would be up to date on. 

“You okay if we watch a movie?” Kira asked, Derek falling beside her on the couch and getting comfortable. “I’m feeling like some Disney movies.” 

Derek shrugged. “As long as it’s one of the good ones, sure.” 

“What constitutes ‘good’ to you?” Kira eyed him suspiciously. Probably because she knew his taste in stuff wasn’t the same as everyone else’s. Wow, when he thought about it, a lot of people ragged on his taste in things. 

“You know, the good ones. Tangled, Encanto, Coco—”

“Oh, Coco!” Kira turned back to the TV. “It’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen that one.” 

“Great music,” Derek agreed. 

“Great story,” Kira argued, giving him a look. “Not everything is about music.” 

“Isn’t it?” he teased with a small smile. 

“Hey, you’ve never done a video on Disney movies and their music,” Kira said, finding Coco and clicking on it so they could start it. “You should do that. Have a tier list or something based just on the music, since your taste in the actual storyline is pretty shit.” 

“We don’t all have to have the same opinions,” Derek insisted, but he nudged Kira lightly, and thought that might not be a bad idea.

He didn’t think he’d ever done a Disney music tier list, and it’d probably be fun. Maybe he could make it a series and do every Disney musical, analysing the music in each one and whether or not they were good or bad. 

He already knew the live action remake of The Lion King would be at the bottom because how fucking dare they ruin ‘Be Prepared’ the way they did? That song was a classic, and they’d destroyed it with the way it was done in the live action and he was going to make it known to everyone.  

Kira nudged him when she could tell he was already writing a video in his head and he nudged her back, focussing on the movie properly, and hoping the weather improved before he had to go outside again for dinner. 

Rain was only nice when he stayed inside. 

AllAboutMischief
can i ask you a question without it being weird?
or you thinking o’m conceited?

TheRealMusicLover
you’re a little too humble for me to ever think you’re conceited 

AllAboutMischief
no pedestals |< 
i have flaws like everyone else!

TheRealMusicLover
not as many as me though, obviously 

AllAboutMischief
obviously
strawberry-rhubarb
unbelievable 

Derek laughed at that, unable to help himself. He found it so funny that Stiles always got all caught up on the things Derek didn’t like. Really, it was the running joke of their friendship, and he kind of loved it. 

TheRealMusicLover
so what i am judging about you today? 

AllAboutMischief
you mentioned in your video about me that you had a few favourites of mine
which was why this most recent album was so disappointing
what’s your favourite one? like, the one you like the most out of all of them? 

TheRealMusicLover
darkness in me 

AllAboutMischief
hm

TheRealMusicLover
??
is that not the right answer?

AllAboutMischief
wat?
oh no
lol
that’s definitely a good one, if i do say so myself 
can i ask why though?
it seems to be everyone’s fav and i guess i just never understood why

TheRealMusicLover
it’s relatable 
everyone has moments where they feel like they’re drowning in the dark
and they’re desperate for that light to come and save them
it’s hopeful, you know? 
at least that’s why i like it
ignoring the composition being amazing and the lyrics hitting home
it’s just really nice to hear about someone’s struggle with something so prevalent and not giving up 

AllAboutMischief
i guess
never thought of it that way

TheRealMusicLover
that’s why your music hits so well for me
because everything you sing about is real
and it’s relatable
it’s why i’ve been a fan of your music for a long time 

AllAboutMischief
i know you have lol
what was with that SHIRT bro? 
in your video about me lol 
tjhat was literally the cutest shit i’ve ever seen
that merch is SO OLD I’m amazed you even found one 

TheRealMusicLover
found one?? i’ve had that shirt since it came out
it’s comfortable! 

AllAboutMischief
LOL YOU NERD!
YOU NERDY FAN I LOVE YOU HAHAHAHAHA 

Derek rolled his eyes, and ignored how much he liked seeing the words ‘I love you’ from Stiles on his screen. He knew they didn’t mean anything, Stiles was just saying them because it was a thing people said these days, but still. He liked that Stiles felt comfortable enough with him to say something like that to him. 

He was on the road again, as he always seemed to be, but apparently he was heading to a hotel in Olympia, Washington for a two day rest before his next concert in that same city. Derek was glad he would be getting a break to sleep a bit, since Stiles honestly didn’t seem to get much of it. 

It made him think about what the sheriff had said again. The thought often returned to him at random times when he was speaking to Stiles, and while he honestly didn’t know if they were close enough for him to even dare ask this question, he just wanted to know Stiles was okay. He was a really great guy, and the thought of him being sick was really scary, if he was being honest. 

And they’d been having weird conversations tonight anyway. Not bad weird, just general weird. They’d been asking each other more questions than usual tonight, probably because Stiles was bored and Derek was procrastinating filming his next video—he still had a buffer, he was fine—and they’d somehow gotten onto a weird twenty questions kind of night. 

Nothing overly personal, but just things they were curious about. And while Derek knew this might be crossing a line, he was honestly worried he’d wake up one morning to nothing from Stiles, and read online that he’d died during the night from some magical disease no one had ever heard of. 

He knew he probably shouldn’t ask, but he wanted to.

So he did. 

TheRealMusicLover
can i ask you a personal question?
you don’t have to answer
if you’re uncomfortable 

Stiles didn’t respond for long enough to make Derek nervous, but he didn’t let himself worry about it. Stiles had been going quiet periodically because of Erica, since she was with him on this tour—and on a lot of his tours. 

She was a book editor and could do her job from anywhere as long as she had her laptop. Stiles often got lonely on tour, and his dad worried about him, so even though Erica was dating and living with Boyd, whenever Stiles went on tour, she went with him. Apparently Stiles flew Boyd out every now and then when they were in cities Erica wanted to travel around in while Stiles was doing his whole musician thing, which Derek thought was really nice. 

And he was glad Stiles wasn’t alone. He said his manager was nice enough and he liked him, but Erica was the one who kept him sane, even if she could sleep on the bus when he couldn’t. 

After what felt like way longer than usual, but was probably just his anxiety talking, Stiles responded. 

AllAboutMischief
how about a trade? 

TheRealMusicLover
trade?

AllAboutMischief
one for one
you ask me a personal question
and i get to ask one back

Derek couldn’t begin to fathom what Stiles would ever want to ask him, but if that was what it took for him to be allowed to ask Stiles if he was okay, then Stiles could ask him literally anything he wanted. 

TheRealMusicLover
sounds fair

AllAboutMischief
ok
you first

Derek thought for a few seconds on how to ask this question, but there wasn’t really a delicate way to ask about someone’s health when it was really none of his business, but he did his best to be respectful. 

TheRealMusicLover
are you okay? 
health-wise, i mean

AllAboutMichief
??

TheRealMusicLover
i heard your dad once
when this whole thing between us started and you’d just written the pringles song
i was at the store at the same time as your dad and i heard him say he was glad you saw my video
and that you were
i guess taking what i said to heart?
he said he was glad to know you were going to start putting your health first
i guess i just wanted to make sure you were okay 

AllAboutMischief
oh 

Oh?! What the fuck did that mean?! Oh fuck, was Stiles sick? Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have asked. Fuck! 

Derek had just started typing again to tell him to forget it, because if he was sick that was so personal and how could he have thought it was his place to even ask that, but before he could type the words, Stiles had already replied. 

AllAboutMischief
o’m not sick or anything
don’t worry
i kind of just
pass out
after concerts
sometimes 

Wait, what?!

Stiles was telling him not to worry and then explaining that he passed out after concerts sometimes? And he thought Derek was going to just, what, nod his head like that made sense and move along? Why the hell was he passing out after concerts?! 

He was fairly certain he was going to get an answer to his unasked question, because Stiles was still typing. 

AllAboutMischief
like
i want to put on a good show you know?
so i go really hard
and i overdo it a lot
so as soon as it’s over and i hit backstage
i’ve been known to pass out 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

AllAboutMischief
it’s why i can never do encores
but it’s hard up there you know?
there’s the lights and the noise and it’s so fucking HOT because of said lights and all the people packed in there
so if i go extra hard it hits me 
dad hates it
he thinks i’m going to kill myself 
but o just want to give people a good show
one they’re gonna remember and feel glad they were at
i don’t want anyone leaving feeling disappointed and like it was a waste of their money 

Derek re-read what Stiles had said a few times, because he wanted to make sure he wasn’t rude or angry in his response, but he was angry. He was angry that Stiles felt so much pressure in this life he lived, that he was legitimately making himself pass out after concerts because he’d gone too hard. 

Was that what it was like in that industry? People had to make sure they went extra hard or else they were deemed unworthy of the spotlight? 

Derek knew it wasn’t about the spotlight for Stiles. He cared about his fans, the fame came second to him. He just wanted to make people happy, and he loved that people liked his music. He didn’t care about all the perks that came with being who he was, he liked the feelings he got when others were happy about something he’d given them. 

But that almost made it worse then. Because maybe Stiles was doing this to himself even if his record label was telling him not to. Because he didn’t want to disappoint people. Which was insane, because his dad was right, he was going to kill himself. 

Derek had been silent for too long, and he could imagine Stiles feeling uncomfortable on the other end. He knew he would feel uncomfortable were their roles reversed, so he had to say something. He was just struggling to figure out what to say. 

TheRealMusicLover
i think people would rather get ten fun shows over one AMAZING show if they ever found out you put yourself in the hospital trying to entertain them 
you don’t have to give everyone 100% of yourself
though it sounds like you give over 100% based on what you’re saying
people are going to have a good time because you’re fun and entertaining
even here, when we’re chatting and no one can see us
you don’t have to make yourself sick to make them happy they showed up
you just have to be yourself
no one will be glad to know you put yourself in the hospital to keep them entertained 

AllAboutMischief
that’s...
yeah
i guess
i never really thought of it that way 

TheRealMusicLover
you can still entertain people at 50%
you’ve been doing this for YEARS
you need to take care of you too

AllAboutMischief
yeah
that’s why my album was shit
because i pushed too hard 
and broke 

TheRealMusicLover
your album wasn’t shit
it wasn’t your best but it wasn’t shit
don’t put words in my mouth
or i’ll push you off that pedestal 

AllAboutMischief
noooooo i’m scared of heights ;~; 

Derek smiled a little at that, glad that they were back in some safer waters, but he hoped Stiles thought long and hard about this, because the last thing he wanted to hear online was that Stiles made himself sick to keep fans happy.

As a fan himself, Derek could attest that absolutely no one who loved Stiles would be happy to hear that. Derek didn’t need him to be amped up and flying at three-thousand percent. He just wanted him to be having a good time and enjoying being on stage in front of people who admired him and loved his music.

TheRealMusicLover
your turn 
hit me

Derek waited, but didn’t see Stiles typing, so he changed screens to look over his notes for the video he was still procrastinating filming. He felt like he was getting lazy these days, that or he was losing his drive.

Though he knew it wasn’t the drive, so probably laziness. Honestly, it wasn’t even about the filming. It was literally the editing. 

Derek loved writing the scripts, and recording them, and just playing around with how he wanted to say things. What he hated was the editing. It was why he needed an editor but he was still procrastinating that because he didn’t want to have to look for one and worry about making the wrong choice. But God did he hate editing. So much. He felt like he’d honestly record and post more often than he already did if only he had an editor. 

He was still reviewing his notes when his phone dinged. He glanced at his home screen, and was going to ignore it when he noticed Cora’s name, but the first few words of her message gave him pause and he grabbed for it, opening his sister’s text. 

[Cora]
what did you do to stiles?
[Cora]
apparently lydia and boyd are having dinner together 
[Cora]
and erica called to whine at them that you broke him

“What?” Derek asked, confused, and texted back. 

[Derek]
broke him? meaning what? 

[Cora]
how tf should i know? 
apparently he’s freaking out about something

Freaking out about what? It couldn’t be about what they’d just discussed, it wasn’t something ‘freak out’ worthy since it was about Stiles taking care of his health.

He went back to their Discord chat to see if he’d replied yet, but it still didn’t even show him typing. When Derek looked at his last message, he realized that whatever Stiles wanted to ask him was probably what he was freaking out about. 

But why? What kind of personal question could he possibly have for Derek that he was so worried about asking? 

[Derek]
idk what you’re talking about
[Derek]
tell erica to stop being a drama queen

[Cora]
braaaaaaaaaaaaaave lol 

His Discord blipped, Derek’s eyes shooting up to his screen in time to see the little pop-up begin to disappear. He flipped back to Discord and saw Stiles had started his question, and was still typing. 

Putting his phone down and ignoring whatever else Cora sent to him, he watched the words slowly but surely make their way onto his screen. 

AllAboutMischief
you talk about someone named kira a lot
well not A LOT a lot
but you seem to hang out together a few times a week
anfd i kind of remember her from hs
I was just wondering
are you guys
like
are you dating or....? 

Derek’s eyebrows flew up and he actually worried he might lose them. 

What?

What?! 

Why was Stiles asking if he was dating Kira?! That was such an insane question to ask. It was like he cared, but why would he care? He had no reason to care. Why would Stiles care? Why was he asking that?! 

Don’t be delusional, don’t get your hopes up, stop being weird, calm down. The words weren’t making him calm down any, but mostly because what the actual fuck? Why was Stiles asking if he was single if he didn’t have a reason to be asking? 

But that was insane, right? That was insane! 

Realizing he hadn’t responded yet, mostly because he was still kind of floored, he hastily began to type so he wouldn’t leave Stiles waiting anxiously for too long, even as Cora sent him another text. He shushed his phone in annoyance, and continued to type. 

TheRealMusicLover
dating kira?
no
no she and her tv are in a long-term, committed, loving platonic relationship
i’m just the guy she calls when she doesn’t want to eat dinner alone :P
but seriously
kira’s great
she’s my best friend and I love her to death
but she’d basically like a third sister to me
so yeah
no
we’re not dating 

His heart was pounding. Why was his heart pounding? He had no reason to have a pounding heart right now, nothing was happening! 

Stiles was just curious! He wasn’t asking for any reason other than curiosity! Derek was almost twenty-nine, his birthday was coming up in a few days, Stiles was probably just wondering if he was ready to settle down and maybe leave YouTube.

That was all. He was asking because he liked Derek’s videos and wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to quit them. That was a perfectly logical reason to be asking if he and Kira were dating. 

AllAboutMischief
oh!
that’s cool :) 
i imagine erica is what having a sister is like
o’m an only child so i can’t know for sure
but she FEELS like what a sister would be like 

TheRealMusicLover
probably 
though unless you make her life miserable every now and then just because you can
then she’s not 
siblings exist to be dicks to each other
but the second someone else is a dick to them
that’s off limits 

AllAboutMischief
LOL
well 
the urge to annoy the shit out of her DOES hit me from time to time ;) 
so probably like my sister 

TheRealMusicLover
sounds like it 

AllAboutMischief
:)
so
not dating kira?

TheRealMusicLover
not dating anyone

Not that Stiles had asked but, just in case. Just for the videos, of course. Stiles only needed to know because he was worried about Derek’s YouTube career. 

AllAboutMischief
oh

TheRealMusicLover
are you?
dating anyone? 

Stiles didn’t respond for a very long time. Long enough that Derek eventually did go down to record his video, and then took a shower and got ready for bed. He checked Discord between every different thing he switched to, but it wasn’t until well past midnight when he was usually in bed asleep that he saw a response from Stiles since he’d stayed up later than usual to finish another script. 

Not obsessively waiting on an answer or anything. And it was only Saturday, so he could sleep in tomorrow anyway. 

AllAboutMischief
you already asked your question.

Stiles was going to be the death of him. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek was called into his boss’ office early Monday morning, which was never the way anyone wanted to start their day, because anxiety was super great. 

He’d made sure not to look nervous, because some people attributed nerves to having something to hide, so he just sat down and let his boss tear him a new one about whatever it was he’d done. 

Except that wasn’t why he’d gotten called into the office. Apparently the HR VP was on his boss’ ass because the company only allowed a three-day carry-over on vacation every year, and it was going to be November first the following day with Derek having over twenty days left. 

So his boss was telling him he had to take vacation. 

Derek never really thought about vacation time very much, because he quite liked his job and he always kept himself busy with YouTube during his free time so he never felt like he was overworked—which was a weird thing to realize considering he basically had two jobs. 

Since his birthday was next week, Derek figured he’d take that week off, but he still had too much time left over and December was a hard month to take vacation time in so his boss asked him if he could just take three weeks starting tomorrow, November first. That would amount to fourteen work days—he was already at the office today, and he was sure his boss didn’t want him to go home after having woken up so early. 

That left him with six days before he was down enough for the carry-over. They looked at the calendar in December for another batch of time he could take and ended up tacking three additional days to the end of Derek’s three weeks, so he’d have almost all of November off, and then three days in mid-December. 

His boss said they would need to talk early next year to make sure Derek booked time off, and he promised this wouldn’t happen again. He just hadn’t really felt the need for time off this year, was all. 

The work day had gone by quickly, and even though he knew he should be thinking about what he’d do during his time off, and how many videos he could get recorded and edited, all he could think about was how Stiles was doing today. 

Yesterday had been his first day off of the two days he had scheduled, with today being the second. He was back to doing concerts starting tomorrow, but he insisted the last time they messaged on Discord that he didn’t mind it so much because they’d be doing three shows in Olympia, which meant five nights in a hotel including his two rest days, so he was pretty stoked about the sleep. 

Derek was kind of annoyed his time off hadn’t coincided with Stiles’ two days off, but he also knew Stiles’ tour was ending mid-November. He had a few shows back home in Las Vegas as the official end of his tour and then would be off for a while with only various talk-shows and anything else his manager had booked him for, but no more concerts.

Hopefully he found time to rest and relax. 

He had less messages than usual after work today, but knew it was because Stiles had probably been resting—hopefully—and hanging out with Erica. He wasn’t offended, he was glad and hoped he was having a good day. He just messaged him back while sitting in his car in the parking lot like a weirdo, informing him that he was on a forced vacation—with context, he didn’t want Stiles to think he’d gotten fired—and said if Stiles had any ideas for videos he wanted to see to send them his way since he’d have free time to work on them. 

By the time he got home and into comfortable clothes, ready for three amazing weeks off—as unplanned as they were, he was still pretty happy about it—when he caught sight of Stiles’ response on the home screen of his phone. 

AllAboutMischief
are you home?

That was a weird thing for him to ask, and Derek opened Discord to respond, even as he walked to his room to get onto Discord on his computer. 

TheRealMusicLover
just got in why?

AllAboutMischief
are you free rn?
I need your opion on something
*opinion

Derek sat down at his desk, bringing it out of sleep mode and logging back in. He opened Discord and responded there, hating using his phone but always making an effort for Stiles. 

TheRealMusicLover
yeah i’m free 
for the next three weeks :P
though you might have to share me with kira
but tonight i’m all yours
what’s up?

Derek waited, seeing Stiles typing. It would start and stop periodically, and Derek felt like maybe Stiles was re-thinking what he wanted to say. Eventually, he must’ve come to a decision because he finally replied. 

AllAboutMischief
can i video call you?

Say what? 

AllAboutMischief
NOT IN A WEIRD WAY!
this requires voice chat
but i thought video might be better? 
or we can just do voice
whichever
sorry
i’m not trying to be weird
o just need your help 
sorry

In what universe did Stiles live in where Derek would ever say no to a fucking video call with someone he admired and had come to regard as a good friend? 

TheRealMusicLover
stop apologizing
you didn’t say anything weird
and if you’re comfortable with it
i’m fine with it 
i usually only talk to a camera
it’ll be interesting talking to a person :) 

He waited for a few seconds, and then a video call came in. He made sure his webcam was uncovered on his laptop, and then accepted the call.

It wasn’t until he did so that he realized what shirt he was wearing. 

Stiles appeared on the other end, the camera partially covered by his hand since he seemed to be trying to fix it a little, and then he came into view, a brilliant smile on his face as soon as he saw they were connected. 

“Hey! It’s you!”

“Of course it’s me, why wouldn’t it be?” Derek asked, trying hard not to smile too much, arms crossed over his chest.

He hoped Stiles didn’t notice. 

And fuck did he look good. He was wearing a red hoodie with the hood up, even though he was inside, and worn jeans. He had glasses on, which Derek had seen him wearing a few times in pictures, but Stiles seemed to wear his contacts more often than not same as him. 

He looked really good, though. Like, not just because he was an attractive man, but he looked rested. Derek wondered if he’d just been sleeping all day and that was why he only got a few messages. 

“I don’t know, maybe this whole thing was a ruse and you were just pretending to be the guy in the videos,” Stiles said with a laugh, sitting more comfortably on what was obviously a bed. He had an acoustic guitar on his lap, and Derek tried not to get excited about it. Maybe Stiles had just been strumming his guitar before the call, it was nothing to get excited about! 

“Isn’t it more likely you’re the one pretending to be AllAboutMischief?” Derek asked with a small smile. “You’re the famous one here, I could’ve been talking to like, your personal assistant this whole time.” 

Stiles let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Derek thought he could see a beanie beneath the hood he had up, but wasn’t sure. “I don’t have a personal assistant, why do I need one of those? Never made sense to me, to be honest.”

“It does raise a question I’ve always had,” Derek admitted. When Stiles motioned for him to proceed, he asked, “Is it normal? For a celebrity to handle all their own socials? I can tell based on the way your social media operates and the way you talk to me that it’s always you replying, but don’t celebrities have people who do that for them?” 

Stiles shrugged one shoulder while he strummed absently at his guitar. He wasn’t playing any one tune in particular, legitimately just strumming, as if making sure it sounded the way it was supposed to. 

“Some people will hire them out,” he acknowledged. “I like hanging out on Twitter though, I find it fun. And with YouTube, the thing is, I literally started on YouTube, you know? I built up my community by myself, and I guess it just felt weird having someone else take it over. I didn’t want that, because it was mine. People try and convince me to sometimes, but it’s my roots. I kind of like still having that.”

“I can understand that,” Derek admitted. “And you seem bored on tour a lot, so it gives you something to do.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles half-smiled, but it slowly slid off his face. Derek saw him squinting slightly, leaning forward and angling the camera a bit more, evidently messing with the screen on his laptop. He thought he was just trying to fix something, but then he spoke and Derek wanted to groan. “Are you wearing my merch again?”

Derek was indeed wearing an AllAboutMischief shirt. It was a newer one, maybe two or so years old compared to the one from his video, but it was comfortable! It was one of his preferred at home shirts! 

“It’s comfortable,” he insisted, wishing he hadn’t changed out of his work clothes. He wouldn’t have if he’d known he was going to have a video call with Stiles! 

The grin that began to spread across the other man’s face was as mischievous as his name suggested. “You’re such a fan, it’s adorable.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, trying to push back the embarrassment. “You wanted my opinion. Be careful what you say or I might decide I don’t want to help you.” 

Stiles held up both hands in surrender but was still smiling cheekily. Derek rolled his eyes at him again. 

What a little shit, he loved it. 

“What can I help you with?” 

Stiles went still for a moment, like he was panicking internally, and then went back to strumming at his guitar, avoiding looking at the screen, eyes instead of his hands as they moved. 

“I uh, I wrote a song,” he admitted quietly. 

Derek’s heart kick-started again, and he forced himself to just stop! Stiles hadn’t written him a song, this was nothing! 

But at the same time, it also wasn’t, because Stiles had written a song and he was now on a video call with Derek holding his guitar and asking him if he could get his opinion. Like he was going to play him this new song and ask for his opinion which... How was this his life? This was insane. This was crazy! 

“I was wondering if you’d be okay listening to it.” Stiles winced, then reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, that sounded weird. I just—want another opinion, is all. And I feel like you’d be honest, you know?” He glanced at the screen briefly, then looked away. “Erica’s... she’s great and all, and I love her, but she’s worried I’m gonna like, I don’t know, stop writing or whatever if I think I’m doing poorly so she’s just constantly telling me everything is great, even when it’s not. I talked to her a lot about the songs on my last album and how I hated most of them even as I wrote them, but she kept insisting they were great. I just don’t want her to feel like I’m going to quit this whole thing if I write a bad song, you know? Everyone writes bad songs sometimes, I don’t care if I have to start over, I just want it to be good and not just passable.”

“You don’t need to be perfect, you know,” Derek admitted to him. “You’re allowed to write something bad as long as you like it.” 

“I know, but I’d rather everyone like it. And I figure you’re good at analysing this kind of thing, and I know you’d be honest. So I thought you’d be a good person to ask. If you want.”

If he wanted, was Stiles crazy? Derek wanted to climb through the screen so he could shake him and get the song faster, but for one thing, that wasn’t possible, and for another, Stiles looked so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to rush him.

He probably only played his unfinished songs to a select group of people he’d known his entire life, so doing this with Derek was probably nerve-wracking. 

“I thought you’d agreed to take a break,” he said instead. 

Stiles let out a small laugh at that. “Yeah, I was going to. You know, I was—these two days were meant to be me taking a break, but I got this dumb tune stuck in my head and I couldn’t get it out, and eventually words started forming around it and I just gave up and started writing.”

“I’ll allow it,” Derek said imperiously, smiling when Stiles laughed. Man, he had a great laugh. He laughed with his whole body, and Derek was kind of upset how much he was falling for him. 

People were allowed to have those dumb daydreams about meeting celebrities and being the love of their life, but this was getting a bit too real and Derek didn’t want to accidentally turn into a weird stalker or something. But Stiles wasn’t just AllAboutMischief anymore to him. He was Stiles. 

“You wanna hear this song or not?” Stiles asked with a small smile. 

Derek made like he was thinking, then sighed explosively like this was a gross inconvenience. “I guess I have time right now.” 

“Dick,” Stiles said with a laugh, then turned to his guitar. He made like he was tuning it, but it sounded just fine to Derek so he was probably just procrastinating. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. I’ve never played a new song in front of anyone but Erica and my dad. And kind of Boyd by accident.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Derek said, even though he knew it wasn’t as easy as that to stop feeling nervous. 

He found it kind of endearing that Stiles was so nervous when he sang in front of millions of people on a stage all the time. But he supposed he could understand this right now, because this was a brand new song no one else had heard. 

Stiles kept fiddling with the strings for a while, then seemed to come to terms with what he was about to do and exhaled slowly. He began to play, the tune a little interesting to Derek because it seemed to be happy and upbeat, then was slowly calming down into something... not necessarily sad, but just slower and more pensive, maybe? 

Then Stiles actually began to sing, and Derek so badly wished he was watching him in person. 

“Always gotta be on
Always gotta smile
Need to be the best
At least for a while 
Never take a break
Never lose your style
Keep them entertained 
Make sure you’re versatile 

On and on, gotta entertain 
On and on, while you ignore the pain

It’s all right, it’s okay
Some mistakes have been made
And we all suffer burnout sometimes
But the battle’s not lost
Don’t you dare just give up
Can’t let burnout snuff out your designs

Don’t you dare disappoint 
Don’t you have a bad day 
No matter how you feel
Just bury it away
They all rely on you
So get out there today
Nobody has to care
That you’re not okay

On and on, gotta entertain 
On and on, while you ignore the pain

It’s all right, it’s okay
Some mistakes have been made
And we all suffer burnout sometimes
But the battle’s not lost
Don’t you dare just give up
Can’t let burnout snuff out your designs

Why do I try so hard?
Why do I even care?
This used to be fun
Now it’s begun to wear
I lose my sanity 
I feel laid out bare
My life’s become a mess
That I need to repair

On and on, don’t wanna entertain 
On and on, hard to ignore the pain

But I’m all right, I’m okay
Though I’ve made some mistakes
Even I suffer burnout sometimes
But my battle’s ahead
And I’ll fight to the end
‘Cause I won’t let it kill my designs 

And everyone suffers burnout sometimes.”

Stiles played a few more notes, then abruptly cut off, one hand pressed against the strings to stop any more music from escaping it. 

“I’m not done yet, it’s still kind of rough, and the tune’s a work-in-progress. It was just something that was bugging me, so I got it out on paper, and I figured if I talked about my burnout other people might realize that it’s okay to burn out, and cut me some slack for also burning out, because I’m only human and—”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted, because he could tell that he would just keep talking in an attempt to delay hearing Derek’s thoughts. 

Stiles forced himself to snap his teeth together, waving one hand vaguely at the camera, like he was apologizing, but he didn’t look up into it. 

Derek managed a small smile, because for how famous this man was, he was literally just so lovely. 

“I think it’s safe to say AllAboutMischief is back with a vengeance,” Derek said, not wanting to keep him waiting. 

Stiles looked up into the screen now, looking relieved, a small smile on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. That was—it was good. It was really good.” 

“You’re not just saying that to keep me happy, right?” Stiles asked, eying the screen suspiciously. 

“I’d never do that to you. You care about your music too much.” 

Stiles just nodded his head once, like he believed him, which made sense because this whole thing had been his idea to begin with. He’d wanted it to be Derek who listened to it because he wanted honesty.

And Derek was being honest. The song was really good, because it was something Stiles was sharing about himself that he knew affected other people.

“I’m still playing around with it,” Stiles said, looking back down at the guitar and strumming some more. “It’s not perfect yet, but I kind of like it.”

“Like I said, I think you’re well on your way back to being AllAboutMischief.” He offered him a smile, which Stiles returned, only twice as big. “Just don’t force it when you’re uninspired. Obviously you’ve gotten some of that inspiration back, so use it while you have it, and don’t force it when you don’t.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. He glanced up at the screen then, staring at something, but he didn’t say anything and looked back at his guitar then, strumming a bit more before grabbing it by the neck and moving it out of frame. “So, you’re on vacation, huh? Must be nice for you.”

“It’s going to give me a lot of free time,” Derek agreed. “I’m going to try and write some scripts and record a bunch of videos.” That made him pause for a second, thinking about Stiles’ song, and he asked, “Actually, would you mind if I made another video about you?” 

Stiles frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I won’t reveal anything personal from our conversations,” Derek insisted, and felt his chest warm when he saw Stiles roll his eyes, silently saying he knew that. “I thought maybe I could just write another short video about you as a person, and about the song you just wrote. I wouldn’t say what the song is, or anything like that, but I’d like to make it clear to everyone who didn’t pay attention to our back and forth in comments or on Twitter that you had a rough year and that I know for a fact you’re working on some great stuff.” 

“I wrote one song,” Stiles insisted dryly. 

“Yeah, but you’re going to write this next album at your pace, right?” He gave him a look and Stiles just rubbed the back of his neck while looking away from the screen again. “Right, Stiles?” 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’ll go... slower this time. Only when I feel inspired.”

“Good.” Derek smiled. “Did you want me to send you the raw video before posting it? So you can tell me to take stuff out?” 

“I like watching your videos,” Stiles insisted, suggesting he didn’t want spoilers. He thought for a second, then said, “Can you send it to Erica instead? I’ll let her know when she’s back from the longest shopping spree ever that you’re making another video about me and that you’re sending it to her so she can vet it.” 

“Sure, sounds good.” 

Stiles leaned forward to type for a second, and Derek saw an alert from him on Discord, realizing it was Erica’s email address. He thanked him, and promised he’d send it her way before he even thought of posting it. 

“Do you think once I clean it up, I should play it?” Stiles asked thoughtfully. “During one of my concerts, I mean. Like, the ones coming up next week or something.” 

Derek didn’t know if he actually wanted an opinion, but he gave him one anyway. “Honestly, I would say you should probably save that one. I think... it’s a really good song, don’t get me wrong, but I think that if you sang a song about burning out and always having to entertain even when you’re exhausted, the people at the concert you perform it at might feel guilty, or bad? They might feel like they’re contributing to your problem.” 

Stiles seemed to think about that for a second, and then nodded his head, acknowledging that Derek was probably right and that he’d just save it and take his time fine-tuning it. 

Derek figured now that the song was over, Stiles would bid him farewell and they’d go back to regular messaging, but he didn’t. He just shifted around on the bed so he was lying on his stomach and asked Derek what other plans he had for his time off, since videos couldn’t be the only thing he did. 

He admitted he was going to reach out to Kira to ask about her availability so they could hang out. Maybe he’d try and catch up on some reading. They had a bit of a discussion about Thanksgiving coming up as well, and Stiles was horrified that Derek didn’t like turkey. Yet another horrific life choice of his that Stiles could hardly stand. 

It was funnier seeing him react to it live.

“Aside from that, not much else. Though I might bully my sisters into going to Sacramento with me for my birthday so I can—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Stiles insisted, waving one hand dramatically, and forcing Derek to stop talking. “Whoa. Whoa. I’m sorry, your what?” 

Derek frowned, confused. “My birthday?”

Stiles nodded a few times, lips pressed together. “Mm hm. Yeah. Birthday. Right. You realize this is the first you’ve mentioned it this entire call, right? You sprout out all this stuff about your videos, hanging with Kira, spending time relaxing, all that jazz, and then just tack on ‘oh and do this for my birthday’ at the end like I’m gonna miss it?” Stiles’ eyebrows rose almost comically high. “Not fucking likely, my guy. When is it?”

“Next Monday, the seventh.” 

“November seventh,” Stiles said thoughtfully, stroking his chin with one hand like some kind of weird supervillain. “Yes, we love this day. It was the day we were blessed with the hottest of all faces. His taste is questionable at best, but by God, he has the face of an angel.” 

“Pretty sure angels are actually terrifyingly grotesque,” Derek insisted with a small smile. 

Stiles turned to the camera, fake-annoyed. “Excuse me, I happen to be having a rather lovely moment with my perfect image of you. The one who likes regular Pringles instead of ones that taste like ass.”

“I thought they tasted like cum,” Derek teased. 

One hand was waved impatiently towards the camera. “Same difference, really.”

“I don’t like pedestals either,” Derek said with a half-smile. “Not afraid of heights or anything, but they seem kind of precarious.” 

Stiles laughed at that, but before he could say anything, Derek heard a voice call out from somewhere else in the hotel room and Stiles froze. 

“I gotta go,” he said urgently, but before he could reach out to end the call, someone leapt onto the bed, mostly landing on Stiles, and the camera was obscured for a few seconds by blonde curls. 

“Oh my God, is that your new boyfriend?!” Erica shifted so she was further back, Derek able to see her properly even as she half-crushed Stiles under her. He could see his arms flailing and his face seemed to be smooshed between Erica’s boobs. 

Probably a scarring experience for him if they were basically siblings. 

“Hi Derek!” Erica said, waving at the camera and seeming completely fine with suffocating her best friend. “Long time no see, I remember you from high school, you played Lacrosse and you were fine back then! Still fine now though.” She cackled, rolling off Stiles when he pushed at her, presumably for oxygen. Erica’s eyes shifted to something Derek couldn’t see, and she arched an eyebrow. “Why is your guitar out?”

“I was just tuning it,” Stiles said quickly, managing to get back into a seated position and reaching out for it. “Tuning! It’s important! Keeps it all nice and, you know, playable.”

“You tuned it this morning,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him. “You were still writing when I left.” She paused for a second, then gasped and smacked Stiles hard in the arm. “Oh my God! Did you—did he—?!” She turned to include Derek in her unasked question, motioning Stiles, then turned back to him. “Did you?!”

“Gotta go!” Stiles insisted desperately to Derek, then reached out and shut the lid for his laptop. The screen cut to black for a second, and then the video call dropped. 

Derek couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him and he shook his head, typing out a good luck message to Stiles in Discord, and then getting up so he could grab a can of pizza Pringles. 

He already knew how he wanted to write his next video about AllAboutMischief, and he needed some delicious fuel to get started. 

Derek got his video about Stiles written and filmed in only a few days, then sent it off to Erica for her to look at before he started editing it. 

He was happy to hear from Stiles, which meant Erica hadn’t murdered him for having played his new song to Derek first, but he hoped she wasn’t too upset about it. Stiles insisted she was just dramatic, like him, and she hadn’t been upset at all. She’d also agreed the song was really good, and that had helped Stiles feel a bit more confident that maybe he truly was getting back into the swing of things. 

It was taking Erica a long time to get his video back to him, but he figured she was probably busy with her own job. He’d sent it to her on Thursday and it was now Sunday evening and she still hadn’t gotten back to him. He wasn’t worried though, he had a lot of other videos ready to go, and he even managed to write and record two others on his list. He was starting to get another nice little buffer, even if they weren’t edited. 

God, how he hated editing. 

When he woke up on Monday morning, it was to a large number of texts and online messages from friends and family wishing him a happy birthday. He was surprised at how many people online had remembered, because usually it was only a few of his followers and his Discord friends, but he understood why so many people seemed to remember his birthday this year when he logged onto Twitter while eating breakfast. 

He’d been a bit disappointed not to find a birthday wish from Stiles in Discord—which he knew was a bit much to ask for, Stiles was busy and while they were friends, it was still a relatively new friendship—but he’d understood why the second he logged onto Twitter. 

Stiles had posted a video on his Twitter atting Derek. He had a filter on that was putting the weirdest makeup ever on him—though it somehow still looked hot, that shouldn’t make sense, and yet—and had then proceeded to sing Derek happy birthday in the same manner as Marilyn Monroe had sung it to President Kennedy. Instead of ‘Mr. President’ he’d changed the words to ‘Mr. Music Man,’ because he was clever that way. 

He’d then ended the video by kissing his camera, grinning and cutting it short. 

Derek immediately hit ‘reply’ on Stiles’ birthday wishes, shaking his head at how ridiculous this man was, and typed up his response. 

TheRealMusicLover - @TheRealMusicLover
@AllAboutMischief You’re an idiot <3 

Derek stared at the message, then deleted the heart.

Then added it back in.

Then deleted it again. 

He stared for a long time, then figured, fuck it. People could think whatever they wanted. Stiles had ended his song by kissing the camera, so it was like he was kissing Derek, so Derek was going to leave the fucking heart in. 

He posted it with the heart on the end, rubbing at his face with both hands, and hoping people didn’t take this the wrong way. Much as he’d love to think Stiles was into him, he wasn’t delusional and he planned to stay that way. 

Finishing with his breakfast, he went to check his email and noticed Erica had finally returned the video to him. Opening it, he frowned when he saw two video files, one music file, and looked at her email reply back to him. 

Hi Derek, 
The video is good, but there were two or three things I didn’t think you should include so I cut them out. The first attachment is the raw with those parts removed so you just have to edit it from there. The second video is a fully edited video because I got bored. 
Your rival in Stiles’ musical life because how DARE he allow you to hear his song before me, 
Erica.
PS: Your opening and ending songs are outdated, I had Stiles write you new ones, they’re cooler, third attachment. You’re welcome. 

“What?” Derek asked, unsure he understood what she was saying. 

He understood her words, obviously, but he didn’t understand what she was saying. 

He opened the second video, because he wanted to know what she meant about a fully edited video, and her comments about the opening and closing song. 

The screen was black for a second, and then a soft, melodic tune began to play. It was a piano, and Derek knew Stiles could play multiple instruments, so if this was Stiles then he’d either found a piano or he was using one of the ones that were usually on stage with him for the concerts—though likely not while on stage, but in the back or something. 

The classical tune went a little boppy, then very pop, then heavy metal all in the span of ten seconds, having shifted from a piano to a guitar at some point seamlessly. It was actually really impressive and super cool because it encompassed Derek’s channel so well given he covered so many different musical genres. 

The screen, which had started out black, had slowly begun to reveal his username in the same sort of style as the music playing, with ‘The’ being cursive and very classy, ‘Real’ coming out in a small bubbly print, ‘Music’ appearing in the general art-style of pop music album fonts and then ‘Lover’ exploding onto the screen at the heavy metal, the font almost looking like blood spatter. 

It was really cool. 

Then his face was transitioned in as the heavy metal faded out and he began to speak. 

“Wow,” he admitted quietly to himself, because that was a really strong opening, and it actually made him feel like the video would be good even as a viewer and not as the creator. 

He sat there watching it, impressed with the transitions, and while he himself had often put in some clips of the artists he was talking about, he hadn’t put in nearly as many as Erica had, sourcing all of them in the bottom corner, and being sure to divide the time evenly between Derek’s face and the various shots of Stiles. 

She’d cut out the one and only part where he’d vaguely commented on Stiles’ health, but he didn’t blame her for it. He’d tried to be subtle about it, but maybe it was still a little too on the nose and Erica didn’t want Stiles to feel like he had to go extra hard at his next show or anything. 

When it got to the part about the song though, Erica had put in a few photos in the style of one falling on top of the next where it showed Stiles still happy and his usual smiling self, but he was very clearly exhausted. So she wasn’t fully ignoring Derek’s desire to comment about Stiles’ health, she was just being even more subtle about it than he’d been. 

“Mischief’s new song is... it’s really interesting. And really good. I had the honour of being one of the first to hear it, and it really hits hard. I don’t want to tell you too much about it, but I want to talk about the composition because it was such a smart move on his part and it honestly blew me away. 
“He starts it very lively, very dance-ready. It’s got some bop to it, and it’s fun to listen to. The pre-chorus starts to slow down a bit so that by the time you shift into the chorus, it’s much slower than the verse. And it’s just a very clever up and down tonal shift for the entire theme of the song. Once you guys hear it, you’ll understand what I mean and why it’s so perfect and suits the song so well.”

Derek had tried to re-write that part so many times to convey how he’d felt listening to the song, but it was hard without giving it away before its release. But it really did hit hard when listening to the lyrics, because the verses were all quick and boppy, and basically portraying the persona Stiles hyped up for the stage. The pre-chorus was slowing down to show his crash after he was behind closed doors. The chorus was his attempt to get himself back up no matter how exhausted he was. 

He watched the video through to the end, Erica’s editing fucking top tier and leagues better than anything he ever did with his videos—mostly due to laziness and lack of skill, but also because of lack of time. The end theme sounded like the beginning theme, only backwards and he kind of liked the way it book-ended the video. 

Hitting reply on the email, he honestly didn’t know what to say about it because holy shit. If she didn’t have a job, he’d be hiring her immediately as his editor. 

Erica, 
Thank you! You did such an amazing job, and Stiles didn’t have to write me a new theme but it’s very much appreciated. You’re a really talented editor, you can edit my videos any time. 
I mean that, truly. If you want me to pay you for this one, let me know, but if you ever want to edit anything else, feel free to reach out and I’ll be more than happy to send things your way.
Thanks again!
Derek.

He fired off the email, then went into Discord to message Stiles. 

TheRealMusicLover
thanks for the birthday wishes :) 
and for writing me a new theme
it’s really good and i’m definitely using it 
also erica’s editing is SO GOOD

He got up to bring his dishes to the kitchen, putting everything away into the dishwasher. By the time he got back to his room, Stiles had replied. 

AllAboutMischief
HAPPY BIIIIIIIIRTHDAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY~ 
o’m glad you liked it! 
it was fun to write
and erica basically demanded it pfft
she hates your theme because it’s super old
and she was like “YOU GUYS ARE FRIENDS NOW FIX IT!” haha

TheRealMusicLover
yeah i commissioned someone for that song i had but they’ve been gone from YouTube for a while now
so i appreciate her taking the time to bully you into it :P 

AllAboutMischief
she didn’t bully me that hard ;) 
you having a good birthday so far?

TheRealMusicLover
woke up not long ago so hasn’t had time to be bad yet :) 
and i got a really sexy birthday song from a hot singer so that was pretty cool 

AllAboutMischief
omg you know a hot singer?! 
who is it?
is he prettier than me? :( 

Derek laughed and shook his head, trying to think of the best way to respond to that. 

TheRealMusicLover
nobody’s prettier than you 
not with that makeup you had on

AllAboutMischief
damn straight!! ;) 
you hanging with anyone today?
you mentioned something about your sisters and going to sacramento? 

TheRealMusicLover
we were going to but laura couldn’t get the day off
and no way cora and i can last the day together
don’t get me wrong i love cora 
but we’re kind of complete opposites and without laura to be a buffer one of us wouldn’t make it back home
and i doubt my parents would be happy about that 

AllAboutMischief
LOL
so erica is defo my sister
because boyd always tells me to make sure she comes back
and to scream into a pillow if o feel like killing her 

TheRealMusicLover
i’m glad you haven’t succeeded yet
because she’s amazing
her editing is really good

AllAboutMischief
oh yeah she used to edit all my stuff
well not ALL since i did a bunch too
but she likes that kind of stuff
she still does my editing now 
and she was bored 
she doesn’t have much work right now
and she always gets bored during tour when i’m doing stuff she can’t come along to

TheRealMusicLover
would she be willing to do this for me full time do you think?
i’ve been thinking of getting an editor because i have tons of raw videos and usually have to edit them the day before posting because of lack of time

AllAboutMischief
DUDE YES
she would LOVE that
seriously she’s always complaining about being bored 
add her on discord and talk to her about it 
BlondeVixen#3947

Derek laughed a little at the name, but he obediently sent Erica a friend request, then started a new chat with her. She was already in the process of typing before he’d even finished, and he figured she was sitting with Stiles and had been the one to tell him to put them in contact. 

He’d never had an editor before, so he wasn’t really sure how this worked, but Erica said they could figure shit out as needed in terms of payment and whatnot, but that this one about Stiles was a freebie since it was his birthday. 

She asked if he had any others for her to edit since she only had two books to look over right now and she was anticipating getting that done by Thursday—which seemed fast in his opinion, but she was obviously doing a lot of work while with Stiles—and he admitted he had quite a few because he hated editing. 

BlondeVixen
How can anyone hate editing? It’s so fun! 
Drop them in a Google Drive and share it with me 
I can get started on them asap

Derek was more than okay with that and immediately started transferring his files to a share drive for her while he continued to chat with Stiles—and also Erica, since they needed to figure some shit out. Primarily payment. 

He didn’t know enough about how much the big streamers paid their editors, so he honestly didn’t know if Erica was undercharging him with the price they agreed on, but he figured he’d just pay her extra around holidays and whatever because he honestly didn’t know. 

She went quiet for a while after he’d shared the folder with her, but it only had two videos uploaded into it right now, so he figured she was doing something with Stiles since he’d also stopped replying. 

Eventually Stiles was back—he’d gone to shower since he had an appearance on a talk show in a few hours—and when he asked about Erica, he said she was already editing one of his videos. 

Apparently she was really bored. Not that he was complaining, because he had a lot of videos filmed and unedited so if he could get a real buffer, the kind where they were ready to go and he could post them up, he wasn’t going to complain. 

He and Stiles chatted up until it was time for him to head out for his talk show appearance, but he told Derek he was sorry he couldn’t have made his birthday more special and that he’d owe him one. 

Derek didn’t know why he thought that, because the fact that Stiles was talking to him at all was really the best gift anyone could’ve ever gotten him. 

Derek didn’t know why someone felt the need to be waking him up at eight in the morning on a day off, but whoever it was, it better be because someone was dying. 

Trudging down the stairs, and already knowing it was Cora because the doorbell was ringing over, and over, and over, which meant no one was fucking dying, he yelled for her to stop when he got close enough to the door, already in a sour mood when he hadn’t even seen her yet. 

Siblings were so annoying. 

“What?” he demanded, wrenching open his door and scowling out at Cora blearily. Thankfully the sun wasn’t fully up yet, so his eyeballs were saved from the harsh light, but it was still an unwelcome wake-up call and he didn’t appreciate it. 

“Oh God.” Cora brought both hands up towards her face, turning it away, like she was trying to block something from sight. “Put some clothes on, no one wants to see that.” 

“What do you want Cora?” Derek demanded, annoyed. Cora never changed, honestly. She used to be the same way when they lived together and Derek would cross the hall from his room to the bathroom in his pyjama pants. 

He’d never forget the heart attack she’d caused basically everyone in the family one summer when it had been so hot Derek had just slept in his boxer-briefs. When he’d gone to use the bathroom in the morning, she’d screamed so loudly his dad had actually raced up the stairs with scissors, thinking someone had broken into the house. 

His sister was dramatic that way.

Cora was still partially covering her face, but she motioned for Derek to back up with her other hand. He didn’t move, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting her out. 

Sighing explosively, she let her hands drop and crossed her own arms, eying him suspiciously. 

“You’d tell me if you were dating Stiles, right?” 

I wish, he thought to himself, but aloud he said, “Probably not, I avoid talking to you as much as I can help it.” 

“Dick.” Cora shoved his shoulder with one hand, and then pushed her way past him into his house. 

Letting out an aggrieved sigh, he just closed the door and turned, finding Cora in his kitchen digging through his fridge. She pulled out a container of leftover pasta and grabbed a fork from his cutlery drawer, beginning to eat it without even bothering to heat it up. 

“Yeah, please, make yourself at home,” he said sarcastically, leaning sideways against the fridge before jerking away from it, the surface cold against his bare skin. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” 

“I just came from work,” Cora informed him, pointing her fork at him while she chewed. “Well, the party that happened after it, anyway.” She looked back into the container, presumably searching for more cheese. It was his leftover tortellini and he always made a mix and match of fillings so she was probably looking for one she wanted. 

“And you came over to my house at eight in the morning on my day off to eat my pasta?” he asked her, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses while resisting the urge to pick her up, put her outside, and lock the door. He didn’t, but only because she’d just ring the doorbell until it quite literally broke. 

“One, didn’t know you were off,” Cora insisted, licking sauce off her thumb. “Two, pasta’s just a bonus, not the reason I came over.” 

“If you didn’t know I was off, then how’d you know I was home and not at the office?” 

“I have your phone tracked on my phone.” 

Derek stared at her. “Why the hell are you tracking my phone?” 

Cora shrugged, taking another bite of his pasta. “Because I can?” 

“Get out,” Derek said, already exhausted and wishing he’d never gotten out of bed. 

“Not until we talk about you and Stiles dating.” 

“I’m not dating Stiles,” Derek insisted.

Cora shrugged again. “The internet thinks you are.” 

That made Derek pause, a frown slowly forming on his face. “What?” 

His sister rolled her eyes dramatically, putting the container of half-eaten pasta on his counter and then jumping up onto it, sitting right beside his stove while she pulled her phone out and unlocked it. 

Once it was obviously open on what she wanted him to see, she tossed it to him. He thought of letting it fall for a split second, but didn’t want to be that much of a dick, so he caught it and flipped it around so he could see what she’d just woken him up for, Cora grabbing the container she’d set down and beginning to eat again. 

The first thing he saw on Cora’s screen was a surprisingly impressive cartoon image of who he knew had to be him kissing a carton image of who he knew was Stiles. There were a bunch of little hearts all around them, and honestly, the picture was quite cute. 

But also what the fuck. 

“Keep scrolling,” Cora informed him, licking sauce off the back of the fork she had. 

Derek obeyed, scrolling down, and found more cartoonish and chibi versions of him and Stiles in various lovey-dovey scenarios. Some had them holding hands, some had them kissing. One of them was him and Stiles sitting at a small table sharing a milkshake, with the two straws and all that. It was actually sort of cute, if not a little weird, because they weren’t dating and he had no idea where this was coming from.

“What is all this?” he asked, continuing to scroll. It looked like it was something that was trending and Cora had just clicked on the hashtags for it to pull up everything. 

“It’s you and Stiles, obviously,” Cora said helpfully. “Your ship name is MischiefLover.” 

“What does that even mean?” Derek asked, rubbing at his forehead. Some of these were really good. Most people were doing chibis or cartoons of them, but there were a few penciled realistic images along with some really good manips that were surprisingly convincing. 

“You know, Mischief is from his name, and Lover is from yours. That’s how ship names work. You know, like Merthur, or StormPilot, or—”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Derek interrupted, because he wanted her to stop talking. He knew what shipping was, of course he did, he didn’t live under a rock. He just hadn’t ever given much thought to how names were chosen. He thought Merthur might be from the show Merlin, but he had no idea what StormPilot was. 

Continuing to scroll, and finding there to be a lot of these, he went to another tweet before his heart jammed itself in his throat and he hastily scrolled back up. “Oh my God!” 

“What?” Cora asked, her mouth full of pasta. 

“What the hell, that was so graphic!” Derek needed to bleach his brain. Not because the image of him and Stiles naked and getting down and dirty was unpleasant, but because that had looked surprisingly convincing and he didn’t need his parents or his boss seeing that. Holy fuck, what the actual hell?! 

“Oh yeah.” Cora licked the fork she’d been using, then threw it into the sink. It missed, clattering across his counter and falling off the end of it onto the floor. She just shrugged and tossed the container. This made it into the sink, and thankfully she’d replaced the lid so she didn’t spray sauce all over his kitchen. “I found a few of those too. I’m kinda scarred, not gonna lie. Seeing someone draw Stiles naked is fine, but you.” She made a face. “Gross. And the things you’re doing to each other? Big gross.” 

“We’re not doing anything to each other!” Derek insisted, wanting to keep scrolling but honestly scared now of what else he might find. 

He wasn’t joking, that image had been so graphic. It showed dick and everything, holy fucking shit. 

“Can they even post stuff this graphic on Twitter?!” That had to be against the ToS or something. 

“Twitter yes, Tumblr no.” 

“What the hell is Tumblr?” 

Cora gave him a look. “Really? How are you the famous YouTuber but I’m the one who knows social media? Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Tumblr is basically Instagram for nerds. Or like, really niche jokes. I like your shoelaces.” 

“I’m barefoot!” 

“Nevermind.” Cora sighed, like he was being difficult. 

Her mentioning Instagram made his face fall. Jesus Christ, he was scared to look at Instagram if this was what Twitter looked like, not to mention that Tumblr site she was also talking about. “Wait, is there more of this?” 

“Oh yeah.” Cora waved one hand at him, like he was being stupid. “It’s literally everywhere.” 

He did not need this at eight in the morning on a Wednesday. He didn’t. He should still be sleeping right now. 

“Why do people think we’re dating?” he demanded, because he wanted answers, and Cora seemed to be very knowledgeable about everything all the time. Probably because, even at work, her phone was permanently glued to her hand. 

“Oh, no.” Cora leaned over from where she was sitting, opening one of the cupboards of his pantry and making a face, moving aside some of his pizza Pringles and searching for something.

Presumably more of his food she could eat. 

“They don’t think you’re dating, they’re just shipping you guys. I’m the one who thinks you’re dating in secret.” She grinned triumphantly when she found a pudding cup, pulling it out and then grabbing a spoon from his cutlery drawer. 

He wasn’t sure how long that had been living in his cupboard, but Cora didn’t seem concerned as she peeled off the adhesive covering and began to eat. If he wasn’t careful, she was going to stick around for breakfast. 

“What the fuck, why?” Derek demanded. 

Cora arched an eyebrow at him, spoon in her mouth. She pulled it free, swallowing her pudding, and then pointed the spoon at him. “Because he got all kissy at the end of his happy birthday video on Monday, and then you replied to him with a cute little heart at the end of your message.” 

“We’re not dating!” 

Cora shrugged, digging the spoon back into the pudding cup. “Well, welcome to the internet. Get used to this whole shipping thing because it is not going away, I can tell you that. Did you know people still ship SasuNaru? Naruto ended like, almost a decade ago at this point.”  

Derek didn’t want people to be shipping them! Wasn’t that going to make things weird between him and Stiles? He didn’t want things to get weird between him and Stiles! What if Stiles saw these and stopped talking to him because he got weirded out? 

Honestly, Derek was literally in love with the guy, and even he was weirded out seeing the pictures. Not the cute ones of them holding hands and sharing milkshakes or whatever, but even the kissing ones were kind of weird to him, and especially the super graphic ones. He’d only seen the one so far, but like... that was just weird! He was a real person! Stiles was a real person! Why were people shipping them? 

“Hey.” Derek looked up, Cora frowning at him from the counter. She sighed and put the pudding down, jumping off the end of it, and walked over to him, grabbing both shoulders and giving him a shake. “Don’t get weird about it. This shit happens all the time. People ship other people online all the time. You should see the BTS fandom, it’s nuts. Don’t let it bother you.” 

“He’s going to get weirded out.” 

“Pretty sure if he didn’t get weirded out and stop being friends with Erica, he’s not going to get weirded out about this.” 

Derek frowned. “What?” 

Cora threw her hands up and snatched her phone back. “Seriously, do I have to tell you everything about the internet? Good God.” She tapped at her phone for a few seconds, and then handed it back over. Derek took it, seeing it was still on Twitter, and his eyebrows shot up. 

He was staring at a picture of a half-naked Erica being kissed passionately by Stiles. It was drawn in a realistic style again, though this one was digitally done and in colour, whereas the one he’d seen of him and stiles was in pencil. He scrolled down and found tons and tons more drawings of Stiles and Erica getting intimate. He scrolled quickly past the ones where they were getting really intimate, but there were a lot of those. 

Derek knew Erica was Stiles’ best friend, had been for years, even in high school. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how weird and awkward these pictures must’ve been for both of them when they began to surface. How weird Boyd had probably felt seeing them. But he knew Erica and Stiles were still as close as ever. 

Boyd let Erica go off on tour with Stiles all the time. The two of them hung out together often. Stiles would fly Boyd out to hang with Erica in places that they’d have fun in. They hadn’t let these pictures affect their friendship in any way, probably because the three of them knew that Stiles and Erica weren’t like that. They probably weirded them all out when they saw them, but they obviously didn’t let it bother them or interfere with their solid friendship. 

But it was different with Derek! For one thing, he actually did like Stiles. Romantically. He had a crush on him, because Stiles was such an amazing person with a personality that just sucked people in. And for another thing, he and Stiles hadn’t been friends for that long. Only since his AllAboutMischief video had gone out, which in the grand scheme of things, was absolutely no time at all compared to years of friendship with Boyd and Erica. 

It would be different and Stiles might honestly feel weird talking to him now! 

“Stop being so pessimistic in there.” Cora smacked him across the side of the head, hard, and Derek grabbed at her wrist, scowling. She just gave him another look. “Stiles is famous, Derek. Shit like this happens to him all the time, he doesn’t care. People still draw him and Erica, but the two of you having your public fights and your recent public birthday exchange shifted some people’s focus to you and him. It’s fine, don’t be such a freak about it.” She took her phone back from him, shoved it into her pocket, then looked around his kitchen. “I want waffles.” 

“Then go buy some.” 

“Let’s go to the diner.”

“Go by yourself.” 

“Come on, you’re already awake,” she insisted, shoving his shoulder. “Just put some clothes on and we can have a nice brother-sister meal together.” 

“Uh huh. That I assume I’m paying for?” Derek asked dryly. 

“You’re the rich one in the family.” She winked at him, then patted his chest once on her way past him. “Come on, hurry up, I’m starving.” 

“You literally had a full meal just now,” he argued, but Cora just walked towards the door and called that she’d be waiting in the car. 

When she left the house, the only reason he didn’t lock the door and go back to bed was because he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would ring his doorbell incessantly for the rest of the day if he did. 

As much as Derek wanted to stop thinking about what Cora had shown him that morning, he couldn’t. He kept finding himself logging onto Twitter and scrolling through the MischiefLover hashtag. A lot of the art was super cute and he actually liked some of them, but there were others that really bothered him. 

He didn’t want this to mess up his friendship with Stiles. He still had no idea how they’d become friends, and he was worried something like this would ruin it all. He didn’t want to think about it, but somehow he couldn’t stop looking at them. Even the graphic ones! He just didn’t know how to handle the fact that people shipped them together. 

They made a good couple, too. Some of the manips he’d found made them look really good together, and this was doing nothing to help the huge crush he had on Stiles. 

When Stiles messaged him later that night, presumably after his concert while he was on the bus, Derek stared at it for a long while, because he didn’t know if he wanted to bring it up or not, but also knew until they talked about it, he wouldn’t know how to act. 

AllAboutMischief
when is teleportation going to be a thing?
you think the government already uses it and just pretends it’s not a thing yet for capitalism?
fucking capitalism 

TheRealMusicLover
they’d have announced it
because they’d charge something ludicrous like eight million dollars for a one-way trip

AllAboutMischief
truuuuuue
uuuuugh
money-hungry billionaires suck
i never want to be that rich
o’m going to keep donating as much as i can away to specifically NOT be a billionaire

Derek knew Stiles donated a lot of his money to charities, because he often talked about it during interviews when people asked him what his plans were with all the money he had. He never bragged about being rich, and he never bragged about how much he donated, but he answered the questions when asked. 

And sometimes even if no one asked him, he would donate to a cause, and they would independently send out a message thanking him publicly, either in the news or even just on Twitter. Another celebrity had accused him once of donating under his own name so he could get clout for doing a good thing instead of just donating anonymously, and Stiles had immediately clapped back that he did it under his name to shame other people who had even more money than him to donate. 

That had happened live on a talk show and the other celebrity had gotten very quiet for the rest of the evening after that. Derek assumed it was because Stiles had successfully shamed them into silently admitting they themselves didn’t donate, or if they did, certainly not as much as they should. 

Stiles was literally one of the most humble celebrities Derek had ever heard of, even before they’d become friends. He was like Keanu Reeves, everyone knew Keanu Reeves was literally the nicest, most generous celebrity ever. Stiles was definitely a close second, if not on par with him. 

TheRealMusicLover
i’m sure you do your part to help people 

AllAboutMischief
i try :D 
how was your day?
do anything fun?

TheRealMusicLover
long
cora showed up at 8 to show me something
so i was up early 
then got bullied into waffles i had to pay for 

AllAboutMischief
LOL AWWWWWWWW 
poor thing
i’m sorry 
why was she waking you up at 8am though?
she knows you’re on vacation right?
ruuuuuuuuuude

TheRealMusicLover
she claims she didn’t
and yeah
she just wanted to show me something
actually
can we talk about it? 

AllAboutMischief
i’ve got nothing going on right now
aside from hours on this moving deathtrap 
what’s up? 

Derek was about to start typing, but then realized he wanted a genuine, immediate response. He felt like if he waited for Stiles to type back, it would give him time to school his reaction, and he didn’t want Stiles to pretend. He wanted to know how he felt, honestly felt. If it was weird for him, then maybe they should step back a bit, take a break from chatting. It would kill Derek, because he loved talking to him, but he didn’t want things to be weird between them. 

TheRealMusicLover
actually are you free for a voice call? 

Derek waited for an answer, then almost jumped out of his chair when Discord began to ring, a call coming through from Stiles. Fuck, that startled him every time it fucking happened. 

He accepted the call, leaning forward a bit so he was closer to his microphone. 

“Hello?”

“The only one I’ll bother right now is Erica, and that bitch can be bothered as much as I damn well please for being able to sleep on this stupid bus,” Stiles informed him. 

The fact that he heard Erica reply with something that sounded kind of rude made it obvious she was still awake, and Stiles was just taking the piss out of her. 

“What’s up? How’re things? What did you want to talk about? Or was that all a ruse? Did you just want to have a call to hear my beautiful, beautiful voice?” He could imagine Stiles winking on the other end, because it seemed like a very Stiles thing to do, and despite how weird this conversation was going to be, he still managed to laugh. 

“You caught me red-handed. I was just trying to trick you into calling me so I could fall asleep to that sultry voice of yours.” 

Stiles laughed so hard, he probably hurt himself. “Sultry? Jesus Christ Derek, warn a guy before you try and murder him by making him laugh himself unconscious.” Erica said something Derek didn’t hear and Stiles blew a raspberry. “Fuck you, my voice is lovely. Or rather, it’s sultry, according to the perfect man with the perfect face on the other end of the line.” Another comment Derek didn’t hear. “You know, I can forgive his faults, nobody has perfect taste, and he’s just so pretty. Can forgive anything with a pretty face like that.”

Derek rolled his eyes, because he knew Stiles was just being an ass about it. He still brought up the Pringles more often than not. Every conversation they had, he would comment on something Derek liked that nobody else in the world liked—according to him anyway since, again, if nobody liked pizza Pringles, they wouldn’t be made anymore. Derek was not single-handedly keeping the pizza Pringles on the shelf, he didn’t buy them often enough. 

“So, what’s up, buttercup?”

Derek hesitated for only a moment before bulling on. He’d asked if they could talk, and it’d be pretty shitty if he procrastinated this. Much as Stiles said he couldn’t sleep on the bus, Derek was sure he passed out every now and then. It was harder to do while having a voice call versus the messaging so he didn’t want to keep him on too long. 

“I wanted to talk about what Cora brought to my attention this morning. I wasn’t sure if you’d seen it yet. She told me it was like, a thing that happens a lot. I guess I never noticed, or maybe didn’t pay enough attention, but I just thought we should talk about it. You know, just in case it made you feel weird, or if it made this weird or just... you know.” 

He didn’t even really know how to bring it up, because it felt weird talking about it. He was sure Stiles was sitting on the other end, confused about what Derek meant, and he knew he had to explain, but it was hard to feel inclined to. 

“Oh,” Stiles said after Derek had finished his little speech, still psyching himself up to actually talk about it. “You saw the MischiefLover hashtag, huh?”

Wait, what? 

“You know about it?” Derek asked, surprised. It had only been two days, and Stiles was still on tour. He knew he often had time on the bus and whatnot, but Erica said he’d been writing new songs a lot lately during his down time because he was feeling inspired again. 

“Yeah, since the beginning.”

The beginning? 

“Two days ago?” Derek asked. 

Stiles was quiet for a few seconds. “No, I mean... the beginning. Uh, from before? When we—the Pringles?”

Wait, what?! 

“Wait, how long has this been happening? Cora implied it had only just started after my birthday!” 

“What? Oh, no.” Stiles let out a laugh. “No way, it’s been happening literally since you posted that picture of me having sent you all those pizza Pringles. Not a lot of them, but a few pictures here and there. We didn’t get a ship name until I think two weeks ago though, people couldn’t decide on a name they were happy with until someone threw out MischiefLover. It’s way better than the one I have with Erica, this is Steyes. The ‘st’ is from Stilinski, and the ‘eyes’ is from Reyes. It’s not bad or anything, but it’s... I don’t know. MischiefLover is cooler, though Erica keeps joking that we should stick to the real names ship and said Sterek sounds pretty good. It’s not bad, not gonna lie. Stiles and Derek does sound pretty good as Sterek. Way better than fucking Stale if we went with our late names. Or maybe we could tweak it for like, Hasti? Nah, Sterek is better. Or Diles. Diles sounds pretty good too, but I think I prefer MischiefLover. It implies more, and sounds funny.”

Stiles was making jokes about this. 

Stiles was literally commenting on the overall history of this entire shipping thing, and he even knew it had started long before what had happened on Monday. He’d known people had been shipping them before they were even friends, and he didn’t care. He’d still talked to Derek, still made friendly with him, and still acted like everything was normal. Like the art didn’t bother him. 

“It occurs to me,” Stiles said after a brief silence, “that you might be uncomfortable. Sorry, I should’ve... said something. I shouldn’t have joked about it.” 

“What? No!” Oh shit, he didn’t want Stiles to get weird because he thought Derek was feeling weird! “No, I’m not! I’m just—surprised. I guess I thought you might find it uncomfortable. You know, having people draw art of us together.” 

“I’m kind of used to it, people have been doing it with me for years. I’m fine if they wanna do it as long as they don’t send it to me. They can ship me with whoever, I just don’t want to see it. Erica, Boyd and I had to talk it out for a while when it first started with her like, five years ago, but we’ve been friends since forever so while it’s uncomfortable when I happen upon it on my feed, I’m pretty used to it now. I just scroll past it and move on with my day. People ship me with all kinds of other people if they notice me talking to them or spending time with them. You’re the most recent victim. I’m sorry, I hope it’s not being sent to you and that you’re not feeling uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Derek insisted quickly. “I mean, yeah, it was weird when Cora showed me this morning, but some of the art is actually quite cute. And really well done. Though there’s a lot of super graphic stuff that was a little jarring to see, but overall I was more concerned about what this would do. You know, to our friendship.” 

“Doesn’t change anything on my side. Like I said, I’m used to it, so it doesn’t bother me. As long as it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable, hopefully you’re fine with ignoring it and we can keep on keeping on.” 

Derek smiled slightly and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s—actually, that’s what I was worried about. That you’d see the art and get all weird with me.”

“Nah, it’s all good.” Stiles was obviously smiling, the action clear in his voice. “Sorry, I probably should’ve warned you so you wouldn’t run into it unaware. It just wasn’t happening that much when we started chatting, and most of my fans know not to att me or the person involved because I don’t like it. I guess my joke birthday song on Monday with the kiss at the end kind of made it worse.”

“Hey now, you don’t get to take all the credit. I added a nice juicy heart at the end of my teasing retort to your completely inappropriate birthday wishes.” 

Stiles let out an offended gasp. “How dare you! Inappropriate?! I was just making sure you knew you were loved and adored by your millions of fans!”

“I don’t have millions of fans, I’m not you,” Derek insisted with a snort. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Over-One-Million-Subcribers-on-YouTube!”

“Yeah, one million. Over one million. I don’t have millions of fans plural, I have a million. Someone needs to go back to school.” 

“No thanks, I’d rather spend my time going to places that are more educationally fun. Like DisneyWorld.” Stiles seemed to perk up then, because he immediately jumped tracks, as if forgetting what they’d just been talking about. “Have you ever been to DisneyWorld?”

“No, it’s not really my thing.” 

Stiles let out a mix of a horrified and offended gasp at that, and Derek heard him slap at his own chest with one hand. “Excuse me?! In what universe would anyone dare claim DisneyWorld is not their thing?!” 

“Apparently this one, because DisneyWorld’s not my thing.” Stiles let out another horrified gasp, and Derek bulled on since he knew he’d demand an explanation anyway. “I just don’t get the appeal. You stand in a huge line outside for hours to get into the park, and once you’re in the park, you stand in a huge line outside for hours at basically every single ride.”

“That’s what the Fast Pass is for!”

“Yeah, and if everyone has a Fast Pass, then you’re still in a huge line outside for hours, just maybe a slightly smaller one.” 

“But it’s about the fun! The experience! The friendships made along the way!”

“So when you and Erica went to DisneyWorld, you left with new friends?” Derek asked with a small smile. 

Stiles paused briefly. “Well, no, but it strengthened our bond! Our sacred bond of friendship and love and support.” Erica said something he didn’t hear. “And love for sugar.”

Derek laughed at that, because Stiles was just—so ridiculous. He really loved this guy, and that was scary, but also exciting. 

Mostly scary. 

“I mean it dude, your next vacation, you tell me, and we’re going to fucking DisneyWorld. I don’t care if I have to convince my dad to arrest you and drive you to the airport for me, I will make you like fun!”

“I like fun,” Derek argued, ignoring the way his traitorous heart did a double-thump at the mere thought of going to DisneyWorld with Stiles.

Fuck, he’d go literally anywhere with Stiles if given the chance. 

“I just don’t think standing in line for hours on end is fun, that’s all.” 

“I’ll change your mind, just you wait! We can get some ice cream, and churros, and some caramel popcorn, and—” 

“Not a big fan of popcorn.” 

Stiles was silent for a moment, and Derek actually thought maybe he’d lost the connection, but when the other man spoke, he realized he was just horribly offended. 

“Why are we even friends? Whose idea was this?”

“Yours,” Derek offered with a smirk. “You liked my pretty face. Regretting that now, aren’t you?” 

“I want a refund on this friendship, this is outrageous. Next thing you know, you’ll tell me you don’t like burgers. Don’t answer that!” Stiles practically shouted the last sentence, like he was severely worried about their friendship if Derek confirmed he didn’t like burgers. 

“Don’t worry, burgers I like. Normal burgers and everything. Just cheese and usual vegetables on them.” 

“Good. Thank God. Otherwise we really would’ve had a problem.”

“Don’t like fries though.”

“Excuse me?!”

Derek laughed. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I promise, I like fries, I was just fucking with you.” 

“I swear to God, if I die from a heart attack over the next stupid thing out of your mouth, Erica’s going to charge you with murder. It’ll be in the papers and everything.”

“I’ll try not to kill you, if only because I’d never want to deny the world of such a beautiful voice.” 

“Oh you,” Stiles said, voice in a high falsetto. “Such a charmer. Stop, you’ll make me fall in love with you.”

Oh, if only. Derek would do anything for Stiles to be as in love with him as he was with Stiles. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek didn’t hear much from Stiles for the next two weeks of his vacation. He’d been worried at first that their conversation about the artwork had weirded him out despite his claims that it hadn’t, but when Erica had sent back an edited video and he’d asked her in confidence, she promised he was just busy with tour stuff and that he’d been writing a lot. 

Apparently he’d been hit with inspiration for the first time in almost two years, and he was worried about losing out on it so he’d been working furiously trying to get songs written and composed so he at least had the base of them and could fine-tune them later when his tour was over. 

Stiles also told him at one point that he was exhausted because this last stretch was going to be all bus until they hit home in Las Vegas, so he wasn’t getting much sleep. Erica had even sent Derek a picture of Stiles passed out on the floor backstage using a random bag as a pillow. 

Derek was glad the tour was almost over, because Stiles really needed that break, and while he knew the closer the end of the tour got, the nearer the end of his own vacation was, he actually started counting down the days for Stiles’ benefit. 

Even though he hated that Stiles wasn’t texting him as much as he was before, he was happy to hear he was writing new songs. And this actually gave him time to get closer to Erica, who really did a phenomenal job with all his editing. It was so much easier being able to just write the script, record the video, and then fire it off to someone else. 

He should’ve gotten an editor sooner, and he knew it, but good Lord was he ever glad he hadn’t because he might not have found Erica. And she made his life so easy too. He wasn’t used to talking to an editor, so usually when he did a piece he wasn’t happy with, he used to either stop and start over, or he’d write himself a note about what he didn’t like. Erica told him to just say he didn’t like something if he found he wasn’t happy with the way he’d delivered something and she’d just cut it out. 

It saved him so much time, and he honestly couldn’t believe how nice it was having an editor, because it gave him time back to do other things, like more streams, and even more videos. Not having to worry about fixing them all up at the end meant he just had to record and send them out. 

He always watched them when she returned them, but so far there wasn’t a single one he wasn’t happy with, and he’d started crediting her as his editor in his comments section for all the videos she’d fixed up for him. Even his subscribers had mentioned the new edits were awesome, and he was positive he was underpaying Erica. 

They’d have to re-negotiate when they were better friends, because he’d probably be able to bully her into accepting more when they were closer. He really liked her though, she was super funny, but had a kind of dark and dry sense of humour. She and Stiles were a lot alike, and he figured that was why they’d hit it off in school. 

Derek was happy when he woke up on a nice, sunny day and turned to look at his calendar, seeing that it was Stiles’ last day on tour. After tonight, he would be done with concerts until the new year, as far as Derek understood. 

And since the last show was in Vegas itself, Stiles was just going to head home right afterwards. They should’ve arrived in Vegas earlier that morning, and when Derek checked Discord after waking up more and grabbing breakfast, he found a whole bunch of exclamation points and weird little happy flails in their chat because he was in his own house for the first time in over four months. 

Erica had also sent him a picture of her hugging the shit out of Boyd, suggesting she’d gone home as well, which made sense since it was just a matter of Stiles finishing his concert tonight and he’d be done for the rest of the year. 

AllAboutMischief
you’re on vacation still right? 

TheRealMusicLover
yeah 
until wednesday

AllAboutMischief
want a house tour? :D 
tomorrow i mean
you and i should BOTH do house tours 
since o just realized you never showed me your place
O I SWEAR TO GOD
WE DON’T NEED YOU IN THE DICTIONARUY!

Derek laughed at that, because Stiles’ ever-present typo was never going to stop being funny when he got annoyed about it. It was because he typed too fast, he seemed to have his brain working at a speed his fingers couldn’t follow, but they tried. 

Honestly, he wondered how Stiles could write music with how fast his brain seemed to go, he probably forgot things a lot because of it. Which kind of sucked, to be honest, not that it mattered since it hadn’t really impacted his song writing ability in any way. 

His last album didn’t count, it was lack of inspiration, not his brain moving faster than he could transcribe to paper. And besides, his last album wasn’t terrible, as he kept reminding Stiles. It just wasn’t his best. 

TheRealMusicLover
we can do house tours
your place is probably huge compared to mine

AllAboutMischief
nah it’s not that big
dad made me get a PRACTICAL place
he’s actually been really good for me
because i made it big really fast
and had all this money
which i never had growing up you know? 

Unfortunately, Derek did know. It wasn’t a secret that back then, the sheriff was barely hanging onto his house by the skin of his teeth. The Stilinskis were just above the poverty line, and a lot of people in town had said they were sure Stiles wouldn’t get into university because his father couldn’t afford it. 

He’d made it in though, presumably through a scholarship—Derek hadn’t asked, and never would—but then he’d gone out and become a superstar. He couldn’t even imagine how that would feel, being someone who was used to having nothing he wanted because his dad was so tight on money, to suddenly being able to have everything he wanted. 

TheRealMusicLover
it was probably a big shock for you
having enough money to do whatever you wanted 

AllAboutMischief
yeah
it was scary but nice
i immediately wanted to buy dad a new house
and like buy myself a nice car 
and my own massive place
just dumb shit that would burn through my money because i didn’t know better 
dad was the one who talked me down 
let me pay off the mortgage on the house but refused to move
made me put a lot of my money into a trust so i wouldn’t feel tempted to spend it all at once
i was annoyed at first to be honest 
but i understand now he was trying to protect me in case i flopped
at least I’d still have that money you know? 

TheRealMusicLover
your dad’s a great guy
and i’m glad he had your best interest at heart 
and he wasn’t like some other celebrities parents 

AllAboutMischief
a-fucking-men
dad’s the best
can’t wait to see him
maybe in december if he can get time off

Derek wanted to ask if Stiles ever had plans to come home, since it had been literal years since he’d done that, but he managed not to. It felt weird to ask him that, so he just sent back a smiley face.

An email popped up on his phone, and when he checked who it was from, he had to laugh at seeing Erica’s name. 

TheRealMusicLover
erica is a beast with her editing
she is literally editing faster than i can record 

AllAboutMischief
LOL yeah she’s awesome 
she’s home now though so it won’t be QUITE as fast
but still fast :) 
anyway
i need to head out 
i have stuff to do before tonight
LAST SHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW 
can’t wait to have some time off
i need it so bad 
and it’s really thanks to you that i’m getting it 

TheRealMusicLover
??
what did i do?

AllAboutMischief
originally my manager was going to book me for a bunch of shows in vegas once we got back 
and i reluctantly agreed
even though i was already feeling burnt out by the time he asked me
but your video came out two days later before he’d found the time to book the shows
and i told him to forget it 
he tried to talk me into doing it but I held my ground
i would’ve just kept working to please everyone despite my health
and my declining performance
if not for you 

TheRealMusicLover
you’re giving me too much credit 
but i’m glad you said no 

AllAboutMischief
yeah me too :) 
but i do have to go
be ready for tomorrow! 
house tour!
better clean up before then ;) 

Actually, Stiles wasn’t wrong, so Derek bid him a good night, and a fantastic last show, and then got up from his computer. His place wasn’t dirty or anything, but it was kind of... messy. Cluttered. He had stuff all over the place because it was his house and why the fuck not, right? 

But he kind of needed to clean up, and having Stiles want a house tour was a good way to force him to do that. So despite not wanting to spend his day cleaning his place up, he still managed to do so while taking breaks to watch some YouTube. When he was done and his place looked pretty damn good, and nice and tidy, he did an impromptu stream just because after confirming he could get at least two mods in his chat. 

It was a fun afternoon, and he had a good time. He got to talk about Erica in his stream and how she was his new editor—using her online name of BlondeVixen, at her request when she’d started editing for him—and it was just an all-around good time. 

He went out to dinner with Kira, because she wanted wings and Derek was fine not cooking—again, he was an adult, he could do as he pleased, including go out multiple times a week if he so chose. They ended up going to see a movie that ended way later than Derek would’ve liked, but he still had a few days left of sleeping in so he didn’t worry about it too much. 

When he got home, he was in the middle of getting ready for bed when he saw his home screen light up out of the corner of his eye and noticed Stiles’ name. He spat toothpaste out of his mouth, grabbing at his phone one-handed, and froze. 

AllAboutMischief
wanna see the absolute love of my life?

Why the fuck was he upset by those words? He knew Stiles was way out of his league, and he knew he must have a significant other. Stiles never talked about his love life, so it was entirely possible he had a girlfriend at home who was like, a nurse or something and couldn’t go on tour with him.

Hell, maybe he was dating fucking Lydia! Derek remembered hearing from Cora at one point that Stiles used to make heart eyes at her in high school. Now that he was rich and successful, maybe they’d finally become compatible. 

Derek almost wanted to ignore the message, but he felt like that would be petty. Stiles was excited, he’d just finished a long ass tour and was finally home, and obviously wanted to share something important with Derek, that being the love of his life. He’d be a dick not to reply. 

He finished brushing his teeth first though, and then braced himself for the heartache before responding. 

TheRealMusicLover
sure

He waited, expecting Stiles to take a minute to get his girlfriend organized for a photo, but it came through instantly, like he’d had it queued up and was just waiting on Derek’s reply. 

It was a picture of a bed. 

Just a bed. No one was in the bed, it was literally just a bed. 

AllAboutMischief
MY LOVE
I MISSED YOU SO!

Derek stared at the messages that came in after the picture, and realized... Stiles was talking about his bed. 

Just like Derek and Kira always called her TV her boyfriend, Stiles was calling his bed the love of his life. Because it was his bed. And he loved it. 

Derek let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding and managed a smile. He quickly washed his hands, took out his contacts, put his glasses on, and messaged Stiles back while turning off the light and heading to his room. 

TheRealMusicLover
happy for you
hopefully you get some real sleep tonight 

AllAboutMischief
i’m gonna sleep SO LATE tomorrow it’s gonna be amazing
you might be waiting a while for that house tour

TheRealMusicLover
i’m sure i’ll live 

AllAboutMischief
RUDE YOU’RE MEANT TO BE DEVASTATED!

TheRealMusicLover
i mean 
oh no how awful
please don’t make me wait
i am so very excited

AllAboutMischief
good
better

Derek laughed, because Stiles was so fucking ridiculous, he could hardly stand it. 

TheRealMusicLover
go
sleep
we’ll chat tomorrow

AllAboutMischief
don’t need to tell me twice
goooood niiiiiiiiiight!!!

TheRealMusicLover
good night stiles 

He waited to make sure Stiles was truly gone, and then closed out of Discord on his phone. Heading into his room and shutting his door, he plugged his phone in and turned off his light, climbing into bed and feeling relieved that he’d been wrong about Stiles having a girlfriend. 

Derek knew he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up like he was, because he and Stiles were just friends, but it was hard when they did that weird tease-flirt thing every now and then. Still, falling asleep came much easier with the knowledge that he might still have a chance, even if he knew it was borderline delusional. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep for, but probably longer than he should’ve been, considering how late he’d gone to bed. He groaned and rolled over to check the time, squinting at his screen. 

It was almost one in the afternoon. Shit, that wasn’t good, it was going to fuck up his whole schedule. 

Groaning and forcing himself out of bed, he stumbled into his bathroom to wake up more, brushing his teeth and relieving himself before heading back to his room to change out of his pyjamas. He checked his phone for messages on his way to the kitchen, but nothing from Stiles yet, so he was probably still sleeping. 

Texting with Kira for a bit, and thanking Erica for yet another video she’d gotten edited—seriously, she was insanely fast, what the hell—he grabbed himself a bowl of cereal and then watched an episode of She-Hulk while he ate. Pulling up YouTube afterwards to check out some of the channels that broke down all the episodes so he could watch one about the episode he’d just finished, he got a message from Stiles halfway through. 

AllAboutMischief
I AM ALIVE AND SHOWERED AND FED
are you? 

TheRealMusicLover
for a while now 

AllAboutMischief
oh i see
someone thinks he’s SPECIAL for being awake before me
i see how it is 

Derek just rolled his eyes while trying to fight off a smile, and just hit the video call button. Stiles answered after a few seconds, and before Derek could even greet him, the other man gasped dramatically and pointed at the camera, clearly using his phone this time instead of his computer. 

“Traitor! You dirty, filthy traitor!” 

For a second, Derek had no idea what he was talking about. But then he looked down and realized he was wearing a The Weeknd shirt. 

Looking back into the camera solemnly, Derek said, “It’s true. I’ve cheated on your merch with merch from another singer. I know it’ll be hard, but you’re going to have to come to terms with this in your own time.” 

Stiles pretended to sob, and he was so over-dramatic that Derek couldn’t help laughing, standing while grabbing his empty bowl and heading for his kitchen with it, phone held aloft so he could keep it on his face. He found it interesting that Stiles seemed to be wearing his contacts, whereas Derek had just opted for his glasses today—and most of his vacation in general. He figured maybe Stiles was just more comfortable with the contacts overall. 

“I trusted you,” Stiles said pitifully, still fake-sobbing. “I thought I was your only merch.”

“You’re not the only one in my life, Stiles.” 

He gasped again, fake-crying gone instantly, and slapped a hand to his chest. “How dare you. I am the only one you need in your life!” 

Derek made a debatable sound, and Stiles blew a raspberry at him.

Leaning back against his counter, Derek motioned for Stiles to get to it. “So, Mr. Mischief. I was promised a house tour. Let’s see this mansion of yours.” 

“Not a mansion,” Stiles argued, though Derek honestly doubted that. 

Surprisingly, he was wrong, because Stiles had been telling the truth. His house was not a mansion. It was just under three-thousand square feet, was all one level, and had a pool in the backyard. 

The kitchen, dining room and living room were all open concept in a straight line so that Stiles could literally watch TV from his kitchen, though from very far away given he had to look over his dining room table. His kitchen had a beautiful white island, and what looked like a wooden dining room table, then his couch and TV. 

To the right of that leading out towards the bedrooms was another larger area that looked out over the backyard, where the pool was. Stiles had another TV here, and a bunch of chairs and a couch, but a majority of this space housed musical equipment. He even had a drum-set in the corner, along with a whole bunch of guitars. Right beside the guitar was a small door that led to a small entryway that had a bathroom on one side through a door, and the laundry room on the other side through another door. 

Behind him still in this room there was a set of double doors that led to a small corridor that branched left and right. Both sides had a bedroom each with their own small bathroom, complete with shower. Walking back out and down the corridor was another small corridor leading left and right. The one on the right led to a large office space that was absolutely covered in papers and white-boards and various books. Derek deduced that, while the outside area was where he played the instruments, this area was obviously where he wrote all his music. 

There was also a bathroom in that room, but Stiles said it was because it was meant to be a bedroom and he’d just turned it into an office. Then on the left side of that small corridor was the master bedroom, which was massive, along with its own bathroom, complete with a shower and a jacuzzi bath. 

It sounded huge in his head, but as Stiles walked around, he realized it really wasn’t. It was a good size for someone as rich as him, and every room had a purpose. Even the two bedrooms made sense, because one of them was specifically for his dad, and nobody else ever used it, and the other was a formal guest room. 

His house was really nice, and while still big, it wasn’t over the top. It was probably about the same size as Stiles’ dad’s house in Beacon Hills, it just felt bigger because it was all on one floor. But even Derek acknowledged his own place was around two-thousand-five-hundred square feet so it wasn’t much smaller than Stiles’. It was weird to realize that. 

“And that’s my house.” Stiles beamed into the camera, moving back through his instrument-filled mid-room towards his living room. “Your turn! I wanna see your place!”

“Did you just wanna do house tours because you wanted to see my place?” Derek teased. 

“Maybe, need to make sure you have space for me if I come visit.” Stiles winked saucily. 

“I could’ve just taken a picture of my bed, same as you did last night.” 

“True, but I still wanna see the whole place! Show me where the magic happens!”

“My bed?” Derek asked with a smirk, but he knew Stiles was talking about YouTube, so he obediently walked past his living room to his study where his recording studio was set up and opened the door. Predictably, Stiles made a sound of disgust at the Pringles sitting on his desk, but Derek had done that on purpose. He’d left one on his desk in his room, as well. 

He gave him the full tour, showing him everything on the first floor, then everything on the second, ending in his room where Stiles again made a sound of disgust about the Pringles. 

“And that’s it for my side.”

“How come you have a desk in your room and one in your recording studio?”

“I don’t edit in the studio. I used to have a desktop, and it was connected in my room so I could play games with online friends. When I got my laptop, I already had the desk so I kind of just... kept it here. I don’t know. I could bring it downstairs, but I kind of like keeping them separate. I just do my recordings downstairs, everything else I do here.” 

“I see, I see,” Stiles said, sounding thoughtful. He was silent for a long moment, Derek arching an eyebrow. 

“Something wrong?” 

“Hm? Oh, no. I just noticed that there’s a lot of green in your place.”

It was a struggle to stop from bursting into laughter. “Oh what, now there’s a problem with the colour green?” Derek demanded. 

“No, no,” Stiles insisted quickly. “No, green’s fine. Green’s okay. We like green, it’s all nature and shit. I mean, red’s better, but green’s not bad.”

Derek let out a laugh at that, rolling his eyes while falling into his desk chair. “Okay, asshole. What’re you, the colour police now?” 

“I said green was fine,” Stiles argued, but he was grinning anyway. “Red’s just a better colour.”

“You don’t have any red in your place,” Derek insisted. 

“True,” Stiles acknowledged. “But that’s because I’m always wearing red. Case and point.” He motioned himself, and Derek noticed that, while he was wearing jeans and a black shirt, he had a red, plaid overshirt on. And he was pretty sure every time he’d seen Stiles during his tour while they’d chatted, he’d been wearing a red hoodie. 

“Well, I like green. It’s a nice colour.” 

“Red’s better.”

“Agree to disagree,” Derek said, and Stiles grinned. 

“Oh, we agree to disagree on a lot of things, Mr. Music Man. You’re just lucky your face is so pretty, I can’t stay offended at your horrible life choices.”

“You know one day, I’m going to think you’re only friends with me because of my pretty face,” Derek informed him. 

“Then you’d be very wrong, but whatever I need to do to keep you off my scent.” 

Derek frowned, not sure he understood that. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, nothing. Hey, did you see the new Black Adam movie yet? I heard it’s out, but I’ve been touring so long I’ve missed so many good movies.”

Stiles started talking a mile a minute, Derek struggling to keep up since he really did talk very fast, and about anything and everything. 

It took him less than two minutes to completely forget what Stiles had said about keeping him off his scent. 

Now that Stiles was at home and had confirmed with Derek multiple times that he had nothing going on—which he was so excited about, because he was exhausted after returning home from his tour—Derek had honestly expected him to be blowing up his phone. Stiles had been texting him so much while on tour, and he’d been fairly busy during that entire stretch of time. Now that Stiles had no obligations, Derek had been expecting even more texts. 

Which probably explained why he was feeling a little worried and nervous at the fact that he was receiving less texts. If Stiles could manage to text him incessantly while he was touring, then being at home should’ve meant more free time to chat back and forth. 

They still messaged on Discord regularly, but Derek had noticed the responses were further and further apart. He tried not to get weird about it, because obviously Stiles had things to do, but he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe now that Stiles was home, he didn’t need the distraction that Derek had obviously been providing him with. 

Maybe now that he was home, Derek’s fear of just having been convenient would come to pass and eventually Stiles wouldn’t be replying to him at all. It was kind of a sobering thought, and he hated it. He especially hated that he was probably right and he shouldn’t have pursued this friendship to begin with. 

He was at the edge of not bothering to reply to Stiles’ last message—because Derek could be a petty asshole, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it—when Erica rode in on her white horse like a knight in shining armour to explain why Stiles was being so quiet. 

And not even because Derek had said anything. It had only come out because Erica had been complaining. Apparently she’d complained to death to both Boyd and Lydia, and both had forbidden her from talking about it anymore because she was bringing down their moods when they both knew she should be more understanding. 

BlondeVixen
Uuuuuuuuuuugh I hateeeee when he gets like this
I swear if I didn’t check in on him every now and then he’d be fucking dead by now 

TheRealMusicLover
??
what do you mean?

BlondeVixen
Stiles 
He’s in what I call his “obsessive writing mode”
Wherein the world around him ceases to exist
And he just sits in his house writing lyrics and composing music covered in Cheetos dust and smelling like he hasn’t taken a shower in four days 
Seriously 
His house could be on fire and he wouldn’t notice 

TheRealMusicLover
oh
is he writing songs? 

Derek instantly felt better at the knowledge that Stiles wasn’t avoiding him or being an asshole, he was legitimately just distracted with his writing. And even that was something to be celebrated, because Stiles felt inspired. He’d said so a few times near the end of his tour, especially after having written his song about burnout, but to know it was happening and he was still writing felt really nice to hear. 

BlondeVixen
Yes -.-
It’s actually annoying
I’m not joking, the world doesn’t exist when he’s writing music
I mean, it’s GOOD, and I’m glad he’s feeling inspired again
And what I’ve heard from him the past few times I’ve been over have been super good
BUT STILL
He’s basically a hermit and he won’t come out until he’s done
So I hope he finishes quickly
Because I’m a selfish bitch and have no one to hang out with LOL 

TheRealMusicLover
i’m just glad he’s writing again
and burnout was really good
so i’m hopeful he’s gotten his spark back 

BlondeVixen
Oh you have no idea
Pretty sure he’s got like, eight songs done

TheRealMusicLover
EIGHT?!

BlondeVixen
But he’s obsessing about this one song he’s trying to make PERFECT so he keeps going back to it
Yeah, seven or eight for sure are done
He might have more in varying stages of completion

TheRealMusicLover
that’s insane
can’t wait to hear them 

BlondeVixen
WELL YOU MIGHT HEAR THEM FIRST
Since he’s been an asshat about that |<
Still can’t believe he played burnout to YOU before ME!
How dare
I’m so offended 

Derek just smiled to himself at that, because he knew she wasn’t actually. Having Erica as his editor had made them chat a lot more often than they ever would’ve otherwise, and honestly, she seemed like the best friend anyone could have—after Kira, of course, because Derek wasn’t going to ignore how epic Kira was. 

But Erica just cared. She’d made a big show about Stiles not playing burnout to her first, but was honestly just glad he’d written something, and that it was good. And she’d acknowledged that she’d been trying to hype Stiles up with the songs on his last album, and while she hadn’t thought any were sub-par since music wasn’t really her thing, she’d acknowledged that they hadn’t been as good as his other music, and that she probably should’ve said something. 

She was the kind of friend everyone needed, to be honest. Derek was glad Stiles had someone like her at his side. 

BlondeVixen
Speaking of which, can I get your phone number? 

Derek arched an eyebrow at those words, because what? 

TheRealMusicLover
what does stiles writing music have to do with my number?

BlondeVixen
I don’t have Discord on my phone
Only on my computer
If you want me to send you embarrassing pictures of Stiles covered in Cheetos dust, I need your number 

TheRealMusicLover
and what if i don’t want pictures of stiles covered in cheetos dust? 

BlondeVixen
Just give me your number before I bully Lydia into getting it from your sister 
I know what siblings are like, Boyd’s sister is a devil child 
Cora’d have your number to me faster than YOU would if I asked her for it now 

Erica wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t like he was worried about giving out his number to her. Erica wasn’t exactly a stranger, they’d gone to school together, and while they hadn’t been friends back then, he at least vaguely knew her. She wasn’t a random person on the internet, she was a Beacon Hills girl, born and raised. 

Sighing and knowing she’d go after Cora if he didn’t oblige—the last thing he wanted was the two of them becoming friends, that sounded terrifying—he just typed out his number and sent it along to her. 

She sent back a happy face with a thumbs up, and then asked him if he had any more videos for her to edit because Boyd and Lydia were at work, Stiles was being a hermit, and she was bored. 

Derek couldn’t help laughing about it, because Erica and Stiles were similar in a lot of ways, which definitely explained why they were such good friends. He dropped the last video he’d recorded into his share drive with her, but didn’t have anything else ready to go. He had a few scripts half-written, but he hadn’t done enough research on them yet to begin recording, and with how fast Erica edited, his buffer was huge. 

She disappeared a few minutes later, presumably to go and edit the video he’d just sent her because she was bored, so he went to watch some TV instead of actually doing any research to record another video. He was really tired, and it had been a really long week at work, not to mention he was set to stream in a few hours. 

Sitting down and turning on Netflix, he scrolled through all the titles while trying to find something to watch, and had just decided on what looked like a fairly decent movie when he got an alert from Discord on his phone. 

He thought it was Erica at first, and that the crazy lady had actually blasted through that video at record speed, but knew it was impossible since it hadn’t even been fifteen minutes yet and the raw video was just under forty. When he glanced at his phone, he immediately unlocked it at the name staring back at him. 

AllAboutMischief
i haven’t eaten in 17 hrs LOLOLOLOLOL
i am super hungry

TheRealMusicLover
WTF 
GO EAT!!!

AllAboutMischief
way ahead of you bud

Stiles sent through a picture of a pot of boiling water with an open box of Kraft Dinner beside it on the counter and a thumbs up. 

TheRealMusicLover
so you know how you judge me for everything i apparently do wrong in life? 

AllAboutMischief
hey hey hey
o never said kd was HEALTHY
but it’s FOOD

TheRealMusicLover
is it though?

AllAboutMischief
it is
and it’s delicious
and at least I’m eating

TheRealMusicLover
yeah
erica says you’ve been a hermit
and ignoring everyone and everything
and that you smell bad

AllAboutMischief
ok first off
RUDE
i smell like a bed of roses
and second
writing is hard ok?
i can only focus on so many things at once
msuci kind of takes priority
*misoc
... 
MUSIC 

TheRealMusicLover
lol 

AllAboutMischief
fuck you

TheRealMusicLover
promise? 

The second he sent it, he wished he could take it back. They always teased each other, and Derek had learned fairly early on in their friendship that Stiles was a massive flirt, but somehow that felt almost like crossing a line. Probably because Derek actually had a crush on Stiles, and he shouldn’t be acting like what the other man was saying to him was actually how he felt when he was just joking around. 

Thankfully Stiles, being the flirt he was, just responded in kind so at least Derek didn’t have time to feel too awkward about it. 

AllAboutMischief
rather you fuck me tbh 
but o’m not opposed to switching things up every now and then 

Derek made absolutely sure not to picture Stiles naked and bent over a desk. He worked so incredibly hard not to picture that, because Stiles was his friend, and a celebrity, and so out of his league and wow he looked good bent over like that, with his pale flesh, and perfect ass, and—shit. He was totally thinking about it. 

“Safer waters,” Derek muttered to himself while replying. “Back to safer waters.” 

TheRealMusicLover
so what have you been working on? 
anything fun? 

AllAboutMischief
all my music is fun!
but yeah did a few i’m pretty happy with
prettified up burnout so that one’s officially all set to go
wrote one about the importance of self-care
which i was worried might be too close to burnout but turns out it’s not
who knew?
trying to write one about home and how i love being home and not on the road all the time
o’m debating writing another song about erica
haven’t decided
or just friendships in general because friends are really what keep you sane 

TheRealMusicLover
that’s cool
that the one you’re struggling with?

AllAboutMischief
what you mean? 

TheRealMusicLover
erica said you had one song you were working on constantly because you were strugglig with it
*struggling

AllAboutMischief
ohhhhh
no
different one
it’s being a bitch 
but i’ll figure it out

TheRealMusicLover
want some help? 
sorry was that rude?
just meant if you wanted to bounce lyrics or tunes off someone
i’m free for a while

AllAboutMischief
thanks but i’ll get it eventually :) 
it’s gonna be my best one yet
i can feel it 

TheRealMusicLover
can’t wait to hear it then :) 

AllAboutMischief
yeah
can’t wait to play it for you 

Derek smiled slightly, because that meant Stiles was planning on playing it to him before he recorded it, just like the burnout song. 

He honestly couldn’t wait to hear it. 

Derek was in the middle of a really frustrating email exchange with a supplier that he would be calling if the asshole ever answered his fucking phone when his cell went off. It was on vibrate, so nobody heard it, but his friends and family knew he was working and usually just called his work line if they needed to talk to him. 

The fact that his cell was ringing meant it was someone else, and when he pulled his phone from his pocket, he frowned at it because he didn’t recognize the number. Hesitating, he almost let it go to voicemail, then figured he didn’t want it to be like, a package Kira had ordered for him that someone was trying to reach him for so it could be delivered. Kira did that sometimes, he’d gotten home once to a guy from UberEats knocking on his door because she’d noticed Derek’s fridge was woefully empty the day before. 

Swiping to answer, he put the phone to his ear, hearing an insane amount of background noise coming down the line. 

“Hello?” 

“Derek! Hey buddy!”

It took him a second to identify whose voice it was, because he’d honestly never spoken to her and had only briefly heard her recently once while she was scolding Stiles. 

“Erica?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised, I have your number, did you think I’d never use it?” She let out a scoff, like she was questioning his intelligence. 

“No, I am fully aware of the fact that you will use any and all information you receive about any one person, but I’m at work right now, so I can’t really ta—”

“Okay well, can you take lunch or something? Because Stiles is about to have a meltdown, and I need you to calm him down.”

Wait, what?! 

“What?” he demanded aloud, standing from his desk and moving away from it quickly. Some of his co-workers glanced at him, but no one said anything. “Is he okay? What happened?” 

He didn’t know why Erica was calling him if she was with Stiles having a meltdown, but he wasn’t going to ignore the call if he could actually do something to help him. Erica was his best friend though, so what she thought he could do that she couldn’t, he didn’t know, but he just kept the phone at his ear while heading for the stairwell. They had a small meeting room on the first floor, so he was going to see if it was free and use it for this call. If it was taken, he’d go out to his car. 

“He’s okay. I mean, mostly. He’s just panicking because he’s afraid of heights and is about to go really high. I’ve been trying to calm him down, but he’s still freaking out so I thought I’d try you next.”

“What?” he asked, utterly confused as to why she thought he could do any better than she could. She was his best friend, and practically lived with him! She and Boyd had moved to Vegas so that they could stay close to Stiles, for fuck’s sake! 

Erica wasn’t listening though, because he heard her saying something—presumably to Stiles—and then he heard very quick breathing coming down the line. 

Oh. So Stiles really hadn’t been joking about the whole heights thing with regard to pedestals. Right. 

“Hey,” Derek said, pushing through the glass door that led to the thankfully empty meeting room and sitting down near the end of the long table. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but from the sounds of it, not great.” 

“I don’t wanna do this,” Stiles said, words tripping over each other even as he continued to almost hyperventilate in Derek’s ear. “I really don’t wanna do this. I don’t. I don’t want to do it.”

“Okay, well is there a way you can not do it?” Derek asked. He didn’t know the context, so he had no idea if there was an option for whatever Stiles was heading towards possibly being forfeit. “If you don’t want to do it, then you shouldn’t do it. Don’t make anyone force you into it.” 

“No, I have to. I have to do it. I just—I can’t...” Oh, he was breathing even harder now, and Derek could hear Erica trying to soothe him on the other end of the line. 

“Okay,” Derek said quickly, because he was supposed to be helping, not making things fucking worse. “Okay, it’s fine. What about um—why don’t you write a song about it?” 

That, at least, gave Stiles pause. His breathing hitched ever so slightly for a few seconds before returning to its hyperventilating speed, but at least he’d somewhat helped for a split second? 

“What?” Stiles asked, clearly confused. 

“You’ve never written a song about your fears, right? Why not try now? It doesn’t even have to be a long song, just two verses of your fear of heights. Just long enough for it to keep your mind off it.” 

“I can’t,” Stiles insisted. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“You wrote a song about Pringles,” Derek argued. “Remember? Pizza Pringles taste like fucking cum,” Derek said, singing the last line of Stiles’ Pringles song. “If you can write a jingle about gross Pringles, you can write a song about being afraid of heights. I know you can. Just—get up there while you think of the words, and before you know it, you’ll be right at the top of the building and won’t even realize it.” 

For some reason, those words had a semi-hysterical laugh escape Stiles, and Erica ended up taking the phone back. 

“You were supposed to help, not turn him into the Joker,” she said uncertainly. “What the hell did you say to him?”

“I don’t know!” Derek insisted. “You kind of just sprung this on me! I didn’t even know he was serious when he was talking about his fear of heights, I thought he was kidding!” 

Derek heard someone speaking loudly in the background. It sounded kind of like an overhead speaker, and he wondered if maybe Stiles was about to do another last-minute show of some kind. Maybe he was going to be suspended from the ceiling like he was an angel descending from the heavens? 

Derek heard Erica say Stiles’ name, and then reminded him that he wanted this and that he could do it. He insisted that he couldn’t and this was a bad idea, but Erica just doubled down on him being able to do it. 

“You can, Stiles. Right Derek? Tell him he can do it!”

“You can do it,” Derek agreed. “I know you can. Just think about words to the song instead of the actual height you’re at, okay?” 

Stiles didn’t sound okay, but Erica said they had to go, bid Derek goodbye, and then hung up. 

Derek pulled his phone from his ear, staring down at it and having absolutely no idea what the hell had just happened. He opened his texts and fired one off after saving Erica’s number in his phone. 

[Derek]
is he ok??

He sat there in the meeting room, waiting for a response. It felt like hours before he actually got one, but eventually Erica replied. 

[Erica]
He’ll live
[Erica]
I’ll try and get him to write that song about heights 
[Erica]
Thanks Derek :) 

[Derek]
i literally didn’t do anything
[Derek]
except maybe make it worse 

[Erica]
No, you helped 
[Erica]
He just needed the reminder to get through this 

[Derek]
reminder? 
[Derek]
what do you mean? 

[Erica]
Gotta go! Chat soon xoxo

[Derek]
what? 
[Derek]
erica?
[Derek]
??????

He waited almost ten minutes, but she didn’t respond. He couldn’t really spend the rest of his day sitting in the meeting room staring at his phone though, so he forced himself to head back to his desk. His boss came by when he returned to ask if everything was okay, and he confirmed it was fine, his friend just needed him. He didn’t elaborate, because it wasn’t really his place, but he hoped Stiles was okay. 

By the time lunch rolled around two hours later, he breathed a sigh of relief when Erica texted to say Stiles was okay and had survived his fear of heights. He sent back a thank you for letting him know, and then sent Stiles a message on Discord since he didn’t have his number. Stiles didn’t reply, but Derek didn’t worry about it. As long as he knew he was okay and that whatever had happened had passed, that was all that mattered. 

He finished up his work day, checking his phone periodically for a response from Stiles. The day was almost over by the time he finally got one, and all it was was a heart sent back in Discord. It was better than nothing. 

When Derek’s day officially ended, he and Kira texted to make plans for dinner, since she wanted to order Chinese food but always ended up with too many leftovers so they tended to order that together. He promised he’d be at hers by six, but wanted to head home first to change. 

He was getting into his car when he got a message from Cora, arching an eyebrow at the words on his screen. 

[Cora]
heyyyyy~ 
[Cora]
we’re going to open mic night at jungle tomorrow
[Cora]
i’ll pick you up at 6:30
[Cora]
wear something nice :D 

[Derek]
no
[Derek]
it’s a work night
[Derek]
and i’d rather not suffer through open mic night 

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he finished climbing into his car and shut the door. Cora was insane if she thought she was going to manage to drag him out for open mic night. 

Nothing short of God himself could get him to go to open mic night.

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek had just taken a seat on his couch with a bowl of turkey and rice soup and the next episode of She-Hulk paused and waiting for him when the doorbell rang. He contemplated ignoring it, but even as he thought that, it rang again twice in quick succession, suggesting it could only be one person. 

Sighing and putting his soup down on the coffee table in front of him, he headed across the first floor towards his door, opening in time for Cora to start abusing the doorbell. 

She grinned at him, standing on his front porch wearing a tight black dress with no back, no straps, and leaving very little to the imagination, with high heels that should be classified as weapons. She’d straightened her hair so it fell like a curtain down the length of her back, and while Derek didn’t know much about makeup, he could appreciate that she looked beautiful. 

The grin she’d greeted him with fell off her face when she took in his appearance of old sweats and a black T-shirt with a skull on it. Derek didn’t remember where the shirt came from, but it was comfortable, and that was basically his baseline for shirts. 

“What the hell are you wearing? I said wear something nice,” Cora insisted, sounding distressed. 

“And I distinctly remember telling you that I wasn’t going to open mic night,” Derek said, crossing his arms and leaning sideways against the open doorway, eyebrows raised. “I’m not interested in having my ears bleed.” 

“It’s cute you think this is a negotiation,” Cora said, offering him a pitying look. “You’re coming, even if I have to drag you out of the house wearing that.” She motioned him with one hand. “But I’ll give you the opportunity to change before you embarrass yourself.” 

“Cora, it’s a Wednesday night,” Derek argued. “I had a long day, and I’m going to have another long day tomorrow. I really don’t want to be spending my evening listening to people sing badly into a microphone because they think open mic night is their big break.” 

“Don’t make me drag you out of the house,” Cora threatened. 

“As if you could,” Derek shot back, but his eyes shifted behind her when he saw another car pull up and stop at the curb. Kira stepped out of it, looking incredulous before shutting the door and making her way over to them. 

“What the hell is he wearing?” she demanded. 

“That’s what I said!” Cora insisted, turning to Kira. 

“Didn’t you tell him to wear something nice?” 

“I absolutely told him to wear something nice!” Cora confirmed, rounding on her brother again. “He ignored me. Like an asshole.” 

“I’m not going out with you,” Derek insisted, eying Kira as she walked up the porch steps. 

She was also dressed to the nines, which was kind of unusual for Kira. Not because she didn’t like looking nice, but because she often complained that it was too much work putting that much effort into perfect make-up. But she looked absolutely stunning tonight. 

Considering she wasn’t Cora, she was at least wearing something a bit less revealing, but still looked just as gorgeous. Black jeans, a gold halter-top that shimmered even in the dim light of his front porch, and stylish black pumps. Her make-up was a bit more subtle than Cora’s bolder colours, but still very striking, and her hair was in perfect curls framing her face. 

They both looked like they were heading out to a rock concert as opposed to open mic night at fucking Jungle, of all places. 

“You’re coming out with us,” Kira said, with absolutely no room for argument. “I will kick you in the balls and drag you from your house if I have to.” 

Cora, Derek knew he could handle. He’d been handling his sister for years with nothing but success. Kira was a bit riskier, because when she got mad, she was terrifying. He absolutely did not doubt she would do whatever it took to get him out of the house, up to and including damaging his ability to have children.

Looking between his sister and best friend, he let out an annoyed sigh and uncrossed his arms, moving out of the doorway so he could go and grab some clothes. Cora called for him to hurry up, but he just flipped her off over his shoulder while heading up the stairs to his room. 

He tried not to be too pissed off about this whole thing, because there was nothing wrong with having a life and going out, but he’d kind of been looking forward to a quiet night in and possibly messaging with Stiles on Discord. 

He’d gone quiet again, presumably because he was back to writing, but he still responded every couple hours and Derek had been looking forward to a chill night. Now here he was, digging through his closet for something appropriate to wear to go listen to people who couldn’t sing for a few hours before the club turned into a veritable night club. 

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t entirely fair. Some of the people at open mic night were actually pretty good singers, but the fact that he didn’t want to go was making him more bitter than usual. 

He hadn’t even had the chance to eat dinner yet! Whatever, he’d order nachos at Jungle, at least he knew those were good earlier in the night. The food only really went downhill after ten hit when the crowds of partiers were around in droves. Jungle was admittedly the weirdest night club ever, in that it was a chill pub before ten and then a club after ten. 

He didn’t know anywhere else that operated like Jungle did. 

Pulling on a pair of dark blue jeans and a grey shirt, he grabbed his leather jacket and yanked it on, deciding that had to be good enough. He wasn’t dressing to impress, he just had to look decent so Kira and Cora wouldn’t come upstairs and tear apart his closet. 

Girls were scary like that. 

When he got back downstairs, he gave Cora an annoyed look when he found her sitting on his couch, half-way through an episode of the Simpsons with his empty soup bowl on the table in front of her. Kira was texting on her phone, but both of them looked over at him when he walked in. 

“I’m not changing, so don’t even start. Let’s go, before I change my mind and call the cops on you.” He motioned for them both to follow. 

“You’d never get it to stick, the sheriff and I are basically BFFs now,” Cora informed him. 

Derek didn’t want to know how she’d managed that, but suspected it was probably by annoying the man into submission. 

Pulling on his boots at the door, he let Kira and his sister precede him out, then patted his pockets to make sure he had his phone and wallet. Grabbing his keys off the hall table, he locked up behind himself, and Cora motioned for him to get into her car. 

He gave her a look, and walked right past her to get into Kira’s instead. She blew a raspberry at his back, which he ignored, and climbed into his best friend’s car. If he was going to open mic night, he was definitely drinking. 

“You’re not usually into going to Jungle,” Derek said to Kira as he buckled himself in. 

She shrugged one bare shoulder at him, and he knew she’d be wearing his jacket by the end of the night because it was December and not warm, but for now she seemed to be okay. Then again, Jungle was probably going to be fairly busy, and they’d likely have the heat on before the crowds showed up, so she might be okay. 

Cora could freeze, it was her own damn fault. 

“Cora talked me into it,” was all she said in response. 

He wished she hadn’t, because Derek could’ve resisted his sister. Kira was harder and legitimately the only reason he’d gotten into the car. 

So apparently nothing short of God himself and Kira could get him to go to open mic night. Good things for him to bear in mind. 

They chatted about their days while Kira drove, even though they’d texted a bit since they’d both finished. Kira was frustrated with one of her co-workers, and Derek honestly found it kind of funny listening to her rant about how stupid the guy was so it made for an entertaining drive. 

When they reached Jungle, there was a line-up outside, as was the norm with this place. It was the only pub/club in town, and some people liked showing up early for dinner before dancing the rest of the night away. Getting in during the pub hours was a lot easier than later in the night. 

They had to park on the street since the lot was full, but Cora drove past them while flipping Derek off to park around the back of the large structure where the employee parking was. Derek just rolled his eyes and climbed out of the car with Kira, the two of them walking the two and a half blocks towards the club. 

Cora was waiting for them by the front of the line, motioning them over. Derek felt guilty when they walked right into the place past all the people being checked by the bouncer. He hated when Cora just jumped the line like that with him, because it wasn’t fair to all the people waiting, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t want to wait outside, and Kira’d probably freeze long before they moved ahead three people, so he just followed her in without a word. 

There was already someone on stage singing, and while they weren’t awful, they weren’t exactly great either. Derek started to move them towards a table at the back of the room, but Cora grabbed his arm and dragged him all the way to the front. 

Great, front row seats to singers with no talent. Hurray. 

Cora shoved him onto a barstool beside a table that actually had a reserved sign on it. Derek didn’t comment on it while Cora snatched it up and asked Kira what she wanted. She turned to Derek afterwards, and he ordered the nachos with a Heineken. She saluted them and walked off, presumably to put in their orders despite not even working tonight. 

Whatever, if he got his food faster than usual, he wasn’t going to complain. 

Kira was watching the guy singing onstage, squinting slightly like she was trying to decide how she felt about him. Derek felt like he’d do well with getting a vocal coach because he was very breathy. Again, he wasn’t terrible, but he sang with his head a bit too much and it was distracting to listen to. 

Thankfully he was only onstage for the end of the song they’d shown up to and one more, then received a few scattered claps from the audience as he headed off the darkened stage. The next person up was a girl wearing full-on country attire, and Derek tried not to sigh because country wasn’t exactly his favourite genre. She was really good though. She had a good voice, with a decent amount of twang, and despite not liking the genre, he actually didn’t mind her singing. 

Their food and drinks arrived during her second song, Cora having ordered some jalapeno poppers and some kind of drink that looked like it was the colour of a cartoon biohazard spill. She said it was non-alcoholic when he gave her a look, but he wasn’t sure if he believed her. 

The country girl sang two more songs before finishing up to a lot more applause from the audience than the guy before her had received. When she stepped off the darkened stage, someone else stepped up and the cycle began again. This person was downright awful, but there was a group of people by the edge of the stage cheering and laughing, so he felt inclined to believe this was a dare. 

He leaned over towards Cora, who was still drinking her toxic waste-looking drink. “How long do I need to be here?” 

“Will you just relax and have a good time, for once in your life?” Cora demanded. She’d finished her jalapeno poppers, and when she reached out for some of Derek’s nachos, he smacked her hand away. She scowled at him, but he just raised his eyebrows back. 

“I was perfectly happy staying at home tonight,” he informed her, ignoring Kira when she reached over for some nachos. She was allowed, Cora wasn’t. 

But the traitor just handed the chips she’d stolen over to Cora, who smirked in triumph and shoved them into her mouth before Derek could do anything about it. She licked sour cream off her thumb while the dudebro on stage finished up his song and hurried off it, clearly not having enjoyed his time in the spotlight. 

“Can you not be lame for like, ten minutes?” Cora rolled her eyes, mouth still full of stolen nachos. Derek was never trusting Kira again, what a traitor. “Just listen to the music, vibe, have a good time, spend the evening with your favourite sister and your best friend.” 

“Laura’s my favourite,” Derek informed her, despite them both knowing it was a lie. Derek liked both his sisters equally for different reasons, but he wasn’t allowed to admit that. It went against the sibling code. 

Cora just flipped him off and looked back at the new guy on the stage. Derek wasn’t really listening anymore, this one was almost worse than the last, and the last had clearly been a dare. 

Looking around in hopes of finding something entertaining to distract himself with, he frowned when he noticed a guy sitting at the table closest to the front of the left side of the stage. He looked really familiar for some reason, even though he felt like he didn’t know them. It was someone he knew he recognized, and it was right there, at the back of his mind, but he just couldn’t place him. 

When the stage went dark again and the guy almost tripped on his way off it, Derek was still staring at the guy, trying to figure out why he knew him, and it wasn’t until a bombshell of a blonde sidled up beside him with two drinks in her hands that it clicked and his entire body went cold. 

That was Boyd. That guy sitting at the table was Boyd. And the girl who’d just sidled up to him was Erica. 

Erica and Boyd were here. At Jungle. For open mic night. They were both here. And Kira was here. She never came out to things like this. Cora had basically forced him to come out tonight, had insisted he wear something nice, had legitimately ensured that no matter what he would be sitting right here, in Jungle, front and center on open mic night. 

There was no way. 

There was no way! 

“We’ve got something a little different tonight, folks!” a voice said loudly over the speakers. It was probably the guy in charge of the open mic night and controlled who went on and for how long. 

Someone had climbed onto the darkened stage, sitting down on the stool present there with a guitar clearly silhouetted. The figure fiddled with the mic, obviously trying to get it to a comfortable place for their voice and their guitar to be heard. 

Derek stared at the person on the stage like he couldn’t breathe and this was his only source of oxygen. There was absolutely no fucking way in hell this was happening. No fucking way! 

“Someone very special to Beacon Hills wanted to play during open mic night tonight, and I think you’ll all agree with me that we’re happy to have him! I won’t spoil the surprise for you, but give it up for our very own hometown celebrity!” 

People were already screaming and cheering and just generally freaking out before the man had finished speaking. When the lights turned on for the stage, it wasn’t the harsh white spotlight that the other singers had been blasted with. There was some pink and blue and just the barest undertone of white when the lights turned back on, illuminating who was onstage. 

Derek didn’t need the cheering to tell him who it was. Didn’t even need the lights bouncing off that gorgeous face and perfect body and beautiful guitar. He’d recognize him anywhere, and seeing Stiles sitting up on Jungle’s fucking shitty ass stage with an adorable little smile on his face and his hands already positioned, as if checking the comfort of his hold, felt fucking surreal. 

Art by Piratetattoos

Stiles was here. 

Like, right here. 

Derek could reach out and fucking touch him if he wanted to. 

Grinning out at the audience, Stiles reached up with one hand to grip the microphone, bringing it down closer to his mouth. “Hey, what’s up BH? It’s been so long since I’ve been back here, how’s everyone doing?” 

It felt like he was in a legitimate concert right now instead of fucking Jungle. People were screaming their heads off and freaking out to the point where the cops might actually be called thinking something was going on in Jungle right now. The people outside in the lineup waiting to get in likely thought there was someone murdering people! 

“Sorry this is such an informal setting, but I didn’t want to have a real concert here. This is my hometown, you know? You guys are people I grew up with! I thought it might be more fun to just have a short little session here during open mic night that hopefully a few people will enjoy. Feel free to record, or take pictures, or any of that if you want.” 

He strummed his guitar once, and his eyes shifted towards where Erica and Boyd were sitting. Derek didn’t know if Stiles could see them with the lights, but he licked his lips and then looked out at the general audience again. 

“I don’t know how many of you know about this, but I’ve been having a bit of a rough time lately. Inspiration hasn’t been coming as easily as it used to, and I was starting to feel a little burnt out. I’m sure most of you know about that video that went up about me by our second resident celebrity, TheRealMusicLover.” A few people cheered, including Kira, and Stiles let out a laugh. “Two famous people from one town, who’d have thought, right? But I actually owe a lot to him, because he made me realize that I didn’t always have to be ‘on’ for people to enjoy my music. And I didn’t have to constantly be churning out new material.”

“We love you Stiles!” someone shouted from the back of the club and he laughed again. 

“Thank you, I love you too,” he said into the microphone, waving his free hand in greeting. “I appreciate that. And I’m glad that people like you, and like TheRealMusicLover, are around to remind me that it’s okay to let yourself be burned out every now and then.” He paused here, glancing at Erica again, then said, “I uh, I wrote a song. A few, actually. But one of them is... kind of special. It’s dedicated to TheRealMusicLover, because I don’t think I’d have bounced back as fast without him. And he kind of means a lot to me.” 

Holy shit. Stiles was dedicating this song to him! 

Derek was thrilled, not only because of the dedication being for him, but because he was going to get to hear the burnout song now that it was formally done. He was so excited he wanted to run onto the stage and shake Stiles to get him moving faster.

He didn’t, but it was a near thing. 

“I’m kind of nervous,” Stiles admitted, letting out an awkward little laugh. “I’ve never really done anything like this before. I’ll do my best to not disappoint, and I hope you like it.” 

When he said this last bit, he shifted his gaze to look right at Derek, suggesting he could see him. 

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit! 

Stiles cleared his throat and angled the microphone once more, getting it where he wanted it. He positioned his hands on his guitar, let out a slow breath that Derek saw more than he heard, and began to play. 

Derek instantly recognized two things. 

First, Stiles was much more attractive in person when he was playing, because he got this soft look on his face, and was all concentrated and serious. 

Second—this wasn’t the beginning bars of the burnout song. 

This was a completely different song. 

“Don’t like your taste in most things 
Like pizza as a chip 
Can’t fathom going to movies 
If popcorn is a skip 

Thanksgiving is a staple
Where turkey is a must 
And when it comes to taste in pie
I’d only eat your crust 

There’s things you like that I just don’t understand
And even less are these feelings that weren’t planned 

Your taste in pie is atrocious
Though your passion is just ferocious 
And while DisneyWorld’s the best
I can’t help but to confess
That I’ll be your Batman
If you promise to be my Superman 

While we agree that green’s fine
We both know red’s the best 
Still can’t believe you’re Xbox
Had to get that off my chest 

And while DK can be fun
Mario reigns supreme
I’m still not over your pie
‘Cause rhubarb’s so extreme 

There’s things you like that I just don’t understand
And even less are these feelings that weren’t planned 

Your taste in pie is atrocious
Though your passion is just ferocious 
And while DisneyWorld’s the best
I can’t help but to confess
That I’ll be your Batman
If you promise to be my Superman 

And I know that I might not be the kind of guy you like
But I need you to understand 
I don’t think that I can manage without you in my life 
So please reach out and take my hand 

And your taste in pie is atrocious
Though your passion is just ferocious 
And while DisneyWorld’s the best
I can’t help but to confess
That I’ll be your Batman
If you promise to be my Superman 

My Superman.”

Derek sat there frozen while everyone cheered, Kira and Cora included. Because while the song had been awesome, and he was thrilled Stiles seemed to have escaped his funk, his brain was struggling to compute with what he’d just heard. 

That whole song was about him. There was no ifs, ands or buts. That entire song was one-hundred percent about him. Everything. And Stiles had said... 

He’d said there were unplanned feelings. And had asked for Derek to understand that he needed him in his life. 

This was... holy fucking shit, this was—

“I hope you guys liked the song,” Stiles said, a chorus of cheers being his enthusiastic response. “This is my only song of the night, so I’m sorry to anyone who’s just coming in now.” There were a lot of unhappy sounds that followed this statement, but Stiles just laughed. “I’ll be in town for a while, I promise! If you see me out and about, feel free to stop me for a chat. I only ask that you don’t do it if I’m out for dinner or if it’s obviously not a good time. Please be respectful, and I’ll be more than happy to stop for a photo if you catch me alone at the store. Have a good night!” 

Stiles waved at the crowd while getting to his feet, the lights going dark while people continued to scream and cheer. Derek’s eyes followed his shadow, wanting to know where he was going, because he needed to talk to him. He desperately needed to talk to him because—

“Hey!” 

Derek almost leapt clear off his seat when someone threw themselves at him from behind, hugging him tightly. He only instinctively stopped himself from elbowing them in the gut because he’d recognized the voice a split second before his body’s automatic defensive reaction had kicked in. 

“How are you? How’s it going?” 

“Erica,” Derek said, mostly still in shock. He’d looked away from the stage for a second and now Stiles was nowhere to be seen. Fuck. 

“Were you surprised?” She let him go to move around beside him, grinning from ear to ear. “Tell me you were surprised. It was so hard keeping this to myself, but it was all for a good cause so I managed it somehow!” 

“He didn’t even want to come tonight,” Cora insisted. “I had to literally bully him out of the house!” 

“But you didn’t spill, right?” Erica demanded, rounding on her threateningly. 

Cora scoffed and motioned Derek. “Would he look that lovesick if I had? Man had no clue, he kept wanting to leave. I almost had to sit on him, thank God Stiles went up when he did.” 

“Did you like the song?” Erica turned back to Derek, grinning from ear to ear. “He struggled with it for so long. Said it had to be perfect. Was angsting about it for literal days, it was super annoying.” 

“Be nice,” Boyd insisted, having come up silently and startling Derek all over again. “Stiles has been under a lot of pressure, and he still hasn’t fully recovered from the flight yesterday.” 

“Flight?” Derek asked, and then his entire face fell. 

Of course. Of course! Derek was so fucking stupid! Stiles hadn’t been hyperventilating because he was going into a fucking building, what the hell was he thinking?! 

Stiles was freaking out because he was about to get on a fucking plane! 

To come home! To Beacon Hills! 

His mind wasn’t working, seriously, what the fuck was happening right now? 

“So,” Erica said, poking at Derek’s cheek and smirking like a fucking Cheshire cat. “You just gonna sit here, or you gonna go tell Mr. Panic at Jungle whether he ruined your friendship or not?” 

“Wait, what?” Derek asked.

Erica looked unimpressed. “He basically just sang his confession to you, do I need to spell it out any further? He’s waiting out back, probably freaking out. He’s had a crush on you for a while, and talking to you has been like, the highlight of his life.” She rolled her eyes. “How anything can be better than having me as a friend, I’ll never know, but I’ll admit you’re not half bad as far as competition goes.” She grinned at him and shoved his shoulder. “Go. Be gross together. Only a blind man wouldn’t be able to notice you’re as heart-eyes for him as he is for you.” 

“Derek wears glasses,” Cora offered. 

“So does Stiles, guess that explains a lot,” Erica said with a cackle. 

Derek ignored them both and pushed away from the bar table, Boyd very kindly pulling Erica away from him so he could move around them all and hurry towards the exit. 

It seemed Stiles must’ve gone out the back, or he was very sneaky on his way out the front, because a few people were asking if anyone had noticed where AllAboutMischief had gone. 

Heading out through the front, and ignoring the bouncer who said it’d be a long wait to get back in—like Derek had any intention of going back inside right now!—he made it out of the club and hurried onto the sidewalk, looking both ways. 

He didn’t see anything that caught his eye, and realized he probably should’ve asked Erica what kind of car Stiles drove. Probably an easy find, he likely had a nice car. Not overly expensive because Stiles had already proven he wasn’t that kind of celebrity, but still fairly nice. A good model and sleek paint job. 

Erica had said ‘out back’ when she’d been insisting he go find Stiles, so that suggested he was out in the employee lot. Cora had probably arranged that for him, it wasn’t like the owner was going to say no to having AllAboutMischief playing in his club for free. 

Hurrying around the side of the building, Derek’s eyes scanned the back lot for Stiles, or a car that looked like it might belong to him. He didn’t see anything that jumped out instantly, barring a gross-coloured Honda—who wanted a puke yellow-coloured car?—and an old sky blue Jeep that was probably older than Derek was. 

No sign of Stiles. 

He’d just started to pull his phone out to text Erica when he heard a short honk, glancing up. He looked around the lot, trying to figure out which car it had come from, and paused when he saw someone sitting behind the wheel of the Jeep. 

The falling apart, old as balls Jeep. 

“Jesus Christ, Stiles,” he muttered to himself, but a smile slid onto his face anyway as he headed towards it. 

Stiles rolled down the driver’s side window, watching Derek approach. It was weird to see the uncertainty on his face, but only further proved Stiles wasn’t like so many of the other celebrities that Derek read about in magazines and saw on talk shows and whatnot. 

He honestly thought there was a universe where Derek wouldn’t be thrilled about what had happened. He was so nervous, and honest, and just—fucking adorable. He didn’t act all sure of himself, and self-centred, and like a fucking egomaniac. To him, he was just a guy who happened to be good at music who’d just sung out a confession in front of a live audience that the guy he liked was sitting in. 

He looked so vulnerable, and Derek hated it, but also kind of loved it because Stiles was such a good person. 

Reaching the Jeep, he offered Stiles a smile, placing one hand on the door, fingers curled over the edge into the car since the window was down. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” Stiles replied. 

Derek wished he didn’t look so nervous. Stiles was crazy if he thought Derek wasn’t into him as much as he obviously was. Which was still a huge shock to him, honestly. 

“So,” Derek started, seeing Stiles tense and grip the steering wheel tightly in both hands, “you probably think I’m an idiot.” 

Stiles immediately relaxed, but only because he looked so adorably confused. He even tilted his head slightly, like a fucking puppy, and Derek wanted to fucking kiss him right then. 

“Big building?” Derek offered with a small smile, then laughed and shook his head. “I can’t believe I was too stupid to clue in that you were about to get on a plane. I thought you were just getting into an elevator to go up to like, the thirtieth floor of a building or something.” 

Stiles smiled at him, shrugging one shoulder. “If nothing else, your advice worked. I wrote a song about heights.” He paused, considering, then amended to, “Well, about fears, I should say. But heights was the most prominent because it’s my biggest fear.”

“What else are you afraid of?” Derek asked curiously, shifting so he could cross his arms over the rolled down window and leaning a bit further into the car. 

“Flying,” Stiles said. “Though that’s probably more the whole heights thing.”

“Probably,” Derek agreed. 

“And spiders. I really, really hate spiders.”

“Who doesn’t?” 

“And uh, you know, rejection.” Stiles winced. “That’s a uh, a big one, too. Kind of... worked that into the song as well.” 

“Yeah,” Derek said. “Rejection’s never easy for anyone.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, and he was all tense again, hands tight around the steering wheel. 

“You ever been rejected before?” Derek asked, mostly out of curiosity. 

Stiles winced. “Honestly... no. Not yet, anyway.” 

Derek nodded, looking towards the street, wanting to make sure no one was around. Then he looked back at Stiles, who still looked so vulnerable and nervous. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to wait a bit longer to feel that sting of rejection, huh?” 

Stiles blinked. “What?” 

Derek did what he’d wanted to do since the moment he saw Stiles on that stage in front of him. 

He reached out with one hand, placing it against the back of Stiles’ neck, and pulled him closer until he felt his lips under his. 

If someone had told him three months ago that AllAboutMischief would write him a fucking song and basically confess to being in love with him and wanting to be with him, he’d have called that person crazy. 

But now? Now, he was standing in the parking lot of fucking Jungle, of all places, kissing this famous celebrity while leaning through the front window of the oldest fucking Jeep he’d ever seen. And somehow, he still couldn’t believe it. But at the same time, it was perfect. 

Stiles’ lips were soft and his skin was warm, and honestly? This was so much better than he ever could’ve imagined. 

It didn’t matter to him that this was AllAboutMischief. It didn’t matter that he was a famous celebrity. 

What he cared about most was the fact that he’d gotten to know him over the past few months, and he was literally more in love with him for his personality than anything else that came with the overall Stiles package. He was so much more than what the media saw of him, he was an amazing person, and a truly selfless man, and just—perfect.

Honestly, he was too perfect to be real.

And for some absolutely insane and unknown reason, he liked Derek. 

He liked Derek because he’d made a video about him that made him feel seen. 

Kissing Stiles was intoxicating, and even as he kissed him, Stiles was leaning closer to him, practically leaning his head out the window, even though Derek was already pressing forward into the Jeep. 

When he pulled away, Stiles actually tried to push forward, a sharp little breath escaping him, like he didn’t want this to end. 

“You sober?” Derek asked him, one hand still pressed to the back of his neck. He hadn’t noticed, but at some point, Stiles had reached out with one of his own to grip the open flap of his leather jacket. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Derek let Stiles go, and while it seemed to take effort for Stiles to do the same to his jacket, he eventually got his fingers to uncurl and Derek moved around the front of the car, climbing into the passenger seat and shutting the door. 

Stiles was driving before Derek had even finished buckling himself in, and he gave him directions to his place as they came up. Derek was practically vibrating, hands itching to reach out and grab at Stiles, but the last thing he wanted was for them to end up parked on the side of the road doing inappropriate things and getting caught on camera. 

Derek would survive that scandal, but Stiles probably wouldn’t. 

Though if it was Stiles’ dad who caught them, Stiles would probably survive that. Derek definitely wouldn’t. 

It seemed to take twice as long to get from Jungle to his house, but they finally turned into the driveway and Derek climbed out of the car. He and Stiles moved quickly up the porch steps, Derek’s keys already in hand, and he unlocked the door as fast as humanly possible. 

The second they were inside, Stiles kicked the door shut with one foot, because both hands instantly grabbed for the lapels of Derek’s leather jacket again, yanking him in for another kiss. Derek didn’t resist, letting their lips slot together again, even as he fumbled behind Stiles for the lock on his front door.

The last fucking thing he needed was Cora showing up and barging in like the annoying sister she was. 

Stiles had put on a hoodie since being onstage—a bright red one with a logo in the top right corner—and Derek instantly went for the zipper. 

It appeared Stiles was of the same mind, because he instantly began to push at the jacket he’d just been tugging on, trying to get it off Derek’s shoulders while they continued kissing. Derek stumbled slightly while trying to toe his boots off, but he managed to toe out of them after a few attempts. Stiles seemed to have managed himself more easily, presumably because he had regular sneakers on. 

“Bed?” Stiles asked when they broke apart for a brief moment so that Derek could pull the other man’s shirt up and off him. “Or couch?” 

“Definitely bed,” Derek breathed, allowing Stiles to wrench his own shirt up over his head. 

He grabbed at Stiles’ face again, kissing him hard while walking backwards. Stiles might not know the layout of his home, but Derek sure did, and he managed to get them all the way to the stairs and up to the second level. He kicked backwards to get his door open from its ajar state, and Stiles practically pushed him roughly into the room. 

When they got to the bed, Stiles broke the kiss so he could shove Derek down onto it, climbing on top of him and kissing at him while his hands went for Derek’s jeans. 

Derek was not going to complain one bit, and he hastily reached for Stiles’ own, pushing the button through the eyehole and then sliding the zip down. 

“You have any lube?” Stiles asked, breaking the kiss to bite at Derek’s jaw lightly, then rubbing his cheek against his stubble. 

“Fuck, I don’t think so.” 

“That’s okay. Next time then. This time, we can just get off.” 

Derek was more than okay with that, but also annoyed that he didn’t have anything for this evening. To be fair, he hadn’t known it would end with Stiles fucking Stilinski in his bed with him! 

They got their pants off relatively quickly, and Derek groaned when he realized Stiles was going commando. That wasn’t fair at all, how was he supposed to keep his hands to himself long enough for Stiles to get Derek’s shorts off?

“Penguins,” Stiles said with a huffed laugh, mostly because Derek’s hand had found his cock and was now beginning to pump agonizingly slowly. 

“You have a problem with penguins?” Derek asked breathlessly, half-wishing he’d worn less embarrassing boxers, but also kind of loving the little penguins on them. 

“Penguins are fucking adorable,” Stiles countered, and Derek could feel his hands shaking as he struggled to get Derek’s shorts off. “If you don’t stop, this is going to be over quickly.” 

“I’ve got enough in me for more than one round with you.” Derek leaned up and bit at Stiles’ neck lightly, and then closed his lips around the skin and sucked hard. He’d feel bad leaving behind a hickey if Stiles hadn’t let out the filthiest fucking moan he’d ever heard in his life, bracing all his weight on the bed on either side of Derek, completely forgetting that he’d been trying to get his shorts off. 

His hips were making little aborted thrusts into Derek’s hand, and he tightened his grip, beginning to move it faster. Stiles let out another groan and bent his head back further, Derek still sucking a mark into his pale skin. After he was sure he’d left a decently dark mark, Derek pulled back, tongue laving over the abused flesh, and pleased with what he found. 

Stiles’ hips were moving faster, and Derek let himself fall back fully on the bed, hand moving even faster, and tightening further, wanting to give Stiles as much friction as possible. His thumb slid over the head, collecting precum at the slit to make his movements more fluid, and Stiles groaned again, bending down further until his upper body was pressed into Derek’s chest, his forehead against Derek’s own as he breathed hard. 

“Fuck, oh fuck.” His breath was warm and moist against Derek’s lips, and he tilted his head up so he could kiss him again. Stiles didn’t seem able to do two things at once—at least in the bedroom, since he was perfectly fine on a stage—because as soon as he started kissing Derek back enthusiastically, sucking lewdly on his tongue, his hips stopped moving and it was like his control had been completely cut off. 

Derek didn’t let up though, hand moving faster and faster until Stiles broke the kiss and let out a long, loud whine, biting into Derek’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood before he went completely still and Derek felt cum coat his hand and spatter up onto his stomach and chest. Stiles’ cock pulsed in his grip for what felt like an eternity, his entire body spasming as he came. Derek made sure to pump slowly and loosely, just trying to help him get down from his high without going into the over-sensitive range. 

Finally, Stiles let out a shuddery breath and released Derek’s shoulder from between his teeth. He was still trembling slightly, breathing hard against Derek’s skin as he tried to regain some semblance of control. Derek couldn’t help thrusting his own hips ever so slightly, the friction of his shorts welcome against his own aching erection. 

“You distracted me,” Stiles accused breathily. “I was trying to get you naked.” 

“Try harder next time,” Derek said, and grunted when Stiles reached down with one hand and ground the heel of his palm against his cock. 

“You said you can go multiple rounds,” Stiles said, voice still mostly sexed out but a grin clear in his tone. “Let’s see if that’s true, Mr. Music Man.” 

“Hit me with your best shot,” Derek shot back. 

He could honestly say that he hadn’t expected Stiles’ best shot to be him burying his face between Derek’s legs, but there was no way in hell he was going to complain. 

He owed Cora a fucking new house for dragging him to Jungle. 

Derek jerked up in bed at the shrill sound that echoed through the room, his brain still mostly asleep as he struggled to figure out what the hell was going on. 

“Whazzat?” a voice mumbled from behind him, and he instantly whipped around, heart lodging itself in his throat, only to find Stiles curled on his side against Derek’s back, sheets tangled in his legs and one arm thrown over Derek’s waist. 

For a long moment, Derek just sat there staring at him. Because that was Stiles. That was a naked Stiles. In his bed. With him. Who was also naked. 

That meant that the insanely vivid dream he’d had last night of making out and getting off with Stiles hadn’t been so much a dream as a very, very real occurrence and holy shit, he had Stiles in his bed, and they’d done a lot of really dirty things to each other, and this was real and happening and what the fuck? 

But like, good what the fuck. 

The noise stopped abruptly, Derek realizing he’d totally spaced out staring down at Stiles, whose hair was all sleep-mussed, with his face slack and adorable as he fell back into slumber, and those marks. 

Derek had left so many marks on his skin. He actually felt a little worried about it now that he was looking at them in the daylight, because they were dark. And Stiles was a celebrity, he couldn’t just walk around with massive hickeys all over his neck. Shit, Derek probably should’ve been a bit more conscious of the fact that Stiles might not have wanted to be marked like that. 

When the sound started up again, Stiles let out a whine, burying his face into Derek’s skin. He was obviously not a morning person, which Derek appreciated, because neither was he. 

Realizing what the sound was, Derek turned his back on Stiles and had to pull away from him entirely—which elicited another adorable little whine—so he could reach down to snatch up his jeans. He dug around them for the right pocket, and finally managed to pull his phone out, flipping it around and wincing at the time.

And the person calling. 

Answering the phone, he put it to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Derek, is everything okay?” his boss asked, making him wince again. “It’s half-past, and you’ve never been late once in all the years you’ve worked here. I was getting worried.”

“I am—so sorry.” Derek didn’t even know how to explain his tardiness. He rolled onto his back again, rubbing at his face with one hand, and instantly had Stiles pressing into him. He threw one leg over Derek’s, one arm across his waist, and half laid on top of him, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s right pectoral before exhaling softly and seeming more than ready to go back to sleep. 

“Is everything okay?” his boss asked again. 

“Yeah, I—sorry. I think I need the day off today. It’s—I can’t explain it, I’m very sorry. I promise this won’t be a recurring thing, something just happened last night and I was up late.” 

“No need to apologize. You’ve never called in sick, and you’re always on time. I hope whatever happened isn’t affecting you negatively. If you need tomorrow off as well, just send me an email later.”

“Thank you so much. I’m really sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow, or Monday. Take care.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, and barely refrained from apologizing yet again. 

When his boss hung up, Derek let his hand fall back against the pillow, staring blearily up at his ceiling. It took him a few seconds to realize his eyes hurt because they were dry from the contacts he’d forgotten to remove last night. 

That was probably true for Stiles too, seeing as he also wore contacts. 

Derek turned his head slightly so he could look down at the head of brown hair resting on his chest, Stiles apparently having no trouble falling back to sleep as long as he was in a bed and not on a bus. 

Honestly, he was still trying to convince himself this was real. Last night alone felt like a dream, but waking up and having Stiles still there, in his bed, naked? That was almost too much for his poor brain to comprehend. He was positive once he fell asleep again, he’d wake up to find it really had all been a dream, but even as he closed his eyes and got comfortable, he knew it wasn’t. 

This was happening. Somehow, he and Stiles were actually naked in his bed together, and it was surreal. 

Derek eventually fell asleep once more, but was woken up yet again at the sound of his doorbell ringing. It startled him awake, Stiles’ own head jerking up off his chest before he groaned and let it fall back down. 

“Does anyone ever let you sleep?” he asked sleepily, nuzzling against his chest and hugging him more tightly. Derek could feel Stiles’ morning wood against the side of his thigh, and that just reminded him of what they’d been doing last night. “We’re not doing this at your place next time.”

Next time. 

Stiles had literally just said next time. As in, this would be happening again. As in, this was not a one-time thing. This was a real thing. Him and Stiles. 

Which—of course it was. Stiles had written him a fucking song. He didn’t just write songs for anyone, Derek knew that. He’d researched him for his video, and had been an AllAboutMischief fan for years. 

Stiles had only written songs about three people in his life: Erica, his dad, and his deceased mother. Derek was officially the fourth person, and that meant something. He knew it did. He just couldn’t believe it. 

When the doorbell rang again incessantly, Derek knew that could only be one person. Stiles let out an annoyed growl—it was kind of cute, honestly—and Derek half-smiled despite how annoyed and tired he was himself. 

“It’s Cora,” he informed him. “She won’t leave until I answer the door.” 

Stiles didn’t move, and it almost seemed like he was thinking. “What if we just pretend you’re not home?” 

“Car’s out front.” He paused. “So’s yours.” 

Letting out a small whine, Stiles eventually rolled off him, taking the sheet with him, and curled into a ball facing the wall, clearly ready to go back to sleep. Derek just laughed, and while he wasn’t entirely sure of his welcome, considering what they’d done last night he decided to risk it, and leaned over to kiss Stiles’ visible temple. He let out a little grunt at the action, but said nothing else. 

Derek climbed out of bed, Cora still abusing his doorbell—he needed to get that removed, he should call to have it disconnected—and reached out to grab the pair of sweats he’d left hanging off the back of his chair last night. 

Tugging them on, he pulled them up over his hips, wincing and rearranging himself to try and make his morning wood a bit less obvious, and then headed out of his room and down the stairs. 

“I’m coming,” Derek said loudly, irritation beginning to set in since he’d been having an insanely good morning before all the stupid interruptions. “Stop it, I’m fucking coming!” 

Walking down the corridor, he could see Cora peeking through his side window while she continued to ring the bell. Her eyes got wide when she saw him approach, and that somehow prompted more doorbell abuse. She was still wearing the same clothes as last night, suggesting she’d been out all night herself, and he had plans to call her and show up at her place for the next ten hours at least to pay her back for this. 

Derek wrenched open the door and grabbed at her wrist to stop her from ringing the bell anymore. “Stop it,” he snapped. “You’re not a child.” 

“Dude, is he here?!” Cora hissed, slapping at Derek’s chest urgently with her other hand. “Did he sleep over?!” 

“He didn’t get much sleep, because you wouldn’t stop ringing the bell,” Derek insisted. 

Cora’s mouth dropped open and she did a weird little dance, Derek surprised she didn’t break her ankles with the height of her heels. 

“Holy shit, Derek! Oh my God! So I take it things are going well, then? Oh my God, I need to text Erica!” She pulled her wrist free so she could grab her phone to do just that. Derek didn’t know where she’d been keeping her phone, because he felt like he blinked and she suddenly just had it in her hands. Her dress certainly didn’t have pockets, and she didn’t have a purse so—you know what? He didn’t want to know. 

“You’re texting with Erica now?” Derek asked, stifling a yawn. “Since when?” 

“Uh, since like, last week? When she and Lydia set this whole thing up?” Cora was grinning as she texted. “Erica’s gonna be stoked. She kept saying Stiles needed to go for what he wanted, and now he did and you guys are dating.”

“We’re not dating,” Derek insisted somewhat urgently, mostly because he wasn’t sure. He wanted to talk to Stiles first. Like, yes, there’d been the kissing and the touching and the sleeping over, but he wanted to have a conversation about everything before jumping to conclusions. 

Did he want to be dating Stiles? Absolutely. Did he know if they were dating? No. No he didn’t. 

“What?” Cora paused in her texting, looking up at him. “What do you mean you’re not dating?!” 

“I mean—I don’t know.” Derek raked an annoyed hand through his hair, his eyes burning again. He needed to take his contacts out and get his glasses on. “We haven’t really talked. Kind of didn’t have the time last night.” 

“Oh.” Cora smirked. “Too busy fucking each other?” 

He gave her an unimpressed look and pointed a finger towards her car. “Leave.” 

“Don’t be a prude, it’s okay for you to get it on with a hot dude.” She winked at him. 

“You’re usually all, ‘oh, my eyes!’ when you see me without a shirt, so stop being excited about my sex life,” Derek insisted, still pointing towards her car. 

“I mean, it’s more his sex life I’m excited about. Does he have a big dick? I bet he has a big dick.” 

“Go. Away.” He grabbed at her shoulders and turned her around, giving her a shove towards the stairs so she’d fucking get lost. Seriously, Cora was the worst! 

Still the best because of last night, but honestly the worst. 

“Fine, keep his dick size to yourself,” she called back loudly, Derek inhaling deeply and trying to find patience because he had neighbours. “By the way, you owe me for dinner!” She turned to walk backwards towards her car, pointing at him. “You bailed before paying the bill, so someone had to cover for that beer and the nachos you wouldn’t even let me have.” 

“Cry me a river, Cora!” 

“I will!” She stopped beside her car, flipping him off. “It’ll be the most epic of rivers, you cheapskate!” 

Derek smiled sarcastically, flipped her off right back, and then slammed his door shut. He stayed at the door, watching to make sure she actually left, but it was obvious she was in dire need of sleep because she climbed back behind the wheel of her car and was gone a few seconds later. 

Letting out a slow breath, Derek let his head thunk against his front door, Cora’s words floating through his brain, and a little worried about the answer. 

Were they dating? Him and Stiles? But even if they were, and they decided to try this, how would that even work? Stiles lived in Las Vegas, and Derek had a job here. Sure, YouTube he could do from anywhere, but his other job was an office job he kind of had to show up for. 

He winced at the reminder that he’d actually forgotten to show up today, but tried not to dwell on it. Like his boss had said, Derek never took time off, and he was never late. He’d been forced to take his vacation time, for fuck’s sake! Sleeping in for the first time ever at his job because Stiles fucking Stilinski had blown his mind—and other things—last night was forgivable. 

Rubbing at his eyes, Derek headed back upstairs and into the bathroom, taking his contacts out and putting them in their little case with some solution. His glasses were in his room, but he could see well enough to get there and grab them off his night stand without turning into Velma from Scooby-Doo. 

He used the bathroom while he was there, and brushed his teeth mostly out of habit and not at all in case morning kisses were a thing. Once he was organized, he turned to head for his bedroom and grabbed his glasses up, putting them on. He paused once they were perched on the bridge of his nose, staring down at Stiles. He was still naked, sheets wrapped around him as he lay on his side, curled up against the wall. It was so weird seeing him there in his bed, and he couldn’t help how much he liked it. 

Stiles wasn’t AllAboutMischief to him anymore. He hadn’t been for a long time. He was just Stiles. And he was pretty sure he was in love with the guy, and that was terrifying. 

Not wanting to be weird, he snatched up his phone, unplugged his charger from the wall, and headed out of the room. Making his way downstairs, he plugged his phone in using one of the sockets in the kitchen, then grabbed a bowl of cereal. He had a few texts on his home screen, but didn’t think much of it since he was sure they were just Cora and Erica—and maybe Kira, though she would wait for details in person. 

He stared off into space as he ate, chewing slowly even as the song from last night began to play through his head again. The tune was kind of catchy, and even if it hadn’t been written for him—or about him—he’d have said it was definitely one of Stiles’ better songs in the past year. 

His cereal was half-finished by the time he heard movement upstairs. He froze, as if Stiles were a dinosaur on his way down and he could get away with not being noticed if he stood still, but knew that was just nerves talking. He heard a bit of shuffling, and then footsteps padding down the corridor. Derek heard a door shut, and assumed Stiles had just gone to use the bathroom, something further proven when he heard his pipes go off as the toilet flushed and the sink turned on. 

Stiles didn’t take very long, the door opening again relatively quickly and footsteps padding down the stairs. When he came into view, he was wearing his jeans and shirt from the night before, but it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere. He just hadn’t wanted to walk down the stairs naked. 

Stiles was rubbing furiously at his eyes before squinting at Derek, who couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. 

“Do you need to take your contacts out?” 

“Probably,” Stiles muttered, still squinting. “Or at least like, put in eye drops or something.” 

Derek put his bowl on the counter and motioned for Stiles to head back upstairs. He led him to the bathroom where he had to hunt around under his sink for another contact lens case and then motioned the eye solution. 

“Do you want more comfortable clothes?” Derek almost asked if he was heading out instead, but didn’t want to imply he wanted him gone. 

“Sweats would be amazing,” Stiles confirmed as he filled the two slots with solution. 

Derek just nodded and went to grab him some clothes while Stiles got his contacts out. He returned and held them out, Stiles grabbing them with a nod of thanks and shutting the bathroom door. Derek was sure he was just going to change and not shower, though he did call out that there was a spare toothbrush under the sink if he needed it. 

When he got back to the kitchen, he dumped out the rest of his cereal, because it had gone all gross and soggy, and he figured he’d make something a bit better for breakfast if Stiles was eating there. 

It didn’t take long for him to come down the stairs, and he gave Derek an unimpressed look while motioning the shirt he was wearing. 

“Haha,” he said sarcastically. 

Derek just smirked, because it was one of Stiles’ own shirts, AllAboutMischief emblazoned across the front. 

“Just making sure you remember who you are if you’re suddenly hit with a bout of amnesia,” he insisted.

Stiles flipped him off, looking around and squinting slightly. Derek didn’t know how bad his eyesight was, but obviously not so terrible he couldn’t see anything. He’d probably put his contacts back in before long to avoid straining his eyes, though. Derek felt bad about that, despite it not being his fault at all. 

At least they both seemed to be able to see relatively well without their contacts or glasses. Laura was blind as a bat when she took her contacts out, no way she’d be wandering around Derek’s house without glasses on. 

When Stiles began rubbing at his eyes like a tired toddler—which was adorable—Derek realized he was staring again, so he motioned the bar stools on the other side of the kitchen counter. “You want some eggs?”

“Eggs would be amazing,” Stiles agreed, moving to one of the stools at the island and sliding onto it with a tired groan. 

Derek was honestly glad they were both acting so normal, considering he still couldn’t believe last night was real. 

Grabbing eggs and toast, he got to work starting on breakfast, managing to find some frozen hashbrowns at the back of his freezer, as well as some bacon. Breakfast fit for kings.

Or celebrities, same difference. 

“So people not like letting you sleep?” Stiles asked while Derek moved butter around in the pan he had on the stove, warming it before cracking an egg into it. 

“Cora never lets anyone sleep because she doesn’t sleep. The call was my boss though, he was just wondering where I was since I didn’t show up for work.” 

Stiles’ tired expression looked alert in an instant and his mouth dropped open. 

“Oh shit! Oh my God! I didn’t even—it’s a weekday! You have work! Shit, I’m so stupid! Do I need to go?” He was already on his feet. “I can go. I can grab my stuff and—”

“No,” Derek insisted, turning to him and pointing the spatula he held out towards him. “No, you’re not leaving. I told him I was taking a personal day. He told me to take tomorrow too, since I still have a lot of time off left.” 

“Oh.” Stiles looked relieved. “Still, sorry. I didn’t—I should’ve realized it was a work night for you. That was my bad.” 

“You really think I’m going to complain about what happened last night?” Derek arched an eyebrow at him, turning back to the stove so he could keep an eye on the eggs. “Pretty sure I bullied you into coming home with me.” 

“Not how I remember it, but sure.” Stiles grinned, crossing his arms on the counter and leaning forward. “It was fun.” 

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, then hesitated for a second. “Was that... all it was though?” 

Stiles frowned. “What do you mean.” 

“Last night. Was it just fun, or was it...” Derek winced, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. He wasn’t really good at this sort of thing, and he didn’t know how to ask something that sounded so juvenile. 

“Are you serious?” Stiles asked slowly. “Derek, I wrote a song for you. I don’t think I could’ve been any clearer with what I was hoping would happen.” 

Derek broke the yolk in one of the eggs so he could flip it over, not looking at Stiles while he took in what he’d just said. What it implied. 

“You live in Vegas,” he finally settled on. 

“I can live anywhere,” Stiles argued. “I like living in Vegas because nobody notices me there. Or cares. It’s crazy how blind people are when compared to LA, I never get bothered. But I mean, I’d probably never get bothered here, either.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m sticking around for a while, so how about before we both start thinking about all the ways this won’t work, we actually, you know, try.” 

That was fair. Derek supposed he was just automatically thinking this was going to fail because, well, this was Stiles. AllAboutMischief. Derek was just a YouTuber who’d posted a video about him as a hobby from a desk job. Comparatively, they were completely different. 

“I’m willing to try,” he admitted, flipping his egg back over. He hadn’t actually asked Stiles what kind of eggs he liked, but he also hadn’t planned this well timing-wise since the oven was still pre-heating and he hadn’t even gotten started on the toast. 

Oh well. 

“Me too.” Stiles beamed at him. “So how about, for now, we just try, and go from there.” 

Derek nodded, turning to offer Stiles a small smile. “Sure. Sounds good to me, Batman.” 

Stiles looked startled for a second, and then let out a laugh, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Whatever, Superman.” 

Derek shrugged. “You’re the one who gave me that moniker, now you get to deal with it.” 

“I think I can live with that.” 

Man, Derek sure hoped so. Because he wanted Stiles to live with a lot when it came to him. 

“So, don’t freak out, but we’re trending.” 

Derek arched an eyebrow on his way out of the downstairs bathroom, wiping his wet hands on his jeans while walking towards Stiles, who was camped out on his couch. 

He’d gone home after a full day of hanging out together on Thursday, and had met up with Derek after work on Friday for another sleepover. There was less touching and more talking on Friday night, but Derek attributed that to them being a little bit less desperate for each other this time around. It had been a good night though, and Derek kind of loved that Stiles curled into a little ball against his side. He was comfortable to sleep with, honestly, and he loved it. 

He was worried about how much time Stiles was spending with him as opposed to his father, but apparently the man was working a lot right now, and Boyd and Erica were busy visiting friends and family, so Stiles had nothing but free time to hang out with Derek.

Not that either of them was complaining. 

“What do you mean we’re trending?” Derek asked, moving to sit on the couch beside him and leaning into his side a bit so he could see Stiles’ phone. 

The number of apps he had on that thing gave Derek anxiety, but it was Stiles’ phone and he could do what he wanted. 

Stiles tilted the phone more in Derek’s direction, and he saw that it was open on Twitter. Just as Stiles had said, their ship name of MischiefLover was indeed trending, alongside the hashtag ‘True Love Online.’ Derek honestly didn’t understand how news had spread so fast, because while Erica and Cora were nosy as all hell, they were both also considerate people who knew how private this was for the two of them. 

Kira and Laura certainly wouldn’t have said anything, nor would Boyd, and for either of their parents to have spilled the beans made absolutely no sense. So how did the internet always know everything basically the second it happened?

“That was fast,” Derek commented. 

“Yeah, Erica says it’s because of the song.” Stiles smirked at him. “A few people recorded it and posted it online, which is fine. I told them they could, so it’s not a big deal. But apparently I was too obvious with who I was talking about.” 

“Was it the Pringles, or the pie?” Derek asked dryly, Stiles grinning even more. After all, he’d written two short songs about pizza Pringles, and then one about strawberry-rhubarb pie, so really, people were well aware Stiles had a problem with Derek’s life choices. Especially when it came to Pringles and pie. 

Mostly pie, if the song was anything to go by.

“What can I say? I’m not subtle,” Stiles insisted, waggling his eyebrows. “Though speaking of not subtle, Erica’s mad she can’t post any pictures of us together on social media.”

“Why not?” 

Stiles gave him a look, then motioned his neck. 

Yeah, Derek wasn’t mad about that at all. And apparently, neither was Stiles. He didn’t care if people saw him wandering around town with hickeys littering his pale skin, he actually thought it was funny. Apparently his dad had sighed when Stiles had showed up at his workplace to pick him up for lunch without even bothering to try to hide them. 

Stiles didn’t see the point in hiding them, and considering the fact they were trending, he was even less likely to bother trying to hide them. 

“What are you going to do?” Derek asked curiously. 

“Do?” Stiles repeated, eyes still on his phone as he continued to scroll. 

“About the rumours. Are you going to say anything about them, or just leave them be?” Derek didn’t mind either way, he was mostly just curious. They’d only really formally talked about trying to be a thing two days ago, so he wouldn’t blame Stiles for wanting to keep this to himself until he was sure it was what he wanted. 

People speculated about stuff online all the time, that didn’t make it true, or even worth commenting on. Stiles just wasn’t really one to let things drop, and Derek knew that first-hand seeing as that was how he ended up becoming friends with him.

And then a little bit more. 

Stiles was quiet for a long while, still scrolling through his phone, and then eventually closed out of Twitter. Derek arched an eyebrow at him, but Stiles just grinned and opened his camera function, holding his phone up. 

“What are we doing?” 

“Taking a picture,” Stiles informed him. “Smile!” 

Derek just gave him an unimpressed look, but that didn’t seem to deter Stiles, who leaned in to kiss his cheek loudly. Derek heard the camera shutter click, still finding it weird that iPhones had that sound built into them. 

Stiles pulled away from him and brought the phone closer to himself, inspecting the picture and laughing. 

“How do you make resting bitch face look hot? Look at this hot face.” Stiles turned the phone to show him the picture. “Look at it! Such a hot little resting bitch face.” 

“Glad you approve.” 

Stiles winked saucily at him and leaned heavily into his side, phone angled towards Derek so that he could see what he was doing. It wasn’t until he realized exactly what Stiles was doing that he clued in to, well, what he was doing. 

Which was silently asking Derek for permission. If he didn’t want this to go public, Stiles wouldn’t post it. But if he didn’t care, then Stiles was going to do as he pleased. 

He said nothing, watching as Stiles uploaded the photo, wrote out a tweet, re-read it a few times, giving Derek ample time to ask him not to do it, and then posted it. 

Come at me Bro! - @AllAboutMischief
Finally with @TheRealMusicLover in person!!! He’s even prettier in person, even if he has pizza Pringle breath! #MischiefLover #TrueLoveOnline 

“If you’re not careful, I’ll legitimately go eat a whole can of Pringles.” Derek paused, thinking. “Maybe I’ll even sit on you while doing it so you have no escape.” 

“I’d bite you.” 

“Maybe I’d like that,” Derek teased, and Stiles laughed, closing out of Twitter and letting his phone drop into his lap. 

Tilting his head back, Stiles’ Cheshire-like smile slowly dissolved into something a bit softer, more honest. He angled his face a bit until he could press his lips to Derek’s, kissing him softly. Derek kissed him back, then shifted to kiss his forehead, pressing his cheek against the other man’s head. 

“Your PR must hate you,” he finally said. 

“Nah, they love me, I’m a treasure.” Stiles insisted. “But yeah, they get a lot of forehead bruises from all the headdesking.” 

“You seem like a handful.” 

“That a problem?” 

“No, I’ve got pretty big hands.” 

“Yeah you do,” Stiles said with an almost maniacal cackle. “Big hands indeed.” 

“Yours aren’t exactly small either.” 

“Guess we both got lucky.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows at him and Derek laughed. 

“Yeah. I guess we did. We did get lucky.” 

Derek didn’t know about Stiles, but he wasn’t talking about big hands anymore. 

Something told him, based on the soft smile on Stiles’ own face, that he wasn’t talking about big hands anymore either. 

And I’ll be your Batman if you promise to be my Superman, Derek sang in his head, then bent down to kiss Stiles again. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Two Years Later

“No, no, I’m not saying that it was a bad concert by any means,” Derek insisted, eyes on the chat as the words flew by quickly, not wanting to miss anything. “I’m just saying that it was a bit too much. There was too much going on, so it was hard to figure out what to pay attention to. The music was amazing, and the overall theme of the concert was great, I just think there was too much going on.” 

He watched his chat as it went by, seeing a few people agreeing, and others asking more questions. One person asked what was going on and who he was talking about, but another user answered before he could so he just kept looking at the opinions flying around. 

“I think having too much going on detracts from the overall concert itself, you know? I didn’t go for the flashy show or the crazy dancing, I went for the music. And there were way too many feather boas, like—way too many.” 

Derek read the chat as quickly as he could, hoping they could move on from this conversation sooner rather than later, and almost hit the ceiling when arms wrapped around him from behind and he felt teeth at his ear, tugging at the shell. 

“F–rick!” Derek just barely managed not to swear, since he didn’t want his stream to get demonetized once it posted, and reached back with one hand to smack at the intruder. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Why not?” Stiles asked, kissing along the shell of his ear now and down towards his neck. 

“I’m streaming,” Derek insisted, shifting to shove one hand into Stiles’ face to get him to back off, even as his chat just sent through tons of ‘LOL’s and a few greetings to Stiles. He’d become such a recurring presence on Derek’s streams that his chat didn’t freak out anymore. He was just like any other streamer’s significant other now, he just happened to be a celebrity, was all. 

But Stiles never came by to hog the spotlight. He usually only came to bug him when he was feeling lonely or ignored, generally after a long day of something or another where he wanted to end it snuggled up on the couch with Derek. 

“I noticed,” Stiles informed him, licking a stripe up Derek’s palm. That didn’t deter him, Derek had Stiles’ spit in many places so why he thought having it on his hand would bother him, he didn’t know. 

“Go make yourself useful and heat up dinner.” 

“What if I want something else for dinner?” Stiles managed to shift his face out from against Derek’s hand, mostly by moving to the other side of Derek’s head and blowing in his ear. “What if you’re the only thing I want to eat tonight?” 

Derek looked straight into his camera. “You see this?” He motioned over his shoulder. “You see what I have to put up with? Unbelievable.” 

“Chat understands,” Stiles argued, wrapping his arms more comfortably around Derek and resting his chin on his left shoulder. “Right chat? Who else would eat this man head to toe if they could?” 

The number of ‘me!’ and ‘I would!’ that entered his chat were quite alarming. 

“Okay, and on that note, we’re gonna pick this up again once my leech of a boyfriend isn’t around to bother us.” Derek leaned forward so he could grab his mouse. “See you guys tomorrow, and have a good day or night wherever you are in the world!” 

“Bye!” Stiles said, arms still around Derek but lifting both hands to wave until Derek turned off the stream. He made sure his camera was covered, just in case of any mishaps, then angled his head back and to the side, arching an eyebrow at Stiles.

His boyfriend grinned down at him. “Hi.” 

“You’re a menace.” 

“You love me.” Stiles kissed him before pulling away. 

Well, he wasn’t wrong. 

Derek got to his feet, stretching and turning to follow after Stiles, almost tripping on a stray guitar he’d just left lying right in the middle of the corridor. Unfortunately, this was a common occurrence with Stiles, because he sometimes got inspired at inopportune times and just sat down in the middle of nowhere and started playing or writing. 

To be fair, Stiles had very kindly given up his office so Derek could turn it into his recording studio. They shared the second guest room for various things related to their jobs, effectively making the sheriff’s guest room a general guest room, but Stiles still mostly just hung out in the sunlit hallway where his instruments were set up when he sat down to actually focus on writing. He didn’t seem to mind, especially since he could go and bother Derek whenever he wanted in the other room. 

“You start packing yet?” he called, Stiles already across the house and in the kitchen. 

“Nah, I’m more of a last minute kind of packer.” 

“The last time you ‘last minute’ packed, we almost missed our flight.” 

“And that would’ve meant driving back to Beacon Hills, which we both know is the safer way to go,” Stiles argued, Derek entering the kitchen. 

“More people die in car crashes every day than they do on planes,” Derek argued, kissing at Stiles’ temple on his way past him to the fridge to see what leftovers they had. They were trying not to buy anything seeing as they were heading back to Beacon Hills in two days. No point in loading their fridge up with food that would go bad. 

Derek still couldn’t believe this was his life sometimes. It had been a really tough decision for him, but in the end, it was one that had paid off and he didn’t regret it for a second. 

He and Stiles had been dating long-distance for almost three months before the distance got too hard, mostly for Stiles. He was a very physical person in all ways, including general hugs and cuddling and any other number of comforting things. It was hard to argue they had chemistry, and harder still to ignore their attraction to one another, and while Derek was worried about dropping his entire life for Stiles, he also knew this was something he didn’t want to give up. 

After discussing it at length with his family and Kira, and then eventually Stiles, they came to a good compromise that worked for everyone and allowed them to spend time together like they both so obviously wanted. 

They spent half the year at Stiles’ place in Las Vegas—which was basically half Derek’s place now—and the other half of the year at Derek’s place in Beacon Hills—which, similarly, was basically half Stiles’ place now. Derek had quit his office job, which had been terrifying, but that meant he had a ton more time for YouTube, and with Erica as an editor, and the ability to stream more frequently, he was making more than he had before with his office job and YouTube combined. 

When Stiles went on tour, Derek went with him, and they deducted those months of touring from the general half-and-half agreement between Las Vegas and Beacon Hills—so if Stiles was touring for four months, they split their time to four months on the road, four months in Vegas, and four months in Beacon Hills to keep things fair. 

Derek had been posting a lot of videos during his first tour with Stiles, and had basically created a playlist on his channel that was dedicated solely to the behind the scenes of AllAboutMischief while on tour. It had done really well, and while Stiles still couldn’t sleep on the bus, Derek at least managed to get him to lie down and rest, even if he wasn’t actually passing out. 

And was also very careful about not letting Stiles overdo it while onstage, and could happily report that Stiles hadn’t fainted from exhaustion once the whole time he’d been on tour with him. 

Overall, it was a complete upheaval of his entire life, but in a good way. People always said he could live off YouTube, and he was finding out that he could. Of course, he also had Stiles, but he was honestly more of a buffer in case something went wrong, not his sugar daddy. 

Derek was completely financially independent, as was Stiles, and while they lived very different lives, they complemented each other well and were both extremely happy with how things had turned out for them. 

They were about to head back to Beacon Hills for their stint back in California, and while Derek knew Stiles was already getting anxiety over the flight that was still a few days away, he could tell he was excited, too.

To see his dad, to see some of his friends, to see Cora. 

Stiles and Cora had really hit it off, Derek hated it. She was going to be an absolute pain at his wedding, he could feel it now. 

Not that they’d talked about that yet, but everyone kept saying they were heading in that direction, and Derek himself never reacted badly to the news, nor did Stiles. It was the next, inevitable step of their relationship, and he wasn’t going to complain about having Stiles be his for the rest of time. 

“Hey, spring rolls.” 

Derek turned in time to reach up and snatch the bag tossed his way, arching an eyebrow at Stiles when he grinned at him. 

“Nice catch, Superman.” 

“Mm hm, these are mine now,” Derek informed him, opening the bag and eating one of the spring rolls cold. Stiles let out a distressed sound, hurrying towards him and trying to grab for the bag, but Derek held it out of reach. They were almost the same height, but Derek was just that bit taller than him, which meant he could withhold spring rolls quite easily. 

“I hate you,” Stiles informed him. 

“You love me,” Derek insisted, kissing him lightly on pouty lips before handing over the bag of cold spring rolls. “Warm those up with your glowing charm.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes, kissed him back, and took the offered bag. Derek smiled, watching him turn towards the microwave behind them, not even having questioned for a second why Derek was making him put them in to heat up when he was also right in front of the appliance. Stiles was just funny that way. 

And Derek loved him. 

He loved absolutely everything about this man. 

The Batman to his Superman. 

Even if he still couldn’t appreciate the delicious taste of pizza Pringles. 

Art by Piratetattoos

END

Chapter Text

Art by Piratetattoos

As soon as the first chord began to play, a hand instantly reached out towards the radio and switched stations to something else. It wasn’t that he hated the song that had begun to play—the complete opposite, in fact—but the radio had this innate ability to overplay popular songs to the point where he started to hate them. 

It was one of his biggest pet peeves, and why he firmly believed that a song should not be allowed to play more than ten times in twenty-four hours. He hated that the radio recognized a song was popular and then let it play ten times a freaking hour, because that meant that he could hear the song over and over again until he started hating it. 

He didn’t want to hate this song, it was one of his favourites. It was a few years old by now, but still extremely popular, probably because of the overall theme of the song. It was called ‘The Darkness in Me’ by AllAboutMischief, and he actually loved the overall exploration of the secret parts of people that they tried to keep hidden. 

It had been most people’s favourite of his songs since the album had come out, which was why he didn’t want to listen to it again because it had already played at least twice in the past hour of traffic he’d been stuck in, and he didn’t want to lose his taste of it. 

Derek Hale leaned his head back against the headrest, eyes on the car in front of him while he waited for the stupid thing to move. Not that it was that car’s fault, but he was getting low on gas and this idling was bad for the environment. Apparently there was an overturned semi on the highway leading out of the city, so that was backing up traffic for everyone. 

Not that it helped him any, since he was heading out of the city. He didn’t even fucking live here, he’d just been dropping a co-worker off at the airport as a favour since she didn’t have a car, and was now stuck experiencing this shitty karma despite his good deed. That was supremely unfair, in his opinion, and it was going to impact his desire to do any more favours for anyone else. 

It was kind of a shitty situation all around for him, and he was annoyed he’d forgotten his phone charger because at least then he could’ve done a stream or something. He didn’t often record streams or videos in general on his phone, but having his chat around to entertain him for the next however many years of his life he was losing stuck in this traffic would’ve been appreciated. 

When the song on the radio ended and the DJ came back on, he only half-listened to what the man was saying before immediately switching stations again because ‘The Darkness in Me’ started to play again. Seriously, AllAboutMischief had other fucking songs, could they maybe alternate them every now and then? 

To be fair, his most recent album from two months ago didn’t have any bangers on it. The guy was good, no doubt about it, and he wrote all his own songs—lyrics, composition, instrumental, the works—but Derek felt like maybe he was burning out because he wasn’t overly impressed with this last one compared to his four others. 

He actually had a video coming out about it in the next few days, and he’d have been able to finish editing the fucking thing today if he wasn’t stuck in the world’s longest bout of traffic ever. He might die of old age before he moved another few inches. 

His eyes shifted towards his dash when the music playing cut out and a call came over his Bluetooth. When he saw who it was, he reached out to answer it immediately. 

“Remind me never to do anyone any favours ever again.” 

“Except for me, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he agreed. “You’re excluded.” 

“I feel so loved. Why are we no longer doing favours for anyone ever again?” 

“I drove Claire to the airport this morning as a favour, since she doesn’t have a car. I’m now going to die of old age before I even reach the highway.” 

“Oh, are you in Sacramento? I heard there was a huge blockage heading out of town into our neck of the woods.”

“I can confirm this is the case, seeing as I’ve been staring at the back of a lime green Smart car for the past...” he checked the time before continuing, “hour and thirty-two minutes.” 

“Ouch. Might as well walk home, you’d get back faster.”

“Probably,” he admitted. Though honestly, if they didn’t start moving soon, he actually might have to because he was dangerously low on gas. He’d been turning his engine off periodically throughout his wait time, but every time traffic moved even a little bit, someone from another lane would cut in front of him before he could turn it back on.

Because getting ahead even one car was worth it, apparently. It had happened four times, so he was just leaving it on now, despite knowing he shouldn’t. 

He just wanted to get home before the apocalypse, it wasn’t too much to ask.

“On the bright side, your last video just hit five-hundred thousand views.”

“And how many of those were you?” 

“Only about ninety-five percent of them,” his best friend teased.

Derek smiled, because while he knew Kira Yukimura would one-hundred percent watch his videos over and over again to help him get good numbers, she didn’t have to do that. He’d clawed his way up from the bottom like everyone else, and while gaming channels and cooking channels would always be at the top of the algorithm on YouTube, he was at least making a name for himself in the commentary community despite his topic being fairly niche. 

In a way, it didn’t matter to him if he was YouTube famous or not, since it was only a hobby, but he wouldn’t lie and say he was upset about having the large following he did. He’d legitimately had a bit of a weird mini freakout when he’d received a Silver Creator Award from YouTube, because he’d honestly never thought he’d reach a thousand subscribers, let alone one-hundred thousand subscribers. Especially for a commentary channel, that was huge. 

He was only a few thousand subscribers away from the Gold Creator Award, which was one million subscribers, and he honestly didn’t know what he would do the day he received that one. Probably something crazy, like sing live on his channel while letting his sister dye his hair green. 

Okay, probably not that, but considering he’d started this as a hobby on the side to de-stress from work, consistently bringing in views on his videos meant so much to him.

It was why he wished he could stream right now, because at least he’d have something to do, and would be able to talk about his grievance related to radio stations. He’d already written the idea down and started a rough draft of what he wanted to talk about on his phone half an hour ago, but having this as a stream instead of a video would’ve been way better. 

Lesson learned about his phone charger. He should just buy a second one so he always had it in his car. 

“I already know what my next one is going to be,” he informed Kira, silently thanking the Heavens when the car in front of him moved forward a little bit. Every little bit counted! 

“Is it about how much you hate traffic in big cities, which is why you still live in this dumb little town despite being a millionaire?”

“Not a millionaire, and no.” He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, mostly because he didn’t want to accidentally rear-end the car in front of him. “Repeat songs on the radio.” 

“Oh my God, I hate that!” Kira agreed. “I legitimately hate two Ed Sheeran songs I used to like because they’re over-played! Though Lizzo’s new song is good, but it’s also starting to hit that overplayed threshold.” 

“I just change station when a song I like starts to play,” he admitted.

“That’s because you’re weird.”

“No, it’s because I want to continue to enjoy the song. I don’t have a problem when I hear Ed Sheeran’s ‘Bad Habits’ song.” 

“I really liked that song, too,” Kira admitted with a sigh. “Now I hear it start and I just turn the radio off.”

“That’s why I switch stations,” Derek repeated. 

“Sorry, oh great one. Not all of us can afford to buy common sense.”

Derek did roll his eyes this time, because his friends and sisters always gave him a hard time about his job and his YouTube channel. They insisted he should quit his full-time job and just commit to YouTube, but he didn’t want to do that. 

For one thing, security, and for another, he felt like he’d start to hate making videos if he had to do it all the time as a job. It was a fun hobby, and he liked his upload schedule because it was relatively chill for him. But having a regular Monday to Friday, nine to five job just felt safer. He didn’t understand how some people could be so brave and take risks like becoming a full-time YouTuber, or moving to LA and chasing dreams of fame. The thought was terrifying. 

But because he had a full-time job, and a popular YouTube channel, his friends and family always insisted he was secretly a millionaire, which he was not. He made a good chunk of change with YouTube, he wouldn’t lie, but he was only just barely breaking three-hundred thousand a year with YouTube, and that was only for the past two years. He wasn’t like the big channels—Jacksepticeye, Markiplier, MrBeast—who made millions upon millions a day. 

Maybe not a day, but they had a yearly salary of over a million dollars. He knew, he’d checked. 

While his full-time job didn’t give him as much of a salary as YouTube was right now—he was at ninety-thousand yearly as of his last raise—it at least gave him some comfort in knowing that if something happened and his YouTube channel got banned or cancelled or whatever, he still had a steady income. 

And honestly, the tax hit he took was painful because he technically had two jobs, so he was by no means anywhere close to being a millionaire, no matter what his friends and family said. 

“I am going to die in this car,” Derek informed Kira, leaning his head back against the headrest once more. 

“I’ll make sure to put something snappy on your tombstone.”

“Better be impressive, or I’ll haunt you.”

“The most impressive,” she confirmed. “I’ll have to find something more sincere for your Twitter and YouTube though. Don’t want people to mistake you for the sassy asshole you are, it’d ruin your image.”

He let out a small laugh at that, because he doubted any of his followers missed the fact that he was sassy or an asshole, but Kira could think what she liked. 

He wasn’t rude or anything, but he had a lot of opinions about the music industry as a whole, which was primarily what he talked about in streams and videos. He’d majored in business at university, but he’d always liked music and had ended up doing a minor in music theory, which came in very handy when he did his videos. 

Admittedly, he got a lot of hate when he did videos on popular singers—he was never going to forget the backlash of his One Direction video, some of those death threats had been particularly graphic—but he never made videos about them to be assholes. He only ever really spoke about reasons singers did or didn’t work, and even then, that was just his own opinion. 

He wasn’t going out there telling people not to listen to One Direction—though they’d broken up, so a moot point now—he was just trying to explain why he thought some singers were better than others, and provided facts from his minor as to why he thought that. 

No one had to listen to him, and if they chose to, that was their own prerogative. He didn’t understand why people online always got all butthurt when someone didn’t like something they did. That was why there were so many different genres of music, because not everyone liked the same thing. 

“I should let you go,” Derek said with a deep sigh, still resting his head back on the headrest. “My phone’s probably on its last little bit of battery, and I need to be able to call my mother to explain how I want my possessions to be distributed.”

“I get your YouTube channel, right?”

“You get my Twitter, Cora gets my YouTube channel.” 

“What? Why?”

“She called dibs.” 

“Okay, so kill Cora, then kill you, got it.”

Derek laughed at that, somewhat grateful that Kira was managing to make him feel even a little better despite his shitty mood, and bid her farewell. When he ended the call, the music cut back on, and he let out a sigh when he heard AllAboutMischief’s voice coming through his speakers. 

He was too lazy to change it, and it sounded like it was at least halfway through, so he just sat there and let the song play, mouthing along to the words of the chorus. 

“You can’t change me
You can’t fix me
You just have to accept me

Please allow me to be
The best me that I can be
So I can fight off the darkness.

The darkness in me.” 

Derek was getting frustrated with everything being against him right now when he was just trying to get his video rendered and posted. He felt like there was some higher power involved here trying to stop him from posting this video, because it was already almost a week overdue and that was frustrating as hell.

He’d had to clip parts of his last stream and post that as a video on Wednesday to avoid missing one of his upload days, but he hated doing that because it felt cheap. His streams were available for anyone to view at any time, and clipping parts of it for a video made him feel like he was trying to double up on views for something he’d already talked about.

But this video was just not cooperating with him. First he’d gotten stuck in the world’s longest traffic jam—it had really only been two and a half hours, but it may as well have been an eternity—and then his editing program had decided to crash and not restart for no reason. Once he’d re-downloaded it and gotten started again, the video file was somehow corrupted and wouldn’t open. Thankfully he was a paranoid person because of work, so he had three different copies of his raw videos saved, which was good because it meant he didn’t have to do it again, but he had to re-edit the whole thing a second time when he’d been close to done on the corrupted file. 

After that shit-fest, he’d tried uploading it to his channel, and his internet had crashed so the upload had predictably failed, and now he was trying yet again to have it render and upload before he went to bed. A whole week of fighting with one video.

A part of him kind of just wanted to let the damn thing run overnight, but with his luck the video would crash halfway through and he’d wake up having to do this whole thing a third time. And he wasn’t going to miss his Saturday morning upload, those were the ones that got the most views, presumably because people watched them while eating breakfast or when waiting on friends or something. 

He could readily admit he always ate his cereal on Saturdays and Sundays watching YouTube, and he was sure he wasn’t the only one. 

Truth be told, he was a little... not nervous, but perhaps concerned about this video. Not because he said anything untrue, or even mean or rude, but just because he didn’t want to get shit on for it. 

Derek lived in a small town in California, and this singer—AllAboutMischief—happened to also come from this small town. He honestly didn’t really remember him, though they’d gone to the same high school. He’d been a senior when Mischief had been a freshman, so their paths hadn’t crossed very much. 

He also happened to be the current sheriff’s son, and while this was a free country and Derek could have whatever opinions he wanted about everything, he did acknowledge it was risky to be posting a video about Beacon Hills’ most famous individual with his own face plastered across the screen. 

People recognized him around town because of his channel, and while none of them ever made a big deal about it, he still go some people asking him for pictures or whatever. That was something he’d never understood, asking YouTubers for pictures. He supposed to some, having a platform made them something of a celebrity, but Derek was just posting videos because he enjoyed it. 

He hadn’t changed anything about his videos from when he’d had one view per video to now with over five-hundred thousand views per video. Sure, the camera itself and the editing were better, but he hadn’t changed his approach at all because he wasn’t doing videos to cause drama. He just did them to have a good time and to talk about something he was passionate about. 

Picking up his phone when it went off, he twisted back and forth in his chair while reading the text from his sister, replying back that no, he was not coming over for breakfast tomorrow, because every time she invited him over, her fridge and pantry were magically empty and they ended up going to the store for groceries that he paid for. 

Rolling his eyes, he tossed his phone onto his bed, doing a full spin back around to look at his computer. Thankfully, it was almost done rendering and he could shut down his computer and head to bed soon. It was almost midnight, and while that wasn’t late for most people, he didn’t like staying up too late on weekends because it affected his schedule during the week. 

Debating whether or not his computer would betray him if he walked away from it, he decided to risk it and stood, moving out of his room and walking down the short corridor towards his bathroom so he could get ready for bed. 

Relieving himself and brushing his teeth, he took his contacts out, putting them away in their little containers and grabbing his glasses, rubbing at his eyes for a few seconds. He knew that was a bad thing to do, but he couldn’t help it, his eyes got all dry and itchy when he took his contacts out. He usually wore his glasses on weekends, but work was easier to tolerate with his contacts, especially if it rained since their parking lot wasn’t covered. 

Putting his glasses on while heading down the corridor, he went downstairs to check that his front door was locked before turning off the lights on his way back up to his room. Once there, he let out a relieved sigh when YouTube showed his video was uploading—finally—and went to change out of his clothes into a pair of sweats. He went to plug in his phone and set it on his night stand as soon as he was dressed and his clothes were in the laundry. 

He was done before YouTube was, because the website was a piece of shit intent on making him suffer, so he just stood behind his chair with his arms crossed over his bare chest and watched the progress bar move. He knew he was only making his own life miserable, standing there watching, but he was kind of stubborn that way. 

After another eternity and a half—seriously, was the universe trying to warn him out of posting this video?—it finally uploaded and he let out a sigh of relief. He set it to publish at seven in the morning on Saturday—which it now was, given how long this had taken—and waited for everything to be confirmed before closing out of Firefox and shutting down his computer. 

That had taken way too long, and he was kind of annoyed now, which would probably make it hard for him to sleep. 

He attempted not to let the video’s horrible issues bother him as he turned off his light and climbed into bed. Setting his glasses down on the night stand, he rolled onto his side and stared at the dark, blurry wall across from him, trying not to think about how this could all blow up in his face. 

His work had always been really good about his YouTube channel, and they’d never said he couldn’t have it, or had any complaints about it. But this was someone from their small town. This was someone from Beacon Hills specifically. Derek didn’t think they’d be dicks about it, because again, everyone was entitled their opinion, but what if they got pissed because his boss’ daughter’s best friend was like, Mischief’s girlfriend’s brother’s nephew or something?! 

That was the shitty thing about living in a small town, it was entirely possible he would step on some toes. And while he’d always heard the sheriff was a nice man—he’d never met him personally—he didn’t know how he’d react to this video. 

And again! Derek wasn’t being rude or mean! He just felt like Mischief had been slacking in his most recent album, and he firmly believed it was because of burnout. After all, AllAboutMischief had put out five albums in six years. That was a lot of music, especially considering he’d been going on tours and talk shows and all that other stuff that came with being a famous singer. 

Derek didn’t blame the guy for having burnt out, he just wished he hadn’t let pressure force him into releasing another album that was subpar compared to all his others. 

It took him a long time to fall asleep, but thankfully he eventually managed it. He kept debating getting up to take the video down before it went live, but at the end of the day, he was determined not to let fear get the better of him. He’d never had a concern about a video going public before, this one was just a bit different because of the fact that it was someone from his own home town. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep for, but he woke with a start at the sound of his phone ringing annoyingly right beside his head. Letting out a grunt, he debated ignoring it, but he always worried it was someone calling about an emergency, or one of his friends calling for help. His sister Cora usually called him when she was alone on her way home from work—or getting back late after a night out at a club or bar—and needed to be on the phone with someone. 

Even if he was sleeping, or it was like two in the morning. That was kind of what siblings were for, and he never got mad about it. He’d rather be grumpy with her than ignore her call and have something happen to her. 

Reaching out for his phone, he pulled it closer and peeked open one eye. Speak of the devil, it was Cora. 

He had to shift to unplug his phone from the charger, then answered the call, rolling onto his back while rubbing at his face with his free hand, his legs getting tangled in the sheets. 

“What?” he asked in classic older brother fashion. 

“Dude, are you sleeping right now?!” Cora demanded, sounding almost offended at the mere prospect of him not being awake. 

Pulling the phone away from his ear, he let his free hand slide off his face, squinting at the screen to check the time, then returned it. “Yes, Cora. I am still asleep at seven forty-three in the morning on a Saturday,” he said dryly. “Why aren’t you asleep this early on a Saturday?”

“I haven’t slept yet,” she said, almost breathlessly. That made sense, par for the course with Cora. Before he could get a word in, she continued immediately. “Have you not seen Twitter?”

“Seeing as I just confirmed I was still sleeping, why would I have seen Twitter?” he asked sleepily, closing his eyes and trying to get this conversation over with as fast as possible so he could go back to sleep. He didn’t sleep in often, and he was honestly a little annoyed Cora was calling him this early on a weekend for nothing. 

“You’re trending!”

That woke him up, his eyes slowly opening and a frown on his face. He sat up, rubbing at his face once more while struggling to figure out what the fuck she was saying. 

“What? What do you mean I’m trending?” 

“I mean you. Are. Trending! AllAboutMischief atted you on Twitter and now your name is literally everywhere!” 

Dread pooled in the pit of his stomach at those words and he immediately wrenched his sheets off his legs, climbing out of bed and snatching up his glasses. 

“What? What did he say?” 

Was Cora fucking serious, or was she just messing with him? Because how was it possible someone as well known as AllAboutMischief happened to find his YouTube video?! Sure, people often sent his videos to the artists that he covered, but none of them ever watched them. Or if they did, they didn’t bother replying because most of them didn’t care about what some random YouTuber said about them. 

“I mean, he was pretty upset.”

Fucking Christ, really?! The one stupid singer he fucking covers from his own hometown, and the guy can’t take even a modicum of criticism? This was so fucking stupid, he couldn’t believe this was happening. 

“I’ll call you back,” he insisted, hanging up on Cora and bending over in front of his computer. He turned his laptop back on, tapping the fingers of his left hand impatiently against his desk while he waited for it to boot back up. 

He knew he could technically check Twitter on his phone, but it took too long to load, and it was harder to check what was trending and his atts and whatnot. He wasn’t procrastinating, of course not. Why would he be procrastinating? No reason to procrastinate. 

When his computer finally booted up, he input his password and had to wait an additional few minutes for everything to load. Once he could get Firefox opened, he went to Twitter with some trepidation, wondering how salty and childish AllAboutMischief was going to be. It was disappointing to find out he was going to be a baby about Derek’s video, especially since it was just his fucking opinion. 

When he got Twitter open on his browser, he saw that he was indeed trending. He had to wonder how many people were looking up TheRealMusicLover to have his name trending like it was. It also made him a bit nervous about how popular AllAboutMischief actually was considering his entire fanbase was clearly looking into him. 

He wondered how many thousands of dislikes his video had gotten in the past fifty minutes since it went live. He’d probably lost a shit-ton of subscribers too, which sucked. 

Steeling himself for what was coming, he went to look at his atts to see what kind of baby response AllAboutMischief had made, and read through the whole thread, kissing his entire YouTube hobby goodbye. 

Derek... had no idea what to say. Or how to react. Or what to even feel. 

What the hell was going on? 

He immediately went to YouTube to check his video, and the first thing he noticed was that his subscriber count had indeed changed, just as he’d suspected. 

Except not in the direction he’d anticipated. 

When he’d gone to bed, he’d still been a few thousand subscribers away from one million. Something like seventeen or eighteen thousand away. 

He was now staring at his subscriber count sitting at over one million by a fair margin.

“What the fuck?” he whispered to himself, and went to look at his newest video about AllAboutMischief. It was sitting at three-hundred thousand views in the first hour, and had more comments than he’d ever gotten on any of his videos since he began uploading. 

“What the fuck?” he whispered again, a little more desperately. What the hell was happening? He’d been freaking out about this video because of the people in town who watched his content, only to wake up to more subscribers and AllAboutMischief himself ragging on him. But he wasn’t even ragging on him for the content of the video! He was ragging on him about his choice of fucking Pringles! 

Scrolling to his comments section, he looked over the first few which, predictably, were all hate about his opinions, and how he was stupid and didn’t know what he was talking about, and that AllAboutMischief was perfect. 

The crazy thing was that there was a comment from AllAboutMischief himself, using his own personal YouTube channel. Derek would’ve thought it was someone who just took care of his account, but the response was so genuine that there was no way this wasn’t the man himself. 

Seriously, was Derek still asleep and dreaming this whole thing up? This was insane, what the hell was happening? His phone’s home screen kept lighting up, since he had notifications turned on but with no sound, and he just kept seeing notifications for Twitter and YouTube popping up constantly. Considering how he’d jumped up in his subscriber count on YouTube, he was quite worried to check his Twitter. 

He kept scrolling through his comments, and realized, quite startled, that all the hate he got around the time of AllAboutMischief’s comment had responses from Mischief himself telling people to chill the fuck out. More politely, but still, what the hell was happening? 

He stopped on one comment from a hater, reading it over, and then checked Mischief’s response, completely floored by how fucking chill and literally nice this dude was. Regardless of how fucking famous he was, he was very clearly still down to earth and hadn’t let his fame get to his head. 

Was this guy for real? Was this guy actually for real? 

Derek picked his phone up, ignoring all the messages he was getting from various apps, and unlocked it to get to his contacts. He called Cora back, his sister answering before the first ring had even concluded. 

“Did you see? Did you see what he said?! This is so cool, he watched your video!”

Yes. Yes he did.

And Derek had no fucking idea how to deal with this. 

Derek avoided all of his social media the entire day. He turned notifications off on his phone, because it was becoming a little overwhelming and he honestly had no idea how to react to what had happened. 

Kira had called him to freak out a little bit, since she was also an AllAboutMischief fan like him, and she couldn’t believe Derek had actually caught his attention. 

Derek couldn’t believe he’d actually caught his attention! 

This literally wasn’t the first time people had sent his videos to the people he was talking about, but none of them had ever replied or responded. He assumed it was because they figured he was entitled his opinion, and while Mischief seemed to be of the same mind overall, he’d still actively replied and basically shot Derek up in popularity. 

It was a weird kind of popularity though, because some people hated him, while others thought he was amazing. A few people were clearly salty about his last video, but he had a whole slew of new comments from people whose names he’d never seen before—thus concluding they were new watchers—who were admitting they’d also noticed the last album AllAboutMischief had put out was a little lackluster when compared to the others. 

Derek felt kind of bad, if he was honest. It wasn’t that he’d hated the album, because it was still a good album, it just hadn’t had the wow factor of all his other ones. And honestly... Derek was kind of worried. 

Mischief’s response about how he’d had a rough year and was struggling to find inspiration worried him because... what if he’d made it worse? What if his video had unintentionally demotivated Mischief and he was now going to take a hiatus? Derek would feel fucking awful. 

That was never the intention of any of his videos, they were just meant to be his own personal opinion, and something he and his more chatty subscribers could talk about. He had a few of his original followers on Discord, and they often talked about his videos and their opinions. They didn’t even always agree, but they were always respectful. 

He figured it was because they’d been with him from the beginning, and while one of them was only turning twenty-one this coming year, the others all tended to be in a similar age-range to him. He was going to be twenty-nine in November, and the other people he spoke to regularly ranged from twenty-seven to thirty-four. 

There was one outlier who was sixty-two, but that guy was a fucking legend and Derek loved chatting with him. He’d seen Queen in concert many times before the death of Freddie Mercury, and Derek had a great time talking to him about his experiences. He wasn’t great with Discord, but he seemed to have a good handle on YouTube so Derek responded to his comments sometimes just to keep up with how the old man was doing. 

Derek normally got scripts written up for new videos on Saturdays, or he streamed for a little bit if he didn’t have any ideas he felt like writing, but not today. This Saturday was spent with him sitting in front of his TV, not really watching what was playing, and wondering if he should make an apology video. He’d never had to make an apology video before, and he didn’t like that he felt like he might have to, but he was actually kind of worried about Mischief. 

Why was he lacking in inspiration? Maybe he was starting to get overwhelmed with the weight of his fame? After all, Mischief was the same age as Cora, only twenty-six. He’d risen up through the charts at rapid-fire speed over the past few years, but he’d really only been doing music for six years. That meant he’d started all of this when he was twenty, and with how famous he was, Derek knew the guy couldn’t go anywhere without being swarmed by fans if they recognized him. 

He couldn’t imagine how overwhelming that was. Derek himself got recognized around town, and he was only a fucking YouTuber. And not even a super famous one—though that was likely to change given Mischief’s tweets. It must be so suffocating trying to go to the store and being stopped every two seconds for pictures or an autograph. The paparazzi probably followed him around sometimes, too. Overall it sounded horrible, and Derek felt like maybe Mischief wasn’t as used to it as a lot of the other celebrities. 

After all, he’d grown up in a tiny town like Beacon Hills, so it was probably a huge change for him. 

“You’re not making an apology video!” Derek insisted aloud to himself. Because he wasn’t. He absolutely was not. He had nothing to apologize for. He was just feeling weird because none of the other people he’d made videos about had ever called him out in any capacity before. 

He was still sitting on his couch glaring at his TV when he got a text from his mother, asking if he was on his way. He didn’t understand why at first, but then realized it was the first Saturday of the month, and his family always got together for dinner twice a month every other Saturday.

Shit, he’d forgotten. This whole AllAboutMischief thing had kind of derailed his entire day. 

Texting his mother back that he would be there shortly, he hurried to grab his keys and wallet and headed out of his house, locking up behind himself. He tried to avoid people as much as possible on his way to his car, and was thankful when he didn’t run into anyone. He could hide in his house tomorrow, but Monday was going to be... interesting. 

His parents’ place wasn’t far from his own, so it only took him about eight minutes to get there. It would’ve been less if he hadn’t gotten stuck at literally every light he passed. Cora’s Honda was already parked in the driveway beside his parents’ car, so Derek parked his own Camaro on the curb in front of their house. 

Stepping out and locking it up, he started for the door when a shadow loomed behind the window near the front door. He sighed the second it opened, because it seemed he couldn’t even get into the damn house before getting a lecture. 

“I can’t believe you did a piece of the sheriff’s kid,” Laura said, leaning sideways against the jamb and crossing her arms. “You have a death wish or something? You know the man has a gun,  right?”

“I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true, and I was respectful,” Derek argued, climbing the porch steps and stopping in front of his older sister. “Not like I’m the first person to ever say anything remotely negative about AllAboutMischief.” 

“Maybe, but you’re the first person to be dumb enough to do it while living in his hometown. You know he has friends here, right? And his dad? What if your boss is a huge AllAboutMischief fan and gets mad you brought shame on our small town hero?”

“I didn’t bring shame on anyone,” Derek insisted with a sigh. “His recent album was underwhelming, I was just being honest. No one has to listen to me, and they don’t have to agree with me.” 

Laura just sighed, like she understood he’d never see things her way and shifted to the side to let him into the house. He walked through the doorway, Laura closing the door behind him, and they both headed for the kitchen. 

His father was out on the back patio, manning the grill, and his mother was checking something in the oven. Cora was sitting at the kitchen counter demolishing a bag of pistachios, and clearly had been for a while, given the pile of half-shells in front of her. 

“There’s Mr. Big-and-Famous,” she said with a brilliant grin when he walked in. “So, scale of one to ten, how mad do you think your boss will be on Monday?” 

“Cora, behave,” his mother insisted, having straightened with a baking sheet, which she placed on the stovetop. It looked like regular dinner rolls, so she’d likely just been warming them up. 

Talia turned to him while removing her oven mitts, smiling as she headed towards him and reached up with one hand to pull him closer so she could kiss his cheek. 

“Hi mom,” he said in response. 

“Hi sweetie. I hear you had an exciting day.” 

“It wasn’t boring,” Derek agreed sourly, moving around Cora to grab a handful of pistachios for himself and beginning to break them out of their shells, popping them into his mouth one at a time. 

“Are we not gonna talk about the fact that our family’s about to get boycotted because he went after the golden boy?” Laura asked, arching an eyebrow at her mother as she passed her to head back for the dinner rolls. 

“Your brother didn’t do anything wrong,” his mother insisted, grabbing for the bread basket and beginning to transfer the warm rolls from the pan to the basket. “Anyone who decides to cause problems because they didn’t like what a stranger on the internet said needs to reevaluate their life.” 

“He was getting death threats,” Laura insisted, evidencing that she’d read through his comments. Great. 

“He got death threats on his Cardi B video too,” Cora insisted, grabbing for more of the nuts in front of her. “One of them was me.” She turned to him. “I still can’t believe you think Nicki Minaj is a better rapper than Cardi B.” 

Derek shrugged. “It’s my opinion. Agree to disagree.” 

“Oh, I disagree, because you’re an idiot,” Cora informed him. 

He just shrugged again, then turned to reach out and open the back door for his dad when he saw him heading for it with a large plate of grilled chicken. 

“Thanks Derek. And congratulations, by the way.” He beamed at his son as he passed him, heading for the dining room. “I hear you broke a million subscribers.” 

“That’s right!” Talia turned to him, also smiling. “Congratulations. Are you going to get another YouTube plaque?” 

“Oh my God, gold play button!” Cora thrust both fists in the air, as if she was the one who’d get it and not him. 

Talia smiled fondly at her antics, picking up the bread basket and motioning for them to head into the dining room. They all took their usual seats, the five of them always having been seated in the same places since Derek was a kid. 

His mother seemed to recognize he didn’t want to talk about what had happened anymore and made sure to change the subject, asking his sisters how they were doing, how work was going, all the usual things parents asked their kids. Laura was still hard at work trying to get things organized for the new year. She was an accountant, and no one ever expected to see or hear from her between January and the end of April. It was hit or miss between May and July, depending on how many people she was helping with their corporate taxes. 

Cora was still spending all her money at the club she worked at. When she wasn’t behind the counter bartending, she was on the other side of it partying and drinking enough to make a grown man feel small. His sisters were both very different people, but Derek knew Laura could have a good time when she wanted to. 

She always got a little snarky when one of Derek’s videos gained too much traction, because she worried about someone trying to hurt him. While it was true some people out there were crazy, Derek highly doubted anyone was going to come to Beacon Hills, California in search of him. They’d stand out too much, the town always immediately noticed when new people moved to town. 

It got annoying sometimes when Laura was in this kind of mood, but he understood. It was older sibling syndrome, he was like that with Cora. 

Dinner passed relatively quickly, the five of them conversing and bringing each other up to speed about what new things were happening in their lives. His parents wanted to remodel the kitchen before Christmas, which Derek thought was a bit of a tight deadline since it was now October, but he didn’t comment on it. 

When they were finished eating, Cora went to clean off the barbecue while Derek helped Laura with the dishes. It was only fair they clean up when their parents had been the ones to cook. 

“How are you losers doing?” Cora asked, moving to stand beside Derek and watching as he dried one of the larger items that didn’t fit in the dishwasher, Laura in the process of cleaning the sink of any grime from the rinsing process. 

“Surprisingly, we’re capable of washing dishes,” Derek informed her. “Shocking, I know. But we managed somehow. It took two of us, but putting our heads together really helped.” 

“Can’t believe you guys figured it out,” Cora teased, turning to hop up onto the counter, watching as Laura rubbed at a greasy spot in the sink. 

Derek eyed Cora for a moment, still drying the same item he’d been holding for a while now, and asked, “Hey, you were in the same grade as Mischief, right?” 

“His name is Stiles, and yeah, I was,” Cora said, still watching Laura. 

“What was he like?” 

She shrugged. “We didn’t really interact much. We had our own friends, and we didn’t really overlap. Seemed pretty chill, though. He got in trouble a lot. Harris gave him detention like, every other day.” 

“Harris gave everyone detention every other day,” Laura muttered, reaching for a paper towel and returning to her scrubbing. Derek had no idea what she was doing, but he didn’t question it. “I don’t get teachers like him. If you hate kids so much, why are you a teacher?” 

“Power,” Derek argued. “Bullies like being in positions of power. And even if he wasn’t a bully in school, and was instead someone who was bullied, being able to bully kids as an adult probably made him feel like he had some kind of payback for his own shitty school life.” 

Laura hummed in agreement, but didn’t say anything else so Derek turned back to Cora. 

“I was thinking about maybe doing an apology video,” Derek admitted to her. 

Cora arched an eyebrow at him. “What? Why?” 

Derek shrugged. “I don’t know. I think I might have made things worse for him if he’s been struggling with his writing.” 

“Nah,” Cora insisted, waving one hand at him in dismissal. “I might not have hung out with the guy, but he’s literally super chill. I have his best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend on Instagram, and she says he hasn’t changed at all since high school.” 

“Best friend’s boyfriend’s best friend,” Laura repeated, turning to give Cora a look. “What does that even mean?” 

Cora looked towards the ceiling, like she was thinking, and ticked them off on her fingers as she named them. “Stiles’ best friend is Erica Reyes, who’s dating Vernon Boyd, whose best friend is Lydia Martin, who I have on Instagram.” She stuck her tongue out at Laura. “Lydia and I chat every now and then, she comments on my pictures when I make super colourful drinks at work. She was part of Stiles’ friend group back in school, and they still keep in touch. She says he’s still super humble and down to earth.” She looked back at Derek then. “I don’t think you need to make an apology video. He didn’t seem mad at all, he was just offended at your choice in Pringles.” 

“Everyone’s offended at his choice in Pringles,” Laura insisted with a snort. 

“What’s wrong with pizza Pringles?” Derek demanded, motioning for Cora to move so he could put what he was holding away in the cupboard behind her. She just leaned to the side instead of getting out of the way, because his sister was annoying that way. 

Whatever, he still got the item put away in the end. 

“What isn’t wrong with pizza Pringles?” Cora asked with a snort. “How many people actually like that flavour?” 

“Enough people for it to still exist,” Derek countered. 

Cora rolled her eyes and slid off the counter when their mother called to her, asking what episode of Selling Sunset they were on. It was some kind of real estate show for mega rich people or whatever. Derek hadn’t seen it, he attributed it kind of to that guilty pleasure reality show category like The Bachelorette and that wasn’t his thing. 

When he and Laura were done with the dishes, they went to bid their parents a good night. Cora was already splayed out on the couch with their mother while their father sat in his armchair playing cards on his iPad. Out of the three children, Cora was the one who hung out at their parents’ place the most, because her schedule was super weird and kind of all over the place. 

Derek and Laura headed out once they’d bid everyone farewell, and his father called congratulations to him once again as they exited the house. 

Walking to the Camaro, Laura kept in step beside him. She didn’t drive anymore, having gotten into one too many accidents because she struggled to focus on too many things at once, so she always got a ride in with Cora and a ride home with Derek. 

“Can we stop for ice cream?” she asked as they climbed in, Derek fixing his mirror since Laura had knocked it slightly. 

“No.” 

“Oh come on, like you wouldn’t go for an Oreo McFlurry right now,” she insisted, shoving at him. “Let’s go to McDonald’s, I want a sundae.” 

“No,” he said again, pulling away from the curb and heading down the street towards Laura’s place. 

“I’ll buy your McFlurry for you,” Laura insisted. “Come on, Derek. I need the sugar, I have work to do when I get home.” She leaned into his side heavily, chin on his shoulder, and pretended to pout. “Please? Please?” She poked at his cheek. 

“You’re annoying,” he informed her, but turned towards the McDonald’s anyway. “And I want a large one, don’t be cheap and order me the snack size.” 

“Some of us have to save money, we’re not all rich YouTubers like you.” 

“Not rich,” he insisted on a sigh. 

They drove the rest of the way to the McDonald’s in silence, the radio playing another one of those songs Derek heard five times an hour. It was one he didn’t have an opinion on though, so it mostly worked as background noise. 

He went through the drive-thru to order their ice cream, and then went to park so they could both eat it without Derek’s melting into soup. Turning off the engine, and taking the McFlurry when Laura held it out to him, he took a bite of it, and was quite happy it seemed to be relatively well mixed, for once. 

Sometimes all the oreo was in the top, with the bottom being regular vanilla ice cream. That was always super disappointing. 

“I don’t think you should either, for the record.” 

Derek turned to his sister, plastic spoon still in his mouth, and pulled it out to stick it back into his ice cream. “Don’t think I should what?” 

“Do an apology video,” she said. “I’m worried about you, especially because you went after Stiles fucking Stilinski while you live in Beacon Hills, of all places, but I don’t think you owe him an apology. As much as I don’t like that you made that video, I don’t think you were wrong. And if that really was him replying, he doesn’t think you were wrong, either.” 

Derek licked some ice cream off his bottom lip, looking down into his cup and mixing it a bit more with the plastic spoon. “No one’s ever replied to me before. I guess I’m just worried he might find it even harder to get anything else out because he got called out for slacking on his last album.” 

“I don’t think so,” Laura said. “He was pretty clear in his comment that he was pushing himself too hard and that a break was warranted. Maybe you just gave him a reason to actually take one. Maybe he didn’t notice he needed one until someone called out how mediocre his last album was.” 

“They can’t all be bangers,” Derek argued. 

“True, but he hasn’t missed yet. And while his last one wasn’t the best, it’s still good. Like, I think four of his songs are still in the top ten, and it’s been out for a few months.”

“He’s a good lyricist,” Derek admitted. “You could just tell these ones didn’t really have anything personal behind them. Most of his others songs have a lot of himself buried in the words. ‘The Darkness in Me’ is about his battle with depression, and ‘Hollow’ is about his feelings after his mother passed away. He always uses personal experiences to put more life into his songs, even when they’re just goofy or boppy. My favourite of his is definitely ‘The Darkness in Me,’ but of the high-energy songs he sings, I really like ‘Losing Control.’” 

“That’s the one about ADHD right?” Laura asked with a frown. 

Derek nodded, using his spoon to scrape the sides of his container so he didn’t keep getting ice cream on his fingers when he tried to dig deeper. “Yeah, he wrote it to raise awareness about it when one of his fans said his parents didn’t believe ADHD was a real thing. Mischief has it himself, so I think hearing that from the kid hit home a little bit.” 

“Yeah, his music always has really strong messages,” Laura agreed. “Though I have to admit, my favourite is ‘Standing in Line,’” Laura said, which was one of AllAboutMischief’s more chaotic songs. It played a lot in night clubs, Cora said she heard it enough times to probably figure out how to play all the instruments in it. 

“That one was about his trip to DisneyWorld with his best friend,” Derek informed her with a small laugh. “Apparently the lines were horrible enough that it warranted a song.” 

“He wrote one for her, didn’t he?” Laura asked, licking chocolate fudge off her hand when it flicked off her spoon. “His best friend?” 

“Yeah, ‘Platonic Soulmate.’ I think she tours with him, I haven’t ever really looked into her, to be honest. I just know she was there when he started making it big. I think she used to help him edit his videos.” 

AllAboutMischief, aka Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski though Derek always thought of him as Mischief in his head, had been another YouTube discovery similar to Justin Bieber. He’d been posting himself playing his guitar on YouTube with songs he’d written himself while he’d still been in high school. Erica was in the background of some of them, sometimes being a goofball, and other times taking jabs at his word choices, but it was obvious it was all in good fun and they had a stellar relationship. 

Derek knew from his research for his latest video that Mischief hadn’t finished university before fame found him. He’d only gone for one year, and had gotten a record deal during the summer between his first and second. He’d put university on hold, and often said he had plans to go back, but he probably hadn’t expected to make it as big as he had. 

Honestly, Derek was pretty sure the AllAboutMischief channel that had commented on his video was Mischief’s original channel. It had just been converted into his professional channel once he’d made it big. That was what had happened with Justin’s, as far as Derek remembered. His video on Justin Bieber was fairly old, he couldn’t remember everything about his research on him anymore. 

“I’m happy for him,” Laura said, Derek focussing on her again and not on his own thoughts. This whole situation had really affected him. “It’s always nice and unexpected when someone really talented from a small town makes it big, and keeps their head on straight, you know? He really does seem like a good guy.” She turned to him, smiling and nudging him lightly with her elbow. “Don’t do the apology video. He doesn’t want it. He just wants an explanation on your bad taste in Pringles.” 

Derek rolled his eyes. “I don’t have to explain anything to him, least of all why I like pizza Pringles.” 

Really. Derek owed him nothing. He’d listen to his sisters and not do the apology video, and by next week, Mischief will have forgotten all about him. 

Mischief did not forget about him. 

Derek had shown up to work a little nervous on Monday morning, but nobody had treated him any differently. One of the girls he’d run into when he went to the break room to grab a coffee admitted she agreed with him on Mischief seeming to be burnt out, but otherwise, it was business as usual. 

It was weird to think that maybe people silently agreed with him about Mischief working himself too hard. A lot of people in town actually knew him, consequence of it being a small town and him being the sheriff’s son, so maybe some people were worried about him. Maybe they’d watched Derek’s video, and instead of being indignant and calling him out for—whatever, something, they’d instead paused and thought about what he’d said, and had realized that he was right and Mischief needed a break. If not from the touring, then at least from the pressure of pumping out albums almost once a year. 

A lot of his songs from previous albums were still often over-played, so Derek knew there was exactly zero risk of him becoming obsolete. 

By Wednesday, he’d managed to get a good stream in, and had finished editing and posting another video about jazz music. He liked to sprinkle in some music genres every now and then, because it was always interesting to talk about things he enjoyed, which was music in general. 

When Friday rolled around, he was looking forward to the weekend, and was pretty sure he could get his script written for his review on the music from Camila Cabello’s Cinderella movie done by tonight—yes, he’d watched it, because so many of his followers kept asking him to give his opinion on it. 

He was in the break room waiting on the coffee machine, texting with Kira about catching a movie tonight, when his screen blacked out for a second and began to ring, Cora’s face flashing back at him. He swiped to answer and brought the phone to his ear. 

“What do you want?” he asked in way of greeting. 

“Dude, have you seen Twitter?!”

Oh God, what now? Was there a famous jazz musician out there tearing apart his jazz video? 

“No, I’m at work.” 

“Check Twitter!”

Cora hung up. 

Derek pulled his phone away from his ear, and hesitated, the screen having returned to his text messages with Kira. He’d turned alerts off on all his social media mostly because he was a bit overwhelmed—and honestly, intimidated—by the attention from AllAboutMischief’s tweets, both good and bad. 

Cora calling to tell him to check Twitter meant something had probably happened, and while a part of him kept hoping it was Louis Armstrong’s daughter coming to tear him a new one—though that would also be devastating—he was pretty sure Cora wasn’t freaking out over someone commenting on his jazz video. 

Sighing to himself while checking the coffee machine’s progress, he determined he had enough time to check out whatever fallout he’d have to deal with later and opened Twitter. He didn’t bother pretending he didn’t know where this was going. He just went straight to AllAboutMischief’s page, and stared at the first tweet at the top. 

There was a link to a YouTube video in the tweet. Derek expected it to lead back to his own video about Mischief, but he clicked on it anyway just to see if the view count had gone up. It had received over three million views when he’d last checked, so it was probably beginning to stall out by now.

It was not his video. 

It brought him to AllAboutMischief’s page, opening on a video he’d posted today, with the singer sitting on an expensive-looking couch with an acoustic guitar in his hands. 

His posture was relaxed, and he was grinning at the camera, wearing a red hoodie and a pair of blue jeans with a beanie. He looked comfortable, like he’d just done this during some downtime in his tour schedule on a whim and had posted it on the internet for fun. 

Oh God, was he about to get completely destroyed by AllAboutMischief because of his video?! 

“Hey TheRealMusicLover,” he said, his voice surprisingly crisp given how far he was from the camera. He probably had a microphone set up out of frame. Or maybe he had a microphone on his person, he was a celebrity after all, he probably had an entire sound department at his beck and call. “I noticed you still haven’t provided me with an explanation on why you have pizza Pringles on your desk which, rude,” he said, giving the camera a look. 

Derek felt hot all over, because what? 

What?! 

Was AllAboutMischief literally waiting on a response from Derek about fucking Pringles?! 

Cora hadn’t been lying about him being super chill, because why else would he be calling attention to Derek’s channel just because of Pringles? Obviously he was having a good time with this little rivalry, and maybe he felt seen by Derek for what he’d been saying? 

Then again, maybe not, and Derek was looking into it too much. 

“So,” Mischief continued, eyes dipping to his guitar as he began to strum at it, then fiddled with the tuners, “I figured if you were going to stay quiet about your horrific offence, I was going to show you why you’re wrong. I wrote you a little song. It’s not perfect, and it’s still a little choppy, but I hope it helps you change your taste in Pringles.”

He’d fucking what?! 

Mischief cleared his throat dramatically, strumming his guitar a little in preparation, and then started up a somewhat jaunty-sounding tune before looking right into the camera with a big grin and beginning to sing. 

“It’s not every day you see the face of God
Whose choice in Pringles is a little odd
Can sprout out facts like no one else 
With a voice so sinful it makes you melt

But bro I can’t get over what was on your desk
It made your whole damn room truly grotesque
How a man who looks as hot as you
Would spoil it all with such an awful view 

You got a pretty face, and an awesome smile
I’d love to visit you for a little while 
But man we have to talk, this is serious 
Your taste in Pringles is delirious 

My man I don’t judge, and I don’t play jury
But your choice in Pringles fills me with fury
Please understand where I’m coming from
Pizza Pringles taste like fucking cum.” 

Derek instantly whipped around to make sure no one was near him, because holy fuck that ending! He had not been expecting that to come out of Mischief’s mouth, the guy didn’t even swear on Twitter, for crying out loud! Having him end a song about fucking Pringles with the words ‘fucking cum’ was so jarring Derek felt like he needed to sit down.

Mischief looked completely unrepentant, and Derek could just barely hear someone with a hyena cackle somewhere in the room with him. It was probably Erica Reyes, because only she would condone this kind of thing from him. Derek was sure his PR was sobbing and trying to make him take the video down. 

“Well, that’s all I have for you. I hope you understand my position, and that you respond with your counter-argument soon.” Mischief stood, heading towards the camera. He bent down, hand extended, like he was about to turn it off, then paused and said, “For the record, if you don’t like the right kind of Doritos either, I’m going to end up writing a whole bunch of songs about chips.” 

With that, the man winked into the camera—and probably had every straight girl, bisexual, and gay guy on the planet swoon and cream themselves—and turned the camera off. 

The video ended there, providing him with recommendations for what he could watch next. As if to mock him, his own video about AllAboutMischief was the second one being recommended. 

Mischief’s video already had over a million views, and an obscene amount of likes. Derek scrolled down to check the comments, noting the name of the video was literally “TheRealMusicLover likes pizza Pringles and this is why he’s wrong.” 

Good fucking Lord. 

Most of the comments were overwhelmingly positive, with a lot of people laughing about the lyrics, even while others agreed with him that pizza Pringles tasted like ass. There were a few comments sprinkled in here and there about how he shouldn’t be using that type of language, because he was meant to be a role model and what sort of message was he sending to children, but a lot of those messages actually had little hearts beside them from Mischief himself, denoting he’d read them and clearly didn’t care. 

To be fair, the ‘children’ had probably heard far worse in their own households, not to mention anything else they could find on YouTube. There were far worse videos out there than a song parody written by an artist about hating pizza Pringles. 

When he scrolled back up, his video was still staring him in the face as the second recommended video, and he bit the bullet, clicking on it to see if Mischief’s video had impacted his own in any way. It looked to have jumped up in view count—over four million now!—along with a few more thousand likes, and probably a couple hundred new comments. Jesus Christ, it had only been one week!  

Art by Piratetattoos

Derek caught sight of the time and realized he’d been standing waiting for his coffee for much too long, the pot having finished brewing at least five minutes ago, and he had to head back up to his desk. But his hands were shaking with adrenaline when he put his phone away and reached out to pour the brewed coffee into his waiting mug. He didn’t understand what was happening right now, this was kind of surreal. 

He knew Mischief kept commenting on how ‘pretty’ he was, but the guy was fucking famous, he probably saw people twice as stunning on a regular basis! Truth be told, Cora had originally insisted Derek only had as many subscribers as he did because he was attractive, but she’d stopped using that line a long time ago when it became clear his following liked his commentary. Sure, he probably had a few thousand people who were only really interested in his looks, but there was no way over one million people had subscribed to his channel just because he was nice to look at. 

Derek went through the rest of his day on autopilot, because his brain wasn’t sure how to handle what had just happened. He saw a few people sneaking looks at him whenever they passed his desk, but he honestly didn’t know if it was because he looked weird, or because they’d seen Mischief’s video. 

This entire thing was fucking nuts. In all the years he’d been making videos, this was the first time anyone had ever responded, and not even about the video! 

And Derek wouldn’t lie, that little wink at the end had been pretty hot. Mischief was a good looking guy, and Derek vaguely remembered the little beanpole in high school with the buzzed head and the overly dramatic flails. He’d really grown up since then.

He kind of wanted to find his yearbook now, just to be sure he was remembering Mischief properly from back then. 

When the day was finally over, Derek packed up his things and left work. He immediately went to Kira’s place, and arrived before she did. He knew she’d heard about what happened though, because the second she’d parked and opened her door, she hadn’t even fully exited the car before asking, “Did you see it?!” 

“I did,” he confirmed. “I was a little uh, surprised?” 

Kira started laughing explosively, opening the back so she could grab her purse and then shutting the door. “He said your favourite Pringles taste like cum. I mean, he’s not wrong, but holy shit.” 

“What are the chances he forgets about me if I don’t respond?” Derek asked, following her up the steps to her cozy little house. Derek felt like he’d bought too big, but it had been a good deal at the time, and he had a lot of space to do his recording. Still, Kira’s place felt more like a home as opposed to his, which sometimes looked a bit like a second office. 

“What? No,” Kira insisted, turning to him with her key in the lock. “You have to respond!” 

“I don’t even know why he’s giving me any attention,” Derek admitted. “I know tons of other content creators who’ve made videos about him over the years, why did he notice mine?” 

Kira shrugged, unlocking her door and pushing it open. “Maybe because he felt like you actually paid attention. Other people do videos for clout, you do it for fun. He probably watched your video and could tell how sincere you were.” 

Honestly, Derek had been thinking that, as well. It felt conceited to think that, but he knew he’d been very thorough, and had dissected every single song on AllAboutMischief’s new album. That was how he’d clued in that none of the songs meant anything to him. His fucking Pringles song had more feeling behind it than his last album. 

Derek thought about it the entire time he and Kira ate dinner, their movie not set to start for another hour. It was while he was sitting on her couch with a bowl of spaghetti—apparently she was out of plates, because who ran their dishwasher?—that he thought maybe... maybe he would reply. He didn’t expect this to be a constant thing, Mischief was probably just waiting on a response because he’d asked for one, and his fans probably expected him to follow up until he got it. 

After all, lowly commoners like Derek didn’t just ignore a huge musical star like AllAboutMischief. Once Derek responded, he was sure Mischief would forget he existed. 

Pulling his phone out, he opened his messages while Kira ate her pasta beside him, complaining about the lead girl in the show they’d turned on to pass the time, and found Cora’s name. 

By the time Cora replied, Derek was already sitting in the theatre with Kira, eating overpriced M&Ms while the pre-show played. He pulled his phone out to check her response, and found a print-screen of the conversation between her and Lydia Martin on Instagram.

The print-screen cut off, but Derek didn’t need to read the rest, he’d gotten his answer. Putting his phone away, he let out a slow breath and decided that he could post a YouTube short and a highlight reel from his last stream tomorrow instead of a real video. 

He’d answer Mischief, this would all be over, and the famous singer would never think about him again. 

Derek’s plan for responding to Mischief consisted of posting his YouTube short first with his explanation of his love for pizza Pringles—there was nothing wrong with that flavour, everyone was just being ridiculous—followed by his stream highlights video. He felt like he needed to post the YouTube short first, because he didn’t want Mischief to think he was ignoring him again. 

He’d decided when he went to bed that he was going to record the short first thing in the morning. He’d put out a community post to say his Saturday video would be up late, but that was because he didn’t want to wake up at seven just to do the stupid short. His plan was to record it in one go, without editing it or any re-shoots. He figured putting out a genuine response would be the best way to conclude their interaction and then both of them would go back to their regularly scheduled lives. 

When he finally woke up on Saturday morning a little after nine, it took a bit of convincing for him to climb out of bed and get ready for the day, mostly because he knew what he was planning and was trying to procrastinate it. 

After showering, getting dressed, eating breakfast and texting with Kira, he’d finally run out of things to do and went to his study on the first floor where his YouTube recording studio was located. He had a desk up in his room with his laptop, but he did all his actual recording in his study since he had a bunch of equipment set up for it. 

Sitting in his chair, and letting out a slow breath, he got everything set up and turned on his ring light, then pulled his can of pizza Pringles closer. 

“One take,” he told himself. “Doesn’t matter what happens. Record it, post it, be done with it.” 

Exhaling sharply once more, he took a second to calm himself down, and then started the recording for the YouTube short. 

“Hi, this is TheRealMusicLover,” he said into the camera, holding up his can of Pringles. “I’m going to start this off by saying this video is not sponsored, but someone felt the need to shame my Pringles choice so I’m here to defend myself. I ask you, audience, do you like pizza? Do you like chips? If you do, then these Pringles are the ones for you.” Christ, I sound like a used car salesman, Derek realized, but he’d committed to one take so he just cut himself off by shoving a chip into his mouth. “I don’t care about the naysayers, these allow me to eat an entire can of chips with absolutely no guilt. It’s the equivalent of eating a whole pizza, with literally one-sixth of the calories, so who’s really winning here?” He motioned myself. “I am. And for someone whose song about Pringles was better than his entire last album,” Derek said, and internally winced because maybe that was a bit too harsh, “I don’t think you’re in any position to judge. Cute face, though.” 

Derek stopped the video, and sat there regretting his own decision of not allowing any re-shoots. That last comment had been tacked on kind of in an attempt to be petty, because Mischief kept saying Derek was ‘pretty,’ so he figured he’d call him out for being cute. 

Or something. 

The short wasn’t long, it was only forty-two seconds, but before he could talk himself out of it, he replayed it to ensure the sound was okay, wincing slightly when the loud crunch of the chips he’d shoved into his mouth got picked up by his microphone, and bit the bullet. He uploaded the short, and then quickly published his Saturday video, hoping that gained more traction. 

He doubted Mischief was just sitting at his computer staring at YouTube waiting for the response, so Derek clenched his jaw and went to Twitter. He’d never atted a celebrity before, and it felt intimidating to do so, but he sucked it up and just typed up the tweet, embedded the link, and posted it. 

It was done. It was out. He’d replied, Mischief would see it, he’d watch the video, hopefully he wouldn’t get offended, and this would be over. 

He was meant to be streaming later, but he hadn’t set a formal time yet, so he could afford to go be an adult for a while. He had to get groceries, and he should do some laundry before he ran out of clean shorts. He didn’t know how that happened, but he somehow always managed to run out of underwear before anything else, even though he felt like he had an obscenely large number of boxer-briefs. 

Getting his laundry put in the washer, he went to the kitchen to look into his fridge and pantry to figure out what he needed to buy. He didn’t write it down, trusting his memory, even though he knew ninety percent of the time when he went to the store, by the time he got home he cursed himself for not having written a list because he always inevitably forgot something. 

Still, he didn’t bother writing a list, he just looked through his kitchen, then grabbed his keys and wallet so he could head out. Laura hated it when he left his place with the washer going but he didn’t worry about it. If the washer leaked, the worst that would happen was water damage which would definitely suck, but at least his house wouldn’t catch on fire. He never left with the dryer on, but the washer wasn’t as big of a deal. 

Kira called him while he was in the Camaro heading for the store, and he answered it as he turned right into the store’s parking lot. 

“Hey, what’s up?” 

“You’re a brave man. You know you’re basically inviting him to spar, right?”

“What? No I’m not. He asked for my explanation, and I gave him one.” 

“Uh, yeah genius, and you followed it up by challenging him to reveal his favourite flavour. I don’t know this guy, but if his tweets and general responses to you so far are anything to go by, this is far from over.”

“I am sure Mischief has better things to do than care about and respond to some random guy on the internet.” 

“You’re not random, though. You know that your information is out there, right? Like, people know your real name is Derek Hale and that you live in Beacon Hills. There’s websites that show all that stuff about YouTubers.”

Derek knew that. He also knew there were some websites that showed how much specific YouTubers made. But did he really think someone as busy as AllAboutMischief was going to go on a research spree and figure out who Derek was? 

Okay, admittedly, it wasn’t hard or anything, it was actually relatively easy, but still. AllAboutMischief was on freaking tour right now, it was slated to end near mid-November, if he recalled correctly, presumably so he and his dad could be together for the holiday season in December. 

Derek knew that his last few tours had all overlapped with any and all holidays in December, and he knew the guy didn’t come home often, if at all. Not that Derek blamed him, someone as well-travelled as him, why would he want to come back to this bullshit town in California? 

Not that Derek didn’t like his hometown, or he wouldn’t still be living there, but he could imagine someone who had a mansion in Las Vegas—which was where AllAboutMischief lived, for some reason—wasn’t interested in returning to Beacon Hills. 

“He doesn’t care about anything I say, he was just following through on his insistence that he wanted an answer. He’s got one now, I’m sure he’ll be more interested in his tour going forward.” 

“I think you’re wrong, but I’ll admit I don’t know anything about celebrities except for you.”

“Not a celebrity,” Derek insisted on a sigh. 

“I mean, you kind of are, especially now Mr. One Million Subscribers.” He could hear the tease in her voice and rolled his eyes. “Did you get your play button yet?”

“No, but they might send it to my parents’ place. They emailed me to ask if the address they had for my first play button was still accurate and I said yes just to avoid the back and forth. Last time was a huge pain, figured I’d make things simpler.” 

“Cora’s gonna steal that, you know.”

Derek snorted, leaning back in his seat, having shifted into park while sitting in the store’s lot. “And do what with it?” 

“Who knows. She’s your sister, shouldn’t you know better than me?”

“Probably,” he admitted, though he never really knew what kind of crazy shit Cora got up to. As long as she never got hurt and never did anything illegal—or, didn’t get caught doing anything illegal, at any rate—she could do as she pleased. If she wanted his play button, he’d let her have it if it made her happy, even though he always insisted to her that he wouldn’t. “Anyway, I’m at the store so I’m gonna let you go.” 

“Sure. Want to grab dinner later? Or are you too famous to hang out with commoners now?”

“You’re an idiot,” he informed her. “Tacos?” 

She let out a small hum, like she was thinking. “Had a bad experience last time we went, but there’s that burger joint right next door. Maybe we can do takeout from both and eat at yours?”

“Sure, sounds good.” 

“Text me your order and I’ll grab the food on my way to yours. Six-ish?”

“See you then,” he confirmed, and hung up when she called farewell to him. 

Climbing out of the car, he collected the re-usable bags he always left in the trunk and headed into the store. Grabbing a cart, he slowly made his way through the aisles, grabbing various items and dropping them into it as he went. He honestly couldn’t remember if he needed milk or not, so he ended up standing in front of the dairy for a while, debating whether or not it was better to buy some or leave it. Deciding he’d rather have more milk than not enough, he grabbed a smaller carton and put that in his cart. 

When he reached the snacks aisle, he was going to bypass it, but paused. Feeling a little bold, even though he was positive his not-war with AllAboutMischief was over, he walked down the aisle towards the Pringles, scanned them all for the pizza flavour, and grabbed it off the shelf. 

He didn’t even bother pretending he wasn’t being petty about it, he just immediately pulled his phone out to take a picture of his hand holding the can of potato goodness. He put the Pringles in his cart while unlocking his phone so he could post the picture up on his community page on YouTube. He almost wanted to post it on Twitter, but he didn’t want to edit his already existing post so he just did it on his community page. 

Not bothering with a title or an explanation—he figured the ones who knew would know, and the ones who didn’t probably didn’t care—he just posted the picture up and then closed out of the app. He was about to put his phone away when he noticed he had a text message. He thought it might be Kira, but when he tapped on it, he paused when he saw Cora’s name. 

He didn’t even have to tap on her message to see what she’d said, but he did anyway just in case some of it was cut off. 

Okay, that at least was less concerning than any of the other things she’d said to him since this whole thing had started, so he opened up Twitter, moving along the aisle quickly when he heard someone huff in annoyance behind him—seriously, it was the middle of the day on a Saturday, who had the energy to be that annoyed about someone on their phone in front of the Pringles? 

When he checked his replies, he saw one from AllAboutMischief, but it wasn’t any words at all. It was just a picture of surprised Pikachu.

Derek let out a weird sort of laugh, because he hadn’t been expecting that. It felt like such a weird thing for a celebrity to do, use a meme, though he supposed maybe he was the weird one for thinking that.

Celebrities were still people, after all, why wouldn’t they use memes? 

“This guy’s pretty funny,” Derek decided, liking the tweet and then putting his phone away. He’d always thought AllAboutMischief was pretty humble in interviews and whatnot. Finding out he was so chill was actually kind of nice. There were a lot of really nice celebrities, of course, but there were so many more assholes that it was always satisfying seeing the truly kind ones who didn’t take life too seriously and didn’t let their fame get to their heads. 

Derek went through the rest of the aisles relatively quickly, figuring everything was over now that he’d gotten a response on Twitter, and waited in line at the checkout. He was in the process of putting his groceries on the belt while the teller rang through the lady in front of him when he quite literally froze at the words that reached him from the till at his back. 

“Afternoon, sheriff!” 

There was no fucking way he was in the store at the same time as Sheriff Stilinski. Literally no way in heaven or hell that this was happening. 

“Hi Hayden, how are you today?” 

Apparently it was happening, because that was definitely the sheriff’s voice. 

“I’m doing well, thanks. How are you?” 

“Pretty good. Work’s been a little less stressful this past week so I can’t complain.” 

“That’s awesome to hear!”

“Sir?” 

Derek’s head snapped towards his teller and realized the woman in front of him had paid and was loading her bags into her cart. The teller didn’t seem to recognize Derek, which was probably the best thing to happen to him this month, and he hastily finished loading everything onto the conveyer belt, being sure to keep his back to the till behind him in case the sheriff happened to recognize him. 

The man seemed to come by a lot, because he and the teller—Hayden—were chatting pretty animatedly about various things. Derek thought he might be able to get out of here without anyone recognizing him and bringing up his video, but alas, no dice.

Well, half-dice he supposed. No one recognized him, but Hayden asked the dreaded question while still ringing the sheriff through. 

“Hey, I’m really sorry about that video that went out about Stiles. That guy was out of line, saying all that stuff about Stiles’ last album. I think it’s a great album.” 

“Thanks Hayden, but Stiles is actually pretty happy about that video.”

What? 

“He is?” Hayden asked, sounding as surprised as Derek felt. 

“We had a chat about it last weekend when the video first came out, he sent it to me and basically said, ‘This guy gets me.’ Honestly, I’m proud of him for recognizing that this Real Music fellow wasn’t trying to be rude, he was just being honest. And he was right, this last album wasn’t Stiles’ best work, but that’s because he hasn’t taken a break since he made it big. I think this was a big eye-opener for him and he’s going to start taking his health a bit more seriously.” 

“Has he been sick?” Hayden asked, but before Derek could hear the sheriff’s response, his teller shifted to get further into his line of sight and looked to be resisting waving a hand in his face. 

“Excuse me? Sir? Are you okay?” 

Shit! Right, he was eavesdropping right now.

“Sorry,” he said quickly, a little annoyed he’d missed the sheriff’s answer, and paying for his groceries. He realized he’d been so distracted that he hadn’t even handed over his re-usable bags, so he’d been charged for as many plastic ones as he’d needed for his groceries, which was annoying.

Whatever, as long as he got out of there without the sheriff noticing him. Thankfully he did, the man still chatting with Hayden by the time Derek wheeled his cart out to the lot to put his things away. 

Was Mischief sick? Derek hadn’t heard anything about health problems, and he’d been pretty thorough about his research before posting that video. But his dad wouldn’t have said that if something wasn’t wrong with him, right? 

Derek was so focussed on that part of the conversation that he honestly completely missed the part about how his video was the main reason Mischief was going to be taking a bit of a break for his own good. 

Derek was late for his own stream because he fell down a rabbit hole of looking into whether or not there were any reports of AllAboutMischief being sick or having any health issues. He didn’t find anything, but that was only because he was convinced he wasn’t looking properly. 

It wasn’t until one of his mods messaged him on Discord—the alert startling him so badly he actually bumped his knees—that he realized what time it was. He felt very disorganized ever since everything with AllAboutMischief had started and he hurried to set up his stream. 

His recording studio was in the study downstairs, but when he did his streams, those were in his room. He’d set it up so the back wall was full of music-related posters and general paraphernalia from various artists he’d managed to buy, so no one could even tell it was his bedroom. His bed was right beside his desk, purposefully out of frame. It was just easier this way so he didn’t have to buy a second computer, or move his laptop into the study every time he did a stream. 

Getting everything set up and messaging his mods to make sure they were all set, he opened up the stream and winced when he saw a few hundred people were currently in the waiting room. Shit. 

He knew why they were all there, they wanted to talk about his bold statement that morning in response to AllAboutMischief. It was starting to feel like his channel wasn’t even so much a music channel anymore, but a channel dedicated solely to this one artist who happened to watch his video and post a response. 

“Hi everyone, sorry I’m late,” he said when the stream was confirmed to be live, eyes on the chat as a few people greeted him enthusiastically. He watched his viewer count grow as the alert went out that he was live, but made sure not to stare obsessively at it. This was still just a hobby, and it didn’t matter how many people came to catch his streams. “How are you guys? How’s everyone’s weekend?” 

The first few messages he saw were people answering his question, but a few messages popped up about how he was trash, and how dare he be so rude to their favourite idol, and he should go jump off a bridge. All that fun, creative stuff. 

His mods were quick to delete those and presumably ban the users, but Derek didn’t let it bother him. This wasn’t the first time he got people like that in his chat, it had just become a bit more frequent since his video about AllAboutMischief. Having him actively call him out—about Pringles, but still—had kind of put Derek on his entire fanbase’s radar. 

His eyes caught sight of one person asking him about what was going on, because they didn’t understand his YouTube short about the pizza Pringles, nor the picture he’d posted on his community page. 

Deciding to show them pity, and to get this part of the stream out of the way so the people who didn’t actually want to be there for him and were just there for the drama could leave once he was done talking about it, he resigned himself to explaining it all. 

“Hi DrunkCoconut, sorry about the confusing short and comment on the board. I made a video about AllAboutMischief last Saturday, and he actually saw it somehow and decided to roast me on Twitter about my choice of Pringles.” He let out a small laugh, shaking his head. “Honestly, I thought he’d be more upset about the video itself, but he was just mad about the Pringles.” He pulled the offending can of chips closer to himself so it was clearly visible on the screen. 

There was obviously no chip emote on YouTube because his chat began to fill with potatoes, which was fine because it was a good alternative. 

“He wanted me to explain myself, and I didn’t, because I figured he was just being dramatic for Twitter, but he posted a song on his YouTube channel calling me out by name over my horrible choice of Pringles flavour, demanding an explanation. So I gave him one this morning.” 

The chat began to fill with more potatoes, along with a few ‘LOL!’ comments and Derek smiled a little. It looked like a majority of the chat was mostly positive about this, and found it kind of funny that Mischief had such strong feelings about chip flavours. 

He got a few questions about Mischief’s comment on his video, and he talked about that for a little while, mostly because people were respectful and curious about what it meant. Derek made sure to clearly state that he was in no way implying he knew anything about what was going on with AllAboutMischief, but his comment was incredibly polite and did bring into question whether or not he was overworking himself. 

Some people started speculating that it was the studio forcing him to produce content, but Derek tried to cut that discussion short because they had no proof of that and he didn’t want anyone to start hating on his record label because of something that might not even be true. 

From Derek’s reading of the comment, it sounded more like Mischief himself was the one trying to do too much, but he wouldn’t know that for sure unless he spoke to him directly. The chances of getting him on a stream or anything for an interview were laughable. It was one thing to have this joke fight about Pringles, but he wasn’t under any illusions that AllAboutMischief would ever have a real conversation with him. 

Surprisingly, the conversation didn’t stall on AllAboutMischief for long, maybe only about twenty minutes. A lot of people ended up leaving when he moved on, but he didn’t mind. He liked seeing the repeat names in his chat, and always made sure to show them he appreciated their support. 

They started talking about various topics people sent him Super Chats about, asking him questions about different singers and music in general. It was always interesting to see what kind of things people wondered about, and he had a good time answering them. 

He was in the middle of explaining to a particularly nasty person that no, Lil Nas X was not a trash rapper and was actually phenomenally impressive and happened to be one of his favourites when his phone rang. 

It was on silent, but the flash at the edge of his vision had him glance over at it, frowning slightly even as he continued to speak because he had a point to make. 

Cora was calling him, but she subscribed to him on YouTube so she knew he was in the middle of a stream since she’d have gotten an alert about it. It was still the middle of the day, so he didn’t let himself worry something was wrong and let it go to voicemail. 

He was still in the process of schooling the asshole in his chat, despite the mods deleting everything he kept sending in, and eventually banning him, when his phone rang again. He saw Cora’s name flashing once more, and honestly wondered if something might be wrong. She wouldn’t call him in the middle of a stream otherwise. 

It went to voicemail again by the time he came to a decision on whether or not he should answer it, but he got a text a few seconds later that popped up on his home screen. 

“Sorry chat, can you give me a second? I’m getting a call, it might be urgent.” He muted himself but didn’t turn off his camera, grabbing his phone in time for Cora to be calling yet again. Swiping to answer, he put his phone to his ear quickly. “Hey, is everything okay? What’s going on?” 

“How do I keep finding this stuff out before you do?!”

Derek frowned, because she didn’t sound in distress, and he doubted she’d have started with that if someone in the family was injured. “What are you talking about?” 

“Did you see his reply?”

“Surprised Pikachu face? Yeah, I saw it earlier when you te—”

“No, his new video! He did a YouTube short!” 

What? 

“Seriously?” he asked, surprised. He thought this was over. Was this not over? “Cora, I’m live right now, so if you’re fucking with me—”

“I’m not, I swear! I swear, it’s there! Go check for yourself!”

Fuck, he didn’t really want to do this on stream, but even as he glanced at his chat, he could see people beginning to spam the potato emote again and it looked like his viewer count had just shot back up. Jesus Christ, it must’ve just been posted, how was Cora so fast at this stuff? 

He was the YouTuber in the family—as a side thing, but still!—yet Cora seemed to be all over social media more so than he was. 

“Fine, I gotta go,” he insisted, and hung up on her. She’d said what she had to say, and he was just sitting there muted while his chat went crazy. Leaning over to unmute himself, he hoped he wasn’t about to regret this. “Sorry about that, chat. Apparently AllAboutMischief isn’t done with our Pringles war just yet, I’ve been told he posted a short recently. Since we started this stream talking about our potato chip war, I thought maybe we could go watch it together, if you’re okay with that.” 

He’d never seen so many people type the word ‘yes’ in such quick succession before. Looking at his other screen, he quickly opened up another YouTube tab and found AllAboutMischief’s channel. He could see there was a new video, so he brought the window over onto his stream, ignoring the fact that it clearly showed he was subscribed to his channel—Derek was a legitimate fan, he had no problems with people knowing that, AllAboutMischief was a great singer. 

“Okay chat,” he said, grabbing both arm rests of his chair and shifting a bit to get comfortable. “Let’s watch this newest video of his about the great Pringles war of 2022.” 

He clicked on the short, and waited for the page to load. The short boasted AllAboutMischief sitting on the edge of what was obviously a hotel bed, acoustic guitar in hand. He was wearing what Derek had deemed his ‘Clark Kent’ look, because it consisted of worn jeans, a dark tee, a plaid over-shirt and glasses. There was no preamble this time, he just started playing right as the short started. 

The tune this time was slower, and almost melancholy. It was actually hauntingly beautiful, which just made the words feel so utterly out of place because it was like Derek had wounded this man deeply with his love for pizza Pringles. 

“Dear music man from the Youtubes
The hottest of all the dudes 
I thank you for your kind reply 
It brought me joy, I cannot lie

Your words have made me question things
Such as the joys that chip-os bring
It’s been a while, you have to know
Since I’ve had chips, though I love them so

But in answer to your question sir
I’ll tell you which one I prefer
I love your face, you know it’s true
But original’s the best, so fuck you.”

Derek’s eyes shifted towards his stream when he got a notification that he had a new membership. He stared for an exceptionally long time, ignoring the chat going crazy with excitement, and a bit of mockery over Derek’s obvious stunned silence. 

His chat was moving so fast that it was just a wall of text, Derek unable to read even a single word of it. His mods were probably freaking out because it had literally never moved this fast before and he kind of didn’t know what to do so he did the very mature, adult thing to do. 

Derek ended his stream without a word. 

Kira was right. 

This wasn’t over at all. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek avoided any and all social media for the rest of the weekend, though he did feel a bit bad about just ending his stream how he did with no warning. He was sure people were talking about it on various platforms, too.

Not because of Derek himself, of course, but because of Mischief. Fans were probably laughing hysterically at how the celebrity had won a stand-off with a YouTuber or some shit. Not that Derek cared about that specifically, he just didn’t know why AllAboutMischief was bothering to keep playing this game with him.

Cora kept messaging him to laugh about things, but he told her to fuck off because his sister was being ridiculously annoying about this whole thing. He knew that was just her duty as his sister, to be annoying, but he kind of wanted his life to get back to normal and was hoping Mischief might just take the win and forget about him now.

Unlikely, considering that was what he’d thought before, but a man could hope. 

He missed his usual uploads and streams throughout the week, focussing instead of work and his friends. He went to dinner on Tuesday with a few of his coworkers, something he felt like he hadn’t done in years since he tended to stream on Tuesdays. He also hung out with Kira a lot. 

She wasn’t really the type to have a full schedule since she and her boyfriend the TV were in a pretty committed relationship—he kept teasing her that she’d run out of shows to watch one day—so it was easy to just drop in for dinner and watch something with her. She’s wasn’t particularly interested in any of the Star Wars shows on Disney+ so whenever he showed up unannounced, that tended to be what they watched since the likelihood of her having continued without him was slim. 

When Friday came around, he was thinking he should maybe post up a video tomorrow like normal. He’d missed uploads and streams before, but he always felt bad about it because a lot of his repeat commenters got worried, especially when he didn’t explain why he wasn’t uploading. 

He had a video mostly ready to go about Ava Max and her stellar vocals, but he’d have to stay up late editing it. Unless he just woke up early tomorrow and tried to get it done before the afternoon. He also wanted to do his radio video at some point, and the comment from the rude person in his stream had added a Lil Nas X video onto his list because that particular artist was talented and he would not accept any slander. 

Tomorrow was dinner with his family though, so maybe it would be best to try and edit the video tonight. Then again, he could always edit as much as he felt like he could, head to bed, and then finish the edit and post the next morning. He didn’t know, he’d see how he felt later. Maybe he’d just put off posting a video and get his next one up on Monday. He was pretty sure this coming Monday was a video post day since he did it every other Monday and was fairly certain this past one hadn’t been a posting day. 

He’d have to check, this whole AllAboutMischief thing had kind of turned his YouTube hobby upside down. 

“Derek Hale? Yeah, he’s over there.” 

Derek was in the middle of writing an email, so he didn’t turn at the sound of his name. It was probably someone looking to talk to him from another department, or maybe even that new girl in the mailroom who didn’t know where everyone sat yet. He had a nameplate on his desk, so she’d figure it out eventually. 

He was still typing when a shadow moved around the side of his cubicle, standing in the small entrance to it and clearing their throat. Finishing the sentence he was typing, Derek turned his head slightly, then did a double-take at who he found standing there. 

Holy shit, this probably wasn’t a good thing. 

“Derek Hale?” 

His life was officially over. 

“Sheriff.” He started to stand, figuring that would be polite, but then wondered if maybe that wouldn’t be polite and look aggressive instead so he stayed seated, hands on his arm-rests and half-tensed, like he’d spring up at any moment. “Hello. Was there—how can I help you?” 

What the actual fuck was the sheriff doing there? Derek hadn’t done anything wrong, or illegal, so he knew he wasn’t about to get arrested or anything, but his heart was still beating like a drum in his chest and his hands were sweating so bad he was surprised they hadn’t slipped off the arm-rests yet. 

“I was wondering if you had a minute,” the older man said, Derek’s eyes taking him in for a second before he panicked too badly. The man wasn’t in uniform, wearing worn jeans and a grey, long-sleeved shirt. He obviously wasn’t on duty, or else he wouldn’t be wearing that, right? 

“Sure,” Derek said, even though he’d rather not have. “I can—one second, let me just let my boss know.” 

“Absolutely.” 

Derek turned back to his desk, ignoring the ever-growing panic he was feeling, and opened Business Skype. He found his boss’ name in his contacts and sent him a quick message that someone had stopped by unexpectedly to see him and he would be taking a few minutes away from his desk. He promised he’d cut his lunch short later as needed. 

Not waiting for a response, Derek stood and turned to the sheriff. The man was standing there with his arms crossed, looking intimidating, but Derek didn’t think that was intentional. He seemed relaxed and was just waiting on him, so it was probably an automatic stance due to his job. 

When he turned to lead the way back towards the stairs, Derek’s eyes caught on the large logo adorning his back. He’d thought the shirt was just a plain grey shirt, but evidently it was one of AllAboutMischief’s merchandise shirts because his logo took up the entire back in white, contrasting well against the grey. 

He followed the sheriff all the way outside the building into the visitor’s lot. When the man stopped at the back of his cruiser, Derek waited for him to start threatening him, but he just sighed while pulling his car keys out. 

“I figured it would be less embarrassing for you to do this out here. Not that my showing up here was any better, but he’s my son, so he’s my problem.” He said it good-naturedly, like he honestly didn’t mind doing things for Mischief, but that he also recognized that he and Derek were on the outs. 

Though... were they? He wasn’t mad at Mischief in the slightest, he was just embarrassed at all the attention he was getting, if he was honest. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on the sheriff’s words for long though, because the man popped open the trunk of the cruiser, and motioned a large box while stepping aside. Derek eyed him for a second, concerned, but he moved forward anyway and pulled the tabs back so he could look inside. 

His eyebrows shot up as soon as he did. 

“My son is what you kids like to call ‘extra,’” the sheriff said on a sigh. “He made me go to three different stores to buy this so the box would be absolutely full.” 

The box wasn’t a small box. It was fairly flat, but it was long, and Derek felt like he could fit at least half his closet of clothes into it. It was not a small box. 

And that not small box was completely full of pizza Pringles. 

“Uh...” What did one say to the dad of a celebrity who’d just bought him at least three months’ worth of Pringles? 

Apparently nothing, because Derek’s brain kind of blanked out. 

The sheriff moved closer then, leaning into the trunk to grab at something. Derek noticed him pull out a folded piece of paper from between two Pringles cans, holding it out to him. 

“He had me print this out for you, too.”

Derek took it, not sure what to expect, but he unfolded it and saw only two typed sentences. 

Wait, he thought Derek was offended?! 

Shit, he... hadn’t considered that. But he supposed that was a logical conclusion for him to come to, now that he thought about it. After all, Mischief’s last words in his YouTube short song had been ‘fuck you’ and then Derek had immediately ended his stream and disappeared for a week. Crap, that definitely looked like he was butthurt or being salty or something, especially since he’d been avoiding Twitter this whole time. 

Turning to the sheriff, he felt the need to explain himself, even though he also knew he had no obligation to. “I’m not mad or offended or anything,” he insisted, motioning the note. “I know he was just having a good time, and enjoying our banter. Honestly, I was kind of just overwhelmed and embarrassed at the attention.” 

“Well that’s a relief,” the sheriff said with a small smile. “Stiles spent the past three calls I’ve had the chance to catch him for worrying about having offended you. He said that he really liked your video, and valued everything you’d said about him.” 

Derek didn’t want to admit he’d kind of been eavesdropping at the store, so he just tried to look surprised. Based on the look on the sheriff’s face, he probably didn’t succeed, but the man was kind enough to let it go. 

“Kid’s been working himself too hard ever since he made it big,” the sheriff admitted with a sigh, looking in at the box of Pringles. “He thinks he always needs to be doing something, always needs to be entertaining people. Fans always talk about how much they love his personality, and his music, and I think he takes that too seriously sometimes. He overdoes it in public. Stiles is a good kid, he’s always been friendly and excitable, but he ramps it up to one-hundred when he’s around his fans, because he knows that’s what they want.” 

Derek hesitated, not sure it was his place to say anything, but he spoke anyway. “I can’t even begin to imagine how exhausting that must be,” he admitted. “I don’t think his fans would be happy to know how much of himself he gives to them.” 

“Some of them, sure. But others feel like he owes it to them. He feels like he owes it to them, too. It’s why he forced himself to write that last album, even though he’s been struggling with inspiration for a while now.”

“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Derek said sincerely. 

“A lot of people say that to me, but you’re one of the only ones I believe,” the sheriff admitted, turning to look at Derek and offering him a small smile. “I watched your video too, Stiles sent it to me.” 

Derek winced, but the sheriff just let out a small laugh at the reaction. 

“Don’t worry, son. I’m not upset about it, and whether you believe it or not, neither is he. Don’t ask me why, but he told me that somehow, having someone notice that he was trying too hard when he wasn’t feeling it made him relieved. He said it felt like it gave him an excuse to take a break and he’s going to take a year off from writing new material just to find inspiration again.” 

“Except for his Pringles songs,” Derek said before he could stop himself. 

The sheriff actually laughed at that and nodded, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Except for the Pringles songs. Erica told me it’s the first time in a long time she’d seen him so excited about writing. He had fun working on those.”

“They were good,” Derek admitted. “Unexpected, but good. They both had catchy tunes, even the second one.” 

“Yeah, I think he enjoyed working on them because he knew it was just for fun. Kid likes to do that sort of thing in general, it’s how he started writing music to begin with.” He let out a laugh then, shaking his head. “He wrote a song about how bedtimes should be abolished when he was eight. He didn’t use the word ‘abolished,’ but that was the gist of the song.” 

“Smart kid,” Derek teased and the sheriff nodded, still laughing. 

“Yeah, smart kid.” He pulled one hand out of his pocket to rake it through his hair. “Sorry I bothered you at work, I just wasn’t sure how else to get this to you.” 

“How did you find me, if I can ask.” Derek doubted a man as law-abiding as the sheriff had used nefarious means to gain this information. 

“Stiles knows who you are, he’s been following you on YouTube for about two years.” 

What? 

“When he realized you’d disappeared from the platform and weren’t responding to Twitter, he got one of his friends to ask your sister where he could have something delivered.” 

He took that back, very nefarious, though Mischief was the one who’d used those nefarious means as opposed to his father. 

Cora was the worst, she’d lead a fucking assassin to Derek’s front door if it got her a good laugh. To be fair, he was positive if Lydia Martin had asked her for his details, there was no reason for her to be concerned. Derek probably would’ve trusted Lydia too, and at least Cora had sent the sheriff to his office. 

While a part of him wanted to think it was about her embarrassing him in front of his co-workers, he knew it was only partly that. She’d likely felt uncomfortable giving out his home address, even to Lydia, and had opted for his work one. 

To be fair, Derek was pretty sure his address was available on the internet somewhere. Some of the people who managed those YouTuber websites were really thorough, especially considering Derek had never once given out his real name in any fashion, but whenever he looked at those sites, there it was for all to see. Sure, his face was all over his videos and social media platforms, but he didn’t feel like anyone he knew in real life would’ve legitimately gone out of their way to inform the internet what his real name was. It was more likely someone had figured out his IP and gone from there. 

People were scary sometimes, and what they could do with the internet was insane. 

“Do you have a car?” the sheriff asked when Derek stayed silent for too long. 

He didn’t understand the question at first, but when the man looked back at the box, he realized he was confirming he had a way to bring the chips home. 

“I do, yes. It’s in the employee lot around back.” 

“Let’s get this in your car then, having this many chips near me is a little tempting.” 

“I won’t tell if you want to sneak a can of Pringles,” Derek said with a small smile. 

“Thanks, but maybe if it was another flavour.” 

Why was everyone hating on his pizza Pringles? They were delicious! 

“Besides, Stiles worries enough without me making it worse for him.” 

The man reached into the trunk for the box, and Derek tried to stop him, but he insisted it wasn’t heavy and that Derek needed to get his car unlocked anyway. He obediently let him do as he pleased, but shut the trunk for the cruiser for him before leading the way towards the back lot. 

The sheriff was a really nice man, and Derek could tell just by the little things he said that he loved his son a great deal. He also didn’t miss how much he missed him, and figured that made sense considering AllAboutMischief didn’t have a lot of free time to visit. He was sure he flew his dad out every now and then to spend time with him, but the man was sheriff, so he likely didn’t have a lot of free time, either. 

Still, Derek was a little sad when he heard him talking about how he missed the sound of Stiles in his room playing his guitar to death and randomly coming downstairs to ask for help with specific parts of his songs when he got stuck. The man made a joke about how he could now watch his sports games in peace, but Derek could tell it was a forced, half-hearted joke, and a way for him to try and convince himself that he didn’t miss Stiles as much as he clearly did. 

When they got the box into Derek’s car, he walked the sheriff back towards the front, mostly because he felt like the guy was a little lonely, and at least having the opportunity to speak to Derek gave him a little bit of interaction. 

Reaching the cruiser, the sheriff opened the front door and turned to Derek. 

“Don’t let my son embarrass you off YouTube. He didn’t mean to embarrass you, I think he was just happy to have someone like you actually seeing him. As the person, Stiles Stilinski, and not the famous artist AllAboutMischief. He had fun writing those songs for you, and I think this little joke war between the two of you has helped him relax from the stress of doing a show almost every night.” 

Derek hadn’t considered that maybe this little verbal spar they had going on was something Mischief had been looking forward to, and he felt bad for making him think he’d upset Derek. He honestly hadn’t, and Derek was going to have to make sure he made that clear to him. 

“Well, I should let you get back to work.” The sheriff followed through with climbing into the car, but left the door open to add, “I hope you have a good day, and enjoy your weekend.” 

“Thanks, you as well.” Derek realized he was still holding the printed note from AllAboutMischief, but he didn’t know what to do with it. When the sheriff shut his door and started the car, a thought occurred to him and he called out to him before he could change his mind. “Hey sheriff?” 

He turned to look at him, then rolled down his window. 

“Are you free tomorrow night?” 

The man stared at him with the most unreadable expression, and Derek realized how that might’ve sounded. He wasn’t asking him out, Jesus Christ. 

“My family,” he added quickly. “We have dinner together every other Saturday. I just thought maybe you might like to spend an evening eating good food with good company.” 

The sheriff watched him for a long moment without saying anything, and Derek wondered if maybe he shouldn’t have asked. He just felt kind of bad listening to everything he’d been saying. He missed his son fiercely, and he worked so much that it sounded like all he did at the end of the day was head home to an empty house to eat a frozen dinner. Derek just figured maybe he might like a change in his routine. 

“I should be free, but I’ll have to check my schedule,” he said after what felt like an age. 

Derek relaxed, trying not to make his relieved sigh obvious. “Of course, not a problem.” He gave him his parents’ address anyway, just in case, and he confirmed he’d think about it and see if he could make it before bidding him another good day and driving off. 

For a long while, Derek just stood in the parking lot, watching the car go until it was completely out of sight, and even then he didn’t move. He was still kind of in shock over what had just happened, especially since his father had admitted AllAboutMischief had been following his YouTube channel for two years. That didn’t sound right. He was checking that when he got home.

He wasn’t obsessive, he was just a disbeliever! 

When he turned to head back inside, it occurred to him that he’d invited the sheriff over to his parents’ place without... actually telling his parents. 

Pulling his phone out, he opened his text messages with his mom, and hoped she wouldn’t murder him in his sleep. 

Worried about what kind of reaction he was going to get, he just shoved his phone back into his pocket and headed back for his desk. 

What a fucking weird ass month so far. 

Derek caught up on Twitter when he got home from work. It felt weird not to after what had happened at the office, and while he wanted to send AllAboutMischief a DM over the fact that he wasn’t mad or anything, it felt weird to do that too. They weren’t friends, and he didn’t even know why Mischief cared if he’d upset Derek.

He hadn’t, but he didn’t know that. 

The Twitter threads on AllAboutMischief’s Twitter didn’t really mention him directly. It was mostly people laughing about what had happened, and Mischief atting Derek’s Twitter every now and then to see if he’d join the conversation. 

He wasn’t being a bully about it, or even laughing at Derek. Most people were just enjoying the stupid Pringles songs he’d written, and a few people were talking about how fucking cute Derek’s reaction had been. 

Derek had re-watched the vod, his reaction was not cute. His entire face had gone super red and he felt like he could’ve passed for a fucking tomato if he’d dyed his hair green. Mischief was super nice about it though, and the one person who’d made a rude comment got thoroughly destroyed by him.

And he hadn’t even been rude about him, he’d been rude about Derek. 

How was this guy so fucking perfect? Seriously, Derek was honestly a little annoyed about it, because he’d always kind of had a crush on him—and many other celebrities, it was a thing virtually everyone had in life—but those crushes didn’t usually acknowledge him. Sure, Mischief was just having a laugh right now, but still! 

After having caught up on a few things, including messaging some of his online friends on Discord since he’d basically disappeared from the internet for almost a week, he went down to his kitchen where he’d left the box of Pringles and stared down at it. 

He knew he had to respond, he was just trying to figure out how to do that. 

Sighing, he bent down to open the box, and then began taking the cans of chips out one by one, setting them down along his counter. There were so many he’d probably get sick of pizza Pringles by the new year if he ate them all.

Maybe that was AllAboutMischief’s goal. Well, he would not succeed. 

Taking a picture of the chips once he had them organized in a way they were all visible, he went back to his room while uploading the photo to his cloud. It didn’t take him long to open a new tweet and embed the picture he’d just taken of the Pringles, and he added a message before posting it and closing out of Twitter. 

After all, if he didn’t see it, it wasn’t there, right?  

He opened up his editing software, trying to force himself to forget all about Twitter, and spent the rest of the night editing his Ava Max video. Kira texted him a few times, primarily to ask if he wanted to grab a bite since she was bored, but he’d already eaten by then. He offered to come over to hang out, but she told him it was fine and she’d survive without him somehow. 

She was so dramatic when she was bored. 

He edited until close to eleven, and then decided to call it a night. He planned to finish editing tomorrow morning so he could post, but didn’t think he’d stream. He didn’t always stream on Saturdays, so he was sure people wouldn’t miss him. Besides, he had some Marvel shows to catch up on, since Kira blasted through all of them the second they came out. 

When he woke up the next day, he was determined not to check Twitter, because this should be the end of it, right? He’d agreed to a truce, he’d thanked him for the Pringles, and it was over now. Right? Right. 

He ate cereal for breakfast while watching the second episode of She-Hulk, since he was a bit behind on that one. He was liking it so far, it was better than Loki, in his opinion—an opinion Kira was very unhappy about, since Loki was her favourite, but his was actually WandaVision. Still, She-Hulk wasn’t bad so far, he liked that she broke the fourth wall and that it was such a weird semi-procedural show because she was a lawyer. 

When he was done eating, he worked on finishing the edit of his Ava Max video, re-watched it to make sure it was okay, and then started the frustratingly annoying task of uploading it to YouTube. He ended up watching another episode of She-Hulk to pass the time while he waited, and thankfully by the time it was done, his render and upload was as well. 

He published the video with a less than creative title, because he still struggled with those, and then finally took a breath and convinced himself it was time to check Twitter, even though he knew nothing would happen. It was over, they’d concluded their little Pringles war, and he’d never hear from AllAboutMischief again. 

When he checked his replies, he saw that AllAboutMischief had replied, but all he’d done was add a two second video of him winking and doing a one-handed finger-gun at him. That was it. 

Derek sighed, rubbing at his face with both hands, because it truly was over. Now he could go back to his regularly scheduled life. 

He should’ve known it wasn’t that simple though, because Mischief’s fans were going bananas in the replies. He scrolled through the first few, but tried not to read too many so he didn’t get all overwhelmed again. 

Derek kept scrolling, realizing that posting about Mischief sending him Pringles might not have been his smartest move, but at least the singer himself didn’t seem to care. 

Deciding he didn’t want to go down that rabbit hole, he instead closed out of Twitter and went to YouTube. He realized once there that he hadn’t looked into whether the sheriff was telling the truth or not about Mischief having followed him two years ago. 

He didn’t know why the sheriff would lie about something like that, but he wasn’t going to take his word for it! Because that was insane. 

Going into YouTube, he clicked on YouTube Studio and then scrolled to his recent subscribers. When he opened the main window and made sure the ‘lifetime’ option was ticked off, he started to filter by date, but then decided filtering by subscriber count might be faster for him to search. He followed a lot of the big YouTubers, so he knew he’d have a lot of them to wade through, but AllAboutMischief’s page had around forty million subscribers the last time he’d checked, so he should still be closer to the beginning of the list. 

Not that he would be there, and even if he was, it’d be recent. Like, since last week. Surely. 

Derek had filtered so the first page showed fifty names, and he was halfway down the page when AllAboutMischief came up. When he looked at the date, he honestly had no idea how to feel.

He’d been subscribed for two years. 

This man, this famous singer, this beloved idol, had literally been subscribed to Derek for two years. 

That meant no one had sent him the video he’d made. Mischief had said it was on his front page as being recommended, but Derek knew that was because a lot of the top part of the front page when he opened YouTube were recent videos from the creators he subscribed to. Mischief had legitimately logged on, seen a new video on his front page from Derek—who he was subscribed to—and had noticed it was about him so he clicked on it. 

Derek pulled his phone over and opened his messages, ignoring the one from Cora—probably her being a little shit, as usual—and opening the one he had with Kira. 

He had a few minutes to sit there disassociating before Kira replied. In her defence, she was probably busy with her boyfriend the TV. 

Instead of a response back, his phone began to ring, Kira’s name and picture showing up. He answered the call, putting it to his ear. 

“What do you mean he’s been following you for two years?” she demanded. Her mouth was clearly full, like he’d caught her while she was eating lunch. Or breakfast, it depended on when she’d woken up. 

“Don’t know how much clearer I can be,” he insisted. 

“So did he just see your video because he watches your stuff overall? That’s actually kind of awesome.”

“Why would he be following a dumb YouTuber?” Derek demanded, because this made no sense. “And why would he only do the pizza Pringles callout post now if that’s the case? It’s not like I only recently started eating those! They’re visible in other videos!” 

“Celebrities watch YouTube too, you know. And TikTok. And Instagram and everything else. I don’t think it’s weird, he probably found your channel a while back, thought you were good and entertaining, and decided to follow.”

“Then why only call out my chip flavours now?!” 

“Probably because it would be weird for him to just randomly say something about your disgusting taste in Pringles without a reason to. Or maybe he just wanted you to know he’d seen it. I mean, you get a lot of comments, he probably figured you wouldn’t have seen his and wanted to make sure you were aware he’d watched it.”

“This whole thing is crazy,” Derek insisted, rubbing at his eyes with one hand. Kira just made a noncommital sound on the other end, which was supremely helpful. 

When he glanced at the time, he realized he’d lost a lot of his day to this and that dinner was looming. He wanted to shower before heading out since his last one had been yesterday morning. 

He bid Kira farewell and then went to get ready for dinner, showering and changing into better clothes than sweats and a random tee. He contemplated putting on his contacts, but he liked to let his eyes rest on the weekend so he just kept his glasses on. 

He avoided looking at the Pringles still lined up on his kitchen counter on his way out the door and climbed into the Camaro without encountering any of his neighbours. 

By the time he turned onto his parents’ street, he’d completely forgotten about his dinner invite to the sheriff until he saw the cruiser parked on the curb across the street. He’d arrived before Cora this time so he took the spot in the driveway beside his parents’ car, and then climbed out, eying the cruiser for a few seconds and hoping he hadn’t made a mistake. 

When he walked into the house, calling out a greeting, his mother responded from the kitchen so he went to find her. She was at the stove stirring carrot soup, which Derek knew was always the appetiser for three-meal courses she and his dad did whenever they had company over. They always wanted to make sure people left feeling full and satisfied. 

“Hi honey,” she said with a smile, and he was glad she wasn’t mad about the last minute invite. 

“Hey mom.” He moved over to her and kissed her cheek, looking down into the soup. “Smells good.” 

“Thank you. It’s been a while since we’ve had company, I thought it might be nice to pull out all the stops.” 

“Sorry I kind of sprang that on you, the invite was out before I thought about it too much,” he admitted. 

“It’s fine, I’m glad you did. The sheriff does a lot for all of us, it’s nice to be able to thank him.” 

“Where is he, anyway?” 

“He and your father are out on the deck.” She nodded towards the back door. “There’s salmon on the barbecue, so he and John are just chatting over drinks. You should join them.” 

“I can help you here,” he argued. 

His mother turned to give him a look. “He’s your guest, so you can entertain him.” 

Right. He wasn’t going to escape that easily. He should’ve known better, moms had a sixth sense when it came to things like this. 

Sighing and conceding defeat, he grabbed a beer from the six-pack in the fridge—one was already missing, and since he knew his dad preferred wine, he could guess who the other beer belonged to—then headed for the back door. 

When he slid it open, he was immediately hit with the scent of cooking fish, and was actually quite happy they were having salmon. It’d been a long time. He hoped dessert was pie, he loved his mother’s pie even if she always made apple when his favourite was strawberry-rhubarb. 

“Derek!” His father called in greeting from the far end of the porch where they had a small table and some chairs set up. 

“Hey dad. Sheriff,” he said, nodding to the man while walking towards them. 

“Hi Derek,” the sheriff said in greeting, Derek moving to take a seat in the empty spot on his dad’s left. “Your father was just telling me about the renovations he and your mom want to do in the kitchen.” 

“Did he also tell you he wants everything done by December?” Derek asked, because maybe if someone else told his parents that was nuts, they’d re-think it. 

“He did. I think that’s very ambitious of them.” Good, sheriff was on his side. 

“It’ll be a lot of work, but I’m sure we’ll manage,” his dad argued, patting Derek’s shoulder and smiling. “Don’t worry, plenty of time to make a nice, big turkey dinner for the holidays.” 

Derek made a face at that, which the sheriff caught with a chuckle. “Not a fan?” he asked. 

“I don’t really like turkey,” he admitted. “I’d rather have a really nice ham, or even just some fancy fish. Cheaper, too. Less leftovers for my parents to try and pawn off on me when they know I’ll just eat it so the food doesn’t go to waste.” 

“We can’t eat a whole turkey by ourselves!” his dad argued with a laugh, setting his wine down on the table in front of him and standing with a groan. He didn’t say anything as he walked off, but Derek knew that meant he was checking the fish on the barbecue by the door. He’d probably done it a few times since the sheriff had arrived, so he didn’t look offended or anything. 

“So Derek, what do you do for work?” the sheriff asked, beer held loosely in one hand and resting on his closest knee. “I know I dropped the Pringles off there, but I didn’t actually pay much attention to the company as a whole.” 

Derek figured he hadn’t wanted to make things weirder for him, since having the sheriff show up at his office was probably weird enough without learning everything there was to learn about his company. 

“I work for a supply company. The back office side of it, so not so much the actual order and delivery aspect. I work in payroll, so I’m mostly in charge of making sure everyone gets paid on time.” 

“A lot of numbers,” he said with a small laugh. “I’ve never been good at numbers, so people like you are definitely instrumental in keeping a business going.” 

“I like to think I’m pretty useful,” Derek admitted with a smile. “My sister’s the one really good with numbers, though. She’s an accountant.” 

“Really?” 

“That’d be our eldest, Laura,” his dad said, coming back around the table and sitting down again with another groan. “She and Derek both found jobs they’re happy with and have stuck to them. Our youngest daughter is a bit more of a free spirit. She hasn’t really decided what to do yet, so she bartends at Jungle.” 

“How old is she?” the sheriff asked, and when his father confirmed she was the same age as Stiles, the man kindly said, “She’s still young, she’s got time to figure out what she wants to do.” He looked over at Derek then, beer near his lips to take a sip. “What about your whole YouTube thing?” he asked, following through on that sip before continuing. “I don’t mean to call it a ‘YouTube thing,’ I just honestly don’t understand how that works from a monetary perspective. But Stiles tells me you’re really popular on there and that you make a lot of money.” 

“I don’t make as much as everyone keeps thinking,” Derek insisted, though he had noticed a spike in his income since bypassing a million subscribers. Probably all of AllAboutMischief’s fans watching all his videos. Didn’t matter if they hated him and left him tons of dislikes, any kind of interaction on the video still benefited him. 

“It’s a hobby,” his dad said, reaching out to pat Derek’s shoulder again. “He does it for fun, it just kind of ran away from him. He’s pretty good at it.” 

“He is,” the sheriff agreed. “You seem to know a lot about music.” 

“I minored in music theory. I took one course by accident in first year and found it interesting, so when I hit third year I decided to minor in it since I’d taken a lot of the required courses in the first and second year for it.”

“That right?” the sheriff asked. “That’s lucky. And it makes for interesting videos, you do a good job. I’ve seen a few of them over the years, mostly the ones Stiles sends me, but I hear about you around town sometimes. People really like your stuff.” 

“Thanks,” Derek said, because he didn’t know what else to say. 

They all paused in conversation when Cora’s voice sounded loudly through the house, clearly heard outside because she had no volume control. Derek laughed at her words, but his dad just sighed, clearly wishing she wasn’t so chaotic sometimes. 

“Mom, someone’s getting arrested across the street! There’s a cruiser parked outside, someone is in trouble!” She sounded so happy about it, too. 

“And that would be Cora,” his dad said with a sigh, getting to his feet with his wine in hand. “Laura should be with her. The fish is almost done, so we can head back inside and we’ll introduce you.” 

“Sounds good,” the sheriff said, getting to his feet as well. 

Derek hadn’t known his mother hadn’t warned his sisters about the sheriff possibly being there for dinner, and he couldn’t wait to see the look on Cora’s face when the man walked into the kitchen. 

While he didn’t like sleeping in too much on weekends to not throw off his schedule, Derek ended up in bed past noon on Sunday. Dinner with the sheriff had been really fun, the guy was actually super interesting and funny. 

Derek had honestly been worried his family—particularly Cora—would ask him a million questions about his son, but surprisingly they barely talked about him at all. In fact, Derek felt like the most they’d been discussing him was in that brief moment outside when it was only Derek, his dad and the sheriff. The rest of the night they’d spoken about a lot of other things, and all of them—sheriff included—ended up staying there way later than intended. 

By the time everyone left, it was ridiculously close to one in the morning, and it had only gotten that late because nobody had noticed. They’d chatted before dinner, chatted during dinner, chatted after dinner, it was just a good time all around. 

His dad had even made plans to go golfing with the sheriff next week, and he could tell how happy that made him. Derek felt like the sheriff worked way too much and had probably sacrificed a lot in his life to make sure he kept a roof over his and his son’s heads and food on the table. When AllAboutMischief made it big, he’d probably thrown enough money at his dad for him to retire, but the sheriff didn’t seem like the kind of man who could just retire and sit around doing nothing all day. 

That was honestly probably the only reason he was still sheriff. Because he wanted to be. Still, he seemed to work too much and didn’t appear to have a lot of people to spend time with. Having his dad invite him out to golf seemed to be the highlight of the evening, and he hoped they actually went out to play together. 

When Derek finally rolled himself out of bed far too late the next day, he took his time waking up and getting some cereal. He didn’t have any plans for the day, but figured he’d get to work writing out a script for the next video he wanted to record. Thankfully he wasn’t falling behind since he’d skipped two uploads this week, but he hadn’t recorded in a while and wanted to make sure he always had a buffer. 

Deciding he’d do that after breakfast, he ate in front of the TV watching more She-Hulk before eventually putting his dishes in the sink and heading for his room and computer. He still had all the Pringles on his kitchen counter, and he grabbed one on his way by just because. His current can of Pringles was in his study, this one was for his room. 

Booting up his computer, he checked YouTube to see how his video on Ava Max was doing—pretty damn good, those extra subscribers were making a huge difference, holy shit—and then went to Twitter. There was nothing new from Mischief about him that he could see, so he breathed a sigh of relief at the realization that it was over.

He was a bit sad about it, because talking to someone he admired was insanely awesome despite being scary and a little embarrassing, but it was better this way. AllAboutMischief was going to forget about him eventually, it was safer for Derek’s ego—and delusions, if he was being perfectly honest—that the man forgot him now. 

Derek did notice he had a DM on Twitter though, so he clicked on it to check it out, assuming it was one of his usual followers who sent him messages, and paused when he saw AllAboutMischief’s handle. 

Why was he sending Derek a DM? 

He tried not to think on it too much, figuring maybe he was just sending another one sentence apology to be sure Derek hadn’t missed his note so he wouldn’t bitch about how rude Mischief was—Derek would never do that, the guy had been nothing but funny and polite this whole time. 

Clicking on it after convincing himself it was nothing, he instead got a huge amount of text that probably would’ve filled his entire phone screen if he’d been checking this on mobile. 

“Can you please stop being perfect, I need you to have a flaw somewhere,” Derek informed his screen. How could this guy be so famous and yet so fucking nice and humble? He was literally acting like it was perfectly normal for him to be having a conversation with Derek, like they were old friends or something. 

They hadn’t known one another in high school, so that definitely wasn’t the case, but he was literally making it so hard for Derek to want to stop talking to him because he was funny and nice and just... 

He’d fucking sent him a thank you for inviting his dad to dinner! Who did that?! Someone overly nice, that’s who. Mischief seemed like such a nice person all around, and it just made him think back to what his dad had said in his work’s parking lot. About how he always made sure he was over the top so he didn’t disappoint his fans. 

But no one could see this, it was a DM. It was just a conversation between the two of them, and while yes, Derek could always print-screen and post it, that wasn’t the point. He was being so genuinely sincere in this thanks for Derek having made his dad’s night by inviting him to dinner, and had apologized again about the misunderstanding. 

If he wasn’t careful, Derek was going to make another video about him where all he did was look straight into the camera and insist AllAboutMischief was a treasure who needed to be protected at all costs. Though he remembered that he’d mentioned being afraid of heights and thus not liking pedestals, but still. 

It was only once he sent it that he realized he probably should’ve broken the message up into paragraphs like Mischief had. And he’d literally sent him a fucking essay, Jesus Christ. Well, too late now, it was out there so he just let it be. 

He opened his word file and found the folder where all his ideas were saved, opening the one about the radio first and hoping he could maybe get this video, the Lil Nas X video and a third one he had planned about Dove Cameron since her move out of Disney all drafted today so he could record them after work throughout the week. 

It was always safer for him to have a multitude of videos recorded so that all he had to do was edit them to post them. While a more efficient person would probably record and edit one at a time, most YouTubers didn’t have full-time jobs on top of YouTube. And the ones who did usually didn’t post as often as he tended to. 

Kira kept telling him to get an editor, but he honestly didn’t know if he wanted to do that. Not because he liked editing, but mostly because he didn’t know how to choose someone to do that for him. He might’ve been in the YouTube scene for a long time, but he still had a lot to learn in general about it. 

He didn’t think about it too much while he wrote, and did manage to get all three videos drafted by the time he went to bed, having taken a break for dinner. He texted with Kira while getting ready, kind of annoyed at how awake he was since he knew he’d have a hell of a time passing out and he had an early morning tomorrow. As soon as he was settled, he watched an episode of a random show on Netflix on his phone while lying in bed in his dark room, mostly in an attempt to unwind, and then opened Twitter for one last check before bed. 

Derek’s eyes strayed to his DMs, because it showed he had another one. Surely it wouldn’t be AllAboutMischief again though, right? He’d thanked Derek, said his piece, and he was probably done with him, right? 

He clicked on the little icon, and when the messages loaded, he stared at AllAboutMischief’s name, Twitter showing he had a new message from him. 

“This is crazy,” Derek insisted to himself. “Why is he even talking to me? I’m literally nobody.” 

Didn’t stop him from clicking on the message though. 

Derek debated whether or not to respond, but the little voice that lived in his head insisting this wasn’t going to last forever made him determined to prove it wrong. He wasn’t stupid, he knew Mischief would stop messaging him eventually, but for now, he just wanted to live in this little fantasy world where this famous musician actually wanted to talk to him so he began typing up a response. 

He was on his phone, so it was a lot shorter, but he tried to make it clear he wasn’t trying to be curt. He sent off the message, re-reading it after having done so, because apparently he was stupid and didn’t re-read before sending it out, but whatever. He was about to close out of the app and plug in his phone so he could sleep when a message popped up. 

Derek hesitated for a second before he typed back. 

Derek had no idea what was happening right now, but Mischief continued to message him. Apparently he couldn’t sleep, and had been browsing various websites when he’d gotten an alert on Twitter. As soon as he’d seen it was Derek, he’d immediately messaged back before even reading what he’d said. 

It was surreal lying there in bed having a conversation with AllAboutMischief on Twitter, but the more they chatted, the less weird it got, if he was honest. Mischief was just so normal, and he seemed like a really fun guy. 

They talked a bit about the dinner, and Mischief mentioned he was happy about what had been served since his dad had to watch what he ate. Derek didn’t ask why, but figured he had some kind of health issues. When he admitted he was sad about the pie, since it had indeed been apple pie, Mischief asked what he liked and upon informing him he liked strawberry-rhubarb, Mischief had thoroughly freaked out asking who in their right mind liked rhubarb. Derek had joked about whether or not he’d wake up to another song about his horrible life choices, and Mischief had dodged the question. 

Derek was honestly enjoying their conversation so much that he didn’t notice the time until a yawn cracked his jaw and he saw it was almost four in the morning. He didn’t know where AllAboutMischief was in the world right now, but he’d mentioned not being able to sleep so presumably it wasn’t regular waking hours for him either. 

Don’t get your hopes up, don’t get your hopes up, don’t get your hopes up!

Derek was so getting his hopes up. 

He closed out of Twitter before they got distracted chatting again and leaned over to plug in his phone and put his glasses on his night stand. He shifted onto his side, staring at its blurry form in the dim light of his room, and couldn’t help smiling a little bit. 

Him being a famous celebrity aside, AllAboutMischief was actually really fun to talk to. Derek had enjoyed chatting with him, and their banter had been amusing. He was going to hate himself later when his alarm went off, but it was worth it because this had been really nice. 

As predicted, when his alarm went off, he hit snooze at least four times before forcing himself to get out of bed so he could get ready for work. He had a text message from Cora on his home screen, which he ignored until lunchtime. Once he finally read it, he went to check Twitter, and actually let out a loud laugh in the lunchroom at work. 

AllAboutMischief had written a fucking song about the horrors of strawberry-rhubarb pie. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek didn’t know what he and AllAboutMischief had, but he liked to think it was a rivalry-friendship kind of deal. He was trying to shift gears in his own head and call the man Stiles instead of defaulting to Mischief, because he’d accidentally slipped once in a reply and the singer had been horrified to find out he didn’t refer to him as Stiles in his head since he himself called Derek Derek. 

It was slow-going, but he was working on it. Whenever he thought about him, he consciously tried to shift into calling him Stiles, and every time he did, he kind of half-smiled to himself because it made him feel like they were actually friends. 

Which they were. They DMed on Twitter a lot. Even when one of them was busy, the other just sent messages to be answered later. Stiles tended to do it more often than Derek, but it was always really nice finishing work and seeing a bunch of random DMs from Stiles on Twitter. 

Every now and then, he’d have this weird little doubt in the back of his mind about whether or not it was actually Stiles texting him, because where did he find the time? Eventually, he asked Stiles how he had so much free time. Not in that way, obviously, because that would be rude, but Stiles just told him that while he was on tour, though he was busy and did a lot of talk shows and meet-and-greets, he also spent a lot of time on his bus going from place to place. 

Stiles found it hard to sleep on the bus, so while he’d love to be able to just pass out and recharge, he never managed it which was why he ended up messaging Derek so much. It was also how he’d ended up finding Derek. Stiles had already been a star when Derek had begun to see traction in his own videos on YouTube, and Stiles watched a lot of YouTube when he was on the bus—apparently he had an issue with streaming services, probably capitalism, but Derek didn’t ask because he’d have to admit he was subscribed to three of them. 

While scrolling through the front page of YouTube one day, Stiles happened upon Derek’s video tribute to Whitney Houston and had watched it. He’d enjoyed it, so he’d checked out some of his other videos—embarrassingly going all the way back to the beginning, when Derek’s editing was awful—and realized he really liked him, so he’d started following him. 

The fact that Derek posted regularly was also a plus for him because it meant he could switch between a bunch of different YouTubers regularly and never really run out of things to watch. 

Derek always knew when Stiles was busy, or possibly even on stage, because when he was free he would send Derek messages constantly. Videos, memes, fun things he found on the internet, all that stuff. But then he’d disappear for four or five hours without a peep. Derek would assume he was sleeping, but then after that stretch of silence, he’d get another message about how he was so tired and hated that he couldn’t sleep, usually because he was on the bus overnight. 

It was such a weird little dynamic, but Derek didn’t hate it. He had a good time chatting with Stiles, and he almost forgot he was speaking to someone famous sometimes. Stiles acted like any other one of Derek’s online friends, and it seemed surreal to think they were online friends. But he was pretty sure they were, at this point. 

At first during their first two weeks of chatting, he’d assumed Stiles was literally just bored enough to talk to anyone who replied, but after a few back and forth conversations in that time frame, it became clear Stiles genuinely enjoyed their conversations. It was probably also nice for him to reference things about home and have Derek understand. Likewise, Derek could talk about a random street off-hand without much thought, and Stiles knew exactly where that was. 

How strange to think this famous musician came from such a small little town in the middle of nowhere, California. A part of Derek wondered if maybe he’d settled in Las Vegas because he hadn’t wanted his home overrun with people, but he didn’t ask. They may have been friendly, but they weren’t that friendly. 

At least not yet. 

Work had just finished on a bleary Friday afternoon, the sun long gone and overshadowed by dark rain clouds that made everyone in a sour mood, considering the veritable downpour outside. Derek offered one of his co-workers a lift home, since they lived on the way and usually went out on Fridays so had bussed into work that morning. 

While he was waiting for her to pack up, he saw he had an alert from Twitter, and only caught the first sentence before his co-worker appeared beside him, prompting that she was ready to go. 

Derek wished she’d taken an additional ten seconds, because all he’d seen of the message had caused his stomach to bottom out, and he desperately needed to know what he’d done wrong. 

Stiles hated something. Hated talking to him? No, he’d literally said he loved talking to him. Fuck, what kind of mixed signal bullshit was that?! He wanted to keep reading, but he didn’t want to be rude to his co-worker, so he just walked towards the stairs with her while she thanked him profusely for driving her home, even though it was on the way and absolutely no trouble for him. 

They had to run to his car once they got outside, since the lot wasn’t covered, and Derek felt like he’d never be dry again by the time he got into the car. 

Caitlin was chatty the whole ride back, which Derek didn’t mind. He quite liked her, she was very nice, and she made the best shortbread around the holidays in December. Right now, he’d have done anything for her to not be in the car though, because he was literally going crazy trying to figure out what he’d done that had made Stiles send that message. 

Had he said anything in his last text to him that may have upset him? Maybe he was starting to get annoying? Derek didn’t message him back that often. Then again, maybe that was the problem? Maybe he didn’t respond enough? He had a job and a time-consuming hobby and local friends, it was hard for him to respond as often as Stiles did! He did his best, he was only one person! 

Fuck, Stiles was probably done with him now. He’d probably thanked him for the good chats and was now moving on. 

Well... whatever. Derek had known it was too good to last anyway. 

Dropping Caitlin off in front of her building, he waited at the curb, watching to make sure she made it in all right, because it was the polite thing to do, and the second she was out of sight, he immediately pulled his phone out and unlocked it. Opening Twitter with a sense of trepidation, he clicked on his DMs, read the message, and let out a small sigh of relief. 

What the hell, was Stiles trying to give him anxiety? 

Derek never would’ve had the nerve to ask him to switch platforms to chat, because who was he in comparison to someone like Stiles? But God did he appreciate this, because he also wasn’t super fond of Twitter when it came to chatting. Twitter was just for tweeting in his opinion, so he was more than okay switching to Discord. 

Shoving his phone back into his pocket, he started the car and made his way home, trying not to smile to himself the whole way there. But seriously, he was also annoyed he’d gotten so freaked the fuck out. He’d legitimately thought Stiles was about to tell him he was done with their conversations, so he was pretty happy to hear he wasn’t. 

Parking in his driveway, Derek stared at his front door through the sheet of rain on the other side of his windshield. 

The good news was, he was home. It didn’t matter if he got soaked through again, he could just take a hot shower, grab some sweats and a loose shirt, and then be nice and comfortable inside while the rain continued to fall outside. 

Still. He’d have to run to the door and he’d get soaked again. 

Sighing, he gathered all his things, reminded himself he was an adult and rain wasn’t going to hurt him, then hurried out of the car. He raced to his covered porch, still managing to get completely soaked in a millisecond, and then locked his car with his key fob from the safety of the porch. 

Getting inside, he knew he was going to track water everywhere, but didn’t really have a choice. At least he didn’t have any carpet, he supposed. 

He walked through his home to his laundry room, deciding it might be best to just leave his stuff there for now to dry as much as possible. He stripped while standing in the small room, leaving the pile of wet clothes on top of the dryer before heading back out. Some of what he’d been wearing couldn’t go in the wash, but he was going to parse through that later when he wasn’t soaked to the bone and shivering. 

He dropped his wallet and keys on the hall table on his way by, then walked into his room in his shorts, leaving his phone on his desk. He wiggled his mouse to get it out of sleep mode—conversing with Stiles had made him feel less inclined to wait on it to boot back up every day—and then opened Discord once he was logged back in. 

Moving to his friends list, he clicked on the “add friend” button, feeling like this was kind of surreal, and checked his phone for the full name. Sending off the request, he knew Stiles would know it was him since his Discord was under the same name as his YouTube channel. 

Still shivering a little, since it wasn’t getting any warmer, Derek turned to find a pair of fresh shorts, then headed into the bathroom for a quick shower, wanting to warm up. He didn’t mind the rain, but only when he was inside where it was warm and dry and all he had to do was listen to it fall. It was actually quite nice in those times. 

When he headed back to his room in his dry shorts, having left the wet ones in his sink because he lived alone and could do what he wanted, he pulled on a fresh pair of sweats and a loose shirt, then sat down at his computer. 

He had to finish editing his video for tomorrow, but he knew he had Stiles to chat with while he was free. He was pretty sure Stiles had a concert tonight, but that shouldn’t be for another few hours or so. Derek was fairly certain he and Stiles were in the same time zone now compared to last week. The guy really did travel a lot, he didn’t ever seem to take breaks. Probably wasn’t healthy for him. 

He hadn’t even opened his editing program yet when he got a pop-up from Discord confirming Stiles had accepted his friends request, and then a message immediately afterwards from said individual. He smiled a little, clicking on it instantly to bring him to the new chat between him and Stiles. 

Derek rolled his eyes, but Stiles was typing again before he could even reply, asking how his day was, how things were going, what his weekend plans were, all the usual things he asked Derek on Fridays. 

Or, had been asking him since they began speaking, at any rate. 

Derek just told him he was editing his video, and Stiles got all excited about it like a little kid because Derek had told him earlier in the week that his Saturday video was going to be about another YouTuber who managed to create classical versions of some of the most famous and heaviest rock metal songs. Stiles was really into that kind of thing, which made sense. 

They chatted for a while about Derek’s weekend plans, and Stiles’ concert—it was starting in two hours, so he was already at the venue getting spruced up. That sounded like a boring two hours, in Derek’s opinion, but he didn’t say so. He was just glad he could be there to maybe help entertain him a little bit until then. 

Derek just laughed, because he’d noticed in their general texting after becoming friends that Stiles did typo his I’s a lot when he was trying to type just ‘I’ or ‘I’m’ or ‘I’d.’ Anything that was in reference to himself he typo’d, but not so much in words. It was kind of funny, honestly. 

Derek couldn’t help laughing at the way Stiles got so incensed at things they disagreed on. Fake-incensed, of course, but still. It was kind of funny to see how many things they disagreed on, which was why Derek always referred to his friendship with Stiles as being a rivalry-friendship, because Stiles couldn’t handle the way Derek had such a pretty face but horrible taste in virtually all things. 

He’d gotten another song written last week about how Derek was clearly in need of a life overhaul because he’d dared—that was the word Stiles had used, dared!—to suggest that Superman was better than Batman. Stiles was a huge Batman fan, and while he didn’t mind Superman, when Derek had admitted he was much more inclined to go see a Superman movie than a Batman one, it was like he’d just announced he was going to kill half the people on the planet with the way Stiles reacted. 

Knowing it was all in good fun made it hilarious to Derek, but it was also kind of endearing to see how passionate Stiles could get about literally everything. And he was never an asshole about it, either. He played it up because that was the kind of person he was, but when they’d been discussing the topic again the next day, while Stiles still made jokes about Derek’s taste, they’d had a really long conversation about how shitty so many of the DC movies in general were, including most of the Batman ones. 

Really, the only one that Derek had admitted to enjoying out of all of them was the newest one with Robert Pattinson—who’d been a weird choice at first, but good Lord had that man delivered—and Stiles had said all was forgiven because at least he liked the right Batman movie. 

Derek hadn’t realized there was a right or a wrong Batman movie to like, but was thankful he’d chosen properly. 

When his doorbell rang, he turned to look out of his room, as if he could see the door from where he was. He wasn’t expecting company, but he could think of a few people who would stop by unannounced. Why anyone would stop by in this weather, he had no idea, but he stood and headed for the stairs so he could find out. Opening his front door, he found a very disgruntled-looking Kira on his porch, soaking wet and carrying a duffel. 

“My power’s out, umbrella broke, this weather’s the worst and I hate everything.” 

Derek wasn’t touching that, he just moved aside and swept one arm out to motion her in. She walked into his house while handing over her bag, which he took. She went straight to the laundry room, which he appreciated, because he didn’t want her tracking water through his house. He had some of his spare towels in there, so he was sure she’d grab one before emerging to change. 

He set her bag on the counter and used one of his dish towels to pat it dry. Thankfully it didn’t seem to have soaked through the material, so he just dried it off as best he could and then went to put it in his guest bedroom, which really was just Kira’s second bedroom since she was usually the only one who used it. 

Not like Derek had many guests over who needed a place to sleep. Kira only stayed over when she’d overindulged and couldn’t drive home. 

He and Kira met at the top of the stairs, his friend having found a towel as he’d expected. She still looked really sour, and he was pretty sure he was going to be going out at least once more today to get them some food with how unhappy she looked. 

Oh well, what were friends for, right? 

“You wanna grab a shower to warm up?” he asked, motioning the bathroom.

She turned to it, making a face, but said, “Yeah, probably should.” 

Derek moved aside so she could grab some clothes from her bag, probably her pyjamas, and then waited until she was in the bathroom before heading for his room again. He paused when the door opened immediately, turning back to her, and saw Kira giving him a look while motioning something in the room. 

“Really?” 

Arching an eyebrow, Derek headed back towards the bathroom, peeking into it, and realized his shorts were still in the sink. Right. 

Grabbing them quickly, he just shrugged at her. “I live alone. And don’t tell me you’ve never done that before, I grew up with two girls, the number of times I’ve walked into our shared bathroom to find underwear soaking in cold water because of accidents is literally too high a number for me to remember.” 

“Oh no, how awful.” Kira rolled her eyes and shut the door again. Derek just smiled, shaking his head, and went to add his wet shorts to the pile of wet clothes steadily growing in his laundry room. 

When he went back to his room, he saw Stiles had sent him a few messages about how much he hated make-up, and the fact that he didn’t understand why he even needed to wear any for a concert because the lights were so hot it all melted off, and nobody was ever close enough to him to see the zit he had on his chin anyway. 

Derek laughed, shaking his head, and asked Stiles about how he was feeling with tonight’s concert. He couldn’t get what he’d overheard the man’s dad say in the store out of his head, but he didn’t think it was his place to ask outright, so he tried to gage how he was feeling a bit more subtly. 

Stiles was as cheery and optimistic as ever, and Derek didn’t know how to ask in any other way, so when the musician changed the subject to ask Derek about if he’d ever thought to cover the best and worst duets in the past ten years, he allowed the change of topic. 

They were still discussing the pros and cons of certain duets that they surprisingly seemed to agree on fairly well when Kira walked into his room behind him, towel-drying her hair. 

“Whatcha doin’?” she asked, sounding less angry than she had before the shower. 

“Just talking to Stiles,” he admitted, turning in his chair to look at her. “You ready for shows?” 

“You can keep talking to him,” she insisted. 

“He has a concert coming up he needs to prep for anyway, and I’m not gonna ignore you when you’re literally in my house,” Derek argued. “Queue something up, I’ll be there in a second.” 

Kira shrugged but obeyed, clearly making like she honestly didn’t care if she was left out in the living room alone, but Derek wasn’t going to ignore her for Stiles. While yes, it was awesome and amazing chatting with Stiles, he’d really only known him for a few weeks whereas Kira was his best friend, so she’d always come first. 

Besides, it was bad manners to ignore someone who was literally in his home with him, and his mother would smack him for it. 

Derek closed Discord but didn’t log out, letting it live in the background for now and then heading out of his room. Kira was still scrolling through Disney+ when he walked into the living room. She was obviously in a bad enough mood she didn’t want to sit through anything Star Wars but it’d be hard to find a show for her to continue that Derek would be up to date on. 

“You okay if we watch a movie?” Kira asked, Derek falling beside her on the couch and getting comfortable. “I’m feeling like some Disney movies.” 

Derek shrugged. “As long as it’s one of the good ones, sure.” 

“What constitutes ‘good’ to you?” Kira eyed him suspiciously. Probably because she knew his taste in stuff wasn’t the same as everyone else’s. Wow, when he thought about it, a lot of people ragged on his taste in things. 

“You know, the good ones. Tangled, Encanto, Coco—”

“Oh, Coco!” Kira turned back to the TV. “It’s been a hot minute since I’ve seen that one.” 

“Great music,” Derek agreed. 

“Great story,” Kira argued, giving him a look. “Not everything is about music.” 

“Isn’t it?” he teased with a small smile. 

“Hey, you’ve never done a video on Disney movies and their music,” Kira said, finding Coco and clicking on it so they could start it. “You should do that. Have a tier list or something based just on the music, since your taste in the actual storyline is pretty shit.” 

“We don’t all have to have the same opinions,” Derek insisted, but he nudged Kira lightly, and thought that might not be a bad idea.

He didn’t think he’d ever done a Disney music tier list, and it’d probably be fun. Maybe he could make it a series and do every Disney musical, analysing the music in each one and whether or not they were good or bad. 

He already knew the live action remake of The Lion King would be at the bottom because how fucking dare they ruin ‘Be Prepared’ the way they did? That song was a classic, and they’d destroyed it with the way it was done in the live action and he was going to make it known to everyone.  

Kira nudged him when she could tell he was already writing a video in his head and he nudged her back, focussing on the movie properly, and hoping the weather improved before he had to go outside again for dinner. 

Rain was only nice when he stayed inside. 

Derek laughed at that, unable to help himself. He found it so funny that Stiles always got all caught up on the things Derek didn’t like. Really, it was the running joke of their friendship, and he kind of loved it. 

Derek rolled his eyes, and ignored how much he liked seeing the words ‘I love you’ from Stiles on his screen. He knew they didn’t mean anything, Stiles was just saying them because it was a thing people said these days, but still. He liked that Stiles felt comfortable enough with him to say something like that to him. 

He was on the road again, as he always seemed to be, but apparently he was heading to a hotel in Olympia, Washington for a two day rest before his next concert in that same city. Derek was glad he would be getting a break to sleep a bit, since Stiles honestly didn’t seem to get much of it. 

It made him think about what the sheriff had said again. The thought often returned to him at random times when he was speaking to Stiles, and while he honestly didn’t know if they were close enough for him to even dare ask this question, he just wanted to know Stiles was okay. He was a really great guy, and the thought of him being sick was really scary, if he was being honest. 

And they’d been having weird conversations tonight anyway. Not bad weird, just general weird. They’d been asking each other more questions than usual tonight, probably because Stiles was bored and Derek was procrastinating filming his next video—he still had a buffer, he was fine—and they’d somehow gotten onto a weird twenty questions kind of night. 

Nothing overly personal, but just things they were curious about. And while Derek knew this might be crossing a line, he was honestly worried he’d wake up one morning to nothing from Stiles, and read online that he’d died during the night from some magical disease no one had ever heard of. 

He knew he probably shouldn’t ask, but he wanted to.

So he did. 

Stiles didn’t respond for long enough to make Derek nervous, but he didn’t let himself worry about it. Stiles had been going quiet periodically because of Erica, since she was with him on this tour—and on a lot of his tours. 

She was a book editor and could do her job from anywhere as long as she had her laptop. Stiles often got lonely on tour, and his dad worried about him, so even though Erica was dating and living with Boyd, whenever Stiles went on tour, she went with him. Apparently Stiles flew Boyd out every now and then when they were in cities Erica wanted to travel around in while Stiles was doing his whole musician thing, which Derek thought was really nice. 

And he was glad Stiles wasn’t alone. He said his manager was nice enough and he liked him, but Erica was the one who kept him sane, even if she could sleep on the bus when he couldn’t. 

After what felt like way longer than usual, but was probably just his anxiety talking, Stiles responded. 

Derek couldn’t begin to fathom what Stiles would ever want to ask him, but if that was what it took for him to be allowed to ask Stiles if he was okay, then Stiles could ask him literally anything he wanted. 

Derek thought for a few seconds on how to ask this question, but there wasn’t really a delicate way to ask about someone’s health when it was really none of his business, but he did his best to be respectful. 

Oh?! What the fuck did that mean?! Oh fuck, was Stiles sick? Shit, maybe he shouldn’t have asked. Fuck! 

Derek had just started typing again to tell him to forget it, because if he was sick that was so personal and how could he have thought it was his place to even ask that, but before he could type the words, Stiles had already replied. 

Wait, what?!

Stiles was telling him not to worry and then explaining that he passed out after concerts sometimes? And he thought Derek was going to just, what, nod his head like that made sense and move along? Why the hell was he passing out after concerts?! 

He was fairly certain he was going to get an answer to his unasked question, because Stiles was still typing. 

Jesus fucking Christ. 

Derek re-read what Stiles had said a few times, because he wanted to make sure he wasn’t rude or angry in his response, but he was angry. He was angry that Stiles felt so much pressure in this life he lived, that he was legitimately making himself pass out after concerts because he’d gone too hard. 

Was that what it was like in that industry? People had to make sure they went extra hard or else they were deemed unworthy of the spotlight? 

Derek knew it wasn’t about the spotlight for Stiles. He cared about his fans, the fame came second to him. He just wanted to make people happy, and he loved that people liked his music. He didn’t care about all the perks that came with being who he was, he liked the feelings he got when others were happy about something he’d given them. 

But that almost made it worse then. Because maybe Stiles was doing this to himself even if his record label was telling him not to. Because he didn’t want to disappoint people. Which was insane, because his dad was right, he was going to kill himself. 

Derek had been silent for too long, and he could imagine Stiles feeling uncomfortable on the other end. He knew he would feel uncomfortable were their roles reversed, so he had to say something. He was just struggling to figure out what to say. 

Derek smiled a little at that, glad that they were back in some safer waters, but he hoped Stiles thought long and hard about this, because the last thing he wanted to hear online was that Stiles made himself sick to keep fans happy.

As a fan himself, Derek could attest that absolutely no one who loved Stiles would be happy to hear that. Derek didn’t need him to be amped up and flying at three-thousand percent. He just wanted him to be having a good time and enjoying being on stage in front of people who admired him and loved his music.

Derek waited, but didn’t see Stiles typing, so he changed screens to look over his notes for the video he was still procrastinating filming. He felt like he was getting lazy these days, that or he was losing his drive.

Though he knew it wasn’t the drive, so probably laziness. Honestly, it wasn’t even about the filming. It was literally the editing. 

Derek loved writing the scripts, and recording them, and just playing around with how he wanted to say things. What he hated was the editing. It was why he needed an editor but he was still procrastinating that because he didn’t want to have to look for one and worry about making the wrong choice. But God did he hate editing. So much. He felt like he’d honestly record and post more often than he already did if only he had an editor. 

He was still reviewing his notes when his phone dinged. He glanced at his home screen, and was going to ignore it when he noticed Cora’s name, but the first few words of her message gave him pause and he grabbed for it, opening his sister’s text. 

“What?” Derek asked, confused, and texted back. 

Freaking out about what? It couldn’t be about what they’d just discussed, it wasn’t something ‘freak out’ worthy since it was about Stiles taking care of his health.

He went back to their Discord chat to see if he’d replied yet, but it still didn’t even show him typing. When Derek looked at his last message, he realized that whatever Stiles wanted to ask him was probably what he was freaking out about. 

But why? What kind of personal question could he possibly have for Derek that he was so worried about asking? 

His Discord blipped, Derek’s eyes shooting up to his screen in time to see the little pop-up begin to disappear. He flipped back to Discord and saw Stiles had started his question, and was still typing. 

Putting his phone down and ignoring whatever else Cora sent to him, he watched the words slowly but surely make their way onto his screen. 

Derek’s eyebrows flew up and he actually worried he might lose them. 

What?

What?! 

Why was Stiles asking if he was dating Kira?! That was such an insane question to ask. It was like he cared, but why would he care? He had no reason to care. Why would Stiles care? Why was he asking that?! 

Don’t be delusional, don’t get your hopes up, stop being weird, calm down. The words weren’t making him calm down any, but mostly because what the actual fuck? Why was Stiles asking if he was single if he didn’t have a reason to be asking? 

But that was insane, right? That was insane! 

Realizing he hadn’t responded yet, mostly because he was still kind of floored, he hastily began to type so he wouldn’t leave Stiles waiting anxiously for too long, even as Cora sent him another text. He shushed his phone in annoyance, and continued to type. 

His heart was pounding. Why was his heart pounding? He had no reason to have a pounding heart right now, nothing was happening! 

Stiles was just curious! He wasn’t asking for any reason other than curiosity! Derek was almost twenty-nine, his birthday was coming up in a few days, Stiles was probably just wondering if he was ready to settle down and maybe leave YouTube.

That was all. He was asking because he liked Derek’s videos and wanted to make sure he wasn’t going to quit them. That was a perfectly logical reason to be asking if he and Kira were dating. 

Not that Stiles had asked but, just in case. Just for the videos, of course. Stiles only needed to know because he was worried about Derek’s YouTube career. 

Stiles didn’t respond for a very long time. Long enough that Derek eventually did go down to record his video, and then took a shower and got ready for bed. He checked Discord between every different thing he switched to, but it wasn’t until well past midnight when he was usually in bed asleep that he saw a response from Stiles since he’d stayed up later than usual to finish another script. 

Not obsessively waiting on an answer or anything. And it was only Saturday, so he could sleep in tomorrow anyway. 

Stiles was going to be the death of him. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek was called into his boss’ office early Monday morning, which was never the way anyone wanted to start their day, because anxiety was super great. 

He’d made sure not to look nervous, because some people attributed nerves to having something to hide, so he just sat down and let his boss tear him a new one about whatever it was he’d done. 

Except that wasn’t why he’d gotten called into the office. Apparently the HR VP was on his boss’ ass because the company only allowed a three-day carry-over on vacation every year, and it was going to be November first the following day with Derek having over twenty days left. 

So his boss was telling him he had to take vacation. 

Derek never really thought about vacation time very much, because he quite liked his job and he always kept himself busy with YouTube during his free time so he never felt like he was overworked—which was a weird thing to realize considering he basically had two jobs. 

Since his birthday was next week, Derek figured he’d take that week off, but he still had too much time left over and December was a hard month to take vacation time in so his boss asked him if he could just take three weeks starting tomorrow, November first. That would amount to fourteen work days—he was already at the office today, and he was sure his boss didn’t want him to go home after having woken up so early. 

That left him with six days before he was down enough for the carry-over. They looked at the calendar in December for another batch of time he could take and ended up tacking three additional days to the end of Derek’s three weeks, so he’d have almost all of November off, and then three days in mid-December. 

His boss said they would need to talk early next year to make sure Derek booked time off, and he promised this wouldn’t happen again. He just hadn’t really felt the need for time off this year, was all. 

The work day had gone by quickly, and even though he knew he should be thinking about what he’d do during his time off, and how many videos he could get recorded and edited, all he could think about was how Stiles was doing today. 

Yesterday had been his first day off of the two days he had scheduled, with today being the second. He was back to doing concerts starting tomorrow, but he insisted the last time they messaged on Discord that he didn’t mind it so much because they’d be doing three shows in Olympia, which meant five nights in a hotel including his two rest days, so he was pretty stoked about the sleep. 

Derek was kind of annoyed his time off hadn’t coincided with Stiles’ two days off, but he also knew Stiles’ tour was ending mid-November. He had a few shows back home in Las Vegas as the official end of his tour and then would be off for a while with only various talk-shows and anything else his manager had booked him for, but no more concerts.

Hopefully he found time to rest and relax. 

He had less messages than usual after work today, but knew it was because Stiles had probably been resting—hopefully—and hanging out with Erica. He wasn’t offended, he was glad and hoped he was having a good day. He just messaged him back while sitting in his car in the parking lot like a weirdo, informing him that he was on a forced vacation—with context, he didn’t want Stiles to think he’d gotten fired—and said if Stiles had any ideas for videos he wanted to see to send them his way since he’d have free time to work on them. 

By the time he got home and into comfortable clothes, ready for three amazing weeks off—as unplanned as they were, he was still pretty happy about it—when he caught sight of Stiles’ response on the home screen of his phone. 

That was a weird thing for him to ask, and Derek opened Discord to respond, even as he walked to his room to get onto Discord on his computer. 

Derek sat down at his desk, bringing it out of sleep mode and logging back in. He opened Discord and responded there, hating using his phone but always making an effort for Stiles. 

Derek waited, seeing Stiles typing. It would start and stop periodically, and Derek felt like maybe Stiles was re-thinking what he wanted to say. Eventually, he must’ve come to a decision because he finally replied. 

Say what? 

In what universe did Stiles live in where Derek would ever say no to a fucking video call with someone he admired and had come to regard as a good friend? 

He waited for a few seconds, and then a video call came in. He made sure his webcam was uncovered on his laptop, and then accepted the call.

It wasn’t until he did so that he realized what shirt he was wearing. 

Stiles appeared on the other end, the camera partially covered by his hand since he seemed to be trying to fix it a little, and then he came into view, a brilliant smile on his face as soon as he saw they were connected. 

“Hey! It’s you!”

“Of course it’s me, why wouldn’t it be?” Derek asked, trying hard not to smile too much, arms crossed over his chest.

He hoped Stiles didn’t notice. 

And fuck did he look good. He was wearing a red hoodie with the hood up, even though he was inside, and worn jeans. He had glasses on, which Derek had seen him wearing a few times in pictures, but Stiles seemed to wear his contacts more often than not same as him. 

He looked really good, though. Like, not just because he was an attractive man, but he looked rested. Derek wondered if he’d just been sleeping all day and that was why he only got a few messages. 

“I don’t know, maybe this whole thing was a ruse and you were just pretending to be the guy in the videos,” Stiles said with a laugh, sitting more comfortably on what was obviously a bed. He had an acoustic guitar on his lap, and Derek tried not to get excited about it. Maybe Stiles had just been strumming his guitar before the call, it was nothing to get excited about! 

“Isn’t it more likely you’re the one pretending to be AllAboutMischief?” Derek asked with a small smile. “You’re the famous one here, I could’ve been talking to like, your personal assistant this whole time.” 

Stiles let out a scoff and rolled his eyes. Derek thought he could see a beanie beneath the hood he had up, but wasn’t sure. “I don’t have a personal assistant, why do I need one of those? Never made sense to me, to be honest.”

“It does raise a question I’ve always had,” Derek admitted. When Stiles motioned for him to proceed, he asked, “Is it normal? For a celebrity to handle all their own socials? I can tell based on the way your social media operates and the way you talk to me that it’s always you replying, but don’t celebrities have people who do that for them?” 

Stiles shrugged one shoulder while he strummed absently at his guitar. He wasn’t playing any one tune in particular, legitimately just strumming, as if making sure it sounded the way it was supposed to. 

“Some people will hire them out,” he acknowledged. “I like hanging out on Twitter though, I find it fun. And with YouTube, the thing is, I literally started on YouTube, you know? I built up my community by myself, and I guess it just felt weird having someone else take it over. I didn’t want that, because it was mine. People try and convince me to sometimes, but it’s my roots. I kind of like still having that.”

“I can understand that,” Derek admitted. “And you seem bored on tour a lot, so it gives you something to do.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles half-smiled, but it slowly slid off his face. Derek saw him squinting slightly, leaning forward and angling the camera a bit more, evidently messing with the screen on his laptop. He thought he was just trying to fix something, but then he spoke and Derek wanted to groan. “Are you wearing my merch again?”

Derek was indeed wearing an AllAboutMischief shirt. It was a newer one, maybe two or so years old compared to the one from his video, but it was comfortable! It was one of his preferred at home shirts! 

“It’s comfortable,” he insisted, wishing he hadn’t changed out of his work clothes. He wouldn’t have if he’d known he was going to have a video call with Stiles! 

The grin that began to spread across the other man’s face was as mischievous as his name suggested. “You’re such a fan, it’s adorable.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, trying to push back the embarrassment. “You wanted my opinion. Be careful what you say or I might decide I don’t want to help you.” 

Stiles held up both hands in surrender but was still smiling cheekily. Derek rolled his eyes at him again. 

What a little shit, he loved it. 

“What can I help you with?” 

Stiles went still for a moment, like he was panicking internally, and then went back to strumming at his guitar, avoiding looking at the screen, eyes instead of his hands as they moved. 

“I uh, I wrote a song,” he admitted quietly. 

Derek’s heart kick-started again, and he forced himself to just stop! Stiles hadn’t written him a song, this was nothing! 

But at the same time, it also wasn’t, because Stiles had written a song and he was now on a video call with Derek holding his guitar and asking him if he could get his opinion. Like he was going to play him this new song and ask for his opinion which... How was this his life? This was insane. This was crazy! 

“I was wondering if you’d be okay listening to it.” Stiles winced, then reached up to rub the back of his neck. “Sorry, that sounded weird. I just—want another opinion, is all. And I feel like you’d be honest, you know?” He glanced at the screen briefly, then looked away. “Erica’s... she’s great and all, and I love her, but she’s worried I’m gonna like, I don’t know, stop writing or whatever if I think I’m doing poorly so she’s just constantly telling me everything is great, even when it’s not. I talked to her a lot about the songs on my last album and how I hated most of them even as I wrote them, but she kept insisting they were great. I just don’t want her to feel like I’m going to quit this whole thing if I write a bad song, you know? Everyone writes bad songs sometimes, I don’t care if I have to start over, I just want it to be good and not just passable.”

“You don’t need to be perfect, you know,” Derek admitted to him. “You’re allowed to write something bad as long as you like it.” 

“I know, but I’d rather everyone like it. And I figure you’re good at analysing this kind of thing, and I know you’d be honest. So I thought you’d be a good person to ask. If you want.”

If he wanted, was Stiles crazy? Derek wanted to climb through the screen so he could shake him and get the song faster, but for one thing, that wasn’t possible, and for another, Stiles looked so uncomfortable that he didn’t want to rush him.

He probably only played his unfinished songs to a select group of people he’d known his entire life, so doing this with Derek was probably nerve-wracking. 

“I thought you’d agreed to take a break,” he said instead. 

Stiles let out a small laugh at that. “Yeah, I was going to. You know, I was—these two days were meant to be me taking a break, but I got this dumb tune stuck in my head and I couldn’t get it out, and eventually words started forming around it and I just gave up and started writing.”

“I’ll allow it,” Derek said imperiously, smiling when Stiles laughed. Man, he had a great laugh. He laughed with his whole body, and Derek was kind of upset how much he was falling for him. 

People were allowed to have those dumb daydreams about meeting celebrities and being the love of their life, but this was getting a bit too real and Derek didn’t want to accidentally turn into a weird stalker or something. But Stiles wasn’t just AllAboutMischief anymore to him. He was Stiles. 

“You wanna hear this song or not?” Stiles asked with a small smile. 

Derek made like he was thinking, then sighed explosively like this was a gross inconvenience. “I guess I have time right now.” 

“Dick,” Stiles said with a laugh, then turned to his guitar. He made like he was tuning it, but it sounded just fine to Derek so he was probably just procrastinating. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. I’ve never played a new song in front of anyone but Erica and my dad. And kind of Boyd by accident.”

“Don’t be nervous,” Derek said, even though he knew it wasn’t as easy as that to stop feeling nervous. 

He found it kind of endearing that Stiles was so nervous when he sang in front of millions of people on a stage all the time. But he supposed he could understand this right now, because this was a brand new song no one else had heard. 

Stiles kept fiddling with the strings for a while, then seemed to come to terms with what he was about to do and exhaled slowly. He began to play, the tune a little interesting to Derek because it seemed to be happy and upbeat, then was slowly calming down into something... not necessarily sad, but just slower and more pensive, maybe? 

Then Stiles actually began to sing, and Derek so badly wished he was watching him in person. 

“Always gotta be on
Always gotta smile
Need to be the best
At least for a while 
Never take a break
Never lose your style
Keep them entertained 
Make sure you’re versatile 

On and on, gotta entertain 
On and on, while you ignore the pain

It’s all right, it’s okay
Some mistakes have been made
And we all suffer burnout sometimes
But the battle’s not lost
Don’t you dare just give up
Can’t let burnout snuff out your designs

Don’t you dare disappoint 
Don’t you have a bad day 
No matter how you feel
Just bury it away
They all rely on you
So get out there today
Nobody has to care
That you’re not okay

On and on, gotta entertain 
On and on, while you ignore the pain

It’s all right, it’s okay
Some mistakes have been made
And we all suffer burnout sometimes
But the battle’s not lost
Don’t you dare just give up
Can’t let burnout snuff out your designs

Why do I try so hard?
Why do I even care?
This used to be fun
Now it’s begun to wear
I lose my sanity 
I feel laid out bare
My life’s become a mess
That I need to repair

On and on, don’t wanna entertain 
On and on, hard to ignore the pain

But I’m all right, I’m okay
Though I’ve made some mistakes
Even I suffer burnout sometimes
But my battle’s ahead
And I’ll fight to the end
‘Cause I won’t let it kill my designs 

And everyone suffers burnout sometimes.”

Stiles played a few more notes, then abruptly cut off, one hand pressed against the strings to stop any more music from escaping it. 

“I’m not done yet, it’s still kind of rough, and the tune’s a work-in-progress. It was just something that was bugging me, so I got it out on paper, and I figured if I talked about my burnout other people might realize that it’s okay to burn out, and cut me some slack for also burning out, because I’m only human and—”

“Stiles,” Derek interrupted, because he could tell that he would just keep talking in an attempt to delay hearing Derek’s thoughts. 

Stiles forced himself to snap his teeth together, waving one hand vaguely at the camera, like he was apologizing, but he didn’t look up into it. 

Derek managed a small smile, because for how famous this man was, he was literally just so lovely. 

“I think it’s safe to say AllAboutMischief is back with a vengeance,” Derek said, not wanting to keep him waiting. 

Stiles looked up into the screen now, looking relieved, a small smile on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. That was—it was good. It was really good.” 

“You’re not just saying that to keep me happy, right?” Stiles asked, eying the screen suspiciously. 

“I’d never do that to you. You care about your music too much.” 

Stiles just nodded his head once, like he believed him, which made sense because this whole thing had been his idea to begin with. He’d wanted it to be Derek who listened to it because he wanted honesty.

And Derek was being honest. The song was really good, because it was something Stiles was sharing about himself that he knew affected other people.

“I’m still playing around with it,” Stiles said, looking back down at the guitar and strumming some more. “It’s not perfect yet, but I kind of like it.”

“Like I said, I think you’re well on your way back to being AllAboutMischief.” He offered him a smile, which Stiles returned, only twice as big. “Just don’t force it when you’re uninspired. Obviously you’ve gotten some of that inspiration back, so use it while you have it, and don’t force it when you don’t.” 

“Yeah,” Stiles agreed. He glanced up at the screen then, staring at something, but he didn’t say anything and looked back at his guitar then, strumming a bit more before grabbing it by the neck and moving it out of frame. “So, you’re on vacation, huh? Must be nice for you.”

“It’s going to give me a lot of free time,” Derek agreed. “I’m going to try and write some scripts and record a bunch of videos.” That made him pause for a second, thinking about Stiles’ song, and he asked, “Actually, would you mind if I made another video about you?” 

Stiles frowned. “What do you mean?”

“I won’t reveal anything personal from our conversations,” Derek insisted, and felt his chest warm when he saw Stiles roll his eyes, silently saying he knew that. “I thought maybe I could just write another short video about you as a person, and about the song you just wrote. I wouldn’t say what the song is, or anything like that, but I’d like to make it clear to everyone who didn’t pay attention to our back and forth in comments or on Twitter that you had a rough year and that I know for a fact you’re working on some great stuff.” 

“I wrote one song,” Stiles insisted dryly. 

“Yeah, but you’re going to write this next album at your pace, right?” He gave him a look and Stiles just rubbed the back of his neck while looking away from the screen again. “Right, Stiles?” 

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I’ll go... slower this time. Only when I feel inspired.”

“Good.” Derek smiled. “Did you want me to send you the raw video before posting it? So you can tell me to take stuff out?” 

“I like watching your videos,” Stiles insisted, suggesting he didn’t want spoilers. He thought for a second, then said, “Can you send it to Erica instead? I’ll let her know when she’s back from the longest shopping spree ever that you’re making another video about me and that you’re sending it to her so she can vet it.” 

“Sure, sounds good.” 

Stiles leaned forward to type for a second, and Derek saw an alert from him on Discord, realizing it was Erica’s email address. He thanked him, and promised he’d send it her way before he even thought of posting it. 

“Do you think once I clean it up, I should play it?” Stiles asked thoughtfully. “During one of my concerts, I mean. Like, the ones coming up next week or something.”

Derek didn’t know if he actually wanted an opinion, but he gave him one anyway. “Honestly, I would say you should probably save that one. I think... it’s a really good song, don’t get me wrong, but I think that if you sang a song about burning out and always having to entertain even when you’re exhausted, the people at the concert you perform it at might feel guilty, or bad? They might feel like they’re contributing to your problem.” 

Stiles seemed to think about that for a second, and then nodded his head, acknowledging that Derek was probably right and that he’d just save it and take his time fine-tuning it. 

Derek figured now that the song was over, Stiles would bid him farewell and they’d go back to regular messaging, but he didn’t. He just shifted around on the bed so he was lying on his stomach and asked Derek what other plans he had for his time off, since videos couldn’t be the only thing he did. 

He admitted he was going to reach out to Kira to ask about her availability so they could hang out. Maybe he’d try and catch up on some reading. They had a bit of a discussion about Thanksgiving coming up as well, and Stiles was horrified that Derek didn’t like turkey. Yet another horrific life choice of his that Stiles could hardly stand. 

It was funnier seeing him react to it live.

“Aside from that, not much else. Though I might bully my sisters into going to Sacramento with me for my birthday so I can—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Stiles insisted, waving one hand dramatically, and forcing Derek to stop talking. “Whoa. Whoa. I’m sorry, your what?” 

Derek frowned, confused. “My birthday?”

Stiles nodded a few times, lips pressed together. “Mm hm. Yeah. Birthday. Right. You realize this is the first you’ve mentioned it this entire call, right? You sprout out all this stuff about your videos, hanging with Kira, spending time relaxing, all that jazz, and then just tack on ‘oh and do this for my birthday’ at the end like I’m gonna miss it?” Stiles’ eyebrows rose almost comically high. “Not fucking likely, my guy. When is it?”

“Next Monday, the seventh.” 

“November seventh,” Stiles said thoughtfully, stroking his chin with one hand like some kind of weird supervillain. “Yes, we love this day. It was the day we were blessed with the hottest of all faces. His taste is questionable at best, but by God, he has the face of an angel.” 

“Pretty sure angels are actually terrifyingly grotesque,” Derek insisted with a small smile. 

Stiles turned to the camera, fake-annoyed. “Excuse me, I happen to be having a rather lovely moment with my perfect image of you. The one who likes regular Pringles instead of ones that taste like ass.”

“I thought they tasted like cum,” Derek teased. 

One hand was waved impatiently towards the camera. “Same difference, really.”

“I don’t like pedestals either,” Derek said with a half-smile. “Not afraid of heights or anything, but they seem kind of precarious.” 

Stiles laughed at that, but before he could say anything, Derek heard a voice call out from somewhere else in the hotel room and Stiles froze. 

“I gotta go,” he said urgently, but before he could reach out to end the call, someone leapt onto the bed, mostly landing on Stiles, and the camera was obscured for a few seconds by blonde curls. 

“Oh my God, is that your new boyfriend?!” Erica shifted so she was further back, Derek able to see her properly even as she half-crushed Stiles under her. He could see his arms flailing and his face seemed to be smooshed between Erica’s boobs. 

Probably a scarring experience for him if they were basically siblings. 

“Hi Derek!” Erica said, waving at the camera and seeming completely fine with suffocating her best friend. “Long time no see, I remember you from high school, you played Lacrosse and you were fine back then! Still fine now though.” She cackled, rolling off Stiles when he pushed at her, presumably for oxygen. Erica’s eyes shifted to something Derek couldn’t see, and she arched an eyebrow. “Why is your guitar out?”

“I was just tuning it,” Stiles said quickly, managing to get back into a seated position and reaching out for it. “Tuning! It’s important! Keeps it all nice and, you know, playable.”

“You tuned it this morning,” she insisted, narrowing her eyes at him. “You were still writing when I left.” She paused for a second, then gasped and smacked Stiles hard in the arm. “Oh my God! Did you—did he—?!” She turned to include Derek in her unasked question, motioning Stiles, then turned back to him. “Did you?!”

“Gotta go!” Stiles insisted desperately to Derek, then reached out and shut the lid for his laptop. The screen cut to black for a second, and then the video call dropped. 

Derek couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him and he shook his head, typing out a good luck message to Stiles in Discord, and then getting up so he could grab a can of pizza Pringles. 

He already knew how he wanted to write his next video about AllAboutMischief, and he needed some delicious fuel to get started. 

Derek got his video about Stiles written and filmed in only a few days, then sent it off to Erica for her to look at before he started editing it. 

He was happy to hear from Stiles, which meant Erica hadn’t murdered him for having played his new song to Derek first, but he hoped she wasn’t too upset about it. Stiles insisted she was just dramatic, like him, and she hadn’t been upset at all. She’d also agreed the song was really good, and that had helped Stiles feel a bit more confident that maybe he truly was getting back into the swing of things. 

It was taking Erica a long time to get his video back to him, but he figured she was probably busy with her own job. He’d sent it to her on Thursday and it was now Sunday evening and she still hadn’t gotten back to him. He wasn’t worried though, he had a lot of other videos ready to go, and he even managed to write and record two others on his list. He was starting to get another nice little buffer, even if they weren’t edited. 

God, how he hated editing. 

When he woke up on Monday morning, it was to a large number of texts and online messages from friends and family wishing him a happy birthday. He was surprised at how many people online had remembered, because usually it was only a few of his followers and his Discord friends, but he understood why so many people seemed to remember his birthday this year when he logged onto Twitter while eating breakfast. 

He’d been a bit disappointed not to find a birthday wish from Stiles in Discord—which he knew was a bit much to ask for, Stiles was busy and while they were friends, it was still a relatively new friendship—but he’d understood why the second he logged onto Twitter. 

Stiles had posted a video on his Twitter atting Derek. He had a filter on that was putting the weirdest makeup ever on him—though it somehow still looked hot, that shouldn’t make sense, and yet—and had then proceeded to sing Derek happy birthday in the same manner as Marilyn Monroe had sung it to President Kennedy. Instead of ‘Mr. President’ he’d changed the words to ‘Mr. Music Man,’ because he was clever that way. 

He’d then ended the video by kissing his camera, grinning and cutting it short. 

Derek immediately hit ‘reply’ on Stiles’ birthday wishes, shaking his head at how ridiculous this man was, and typed up his response. 

Derek stared at the message, then deleted the heart.

Then added it back in.

Then deleted it again. 

He stared for a long time, then figured, fuck it. People could think whatever they wanted. Stiles had ended his song by kissing the camera, so it was like he was kissing Derek, so Derek was going to leave the fucking heart in. 

He posted it with the heart on the end, rubbing at his face with both hands, and hoping people didn’t take this the wrong way. Much as he’d love to think Stiles was into him, he wasn’t delusional and he planned to stay that way. 

Finishing with his breakfast, he went to check his email and noticed Erica had finally returned the video to him. Opening it, he frowned when he saw two video files, one music file, and looked at her email reply back to him. 

“What?” Derek asked, unsure he understood what she was saying. 

He understood her words, obviously, but he didn’t understand what she was saying. 

He opened the second video, because he wanted to know what she meant about a fully edited video, and her comments about the opening and closing song. 

The screen was black for a second, and then a soft, melodic tune began to play. It was a piano, and Derek knew Stiles could play multiple instruments, so if this was Stiles then he’d either found a piano or he was using one of the ones that were usually on stage with him for the concerts—though likely not while on stage, but in the back or something. 

The classical tune went a little boppy, then very pop, then heavy metal all in the span of ten seconds, having shifted from a piano to a guitar at some point seamlessly. It was actually really impressive and super cool because it encompassed Derek’s channel so well given he covered so many different musical genres. 

The screen, which had started out black, had slowly begun to reveal his username in the same sort of style as the music playing, with ‘The’ being cursive and very classy, ‘Real’ coming out in a small bubbly print, ‘Music’ appearing in the general art-style of pop music album fonts and then ‘Lover’ exploding onto the screen at the heavy metal, the font almost looking like blood spatter. 

It was really cool. 

Then his face was transitioned in as the heavy metal faded out and he began to speak. 

“Wow,” he admitted quietly to himself, because that was a really strong opening, and it actually made him feel like the video would be good even as a viewer and not as the creator. 

He sat there watching it, impressed with the transitions, and while he himself had often put in some clips of the artists he was talking about, he hadn’t put in nearly as many as Erica had, sourcing all of them in the bottom corner, and being sure to divide the time evenly between Derek’s face and the various shots of Stiles. 

She’d cut out the one and only part where he’d vaguely commented on Stiles’ health, but he didn’t blame her for it. He’d tried to be subtle about it, but maybe it was still a little too on the nose and Erica didn’t want Stiles to feel like he had to go extra hard at his next show or anything. 

When it got to the part about the song though, Erica had put in a few photos in the style of one falling on top of the next where it showed Stiles still happy and his usual smiling self, but he was very clearly exhausted. So she wasn’t fully ignoring Derek’s desire to comment about Stiles’ health, she was just being even more subtle about it than he’d been. 

“Mischief’s new song is... it’s really interesting. And really good. I had the honour of being one of the first to hear it, and it really hits hard. I don’t want to tell you too much about it, but I want to talk about the composition because it was such a smart move on his part and it honestly blew me away. 
“He starts it very lively, very dance-ready. It’s got some bop to it, and it’s fun to listen to. The pre-chorus starts to slow down a bit so that by the time you shift into the chorus, it’s much slower than the verse. And it’s just a very clever up and down tonal shift for the entire theme of the song. Once you guys hear it, you’ll understand what I mean and why it’s so perfect and suits the song so well.”

Derek had tried to re-write that part so many times to convey how he’d felt listening to the song, but it was hard without giving it away before its release. But it really did hit hard when listening to the lyrics, because the verses were all quick and boppy, and basically portraying the persona Stiles hyped up for the stage. The pre-chorus was slowing down to show his crash after he was behind closed doors. The chorus was his attempt to get himself back up no matter how exhausted he was. 

He watched the video through to the end, Erica’s editing fucking top tier and leagues better than anything he ever did with his videos—mostly due to laziness and lack of skill, but also because of lack of time. The end theme sounded like the beginning theme, only backwards and he kind of liked the way it book-ended the video. 

Hitting reply on the email, he honestly didn’t know what to say about it because holy shit. If she didn’t have a job, he’d be hiring her immediately as his editor. 

He fired off the email, then went into Discord to message Stiles. 

He got up to bring his dishes to the kitchen, putting everything away into the dishwasher. By the time he got back to his room, Stiles had replied. 

Derek laughed and shook his head, trying to think of the best way to respond to that. 

Derek laughed a little at the name, but he obediently sent Erica a friend request, then started a new chat with her. She was already in the process of typing before he’d even finished, and he figured she was sitting with Stiles and had been the one to tell him to put them in contact. 

He’d never had an editor before, so he wasn’t really sure how this worked, but Erica said they could figure shit out as needed in terms of payment and whatnot, but that this one about Stiles was a freebie since it was his birthday. 

She asked if he had any others for her to edit since she only had two books to look over right now and she was anticipating getting that done by Thursday—which seemed fast in his opinion, but she was obviously doing a lot of work while with Stiles—and he admitted he had quite a few because he hated editing. 

Derek was more than okay with that and immediately started transferring his files to a share drive for her while he continued to chat with Stiles—and also Erica, since they needed to figure some shit out. Primarily payment. 

He didn’t know enough about how much the big streamers paid their editors, so he honestly didn’t know if Erica was undercharging him with the price they agreed on, but he figured he’d just pay her extra around holidays and whatever because he honestly didn’t know. 

She went quiet for a while after he’d shared the folder with her, but it only had two videos uploaded into it right now, so he figured she was doing something with Stiles since he’d also stopped replying. 

Eventually Stiles was back—he’d gone to shower since he had an appearance on a talk show in a few hours—and when he asked about Erica, he said she was already editing one of his videos. 

Apparently she was really bored. Not that he was complaining, because he had a lot of videos filmed and unedited so if he could get a real buffer, the kind where they were ready to go and he could post them up, he wasn’t going to complain. 

He and Stiles chatted up until it was time for him to head out for his talk show appearance, but he told Derek he was sorry he couldn’t have made his birthday more special and that he’d owe him one. 

Derek didn’t know why he thought that, because the fact that Stiles was talking to him at all was really the best gift anyone could’ve ever gotten him. 

Derek didn’t know why someone felt the need to be waking him up at eight in the morning on a day off, but whoever it was, it better be because someone was dying. 

Trudging down the stairs, and already knowing it was Cora because the doorbell was ringing over, and over, and over, which meant no one was fucking dying, he yelled for her to stop when he got close enough to the door, already in a sour mood when he hadn’t even seen her yet. 

Siblings were so annoying. 

“What?” he demanded, wrenching open his door and scowling out at Cora blearily. Thankfully the sun wasn’t fully up yet, so his eyeballs were saved from the harsh light, but it was still an unwelcome wake-up call and he didn’t appreciate it. 

“Oh God.” Cora brought both hands up towards her face, turning it away, like she was trying to block something from sight. “Put some clothes on, no one wants to see that.” 

“What do you want Cora?” Derek demanded, annoyed. Cora never changed, honestly. She used to be the same way when they lived together and Derek would cross the hall from his room to the bathroom in his pyjama pants. 

He’d never forget the heart attack she’d caused basically everyone in the family one summer when it had been so hot Derek had just slept in his boxer-briefs. When he’d gone to use the bathroom in the morning, she’d screamed so loudly his dad had actually raced up the stairs with scissors, thinking someone had broken into the house. 

His sister was dramatic that way.

Cora was still partially covering her face, but she motioned for Derek to back up with her other hand. He didn’t move, crossing his arms over his chest and waiting her out. 

Sighing explosively, she let her hands drop and crossed her own arms, eying him suspiciously. 

“You’d tell me if you were dating Stiles, right?” 

I wish, he thought to himself, but aloud he said, “Probably not, I avoid talking to you as much as I can help it.” 

“Dick.” Cora shoved his shoulder with one hand, and then pushed her way past him into his house. 

Letting out an aggrieved sigh, he just closed the door and turned, finding Cora in his kitchen digging through his fridge. She pulled out a container of leftover pasta and grabbed a fork from his cutlery drawer, beginning to eat it without even bothering to heat it up. 

“Yeah, please, make yourself at home,” he said sarcastically, leaning sideways against the fridge before jerking away from it, the surface cold against his bare skin. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” 

“I just came from work,” Cora informed him, pointing her fork at him while she chewed. “Well, the party that happened after it, anyway.” She looked back into the container, presumably searching for more cheese. It was his leftover tortellini and he always made a mix and match of fillings so she was probably looking for one she wanted. 

“And you came over to my house at eight in the morning on my day off to eat my pasta?” he asked her, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses while resisting the urge to pick her up, put her outside, and lock the door. He didn’t, but only because she’d just ring the doorbell until it quite literally broke. 

“One, didn’t know you were off,” Cora insisted, licking sauce off her thumb. “Two, pasta’s just a bonus, not the reason I came over.” 

“If you didn’t know I was off, then how’d you know I was home and not at the office?” 

“I have your phone tracked on my phone.” 

Derek stared at her. “Why the hell are you tracking my phone?” 

Cora shrugged, taking another bite of his pasta. “Because I can?” 

“Get out,” Derek said, already exhausted and wishing he’d never gotten out of bed. 

“Not until we talk about you and Stiles dating.” 

“I’m not dating Stiles,” Derek insisted.

Cora shrugged again. “The internet thinks you are.” 

That made Derek pause, a frown slowly forming on his face. “What?” 

His sister rolled her eyes dramatically, putting the container of half-eaten pasta on his counter and then jumping up onto it, sitting right beside his stove while she pulled her phone out and unlocked it. 

Once it was obviously open on what she wanted him to see, she tossed it to him. He thought of letting it fall for a split second, but didn’t want to be that much of a dick, so he caught it and flipped it around so he could see what she’d just woken him up for, Cora grabbing the container she’d set down and beginning to eat again. 

The first thing he saw on Cora’s screen was a surprisingly impressive cartoon image of who he knew had to be him kissing a carton image of who he knew was Stiles. There were a bunch of little hearts all around them, and honestly, the picture was quite cute. 

But also what the fuck. 

“Keep scrolling,” Cora informed him, licking sauce off the back of the fork she had. 

Derek obeyed, scrolling down, and found more cartoonish and chibi versions of him and Stiles in various lovey-dovey scenarios. Some had them holding hands, some had them kissing. One of them was him and Stiles sitting at a small table sharing a milkshake, with the two straws and all that. It was actually sort of cute, if not a little weird, because they weren’t dating and he had no idea where this was coming from.

“What is all this?” he asked, continuing to scroll. It looked like it was something that was trending and Cora had just clicked on the hashtags for it to pull up everything. 

“It’s you and Stiles, obviously,” Cora said helpfully. “Your ship name is MischiefLover.” 

“What does that even mean?” Derek asked, rubbing at his forehead. Some of these were really good. Most people were doing chibis or cartoons of them, but there were a few penciled realistic images along with some really good manips that were surprisingly convincing. 

“You know, Mischief is from his name, and Lover is from yours. That’s how ship names work. You know, like Merthur, or StormPilot, or—”

“I don’t know what any of that means,” Derek interrupted, because he wanted her to stop talking. He knew what shipping was, of course he did, he didn’t live under a rock. He just hadn’t ever given much thought to how names were chosen. He thought Merthur might be from the show Merlin, but he had no idea what StormPilot was. 

Continuing to scroll, and finding there to be a lot of these, he went to another tweet before his heart jammed itself in his throat and he hastily scrolled back up. “Oh my God!” 

“What?” Cora asked, her mouth full of pasta. 

“What the hell, that was so graphic!” Derek needed to bleach his brain. Not because the image of him and Stiles naked and getting down and dirty was unpleasant, but because that had looked surprisingly convincing and he didn’t need his parents or his boss seeing that. Holy fuck, what the actual hell?! 

“Oh yeah.” Cora licked the fork she’d been using, then threw it into the sink. It missed, clattering across his counter and falling off the end of it onto the floor. She just shrugged and tossed the container. This made it into the sink, and thankfully she’d replaced the lid so she didn’t spray sauce all over his kitchen. “I found a few of those too. I’m kinda scarred, not gonna lie. Seeing someone draw Stiles naked is fine, but you.” She made a face. “Gross. And the things you’re doing to each other? Big gross.” 

“We’re not doing anything to each other!” Derek insisted, wanting to keep scrolling but honestly scared now of what else he might find. 

He wasn’t joking, that image had been so graphic. It showed dick and everything, holy fucking shit. 

“Can they even post stuff this graphic on Twitter?!” That had to be against the ToS or something. 

“Twitter yes, Tumblr no.” 

“What the hell is Tumblr?” 

Cora gave him a look. “Really? How are you the famous YouTuber but I’m the one who knows social media? Unbelievable.” She shook her head. “Tumblr is basically Instagram for nerds. Or like, really niche jokes. I like your shoelaces.” 

“I’m barefoot!” 

“Nevermind.” Cora sighed, like he was being difficult. 

Her mentioning Instagram made his face fall. Jesus Christ, he was scared to look at Instagram if this was what Twitter looked like, not to mention that Tumblr site she was also talking about. “Wait, is there more of this?” 

“Oh yeah.” Cora waved one hand at him, like he was being stupid. “It’s literally everywhere.” 

He did not need this at eight in the morning on a Wednesday. He didn’t. He should still be sleeping right now. 

“Why do people think we’re dating?” he demanded, because he wanted answers, and Cora seemed to be very knowledgeable about everything all the time. Probably because, even at work, her phone was permanently glued to her hand. 

“Oh, no.” Cora leaned over from where she was sitting, opening one of the cupboards of his pantry and making a face, moving aside some of his pizza Pringles and searching for something.

Presumably more of his food she could eat. 

“They don’t think you’re dating, they’re just shipping you guys. I’m the one who thinks you’re dating in secret.” She grinned triumphantly when she found a pudding cup, pulling it out and then grabbing a spoon from his cutlery drawer. 

He wasn’t sure how long that had been living in his cupboard, but Cora didn’t seem concerned as she peeled off the adhesive covering and began to eat. If he wasn’t careful, she was going to stick around for breakfast. 

“What the fuck, why?” Derek demanded. 

Cora arched an eyebrow at him, spoon in her mouth. She pulled it free, swallowing her pudding, and then pointed the spoon at him. “Because he got all kissy at the end of his happy birthday video on Monday, and then you replied to him with a cute little heart at the end of your message.” 

“We’re not dating!” 

Cora shrugged, digging the spoon back into the pudding cup. “Well, welcome to the internet. Get used to this whole shipping thing because it is not going away, I can tell you that. Did you know people still ship SasuNaru? Naruto ended like, almost a decade ago at this point.”  

Derek didn’t want people to be shipping them! Wasn’t that going to make things weird between him and Stiles? He didn’t want things to get weird between him and Stiles! What if Stiles saw these and stopped talking to him because he got weirded out? 

Honestly, Derek was literally in love with the guy, and even he was weirded out seeing the pictures. Not the cute ones of them holding hands and sharing milkshakes or whatever, but even the kissing ones were kind of weird to him, and especially the super graphic ones. He’d only seen the one so far, but like... that was just weird! He was a real person! Stiles was a real person! Why were people shipping them? 

“Hey.” Derek looked up, Cora frowning at him from the counter. She sighed and put the pudding down, jumping off the end of it, and walked over to him, grabbing both shoulders and giving him a shake. “Don’t get weird about it. This shit happens all the time. People ship other people online all the time. You should see the BTS fandom, it’s nuts. Don’t let it bother you.” 

“He’s going to get weirded out.” 

“Pretty sure if he didn’t get weirded out and stop being friends with Erica, he’s not going to get weirded out about this.” 

Derek frowned. “What?” 

Cora threw her hands up and snatched her phone back. “Seriously, do I have to tell you everything about the internet? Good God.” She tapped at her phone for a few seconds, and then handed it back over. Derek took it, seeing it was still on Twitter, and his eyebrows shot up. 

He was staring at a picture of a half-naked Erica being kissed passionately by Stiles. It was drawn in a realistic style again, though this one was digitally done and in colour, whereas the one he’d seen of him and stiles was in pencil. He scrolled down and found tons and tons more drawings of Stiles and Erica getting intimate. He scrolled quickly past the ones where they were getting really intimate, but there were a lot of those. 

Derek knew Erica was Stiles’ best friend, had been for years, even in high school. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how weird and awkward these pictures must’ve been for both of them when they began to surface. How weird Boyd had probably felt seeing them. But he knew Erica and Stiles were still as close as ever. 

Boyd let Erica go off on tour with Stiles all the time. The two of them hung out together often. Stiles would fly Boyd out to hang with Erica in places that they’d have fun in. They hadn’t let these pictures affect their friendship in any way, probably because the three of them knew that Stiles and Erica weren’t like that. They probably weirded them all out when they saw them, but they obviously didn’t let it bother them or interfere with their solid friendship. 

But it was different with Derek! For one thing, he actually did like Stiles. Romantically. He had a crush on him, because Stiles was such an amazing person with a personality that just sucked people in. And for another thing, he and Stiles hadn’t been friends for that long. Only since his AllAboutMischief video had gone out, which in the grand scheme of things, was absolutely no time at all compared to years of friendship with Boyd and Erica. 

It would be different and Stiles might honestly feel weird talking to him now! 

“Stop being so pessimistic in there.” Cora smacked him across the side of the head, hard, and Derek grabbed at her wrist, scowling. She just gave him another look. “Stiles is famous, Derek. Shit like this happens to him all the time, he doesn’t care. People still draw him and Erica, but the two of you having your public fights and your recent public birthday exchange shifted some people’s focus to you and him. It’s fine, don’t be such a freak about it.” She took her phone back from him, shoved it into her pocket, then looked around his kitchen. “I want waffles.” 

“Then go buy some.” 

“Let’s go to the diner.”

“Go by yourself.” 

“Come on, you’re already awake,” she insisted, shoving his shoulder. “Just put some clothes on and we can have a nice brother-sister meal together.” 

“Uh huh. That I assume I’m paying for?” Derek asked dryly. 

“You’re the rich one in the family.” She winked at him, then patted his chest once on her way past him. “Come on, hurry up, I’m starving.” 

“You literally had a full meal just now,” he argued, but Cora just walked towards the door and called that she’d be waiting in the car. 

When she left the house, the only reason he didn’t lock the door and go back to bed was because he knew without a shadow of a doubt that she would ring his doorbell incessantly for the rest of the day if he did. 

As much as Derek wanted to stop thinking about what Cora had shown him that morning, he couldn’t. He kept finding himself logging onto Twitter and scrolling through the MischiefLover hashtag. A lot of the art was super cute and he actually liked some of them, but there were others that really bothered him. 

He didn’t want this to mess up his friendship with Stiles. He still had no idea how they’d become friends, and he was worried something like this would ruin it all. He didn’t want to think about it, but somehow he couldn’t stop looking at them. Even the graphic ones! He just didn’t know how to handle the fact that people shipped them together. 

They made a good couple, too. Some of the manips he’d found made them look really good together, and this was doing nothing to help the huge crush he had on Stiles. 

When Stiles messaged him later that night, presumably after his concert while he was on the bus, Derek stared at it for a long while, because he didn’t know if he wanted to bring it up or not, but also knew until they talked about it, he wouldn’t know how to act. 

Derek knew Stiles donated a lot of his money to charities, because he often talked about it during interviews when people asked him what his plans were with all the money he had. He never bragged about being rich, and he never bragged about how much he donated, but he answered the questions when asked. 

And sometimes even if no one asked him, he would donate to a cause, and they would independently send out a message thanking him publicly, either in the news or even just on Twitter. Another celebrity had accused him once of donating under his own name so he could get clout for doing a good thing instead of just donating anonymously, and Stiles had immediately clapped back that he did it under his name to shame other people who had even more money than him to donate. 

That had happened live on a talk show and the other celebrity had gotten very quiet for the rest of the evening after that. Derek assumed it was because Stiles had successfully shamed them into silently admitting they themselves didn’t donate, or if they did, certainly not as much as they should. 

Stiles was literally one of the most humble celebrities Derek had ever heard of, even before they’d become friends. He was like Keanu Reeves, everyone knew Keanu Reeves was literally the nicest, most generous celebrity ever. Stiles was definitely a close second, if not on par with him. 

Derek was about to start typing, but then realized he wanted a genuine, immediate response. He felt like if he waited for Stiles to type back, it would give him time to school his reaction, and he didn’t want Stiles to pretend. He wanted to know how he felt, honestly felt. If it was weird for him, then maybe they should step back a bit, take a break from chatting. It would kill Derek, because he loved talking to him, but he didn’t want things to be weird between them. 

Derek waited for an answer, then almost jumped out of his chair when Discord began to ring, a call coming through from Stiles. Fuck, that startled him every time it fucking happened. 

He accepted the call, leaning forward a bit so he was closer to his microphone. 

“Hello?”

“The only one I’ll bother right now is Erica, and that bitch can be bothered as much as I damn well please for being able to sleep on this stupid bus,” Stiles informed him. 

The fact that he heard Erica reply with something that sounded kind of rude made it obvious she was still awake, and Stiles was just taking the piss out of her. 

“What’s up? How’re things? What did you want to talk about? Or was that all a ruse? Did you just want to have a call to hear my beautiful, beautiful voice?” He could imagine Stiles winking on the other end, because it seemed like a very Stiles thing to do, and despite how weird this conversation was going to be, he still managed to laugh. 

“You caught me red-handed. I was just trying to trick you into calling me so I could fall asleep to that sultry voice of yours.” 

Stiles laughed so hard, he probably hurt himself. “Sultry? Jesus Christ Derek, warn a guy before you try and murder him by making him laugh himself unconscious.” Erica said something Derek didn’t hear and Stiles blew a raspberry. “Fuck you, my voice is lovely. Or rather, it’s sultry, according to the perfect man with the perfect face on the other end of the line.” Another comment Derek didn’t hear. “You know, I can forgive his faults, nobody has perfect taste, and he’s just so pretty. Can forgive anything with a pretty face like that.”

Derek rolled his eyes, because he knew Stiles was just being an ass about it. He still brought up the Pringles more often than not. Every conversation they had, he would comment on something Derek liked that nobody else in the world liked—according to him anyway since, again, if nobody liked pizza Pringles, they wouldn’t be made anymore. Derek was not single-handedly keeping the pizza Pringles on the shelf, he didn’t buy them often enough. 

“So, what’s up, buttercup?”

Derek hesitated for only a moment before bulling on. He’d asked if they could talk, and it’d be pretty shitty if he procrastinated this. Much as Stiles said he couldn’t sleep on the bus, Derek was sure he passed out every now and then. It was harder to do while having a voice call versus the messaging so he didn’t want to keep him on too long. 

“I wanted to talk about what Cora brought to my attention this morning. I wasn’t sure if you’d seen it yet. She told me it was like, a thing that happens a lot. I guess I never noticed, or maybe didn’t pay enough attention, but I just thought we should talk about it. You know, just in case it made you feel weird, or if it made this weird or just... you know.” 

He didn’t even really know how to bring it up, because it felt weird talking about it. He was sure Stiles was sitting on the other end, confused about what Derek meant, and he knew he had to explain, but it was hard to feel inclined to. 

“Oh,” Stiles said after Derek had finished his little speech, still psyching himself up to actually talk about it. “You saw the MischiefLover hashtag, huh?”

Wait, what? 

“You know about it?” Derek asked, surprised. It had only been two days, and Stiles was still on tour. He knew he often had time on the bus and whatnot, but Erica said he’d been writing new songs a lot lately during his down time because he was feeling inspired again. 

“Yeah, since the beginning.”

The beginning? 

“Two days ago?” Derek asked. 

Stiles was quiet for a few seconds. “No, I mean... the beginning. Uh, from before? When we—the Pringles?”

Wait, what?! 

“Wait, how long has this been happening? Cora implied it had only just started after my birthday!” 

“What? Oh, no.” Stiles let out a laugh. “No way, it’s been happening literally since you posted that picture of me having sent you all those pizza Pringles. Not a lot of them, but a few pictures here and there. We didn’t get a ship name until I think two weeks ago though, people couldn’t decide on a name they were happy with until someone threw out MischiefLover. It’s way better than the one I have with Erica, this is Steyes. The ‘st’ is from Stilinski, and the ‘eyes’ is from Reyes. It’s not bad or anything, but it’s... I don’t know. MischiefLover is cooler, though Erica keeps joking that we should stick to the real names ship and said Sterek sounds pretty good. It’s not bad, not gonna lie. Stiles and Derek does sound pretty good as Sterek. Way better than fucking Stale if we went with our late names. Or maybe we could tweak it for like, Hasti? Nah, Sterek is better. Or Diles. Diles sounds pretty good too, but I think I prefer MischiefLover. It implies more, and sounds funny.”

Stiles was making jokes about this. 

Stiles was literally commenting on the overall history of this entire shipping thing, and he even knew it had started long before what had happened on Monday. He’d known people had been shipping them before they were even friends, and he didn’t care. He’d still talked to Derek, still made friendly with him, and still acted like everything was normal. Like the art didn’t bother him. 

“It occurs to me,” Stiles said after a brief silence, “that you might be uncomfortable. Sorry, I should’ve... said something. I shouldn’t have joked about it.” 

“What? No!” Oh shit, he didn’t want Stiles to get weird because he thought Derek was feeling weird! “No, I’m not! I’m just—surprised. I guess I thought you might find it uncomfortable. You know, having people draw art of us together.” 

“I’m kind of used to it, people have been doing it with me for years. I’m fine if they wanna do it as long as they don’t send it to me. They can ship me with whoever, I just don’t want to see it. Erica, Boyd and I had to talk it out for a while when it first started with her like, five years ago, but we’ve been friends since forever so while it’s uncomfortable when I happen upon it on my feed, I’m pretty used to it now. I just scroll past it and move on with my day. People ship me with all kinds of other people if they notice me talking to them or spending time with them. You’re the most recent victim. I’m sorry, I hope it’s not being sent to you and that you’re not feeling uncomfortable.”

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine,” Derek insisted quickly. “I mean, yeah, it was weird when Cora showed me this morning, but some of the art is actually quite cute. And really well done. Though there’s a lot of super graphic stuff that was a little jarring to see, but overall I was more concerned about what this would do. You know, to our friendship.” 

“Doesn’t change anything on my side. Like I said, I’m used to it, so it doesn’t bother me. As long as it doesn’t make you too uncomfortable, hopefully you’re fine with ignoring it and we can keep on keeping on.” 

Derek smiled slightly and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s—actually, that’s what I was worried about. That you’d see the art and get all weird with me.”

“Nah, it’s all good.” Stiles was obviously smiling, the action clear in his voice. “Sorry, I probably should’ve warned you so you wouldn’t run into it unaware. It just wasn’t happening that much when we started chatting, and most of my fans know not to att me or the person involved because I don’t like it. I guess my joke birthday song on Monday with the kiss at the end kind of made it worse.”

“Hey now, you don’t get to take all the credit. I added a nice juicy heart at the end of my teasing retort to your completely inappropriate birthday wishes.” 

Stiles let out an offended gasp. “How dare you! Inappropriate?! I was just making sure you knew you were loved and adored by your millions of fans!”

“I don’t have millions of fans, I’m not you,” Derek insisted with a snort. 

“Excuse me, Mr. Over-One-Million-Subcribers-on-YouTube!”

“Yeah, one million. Over one million. I don’t have millions of fans plural, I have a million. Someone needs to go back to school.” 

“No thanks, I’d rather spend my time going to places that are more educationally fun. Like DisneyWorld.” Stiles seemed to perk up then, because he immediately jumped tracks, as if forgetting what they’d just been talking about. “Have you ever been to DisneyWorld?”

“No, it’s not really my thing.” 

Stiles let out a mix of a horrified and offended gasp at that, and Derek heard him slap at his own chest with one hand. “Excuse me?! In what universe would anyone dare claim DisneyWorld is not their thing?!” 

“Apparently this one, because DisneyWorld’s not my thing.” Stiles let out another horrified gasp, and Derek bulled on since he knew he’d demand an explanation anyway. “I just don’t get the appeal. You stand in a huge line outside for hours to get into the park, and once you’re in the park, you stand in a huge line outside for hours at basically every single ride.”

“That’s what the Fast Pass is for!”

“Yeah, and if everyone has a Fast Pass, then you’re still in a huge line outside for hours, just maybe a slightly smaller one.” 

“But it’s about the fun! The experience! The friendships made along the way!”

“So when you and Erica went to DisneyWorld, you left with new friends?” Derek asked with a small smile. 

Stiles paused briefly. “Well, no, but it strengthened our bond! Our sacred bond of friendship and love and support.” Erica said something he didn’t hear. “And love for sugar.”

Derek laughed at that, because Stiles was just—so ridiculous. He really loved this guy, and that was scary, but also exciting. 

Mostly scary. 

“I mean it dude, your next vacation, you tell me, and we’re going to fucking DisneyWorld. I don’t care if I have to convince my dad to arrest you and drive you to the airport for me, I will make you like fun!”

“I like fun,” Derek argued, ignoring the way his traitorous heart did a double-thump at the mere thought of going to DisneyWorld with Stiles.

Fuck, he’d go literally anywhere with Stiles if given the chance. 

“I just don’t think standing in line for hours on end is fun, that’s all.” 

“I’ll change your mind, just you wait! We can get some ice cream, and churros, and some caramel popcorn, and—” 

“Not a big fan of popcorn.” 

Stiles was silent for a moment, and Derek actually thought maybe he’d lost the connection, but when the other man spoke, he realized he was just horribly offended. 

“Why are we even friends? Whose idea was this?”

“Yours,” Derek offered with a smirk. “You liked my pretty face. Regretting that now, aren’t you?” 

“I want a refund on this friendship, this is outrageous. Next thing you know, you’ll tell me you don’t like burgers. Don’t answer that!” Stiles practically shouted the last sentence, like he was severely worried about their friendship if Derek confirmed he didn’t like burgers. 

“Don’t worry, burgers I like. Normal burgers and everything. Just cheese and usual vegetables on them.” 

“Good. Thank God. Otherwise we really would’ve had a problem.”

“Don’t like fries though.”

“Excuse me?!”

Derek laughed. “I’m kidding! I’m kidding. I promise, I like fries, I was just fucking with you.” 

“I swear to God, if I die from a heart attack over the next stupid thing out of your mouth, Erica’s going to charge you with murder. It’ll be in the papers and everything.” 

“I’ll try not to kill you, if only because I’d never want to deny the world of such a beautiful voice.” 

“Oh you,” Stiles said, voice in a high falsetto. “Such a charmer. Stop, you’ll make me fall in love with you.”

Oh, if only. Derek would do anything for Stiles to be as in love with him as he was with Stiles. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek didn’t hear much from Stiles for the next two weeks of his vacation. He’d been worried at first that their conversation about the artwork had weirded him out despite his claims that it hadn’t, but when Erica had sent back an edited video and he’d asked her in confidence, she promised he was just busy with tour stuff and that he’d been writing a lot. 

Apparently he’d been hit with inspiration for the first time in almost two years, and he was worried about losing out on it so he’d been working furiously trying to get songs written and composed so he at least had the base of them and could fine-tune them later when his tour was over. 

Stiles also told him at one point that he was exhausted because this last stretch was going to be all bus until they hit home in Las Vegas, so he wasn’t getting much sleep. Erica had even sent Derek a picture of Stiles passed out on the floor backstage using a random bag as a pillow. 

Derek was glad the tour was almost over, because Stiles really needed that break, and while he knew the closer the end of the tour got, the nearer the end of his own vacation was, he actually started counting down the days for Stiles’ benefit. 

Even though he hated that Stiles wasn’t texting him as much as he was before, he was happy to hear he was writing new songs. And this actually gave him time to get closer to Erica, who really did a phenomenal job with all his editing. It was so much easier being able to just write the script, record the video, and then fire it off to someone else. 

He should’ve gotten an editor sooner, and he knew it, but good Lord was he ever glad he hadn’t because he might not have found Erica. And she made his life so easy too. He wasn’t used to talking to an editor, so usually when he did a piece he wasn’t happy with, he used to either stop and start over, or he’d write himself a note about what he didn’t like. Erica told him to just say he didn’t like something if he found he wasn’t happy with the way he’d delivered something and she’d just cut it out. 

It saved him so much time, and he honestly couldn’t believe how nice it was having an editor, because it gave him time back to do other things, like more streams, and even more videos. Not having to worry about fixing them all up at the end meant he just had to record and send them out. 

He always watched them when she returned them, but so far there wasn’t a single one he wasn’t happy with, and he’d started crediting her as his editor in his comments section for all the videos she’d fixed up for him. Even his subscribers had mentioned the new edits were awesome, and he was positive he was underpaying Erica. 

They’d have to re-negotiate when they were better friends, because he’d probably be able to bully her into accepting more when they were closer. He really liked her though, she was super funny, but had a kind of dark and dry sense of humour. She and Stiles were a lot alike, and he figured that was why they’d hit it off in school. 

Derek was happy when he woke up on a nice, sunny day and turned to look at his calendar, seeing that it was Stiles’ last day on tour. After tonight, he would be done with concerts until the new year, as far as Derek understood. 

And since the last show was in Vegas itself, Stiles was just going to head home right afterwards. They should’ve arrived in Vegas earlier that morning, and when Derek checked Discord after waking up more and grabbing breakfast, he found a whole bunch of exclamation points and weird little happy flails in their chat because he was in his own house for the first time in over four months. 

Erica had also sent him a picture of her hugging the shit out of Boyd, suggesting she’d gone home as well, which made sense since it was just a matter of Stiles finishing his concert tonight and he’d be done for the rest of the year. 

Derek laughed at that, because Stiles’ ever-present typo was never going to stop being funny when he got annoyed about it. It was because he typed too fast, he seemed to have his brain working at a speed his fingers couldn’t follow, but they tried. 

Honestly, he wondered how Stiles could write music with how fast his brain seemed to go, he probably forgot things a lot because of it. Which kind of sucked, to be honest, not that it mattered since it hadn’t really impacted his song writing ability in any way. 

His last album didn’t count, it was lack of inspiration, not his brain moving faster than he could transcribe to paper. And besides, his last album wasn’t terrible, as he kept reminding Stiles. It just wasn’t his best. 

Unfortunately, Derek did know. It wasn’t a secret that back then, the sheriff was barely hanging onto his house by the skin of his teeth. The Stilinskis were just above the poverty line, and a lot of people in town had said they were sure Stiles wouldn’t get into university because his father couldn’t afford it. 

He’d made it in though, presumably through a scholarship—Derek hadn’t asked, and never would—but then he’d gone out and become a superstar. He couldn’t even imagine how that would feel, being someone who was used to having nothing he wanted because his dad was so tight on money, to suddenly being able to have everything he wanted. 

Derek wanted to ask if Stiles ever had plans to come home, since it had been literal years since he’d done that, but he managed not to. It felt weird to ask him that, so he just sent back a smiley face.

An email popped up on his phone, and when he checked who it was from, he had to laugh at seeing Erica’s name. 

Actually, Stiles wasn’t wrong, so Derek bid him a good night, and a fantastic last show, and then got up from his computer. His place wasn’t dirty or anything, but it was kind of... messy. Cluttered. He had stuff all over the place because it was his house and why the fuck not, right? 

But he kind of needed to clean up, and having Stiles want a house tour was a good way to force him to do that. So despite not wanting to spend his day cleaning his place up, he still managed to do so while taking breaks to watch some YouTube. When he was done and his place looked pretty damn good, and nice and tidy, he did an impromptu stream just because after confirming he could get at least two mods in his chat. 

It was a fun afternoon, and he had a good time. He got to talk about Erica in his stream and how she was his new editor—using her online name of BlondeVixen, at her request when she’d started editing for him—and it was just an all-around good time. 

He went out to dinner with Kira, because she wanted wings and Derek was fine not cooking—again, he was an adult, he could do as he pleased, including go out multiple times a week if he so chose. They ended up going to see a movie that ended way later than Derek would’ve liked, but he still had a few days left of sleeping in so he didn’t worry about it too much. 

When he got home, he was in the middle of getting ready for bed when he saw his home screen light up out of the corner of his eye and noticed Stiles’ name. He spat toothpaste out of his mouth, grabbing at his phone one-handed, and froze. 

Why the fuck was he upset by those words? He knew Stiles was way out of his league, and he knew he must have a significant other. Stiles never talked about his love life, so it was entirely possible he had a girlfriend at home who was like, a nurse or something and couldn’t go on tour with him.

Hell, maybe he was dating fucking Lydia! Derek remembered hearing from Cora at one point that Stiles used to make heart eyes at her in high school. Now that he was rich and successful, maybe they’d finally become compatible. 

Derek almost wanted to ignore the message, but he felt like that would be petty. Stiles was excited, he’d just finished a long ass tour and was finally home, and obviously wanted to share something important with Derek, that being the love of his life. He’d be a dick not to reply. 

He finished brushing his teeth first though, and then braced himself for the heartache before responding. 

He waited, expecting Stiles to take a minute to get his girlfriend organized for a photo, but it came through instantly, like he’d had it queued up and was just waiting on Derek’s reply. 

It was a picture of a bed. 

Just a bed. No one was in the bed, it was literally just a bed. 

Derek stared at the messages that came in after the picture, and realized... Stiles was talking about his bed. 

Just like Derek and Kira always called her TV her boyfriend, Stiles was calling his bed the love of his life. Because it was his bed. And he loved it. 

Derek let out a breath he hadn’t even realized he was holding and managed a smile. He quickly washed his hands, took out his contacts, put his glasses on, and messaged Stiles back while turning off the light and heading to his room. 

Derek laughed, because Stiles was so fucking ridiculous, he could hardly stand it. 

He waited to make sure Stiles was truly gone, and then closed out of Discord on his phone. Heading into his room and shutting his door, he plugged his phone in and turned off his light, climbing into bed and feeling relieved that he’d been wrong about Stiles having a girlfriend. 

Derek knew he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up like he was, because he and Stiles were just friends, but it was hard when they did that weird tease-flirt thing every now and then. Still, falling asleep came much easier with the knowledge that he might still have a chance, even if he knew it was borderline delusional. 

He wasn’t sure how long he was asleep for, but probably longer than he should’ve been, considering how late he’d gone to bed. He groaned and rolled over to check the time, squinting at his screen. 

It was almost one in the afternoon. Shit, that wasn’t good, it was going to fuck up his whole schedule. 

Groaning and forcing himself out of bed, he stumbled into his bathroom to wake up more, brushing his teeth and relieving himself before heading back to his room to change out of his pyjamas. He checked his phone for messages on his way to the kitchen, but nothing from Stiles yet, so he was probably still sleeping. 

Texting with Kira for a bit, and thanking Erica for yet another video she’d gotten edited—seriously, she was insanely fast, what the hell—he grabbed himself a bowl of cereal and then watched an episode of She-Hulk while he ate. Pulling up YouTube afterwards to check out some of the channels that broke down all the episodes so he could watch one about the episode he’d just finished, he got a message from Stiles halfway through. 

Derek just rolled his eyes while trying to fight off a smile, and just hit the video call button. Stiles answered after a few seconds, and before Derek could even greet him, the other man gasped dramatically and pointed at the camera, clearly using his phone this time instead of his computer. 

“Traitor! You dirty, filthy traitor!” 

For a second, Derek had no idea what he was talking about. But then he looked down and realized he was wearing a The Weeknd shirt. 

Looking back into the camera solemnly, Derek said, “It’s true. I’ve cheated on your merch with merch from another singer. I know it’ll be hard, but you’re going to have to come to terms with this in your own time.” 

Stiles pretended to sob, and he was so over-dramatic that Derek couldn’t help laughing, standing while grabbing his empty bowl and heading for his kitchen with it, phone held aloft so he could keep it on his face. He found it interesting that Stiles seemed to be wearing his contacts, whereas Derek had just opted for his glasses today—and most of his vacation in general. He figured maybe Stiles was just more comfortable with the contacts overall. 

“I trusted you,” Stiles said pitifully, still fake-sobbing. “I thought I was your only merch.”

“You’re not the only one in my life, Stiles.” 

He gasped again, fake-crying gone instantly, and slapped a hand to his chest. “How dare you. I am the only one you need in your life!”

Derek made a debatable sound, and Stiles blew a raspberry at him.

Leaning back against his counter, Derek motioned for Stiles to get to it. “So, Mr. Mischief. I was promised a house tour. Let’s see this mansion of yours.” 

“Not a mansion,” Stiles argued, though Derek honestly doubted that. 

Surprisingly, he was wrong, because Stiles had been telling the truth. His house was not a mansion. It was just under three-thousand square feet, was all one level, and had a pool in the backyard. 

The kitchen, dining room and living room were all open concept in a straight line so that Stiles could literally watch TV from his kitchen, though from very far away given he had to look over his dining room table. His kitchen had a beautiful white island, and what looked like a wooden dining room table, then his couch and TV. 

To the right of that leading out towards the bedrooms was another larger area that looked out over the backyard, where the pool was. Stiles had another TV here, and a bunch of chairs and a couch, but a majority of this space housed musical equipment. He even had a drum-set in the corner, along with a whole bunch of guitars. Right beside the guitar was a small door that led to a small entryway that had a bathroom on one side through a door, and the laundry room on the other side through another door. 

Behind him still in this room there was a set of double doors that led to a small corridor that branched left and right. Both sides had a bedroom each with their own small bathroom, complete with shower. Walking back out and down the corridor was another small corridor leading left and right. The one on the right led to a large office space that was absolutely covered in papers and white-boards and various books. Derek deduced that, while the outside area was where he played the instruments, this area was obviously where he wrote all his music. 

There was also a bathroom in that room, but Stiles said it was because it was meant to be a bedroom and he’d just turned it into an office. Then on the left side of that small corridor was the master bedroom, which was massive, along with its own bathroom, complete with a shower and a jacuzzi bath. 

It sounded huge in his head, but as Stiles walked around, he realized it really wasn’t. It was a good size for someone as rich as him, and every room had a purpose. Even the two bedrooms made sense, because one of them was specifically for his dad, and nobody else ever used it, and the other was a formal guest room. 

His house was really nice, and while still big, it wasn’t over the top. It was probably about the same size as Stiles’ dad’s house in Beacon Hills, it just felt bigger because it was all on one floor. But even Derek acknowledged his own place was around two-thousand-five-hundred square feet so it wasn’t much smaller than Stiles’. It was weird to realize that. 

“And that’s my house.” Stiles beamed into the camera, moving back through his instrument-filled mid-room towards his living room. “Your turn! I wanna see your place!”

“Did you just wanna do house tours because you wanted to see my place?” Derek teased. 

“Maybe, need to make sure you have space for me if I come visit.” Stiles winked saucily. 

“I could’ve just taken a picture of my bed, same as you did last night.” 

“True, but I still wanna see the whole place! Show me where the magic happens!”

“My bed?” Derek asked with a smirk, but he knew Stiles was talking about YouTube, so he obediently walked past his living room to his study where his recording studio was set up and opened the door. Predictably, Stiles made a sound of disgust at the Pringles sitting on his desk, but Derek had done that on purpose. He’d left one on his desk in his room, as well. 

He gave him the full tour, showing him everything on the first floor, then everything on the second, ending in his room where Stiles again made a sound of disgust about the Pringles. 

“And that’s it for my side.”

“How come you have a desk in your room and one in your recording studio?”

“I don’t edit in the studio. I used to have a desktop, and it was connected in my room so I could play games with online friends. When I got my laptop, I already had the desk so I kind of just... kept it here. I don’t know. I could bring it downstairs, but I kind of like keeping them separate. I just do my recordings downstairs, everything else I do here.” 

“I see, I see,” Stiles said, sounding thoughtful. He was silent for a long moment, Derek arching an eyebrow. 

“Something wrong?” 

“Hm? Oh, no. I just noticed that there’s a lot of green in your place.”

It was a struggle to stop from bursting into laughter. “Oh what, now there’s a problem with the colour green?” Derek demanded. 

“No, no,” Stiles insisted quickly. “No, green’s fine. Green’s okay. We like green, it’s all nature and shit. I mean, red’s better, but green’s not bad.”

Derek let out a laugh at that, rolling his eyes while falling into his desk chair. “Okay, asshole. What’re you, the colour police now?” 

“I said green was fine,” Stiles argued, but he was grinning anyway. “Red’s just a better colour.”

“You don’t have any red in your place,” Derek insisted. 

“True,” Stiles acknowledged. “But that’s because I’m always wearing red. Case and point.” He motioned himself, and Derek noticed that, while he was wearing jeans and a black shirt, he had a red, plaid overshirt on. And he was pretty sure every time he’d seen Stiles during his tour while they’d chatted, he’d been wearing a red hoodie. 

“Well, I like green. It’s a nice colour.” 

“Red’s better.”

“Agree to disagree,” Derek said, and Stiles grinned. 

“Oh, we agree to disagree on a lot of things, Mr. Music Man. You’re just lucky your face is so pretty, I can’t stay offended at your horrible life choices.”

“You know one day, I’m going to think you’re only friends with me because of my pretty face,” Derek informed him. 

“Then you’d be very wrong, but whatever I need to do to keep you off my scent.” 

Derek frowned, not sure he understood that. “What do you mean?” 

“Oh, nothing. Hey, did you see the new Black Adam movie yet? I heard it’s out, but I’ve been touring so long I’ve missed so many good movies.”

Stiles started talking a mile a minute, Derek struggling to keep up since he really did talk very fast, and about anything and everything. 

It took him less than two minutes to completely forget what Stiles had said about keeping him off his scent. 

Now that Stiles was at home and had confirmed with Derek multiple times that he had nothing going on—which he was so excited about, because he was exhausted after returning home from his tour—Derek had honestly expected him to be blowing up his phone. Stiles had been texting him so much while on tour, and he’d been fairly busy during that entire stretch of time. Now that Stiles had no obligations, Derek had been expecting even more texts. 

Which probably explained why he was feeling a little worried and nervous at the fact that he was receiving less texts. If Stiles could manage to text him incessantly while he was touring, then being at home should’ve meant more free time to chat back and forth. 

They still messaged on Discord regularly, but Derek had noticed the responses were further and further apart. He tried not to get weird about it, because obviously Stiles had things to do, but he couldn’t help but wonder if maybe now that Stiles was home, he didn’t need the distraction that Derek had obviously been providing him with. 

Maybe now that he was home, Derek’s fear of just having been convenient would come to pass and eventually Stiles wouldn’t be replying to him at all. It was kind of a sobering thought, and he hated it. He especially hated that he was probably right and he shouldn’t have pursued this friendship to begin with. 

He was at the edge of not bothering to reply to Stiles’ last message—because Derek could be a petty asshole, he wasn’t ashamed to admit it—when Erica rode in on her white horse like a knight in shining armour to explain why Stiles was being so quiet. 

And not even because Derek had said anything. It had only come out because Erica had been complaining. Apparently she’d complained to death to both Boyd and Lydia, and both had forbidden her from talking about it anymore because she was bringing down their moods when they both knew she should be more understanding. 

Derek instantly felt better at the knowledge that Stiles wasn’t avoiding him or being an asshole, he was legitimately just distracted with his writing. And even that was something to be celebrated, because Stiles felt inspired. He’d said so a few times near the end of his tour, especially after having written his song about burnout, but to know it was happening and he was still writing felt really nice to hear. 

Derek just smiled to himself at that, because he knew she wasn’t actually. Having Erica as his editor had made them chat a lot more often than they ever would’ve otherwise, and honestly, she seemed like the best friend anyone could have—after Kira, of course, because Derek wasn’t going to ignore how epic Kira was. 

But Erica just cared. She’d made a big show about Stiles not playing burnout to her first, but was honestly just glad he’d written something, and that it was good. And she’d acknowledged that she’d been trying to hype Stiles up with the songs on his last album, and while she hadn’t thought any were sub-par since music wasn’t really her thing, she’d acknowledged that they hadn’t been as good as his other music, and that she probably should’ve said something. 

She was the kind of friend everyone needed, to be honest. Derek was glad Stiles had someone like her at his side. 

Derek arched an eyebrow at those words, because what? 

Erica wasn’t wrong, and it wasn’t like he was worried about giving out his number to her. Erica wasn’t exactly a stranger, they’d gone to school together, and while they hadn’t been friends back then, he at least vaguely knew her. She wasn’t a random person on the internet, she was a Beacon Hills girl, born and raised. 

Sighing and knowing she’d go after Cora if he didn’t oblige—the last thing he wanted was the two of them becoming friends, that sounded terrifying—he just typed out his number and sent it along to her. 

She sent back a happy face with a thumbs up, and then asked him if he had any more videos for her to edit because Boyd and Lydia were at work, Stiles was being a hermit, and she was bored. 

Derek couldn’t help laughing about it, because Erica and Stiles were similar in a lot of ways, which definitely explained why they were such good friends. He dropped the last video he’d recorded into his share drive with her, but didn’t have anything else ready to go. He had a few scripts half-written, but he hadn’t done enough research on them yet to begin recording, and with how fast Erica edited, his buffer was huge. 

She disappeared a few minutes later, presumably to go and edit the video he’d just sent her because she was bored, so he went to watch some TV instead of actually doing any research to record another video. He was really tired, and it had been a really long week at work, not to mention he was set to stream in a few hours. 

Sitting down and turning on Netflix, he scrolled through all the titles while trying to find something to watch, and had just decided on what looked like a fairly decent movie when he got an alert from Discord on his phone. 

He thought it was Erica at first, and that the crazy lady had actually blasted through that video at record speed, but knew it was impossible since it hadn’t even been fifteen minutes yet and the raw video was just under forty. When he glanced at his phone, he immediately unlocked it at the name staring back at him. 

Stiles sent through a picture of a pot of boiling water with an open box of Kraft Dinner beside it on the counter and a thumbs up. 

The second he sent it, he wished he could take it back. They always teased each other, and Derek had learned fairly early on in their friendship that Stiles was a massive flirt, but somehow that felt almost like crossing a line. Probably because Derek actually had a crush on Stiles, and he shouldn’t be acting like what the other man was saying to him was actually how he felt when he was just joking around. 

Thankfully Stiles, being the flirt he was, just responded in kind so at least Derek didn’t have time to feel too awkward about it. 

Derek made absolutely sure not to picture Stiles naked and bent over a desk. He worked so incredibly hard not to picture that, because Stiles was his friend, and a celebrity, and so out of his league and wow he looked good bent over like that, with his pale flesh, and perfect ass, and—shit. He was totally thinking about it. 

“Safer waters,” Derek muttered to himself while replying. “Back to safer waters.” 

Derek smiled slightly, because that meant Stiles was planning on playing it to him before he recorded it, just like the burnout song. 

He honestly couldn’t wait to hear it. 

Derek was in the middle of a really frustrating email exchange with a supplier that he would be calling if the asshole ever answered his fucking phone when his cell went off. It was on vibrate, so nobody heard it, but his friends and family knew he was working and usually just called his work line if they needed to talk to him. 

The fact that his cell was ringing meant it was someone else, and when he pulled his phone from his pocket, he frowned at it because he didn’t recognize the number. Hesitating, he almost let it go to voicemail, then figured he didn’t want it to be like, a package Kira had ordered for him that someone was trying to reach him for so it could be delivered. Kira did that sometimes, he’d gotten home once to a guy from UberEats knocking on his door because she’d noticed Derek’s fridge was woefully empty the day before. 

Swiping to answer, he put the phone to his ear, hearing an insane amount of background noise coming down the line. 

“Hello?” 

“Derek! Hey buddy!”

It took him a second to identify whose voice it was, because he’d honestly never spoken to her and had only briefly heard her recently once while she was scolding Stiles. 

“Erica?” 

“Don’t sound so surprised, I have your number, did you think I’d never use it?” She let out a scoff, like she was questioning his intelligence. 

“No, I am fully aware of the fact that you will use any and all information you receive about any one person, but I’m at work right now, so I can’t really ta—”

“Okay well, can you take lunch or something? Because Stiles is about to have a meltdown, and I need you to calm him down.”

Wait, what?! 

“What?” he demanded aloud, standing from his desk and moving away from it quickly. Some of his co-workers glanced at him, but no one said anything. “Is he okay? What happened?” 

He didn’t know why Erica was calling him if she was with Stiles having a meltdown, but he wasn’t going to ignore the call if he could actually do something to help him. Erica was his best friend though, so what she thought he could do that she couldn’t, he didn’t know, but he just kept the phone at his ear while heading for the stairwell. They had a small meeting room on the first floor, so he was going to see if it was free and use it for this call. If it was taken, he’d go out to his car. 

“He’s okay. I mean, mostly. He’s just panicking because he’s afraid of heights and is about to go really high. I’ve been trying to calm him down, but he’s still freaking out so I thought I’d try you next.”

“What?” he asked, utterly confused as to why she thought he could do any better than she could. She was his best friend, and practically lived with him! She and Boyd had moved to Vegas so that they could stay close to Stiles, for fuck’s sake! 

Erica wasn’t listening though, because he heard her saying something—presumably to Stiles—and then he heard very quick breathing coming down the line. 

Oh. So Stiles really hadn’t been joking about the whole heights thing with regard to pedestals. Right. 

“Hey,” Derek said, pushing through the glass door that led to the thankfully empty meeting room and sitting down near the end of the long table. “I’d ask how you’re doing, but from the sounds of it, not great.” 

“I don’t wanna do this,” Stiles said, words tripping over each other even as he continued to almost hyperventilate in Derek’s ear. “I really don’t wanna do this. I don’t. I don’t want to do it.”

“Okay, well is there a way you can not do it?” Derek asked. He didn’t know the context, so he had no idea if there was an option for whatever Stiles was heading towards possibly being forfeit. “If you don’t want to do it, then you shouldn’t do it. Don’t make anyone force you into it.” 

“No, I have to. I have to do it. I just—I can’t...” Oh, he was breathing even harder now, and Derek could hear Erica trying to soothe him on the other end of the line. 

“Okay,” Derek said quickly, because he was supposed to be helping, not making things fucking worse. “Okay, it’s fine. What about um—why don’t you write a song about it?” 

That, at least, gave Stiles pause. His breathing hitched ever so slightly for a few seconds before returning to its hyperventilating speed, but at least he’d somewhat helped for a split second? 

“What?” Stiles asked, clearly confused. 

“You’ve never written a song about your fears, right? Why not try now? It doesn’t even have to be a long song, just two verses of your fear of heights. Just long enough for it to keep your mind off it.” 

“I can’t,” Stiles insisted. “I can’t, I can’t.”

“You wrote a song about Pringles,” Derek argued. “Remember? Pizza Pringles taste like fucking cum,” Derek said, singing the last line of Stiles’ Pringles song. “If you can write a jingle about gross Pringles, you can write a song about being afraid of heights. I know you can. Just—get up there while you think of the words, and before you know it, you’ll be right at the top of the building and won’t even realize it.” 

For some reason, those words had a semi-hysterical laugh escape Stiles, and Erica ended up taking the phone back. 

“You were supposed to help, not turn him into the Joker,” she said uncertainly. “What the hell did you say to him?”

“I don’t know!” Derek insisted. “You kind of just sprung this on me! I didn’t even know he was serious when he was talking about his fear of heights, I thought he was kidding!” 

Derek heard someone speaking loudly in the background. It sounded kind of like an overhead speaker, and he wondered if maybe Stiles was about to do another last-minute show of some kind. Maybe he was going to be suspended from the ceiling like he was an angel descending from the heavens? 

Derek heard Erica say Stiles’ name, and then reminded him that he wanted this and that he could do it. He insisted that he couldn’t and this was a bad idea, but Erica just doubled down on him being able to do it. 

“You can, Stiles. Right Derek? Tell him he can do it!”

“You can do it,” Derek agreed. “I know you can. Just think about words to the song instead of the actual height you’re at, okay?” 

Stiles didn’t sound okay, but Erica said they had to go, bid Derek goodbye, and then hung up. 

Derek pulled his phone from his ear, staring down at it and having absolutely no idea what the hell had just happened. He opened his texts and fired one off after saving Erica’s number in his phone. 

He sat there in the meeting room, waiting for a response. It felt like hours before he actually got one, but eventually Erica replied. 

He waited almost ten minutes, but she didn’t respond. He couldn’t really spend the rest of his day sitting in the meeting room staring at his phone though, so he forced himself to head back to his desk. His boss came by when he returned to ask if everything was okay, and he confirmed it was fine, his friend just needed him. He didn’t elaborate, because it wasn’t really his place, but he hoped Stiles was okay. 

By the time lunch rolled around two hours later, he breathed a sigh of relief when Erica texted to say Stiles was okay and had survived his fear of heights. He sent back a thank you for letting him know, and then sent Stiles a message on Discord since he didn’t have his number. Stiles didn’t reply, but Derek didn’t worry about it. As long as he knew he was okay and that whatever had happened had passed, that was all that mattered. 

He finished up his work day, checking his phone periodically for a response from Stiles. The day was almost over by the time he finally got one, and all it was was a heart sent back in Discord. It was better than nothing. 

When Derek’s day officially ended, he and Kira texted to make plans for dinner, since she wanted to order Chinese food but always ended up with too many leftovers so they tended to order that together. He promised he’d be at hers by six, but wanted to head home first to change. 

He was getting into his car when he got a message from Cora, arching an eyebrow at the words on his screen. 

Shoving his phone into his pocket, he finished climbing into his car and shut the door. Cora was insane if she thought she was going to manage to drag him out for open mic night. 

Nothing short of God himself could get him to go to open mic night. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Derek had just taken a seat on his couch with a bowl of turkey and rice soup and the next episode of She-Hulk paused and waiting for him when the doorbell rang. He contemplated ignoring it, but even as he thought that, it rang again twice in quick succession, suggesting it could only be one person. 

Sighing and putting his soup down on the coffee table in front of him, he headed across the first floor towards his door, opening in time for Cora to start abusing the doorbell. 

She grinned at him, standing on his front porch wearing a tight black dress with no back, no straps, and leaving very little to the imagination, with high heels that should be classified as weapons. She’d straightened her hair so it fell like a curtain down the length of her back, and while Derek didn’t know much about makeup, he could appreciate that she looked beautiful. 

The grin she’d greeted him with fell off her face when she took in his appearance of old sweats and a black T-shirt with a skull on it. Derek didn’t remember where the shirt came from, but it was comfortable, and that was basically his baseline for shirts. 

“What the hell are you wearing? I said wear something nice,” Cora insisted, sounding distressed. 

“And I distinctly remember telling you that I wasn’t going to open mic night,” Derek said, crossing his arms and leaning sideways against the open doorway, eyebrows raised. “I’m not interested in having my ears bleed.” 

“It’s cute you think this is a negotiation,” Cora said, offering him a pitying look. “You’re coming, even if I have to drag you out of the house wearing that.” She motioned him with one hand. “But I’ll give you the opportunity to change before you embarrass yourself.” 

“Cora, it’s a Wednesday night,” Derek argued. “I had a long day, and I’m going to have another long day tomorrow. I really don’t want to be spending my evening listening to people sing badly into a microphone because they think open mic night is their big break.” 

“Don’t make me drag you out of the house,” Cora threatened. 

“As if you could,” Derek shot back, but his eyes shifted behind her when he saw another car pull up and stop at the curb. Kira stepped out of it, looking incredulous before shutting the door and making her way over to them. 

“What the hell is he wearing?” she demanded. 

“That’s what I said!” Cora insisted, turning to Kira. 

“Didn’t you tell him to wear something nice?” 

“I absolutely told him to wear something nice!” Cora confirmed, rounding on her brother again. “He ignored me. Like an asshole.” 

“I’m not going out with you,” Derek insisted, eying Kira as she walked up the porch steps. 

She was also dressed to the nines, which was kind of unusual for Kira. Not because she didn’t like looking nice, but because she often complained that it was too much work putting that much effort into perfect make-up. But she looked absolutely stunning tonight. 

Considering she wasn’t Cora, she was at least wearing something a bit less revealing, but still looked just as gorgeous. Black jeans, a gold halter-top that shimmered even in the dim light of his front porch, and stylish black pumps. Her make-up was a bit more subtle than Cora’s bolder colours, but still very striking, and her hair was in perfect curls framing her face. 

They both looked like they were heading out to a rock concert as opposed to open mic night at fucking Jungle, of all places. 

“You’re coming out with us,” Kira said, with absolutely no room for argument. “I will kick you in the balls and drag you from your house if I have to.” 

Cora, Derek knew he could handle. He’d been handling his sister for years with nothing but success. Kira was a bit riskier, because when she got mad, she was terrifying. He absolutely did not doubt she would do whatever it took to get him out of the house, up to and including damaging his ability to have children.

Looking between his sister and best friend, he let out an annoyed sigh and uncrossed his arms, moving out of the doorway so he could go and grab some clothes. Cora called for him to hurry up, but he just flipped her off over his shoulder while heading up the stairs to his room. 

He tried not to be too pissed off about this whole thing, because there was nothing wrong with having a life and going out, but he’d kind of been looking forward to a quiet night in and possibly messaging with Stiles on Discord. 

He’d gone quiet again, presumably because he was back to writing, but he still responded every couple hours and Derek had been looking forward to a chill night. Now here he was, digging through his closet for something appropriate to wear to go listen to people who couldn’t sing for a few hours before the club turned into a veritable night club. 

Okay, so maybe that wasn’t entirely fair. Some of the people at open mic night were actually pretty good singers, but the fact that he didn’t want to go was making him more bitter than usual. 

He hadn’t even had the chance to eat dinner yet! Whatever, he’d order nachos at Jungle, at least he knew those were good earlier in the night. The food only really went downhill after ten hit when the crowds of partiers were around in droves. Jungle was admittedly the weirdest night club ever, in that it was a chill pub before ten and then a club after ten. 

He didn’t know anywhere else that operated like Jungle did. 

Pulling on a pair of dark blue jeans and a grey shirt, he grabbed his leather jacket and yanked it on, deciding that had to be good enough. He wasn’t dressing to impress, he just had to look decent so Kira and Cora wouldn’t come upstairs and tear apart his closet. 

Girls were scary like that. 

When he got back downstairs, he gave Cora an annoyed look when he found her sitting on his couch, half-way through an episode of the Simpsons with his empty soup bowl on the table in front of her. Kira was texting on her phone, but both of them looked over at him when he walked in. 

“I’m not changing, so don’t even start. Let’s go, before I change my mind and call the cops on you.” He motioned for them both to follow. 

“You’d never get it to stick, the sheriff and I are basically BFFs now,” Cora informed him. 

Derek didn’t want to know how she’d managed that, but suspected it was probably by annoying the man into submission. 

Pulling on his boots at the door, he let Kira and his sister precede him out, then patted his pockets to make sure he had his phone and wallet. Grabbing his keys off the hall table, he locked up behind himself, and Cora motioned for him to get into her car. 

He gave her a look, and walked right past her to get into Kira’s instead. She blew a raspberry at his back, which he ignored, and climbed into his best friend’s car. If he was going to open mic night, he was definitely drinking. 

“You’re not usually into going to Jungle,” Derek said to Kira as he buckled himself in. 

She shrugged one bare shoulder at him, and he knew she’d be wearing his jacket by the end of the night because it was December and not warm, but for now she seemed to be okay. Then again, Jungle was probably going to be fairly busy, and they’d likely have the heat on before the crowds showed up, so she might be okay. 

Cora could freeze, it was her own damn fault. 

“Cora talked me into it,” was all she said in response. 

He wished she hadn’t, because Derek could’ve resisted his sister. Kira was harder and legitimately the only reason he’d gotten into the car. 

So apparently nothing short of God himself and Kira could get him to go to open mic night. Good things for him to bear in mind. 

They chatted about their days while Kira drove, even though they’d texted a bit since they’d both finished. Kira was frustrated with one of her co-workers, and Derek honestly found it kind of funny listening to her rant about how stupid the guy was so it made for an entertaining drive. 

When they reached Jungle, there was a line-up outside, as was the norm with this place. It was the only pub/club in town, and some people liked showing up early for dinner before dancing the rest of the night away. Getting in during the pub hours was a lot easier than later in the night. 

They had to park on the street since the lot was full, but Cora drove past them while flipping Derek off to park around the back of the large structure where the employee parking was. Derek just rolled his eyes and climbed out of the car with Kira, the two of them walking the two and a half blocks towards the club. 

Cora was waiting for them by the front of the line, motioning them over. Derek felt guilty when they walked right into the place past all the people being checked by the bouncer. He hated when Cora just jumped the line like that with him, because it wasn’t fair to all the people waiting, but he didn’t say anything about it. He didn’t want to wait outside, and Kira’d probably freeze long before they moved ahead three people, so he just followed her in without a word. 

There was already someone on stage singing, and while they weren’t awful, they weren’t exactly great either. Derek started to move them towards a table at the back of the room, but Cora grabbed his arm and dragged him all the way to the front. 

Great, front row seats to singers with no talent. Hurray. 

Cora shoved him onto a barstool beside a table that actually had a reserved sign on it. Derek didn’t comment on it while Cora snatched it up and asked Kira what she wanted. She turned to Derek afterwards, and he ordered the nachos with a Heineken. She saluted them and walked off, presumably to put in their orders despite not even working tonight. 

Whatever, if he got his food faster than usual, he wasn’t going to complain. 

Kira was watching the guy singing onstage, squinting slightly like she was trying to decide how she felt about him. Derek felt like he’d do well with getting a vocal coach because he was very breathy. Again, he wasn’t terrible, but he sang with his head a bit too much and it was distracting to listen to. 

Thankfully he was only onstage for the end of the song they’d shown up to and one more, then received a few scattered claps from the audience as he headed off the darkened stage. The next person up was a girl wearing full-on country attire, and Derek tried not to sigh because country wasn’t exactly his favourite genre. She was really good though. She had a good voice, with a decent amount of twang, and despite not liking the genre, he actually didn’t mind her singing. 

Their food and drinks arrived during her second song, Cora having ordered some jalapeno poppers and some kind of drink that looked like it was the colour of a cartoon biohazard spill. She said it was non-alcoholic when he gave her a look, but he wasn’t sure if he believed her. 

The country girl sang two more songs before finishing up to a lot more applause from the audience than the guy before her had received. When she stepped off the darkened stage, someone else stepped up and the cycle began again. This person was downright awful, but there was a group of people by the edge of the stage cheering and laughing, so he felt inclined to believe this was a dare. 

He leaned over towards Cora, who was still drinking her toxic waste-looking drink. “How long do I need to be here?” 

“Will you just relax and have a good time, for once in your life?” Cora demanded. She’d finished her jalapeno poppers, and when she reached out for some of Derek’s nachos, he smacked her hand away. She scowled at him, but he just raised his eyebrows back. 

“I was perfectly happy staying at home tonight,” he informed her, ignoring Kira when she reached over for some nachos. She was allowed, Cora wasn’t. 

But the traitor just handed the chips she’d stolen over to Cora, who smirked in triumph and shoved them into her mouth before Derek could do anything about it. She licked sour cream off her thumb while the dudebro on stage finished up his song and hurried off it, clearly not having enjoyed his time in the spotlight. 

“Can you not be lame for like, ten minutes?” Cora rolled her eyes, mouth still full of stolen nachos. Derek was never trusting Kira again, what a traitor. “Just listen to the music, vibe, have a good time, spend the evening with your favourite sister and your best friend.” 

“Laura’s my favourite,” Derek informed her, despite them both knowing it was a lie. Derek liked both his sisters equally for different reasons, but he wasn’t allowed to admit that. It went against the sibling code. 

Cora just flipped him off and looked back at the new guy on the stage. Derek wasn’t really listening anymore, this one was almost worse than the last, and the last had clearly been a dare. 

Looking around in hopes of finding something entertaining to distract himself with, he frowned when he noticed a guy sitting at the table closest to the front of the left side of the stage. He looked really familiar for some reason, even though he felt like he didn’t know them. It was someone he knew he recognized, and it was right there, at the back of his mind, but he just couldn’t place him. 

When the stage went dark again and the guy almost tripped on his way off it, Derek was still staring at the guy, trying to figure out why he knew him, and it wasn’t until a bombshell of a blonde sidled up beside him with two drinks in her hands that it clicked and his entire body went cold. 

That was Boyd. That guy sitting at the table was Boyd. And the girl who’d just sidled up to him was Erica. 

Erica and Boyd were here. At Jungle. For open mic night. They were both here. And Kira was here. She never came out to things like this. Cora had basically forced him to come out tonight, had insisted he wear something nice, had legitimately ensured that no matter what he would be sitting right here, in Jungle, front and center on open mic night. 

There was no way. 

There was no way! 

“We’ve got something a little different tonight, folks!” a voice said loudly over the speakers. It was probably the guy in charge of the open mic night and controlled who went on and for how long. 

Someone had climbed onto the darkened stage, sitting down on the stool present there with a guitar clearly silhouetted. The figure fiddled with the mic, obviously trying to get it to a comfortable place for their voice and their guitar to be heard. 

Derek stared at the person on the stage like he couldn’t breathe and this was his only source of oxygen. There was absolutely no fucking way in hell this was happening. No fucking way! 

“Someone very special to Beacon Hills wanted to play during open mic night tonight, and I think you’ll all agree with me that we’re happy to have him! I won’t spoil the surprise for you, but give it up for our very own hometown celebrity!” 

People were already screaming and cheering and just generally freaking out before the man had finished speaking. When the lights turned on for the stage, it wasn’t the harsh white spotlight that the other singers had been blasted with. There was some pink and blue and just the barest undertone of white when the lights turned back on, illuminating who was onstage. 

Derek didn’t need the cheering to tell him who it was. Didn’t even need the lights bouncing off that gorgeous face and perfect body and beautiful guitar. He’d recognize him anywhere, and seeing Stiles sitting up on Jungle’s fucking shitty ass stage with an adorable little smile on his face and his hands already positioned, as if checking the comfort of his hold, felt fucking surreal. 

Art by Piratetattoos

Stiles was here. 

Like, right here. 

Derek could reach out and fucking touch him if he wanted to. 

Grinning out at the audience, Stiles reached up with one hand to grip the microphone, bringing it down closer to his mouth. “Hey, what’s up BH? It’s been so long since I’ve been back here, how’s everyone doing?” 

It felt like he was in a legitimate concert right now instead of fucking Jungle. People were screaming their heads off and freaking out to the point where the cops might actually be called thinking something was going on in Jungle right now. The people outside in the lineup waiting to get in likely thought there was someone murdering people! 

“Sorry this is such an informal setting, but I didn’t want to have a real concert here. This is my hometown, you know? You guys are people I grew up with! I thought it might be more fun to just have a short little session here during open mic night that hopefully a few people will enjoy. Feel free to record, or take pictures, or any of that if you want.” 

He strummed his guitar once, and his eyes shifted towards where Erica and Boyd were sitting. Derek didn’t know if Stiles could see them with the lights, but he licked his lips and then looked out at the general audience again. 

“I don’t know how many of you know about this, but I’ve been having a bit of a rough time lately. Inspiration hasn’t been coming as easily as it used to, and I was starting to feel a little burnt out. I’m sure most of you know about that video that went up about me by our second resident celebrity, TheRealMusicLover.” A few people cheered, including Kira, and Stiles let out a laugh. “Two famous people from one town, who’d have thought, right? But I actually owe a lot to him, because he made me realize that I didn’t always have to be ‘on’ for people to enjoy my music. And I didn’t have to constantly be churning out new material.”

“We love you Stiles!” someone shouted from the back of the club and he laughed again. 

“Thank you, I love you too,” he said into the microphone, waving his free hand in greeting. “I appreciate that. And I’m glad that people like you, and like TheRealMusicLover, are around to remind me that it’s okay to let yourself be burned out every now and then.” He paused here, glancing at Erica again, then said, “I uh, I wrote a song. A few, actually. But one of them is... kind of special. It’s dedicated to TheRealMusicLover, because I don’t think I’d have bounced back as fast without him. And he kind of means a lot to me.” 

Holy shit. Stiles was dedicating this song to him! 

Derek was thrilled, not only because of the dedication being for him, but because he was going to get to hear the burnout song now that it was formally done. He was so excited he wanted to run onto the stage and shake Stiles to get him moving faster.

He didn’t, but it was a near thing. 

“I’m kind of nervous,” Stiles admitted, letting out an awkward little laugh. “I’ve never really done anything like this before. I’ll do my best to not disappoint, and I hope you like it.” 

When he said this last bit, he shifted his gaze to look right at Derek, suggesting he could see him. 

Holy.

Fucking.

Shit! 

Stiles cleared his throat and angled the microphone once more, getting it where he wanted it. He positioned his hands on his guitar, let out a slow breath that Derek saw more than he heard, and began to play. 

Derek instantly recognized two things. 

First, Stiles was much more attractive in person when he was playing, because he got this soft look on his face, and was all concentrated and serious. 

Second—this wasn’t the beginning bars of the burnout song. 

This was a completely different song. 

“Don’t like your taste in most things 
Like pizza as a chip 
Can’t fathom going to movies 
If popcorn is a skip 

Thanksgiving is a staple
Where turkey is a must 
And when it comes to taste in pie
I’d only eat your crust 

There’s things you like that I just don’t understand
And even less are these feelings that weren’t planned 

Your taste in pie is atrocious
Though your passion is just ferocious 
And while DisneyWorld’s the best
I can’t help but to confess
That I’ll be your Batman
If you promise to be my Superman 

While we agree that green’s fine
We both know red’s the best 
Still can’t believe you’re Xbox
Had to get that off my chest 

And while DK can be fun
Mario reigns supreme
I’m still not over your pie
‘Cause rhubarb’s so extreme 

There’s things you like that I just don’t understand
And even less are these feelings that weren’t planned 

Your taste in pie is atrocious
Though your passion is just ferocious 
And while DisneyWorld’s the best
I can’t help but to confess
That I’ll be your Batman
If you promise to be my Superman 

And I know that I might not be the kind of guy you like
But I need you to understand 
I don’t think that I can manage without you in my life 
So please reach out and take my hand 

And your taste in pie is atrocious
Though your passion is just ferocious 
And while DisneyWorld’s the best
I can’t help but to confess
That I’ll be your Batman
If you promise to be my Superman 

My Superman.”

Derek sat there frozen while everyone cheered, Kira and Cora included. Because while the song had been awesome, and he was thrilled Stiles seemed to have escaped his funk, his brain was struggling to compute with what he’d just heard. 

That whole song was about him. There was no ifs, ands or buts. That entire song was one-hundred percent about him. Everything. And Stiles had said... 

He’d said there were unplanned feelings. And had asked for Derek to understand that he needed him in his life. 

This was... holy fucking shit, this was—

“I hope you guys liked the song,” Stiles said, a chorus of cheers being his enthusiastic response. “This is my only song of the night, so I’m sorry to anyone who’s just coming in now.” There were a lot of unhappy sounds that followed this statement, but Stiles just laughed. “I’ll be in town for a while, I promise! If you see me out and about, feel free to stop me for a chat. I only ask that you don’t do it if I’m out for dinner or if it’s obviously not a good time. Please be respectful, and I’ll be more than happy to stop for a photo if you catch me alone at the store. Have a good night!” 

Stiles waved at the crowd while getting to his feet, the lights going dark while people continued to scream and cheer. Derek’s eyes followed his shadow, wanting to know where he was going, because he needed to talk to him. He desperately needed to talk to him because—

“Hey!” 

Derek almost leapt clear off his seat when someone threw themselves at him from behind, hugging him tightly. He only instinctively stopped himself from elbowing them in the gut because he’d recognized the voice a split second before his body’s automatic defensive reaction had kicked in. 

“How are you? How’s it going?” 

“Erica,” Derek said, mostly still in shock. He’d looked away from the stage for a second and now Stiles was nowhere to be seen. Fuck. 

“Were you surprised?” She let him go to move around beside him, grinning from ear to ear. “Tell me you were surprised. It was so hard keeping this to myself, but it was all for a good cause so I managed it somehow!” 

“He didn’t even want to come tonight,” Cora insisted. “I had to literally bully him out of the house!” 

“But you didn’t spill, right?” Erica demanded, rounding on her threateningly. 

Cora scoffed and motioned Derek. “Would he look that lovesick if I had? Man had no clue, he kept wanting to leave. I almost had to sit on him, thank God Stiles went up when he did.” 

“Did you like the song?” Erica turned back to Derek, grinning from ear to ear. “He struggled with it for so long. Said it had to be perfect. Was angsting about it for literal days, it was super annoying.” 

“Be nice,” Boyd insisted, having come up silently and startling Derek all over again. “Stiles has been under a lot of pressure, and he still hasn’t fully recovered from the flight yesterday.” 

“Flight?” Derek asked, and then his entire face fell. 

Of course. Of course! Derek was so fucking stupid! Stiles hadn’t been hyperventilating because he was going into a fucking building, what the hell was he thinking?! 

Stiles was freaking out because he was about to get on a fucking plane! 

To come home! To Beacon Hills! 

His mind wasn’t working, seriously, what the fuck was happening right now? 

“So,” Erica said, poking at Derek’s cheek and smirking like a fucking Cheshire cat. “You just gonna sit here, or you gonna go tell Mr. Panic at Jungle whether he ruined your friendship or not?” 

“Wait, what?” Derek asked.

Erica looked unimpressed. “He basically just sang his confession to you, do I need to spell it out any further? He’s waiting out back, probably freaking out. He’s had a crush on you for a while, and talking to you has been like, the highlight of his life.” She rolled her eyes. “How anything can be better than having me as a friend, I’ll never know, but I’ll admit you’re not half bad as far as competition goes.” She grinned at him and shoved his shoulder. “Go. Be gross together. Only a blind man wouldn’t be able to notice you’re as heart-eyes for him as he is for you.” 

“Derek wears glasses,” Cora offered. 

“So does Stiles, guess that explains a lot,” Erica said with a cackle. 

Derek ignored them both and pushed away from the bar table, Boyd very kindly pulling Erica away from him so he could move around them all and hurry towards the exit. 

It seemed Stiles must’ve gone out the back, or he was very sneaky on his way out the front, because a few people were asking if anyone had noticed where AllAboutMischief had gone. 

Heading out through the front, and ignoring the bouncer who said it’d be a long wait to get back in—like Derek had any intention of going back inside right now!—he made it out of the club and hurried onto the sidewalk, looking both ways. 

He didn’t see anything that caught his eye, and realized he probably should’ve asked Erica what kind of car Stiles drove. Probably an easy find, he likely had a nice car. Not overly expensive because Stiles had already proven he wasn’t that kind of celebrity, but still fairly nice. A good model and sleek paint job. 

Erica had said ‘out back’ when she’d been insisting he go find Stiles, so that suggested he was out in the employee lot. Cora had probably arranged that for him, it wasn’t like the owner was going to say no to having AllAboutMischief playing in his club for free. 

Hurrying around the side of the building, Derek’s eyes scanned the back lot for Stiles, or a car that looked like it might belong to him. He didn’t see anything that jumped out instantly, barring a gross-coloured Honda—who wanted a puke yellow-coloured car?—and an old sky blue Jeep that was probably older than Derek was. 

No sign of Stiles. 

He’d just started to pull his phone out to text Erica when he heard a short honk, glancing up. He looked around the lot, trying to figure out which car it had come from, and paused when he saw someone sitting behind the wheel of the Jeep. 

The falling apart, old as balls Jeep. 

“Jesus Christ, Stiles,” he muttered to himself, but a smile slid onto his face anyway as he headed towards it. 

Stiles rolled down the driver’s side window, watching Derek approach. It was weird to see the uncertainty on his face, but only further proved Stiles wasn’t like so many of the other celebrities that Derek read about in magazines and saw on talk shows and whatnot. 

He honestly thought there was a universe where Derek wouldn’t be thrilled about what had happened. He was so nervous, and honest, and just—fucking adorable. He didn’t act all sure of himself, and self-centred, and like a fucking egomaniac. To him, he was just a guy who happened to be good at music who’d just sung out a confession in front of a live audience that the guy he liked was sitting in. 

He looked so vulnerable, and Derek hated it, but also kind of loved it because Stiles was such a good person. 

Reaching the Jeep, he offered Stiles a smile, placing one hand on the door, fingers curled over the edge into the car since the window was down. 

“Hey,” he said. 

“Hi,” Stiles replied. 

Derek wished he didn’t look so nervous. Stiles was crazy if he thought Derek wasn’t into him as much as he obviously was. Which was still a huge shock to him, honestly. 

“So,” Derek started, seeing Stiles tense and grip the steering wheel tightly in both hands, “you probably think I’m an idiot.” 

Stiles immediately relaxed, but only because he looked so adorably confused. He even tilted his head slightly, like a fucking puppy, and Derek wanted to fucking kiss him right then. 

“Big building?” Derek offered with a small smile, then laughed and shook his head. “I can’t believe I was too stupid to clue in that you were about to get on a plane. I thought you were just getting into an elevator to go up to like, the thirtieth floor of a building or something.” 

Stiles smiled at him, shrugging one shoulder. “If nothing else, your advice worked. I wrote a song about heights.” He paused, considering, then amended to, “Well, about fears, I should say. But heights was the most prominent because it’s my biggest fear.”

“What else are you afraid of?” Derek asked curiously, shifting so he could cross his arms over the rolled down window and leaning a bit further into the car. 

“Flying,” Stiles said. “Though that’s probably more the whole heights thing.”

“Probably,” Derek agreed. 

“And spiders. I really, really hate spiders.”

“Who doesn’t?” 

“And uh, you know, rejection.” Stiles winced. “That’s a uh, a big one, too. Kind of... worked that into the song as well.” 

“Yeah,” Derek said. “Rejection’s never easy for anyone.”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, and he was all tense again, hands tight around the steering wheel. 

“You ever been rejected before?” Derek asked, mostly out of curiosity. 

Stiles winced. “Honestly... no. Not yet, anyway.” 

Derek nodded, looking towards the street, wanting to make sure no one was around. Then he looked back at Stiles, who still looked so vulnerable and nervous. 

“Guess you’re gonna have to wait a bit longer to feel that sting of rejection, huh?” 

Stiles blinked. “What?” 

Derek did what he’d wanted to do since the moment he saw Stiles on that stage in front of him. 

He reached out with one hand, placing it against the back of Stiles’ neck, and pulled him closer until he felt his lips under his. 

If someone had told him three months ago that AllAboutMischief would write him a fucking song and basically confess to being in love with him and wanting to be with him, he’d have called that person crazy. 

But now? Now, he was standing in the parking lot of fucking Jungle, of all places, kissing this famous celebrity while leaning through the front window of the oldest fucking Jeep he’d ever seen. And somehow, he still couldn’t believe it. But at the same time, it was perfect. 

Stiles’ lips were soft and his skin was warm, and honestly? This was so much better than he ever could’ve imagined. 

It didn’t matter to him that this was AllAboutMischief. It didn’t matter that he was a famous celebrity. 

What he cared about most was the fact that he’d gotten to know him over the past few months, and he was literally more in love with him for his personality than anything else that came with the overall Stiles package. He was so much more than what the media saw of him, he was an amazing person, and a truly selfless man, and just—perfect.

Honestly, he was too perfect to be real.

And for some absolutely insane and unknown reason, he liked Derek. 

He liked Derek because he’d made a video about him that made him feel seen. 

Kissing Stiles was intoxicating, and even as he kissed him, Stiles was leaning closer to him, practically leaning his head out the window, even though Derek was already pressing forward into the Jeep. 

When he pulled away, Stiles actually tried to push forward, a sharp little breath escaping him, like he didn’t want this to end. 

“You sober?” Derek asked him, one hand still pressed to the back of his neck. He hadn’t noticed, but at some point, Stiles had reached out with one of his own to grip the open flap of his leather jacket. 

“Yeah.”

“Good.” Derek let Stiles go, and while it seemed to take effort for Stiles to do the same to his jacket, he eventually got his fingers to uncurl and Derek moved around the front of the car, climbing into the passenger seat and shutting the door. 

Stiles was driving before Derek had even finished buckling himself in, and he gave him directions to his place as they came up. Derek was practically vibrating, hands itching to reach out and grab at Stiles, but the last thing he wanted was for them to end up parked on the side of the road doing inappropriate things and getting caught on camera. 

Derek would survive that scandal, but Stiles probably wouldn’t. 

Though if it was Stiles’ dad who caught them, Stiles would probably survive that. Derek definitely wouldn’t. 

It seemed to take twice as long to get from Jungle to his house, but they finally turned into the driveway and Derek climbed out of the car. He and Stiles moved quickly up the porch steps, Derek’s keys already in hand, and he unlocked the door as fast as humanly possible. 

The second they were inside, Stiles kicked the door shut with one foot, because both hands instantly grabbed for the lapels of Derek’s leather jacket again, yanking him in for another kiss. Derek didn’t resist, letting their lips slot together again, even as he fumbled behind Stiles for the lock on his front door.

The last fucking thing he needed was Cora showing up and barging in like the annoying sister she was. 

Stiles had put on a hoodie since being onstage—a bright red one with a logo in the top right corner—and Derek instantly went for the zipper. 

It appeared Stiles was of the same mind, because he instantly began to push at the jacket he’d just been tugging on, trying to get it off Derek’s shoulders while they continued kissing. Derek stumbled slightly while trying to toe his boots off, but he managed to toe out of them after a few attempts. Stiles seemed to have managed himself more easily, presumably because he had regular sneakers on. 

“Bed?” Stiles asked when they broke apart for a brief moment so that Derek could pull the other man’s shirt up and off him. “Or couch?” 

“Definitely bed,” Derek breathed, allowing Stiles to wrench his own shirt up over his head. 

He grabbed at Stiles’ face again, kissing him hard while walking backwards. Stiles might not know the layout of his home, but Derek sure did, and he managed to get them all the way to the stairs and up to the second level. He kicked backwards to get his door open from its ajar state, and Stiles practically pushed him roughly into the room. 

When they got to the bed, Stiles broke the kiss so he could shove Derek down onto it, climbing on top of him and kissing at him while his hands went for Derek’s jeans. 

Derek was not going to complain one bit, and he hastily reached for Stiles’ own, pushing the button through the eyehole and then sliding the zip down. 

“You have any lube?” Stiles asked, breaking the kiss to bite at Derek’s jaw lightly, then rubbing his cheek against his stubble. 

“Fuck, I don’t think so.” 

“That’s okay. Next time then. This time, we can just get off.” 

Derek was more than okay with that, but also annoyed that he didn’t have anything for this evening. To be fair, he hadn’t known it would end with Stiles fucking Stilinski in his bed with him! 

They got their pants off relatively quickly, and Derek groaned when he realized Stiles was going commando. That wasn’t fair at all, how was he supposed to keep his hands to himself long enough for Stiles to get Derek’s shorts off?

“Penguins,” Stiles said with a huffed laugh, mostly because Derek’s hand had found his cock and was now beginning to pump agonizingly slowly. 

“You have a problem with penguins?” Derek asked breathlessly, half-wishing he’d worn less embarrassing boxers, but also kind of loving the little penguins on them. 

“Penguins are fucking adorable,” Stiles countered, and Derek could feel his hands shaking as he struggled to get Derek’s shorts off. “If you don’t stop, this is going to be over quickly.” 

“I’ve got enough in me for more than one round with you.” Derek leaned up and bit at Stiles’ neck lightly, and then closed his lips around the skin and sucked hard. He’d feel bad leaving behind a hickey if Stiles hadn’t let out the filthiest fucking moan he’d ever heard in his life, bracing all his weight on the bed on either side of Derek, completely forgetting that he’d been trying to get his shorts off. 

His hips were making little aborted thrusts into Derek’s hand, and he tightened his grip, beginning to move it faster. Stiles let out another groan and bent his head back further, Derek still sucking a mark into his pale skin. After he was sure he’d left a decently dark mark, Derek pulled back, tongue laving over the abused flesh, and pleased with what he found. 

Stiles’ hips were moving faster, and Derek let himself fall back fully on the bed, hand moving even faster, and tightening further, wanting to give Stiles as much friction as possible. His thumb slid over the head, collecting precum at the slit to make his movements more fluid, and Stiles groaned again, bending down further until his upper body was pressed into Derek’s chest, his forehead against Derek’s own as he breathed hard. 

“Fuck, oh fuck.” His breath was warm and moist against Derek’s lips, and he tilted his head up so he could kiss him again. Stiles didn’t seem able to do two things at once—at least in the bedroom, since he was perfectly fine on a stage—because as soon as he started kissing Derek back enthusiastically, sucking lewdly on his tongue, his hips stopped moving and it was like his control had been completely cut off. 

Derek didn’t let up though, hand moving faster and faster until Stiles broke the kiss and let out a long, loud whine, biting into Derek’s shoulder hard enough to draw blood before he went completely still and Derek felt cum coat his hand and spatter up onto his stomach and chest. Stiles’ cock pulsed in his grip for what felt like an eternity, his entire body spasming as he came. Derek made sure to pump slowly and loosely, just trying to help him get down from his high without going into the over-sensitive range. 

Finally, Stiles let out a shuddery breath and released Derek’s shoulder from between his teeth. He was still trembling slightly, breathing hard against Derek’s skin as he tried to regain some semblance of control. Derek couldn’t help thrusting his own hips ever so slightly, the friction of his shorts welcome against his own aching erection. 

“You distracted me,” Stiles accused breathily. “I was trying to get you naked.” 

“Try harder next time,” Derek said, and grunted when Stiles reached down with one hand and ground the heel of his palm against his cock. 

“You said you can go multiple rounds,” Stiles said, voice still mostly sexed out but a grin clear in his tone. “Let’s see if that’s true, Mr. Music Man.” 

“Hit me with your best shot,” Derek shot back. 

He could honestly say that he hadn’t expected Stiles’ best shot to be him burying his face between Derek’s legs, but there was no way in hell he was going to complain. 

He owed Cora a fucking new house for dragging him to Jungle. 

Derek jerked up in bed at the shrill sound that echoed through the room, his brain still mostly asleep as he struggled to figure out what the hell was going on. 

“Whazzat?” a voice mumbled from behind him, and he instantly whipped around, heart lodging itself in his throat, only to find Stiles curled on his side against Derek’s back, sheets tangled in his legs and one arm thrown over Derek’s waist. 

For a long moment, Derek just sat there staring at him. Because that was Stiles. That was a naked Stiles. In his bed. With him. Who was also naked. 

That meant that the insanely vivid dream he’d had last night of making out and getting off with Stiles hadn’t been so much a dream as a very, very real occurrence and holy shit, he had Stiles in his bed, and they’d done a lot of really dirty things to each other, and this was real and happening and what the fuck? 

But like, good what the fuck. 

The noise stopped abruptly, Derek realizing he’d totally spaced out staring down at Stiles, whose hair was all sleep-mussed, with his face slack and adorable as he fell back into slumber, and those marks. 

Derek had left so many marks on his skin. He actually felt a little worried about it now that he was looking at them in the daylight, because they were dark. And Stiles was a celebrity, he couldn’t just walk around with massive hickeys all over his neck. Shit, Derek probably should’ve been a bit more conscious of the fact that Stiles might not have wanted to be marked like that. 

When the sound started up again, Stiles let out a whine, burying his face into Derek’s skin. He was obviously not a morning person, which Derek appreciated, because neither was he. 

Realizing what the sound was, Derek turned his back on Stiles and had to pull away from him entirely—which elicited another adorable little whine—so he could reach down to snatch up his jeans. He dug around them for the right pocket, and finally managed to pull his phone out, flipping it around and wincing at the time.

And the person calling. 

Answering the phone, he put it to his ear. “Hello?” 

“Derek, is everything okay?” his boss asked, making him wince again. “It’s half-past, and you’ve never been late once in all the years you’ve worked here. I was getting worried.”

“I am—so sorry.” Derek didn’t even know how to explain his tardiness. He rolled onto his back again, rubbing at his face with one hand, and instantly had Stiles pressing into him. He threw one leg over Derek’s, one arm across his waist, and half laid on top of him, rubbing his cheek against Derek’s right pectoral before exhaling softly and seeming more than ready to go back to sleep. 

“Is everything okay?” his boss asked again. 

“Yeah, I—sorry. I think I need the day off today. It’s—I can’t explain it, I’m very sorry. I promise this won’t be a recurring thing, something just happened last night and I was up late.” 

“No need to apologize. You’ve never called in sick, and you’re always on time. I hope whatever happened isn’t affecting you negatively. If you need tomorrow off as well, just send me an email later.”

“Thank you so much. I’m really sorry.” 

“Stop apologizing, Derek. I’ll see you tomorrow, or Monday. Take care.”

“Thank you,” he repeated, and barely refrained from apologizing yet again. 

When his boss hung up, Derek let his hand fall back against the pillow, staring blearily up at his ceiling. It took him a few seconds to realize his eyes hurt because they were dry from the contacts he’d forgotten to remove last night. 

That was probably true for Stiles too, seeing as he also wore contacts. 

Derek turned his head slightly so he could look down at the head of brown hair resting on his chest, Stiles apparently having no trouble falling back to sleep as long as he was in a bed and not on a bus. 

Honestly, he was still trying to convince himself this was real. Last night alone felt like a dream, but waking up and having Stiles still there, in his bed, naked? That was almost too much for his poor brain to comprehend. He was positive once he fell asleep again, he’d wake up to find it really had all been a dream, but even as he closed his eyes and got comfortable, he knew it wasn’t. 

This was happening. Somehow, he and Stiles were actually naked in his bed together, and it was surreal. 

Derek eventually fell asleep once more, but was woken up yet again at the sound of his doorbell ringing. It startled him awake, Stiles’ own head jerking up off his chest before he groaned and let it fall back down. 

“Does anyone ever let you sleep?” he asked sleepily, nuzzling against his chest and hugging him more tightly. Derek could feel Stiles’ morning wood against the side of his thigh, and that just reminded him of what they’d been doing last night. “We’re not doing this at your place next time.”

Next time. 

Stiles had literally just said next time. As in, this would be happening again. As in, this was not a one-time thing. This was a real thing. Him and Stiles. 

Which—of course it was. Stiles had written him a fucking song. He didn’t just write songs for anyone, Derek knew that. He’d researched him for his video, and had been an AllAboutMischief fan for years. 

Stiles had only written songs about three people in his life: Erica, his dad, and his deceased mother. Derek was officially the fourth person, and that meant something. He knew it did. He just couldn’t believe it. 

When the doorbell rang again incessantly, Derek knew that could only be one person. Stiles let out an annoyed growl—it was kind of cute, honestly—and Derek half-smiled despite how annoyed and tired he was himself. 

“It’s Cora,” he informed him. “She won’t leave until I answer the door.” 

Stiles didn’t move, and it almost seemed like he was thinking. “What if we just pretend you’re not home?” 

“Car’s out front.” He paused. “So’s yours.” 

Letting out a small whine, Stiles eventually rolled off him, taking the sheet with him, and curled into a ball facing the wall, clearly ready to go back to sleep. Derek just laughed, and while he wasn’t entirely sure of his welcome, considering what they’d done last night he decided to risk it, and leaned over to kiss Stiles’ visible temple. He let out a little grunt at the action, but said nothing else. 

Derek climbed out of bed, Cora still abusing his doorbell—he needed to get that removed, he should call to have it disconnected—and reached out to grab the pair of sweats he’d left hanging off the back of his chair last night. 

Tugging them on, he pulled them up over his hips, wincing and rearranging himself to try and make his morning wood a bit less obvious, and then headed out of his room and down the stairs. 

“I’m coming,” Derek said loudly, irritation beginning to set in since he’d been having an insanely good morning before all the stupid interruptions. “Stop it, I’m fucking coming!” 

Walking down the corridor, he could see Cora peeking through his side window while she continued to ring the bell. Her eyes got wide when she saw him approach, and that somehow prompted more doorbell abuse. She was still wearing the same clothes as last night, suggesting she’d been out all night herself, and he had plans to call her and show up at her place for the next ten hours at least to pay her back for this. 

Derek wrenched open the door and grabbed at her wrist to stop her from ringing the bell anymore. “Stop it,” he snapped. “You’re not a child.” 

“Dude, is he here?!” Cora hissed, slapping at Derek’s chest urgently with her other hand. “Did he sleep over?!” 

“He didn’t get much sleep, because you wouldn’t stop ringing the bell,” Derek insisted. 

Cora’s mouth dropped open and she did a weird little dance, Derek surprised she didn’t break her ankles with the height of her heels. 

“Holy shit, Derek! Oh my God! So I take it things are going well, then? Oh my God, I need to text Erica!” She pulled her wrist free so she could grab her phone to do just that. Derek didn’t know where she’d been keeping her phone, because he felt like he blinked and she suddenly just had it in her hands. Her dress certainly didn’t have pockets, and she didn’t have a purse so—you know what? He didn’t want to know. 

“You’re texting with Erica now?” Derek asked, stifling a yawn. “Since when?” 

“Uh, since like, last week? When she and Lydia set this whole thing up?” Cora was grinning as she texted. “Erica’s gonna be stoked. She kept saying Stiles needed to go for what he wanted, and now he did and you guys are dating.”

“We’re not dating,” Derek insisted somewhat urgently, mostly because he wasn’t sure. He wanted to talk to Stiles first. Like, yes, there’d been the kissing and the touching and the sleeping over, but he wanted to have a conversation about everything before jumping to conclusions. 

Did he want to be dating Stiles? Absolutely. Did he know if they were dating? No. No he didn’t. 

“What?” Cora paused in her texting, looking up at him. “What do you mean you’re not dating?!” 

“I mean—I don’t know.” Derek raked an annoyed hand through his hair, his eyes burning again. He needed to take his contacts out and get his glasses on. “We haven’t really talked. Kind of didn’t have the time last night.” 

“Oh.” Cora smirked. “Too busy fucking each other?” 

He gave her an unimpressed look and pointed a finger towards her car. “Leave.” 

“Don’t be a prude, it’s okay for you to get it on with a hot dude.” She winked at him. 

“You’re usually all, ‘oh, my eyes!’ when you see me without a shirt, so stop being excited about my sex life,” Derek insisted, still pointing towards her car. 

“I mean, it’s more his sex life I’m excited about. Does he have a big dick? I bet he has a big dick.” 

“Go. Away.” He grabbed at her shoulders and turned her around, giving her a shove towards the stairs so she’d fucking get lost. Seriously, Cora was the worst! 

Still the best because of last night, but honestly the worst. 

“Fine, keep his dick size to yourself,” she called back loudly, Derek inhaling deeply and trying to find patience because he had neighbours. “By the way, you owe me for dinner!” She turned to walk backwards towards her car, pointing at him. “You bailed before paying the bill, so someone had to cover for that beer and the nachos you wouldn’t even let me have.” 

“Cry me a river, Cora!” 

“I will!” She stopped beside her car, flipping him off. “It’ll be the most epic of rivers, you cheapskate!” 

Derek smiled sarcastically, flipped her off right back, and then slammed his door shut. He stayed at the door, watching to make sure she actually left, but it was obvious she was in dire need of sleep because she climbed back behind the wheel of her car and was gone a few seconds later. 

Letting out a slow breath, Derek let his head thunk against his front door, Cora’s words floating through his brain, and a little worried about the answer. 

Were they dating? Him and Stiles? But even if they were, and they decided to try this, how would that even work? Stiles lived in Las Vegas, and Derek had a job here. Sure, YouTube he could do from anywhere, but his other job was an office job he kind of had to show up for. 

He winced at the reminder that he’d actually forgotten to show up today, but tried not to dwell on it. Like his boss had said, Derek never took time off, and he was never late. He’d been forced to take his vacation time, for fuck’s sake! Sleeping in for the first time ever at his job because Stiles fucking Stilinski had blown his mind—and other things—last night was forgivable. 

Rubbing at his eyes, Derek headed back upstairs and into the bathroom, taking his contacts out and putting them in their little case with some solution. His glasses were in his room, but he could see well enough to get there and grab them off his night stand without turning into Velma from Scooby-Doo. 

He used the bathroom while he was there, and brushed his teeth mostly out of habit and not at all in case morning kisses were a thing. Once he was organized, he turned to head for his bedroom and grabbed his glasses up, putting them on. He paused once they were perched on the bridge of his nose, staring down at Stiles. He was still naked, sheets wrapped around him as he lay on his side, curled up against the wall. It was so weird seeing him there in his bed, and he couldn’t help how much he liked it. 

Stiles wasn’t AllAboutMischief to him anymore. He hadn’t been for a long time. He was just Stiles. And he was pretty sure he was in love with the guy, and that was terrifying. 

Not wanting to be weird, he snatched up his phone, unplugged his charger from the wall, and headed out of the room. Making his way downstairs, he plugged his phone in using one of the sockets in the kitchen, then grabbed a bowl of cereal. He had a few texts on his home screen, but didn’t think much of it since he was sure they were just Cora and Erica—and maybe Kira, though she would wait for details in person. 

He stared off into space as he ate, chewing slowly even as the song from last night began to play through his head again. The tune was kind of catchy, and even if it hadn’t been written for him—or about him—he’d have said it was definitely one of Stiles’ better songs in the past year. 

His cereal was half-finished by the time he heard movement upstairs. He froze, as if Stiles were a dinosaur on his way down and he could get away with not being noticed if he stood still, but knew that was just nerves talking. He heard a bit of shuffling, and then footsteps padding down the corridor. Derek heard a door shut, and assumed Stiles had just gone to use the bathroom, something further proven when he heard his pipes go off as the toilet flushed and the sink turned on. 

Stiles didn’t take very long, the door opening again relatively quickly and footsteps padding down the stairs. When he came into view, he was wearing his jeans and shirt from the night before, but it was obvious he wasn’t going anywhere. He just hadn’t wanted to walk down the stairs naked. 

Stiles was rubbing furiously at his eyes before squinting at Derek, who couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him. 

“Do you need to take your contacts out?” 

“Probably,” Stiles muttered, still squinting. “Or at least like, put in eye drops or something.” 

Derek put his bowl on the counter and motioned for Stiles to head back upstairs. He led him to the bathroom where he had to hunt around under his sink for another contact lens case and then motioned the eye solution. 

“Do you want more comfortable clothes?” Derek almost asked if he was heading out instead, but didn’t want to imply he wanted him gone. 

“Sweats would be amazing,” Stiles confirmed as he filled the two slots with solution. 

Derek just nodded and went to grab him some clothes while Stiles got his contacts out. He returned and held them out, Stiles grabbing them with a nod of thanks and shutting the bathroom door. Derek was sure he was just going to change and not shower, though he did call out that there was a spare toothbrush under the sink if he needed it. 

When he got back to the kitchen, he dumped out the rest of his cereal, because it had gone all gross and soggy, and he figured he’d make something a bit better for breakfast if Stiles was eating there. 

It didn’t take long for him to come down the stairs, and he gave Derek an unimpressed look while motioning the shirt he was wearing. 

“Haha,” he said sarcastically. 

Derek just smirked, because it was one of Stiles’ own shirts, AllAboutMischief emblazoned across the front. 

“Just making sure you remember who you are if you’re suddenly hit with a bout of amnesia,” he insisted.

Stiles flipped him off, looking around and squinting slightly. Derek didn’t know how bad his eyesight was, but obviously not so terrible he couldn’t see anything. He’d probably put his contacts back in before long to avoid straining his eyes, though. Derek felt bad about that, despite it not being his fault at all. 

At least they both seemed to be able to see relatively well without their contacts or glasses. Laura was blind as a bat when she took her contacts out, no way she’d be wandering around Derek’s house without glasses on. 

When Stiles began rubbing at his eyes like a tired toddler—which was adorable—Derek realized he was staring again, so he motioned the bar stools on the other side of the kitchen counter. “You want some eggs?”

“Eggs would be amazing,” Stiles agreed, moving to one of the stools at the island and sliding onto it with a tired groan. 

Derek was honestly glad they were both acting so normal, considering he still couldn’t believe last night was real. 

Grabbing eggs and toast, he got to work starting on breakfast, managing to find some frozen hashbrowns at the back of his freezer, as well as some bacon. Breakfast fit for kings.

Or celebrities, same difference. 

“So people not like letting you sleep?” Stiles asked while Derek moved butter around in the pan he had on the stove, warming it before cracking an egg into it. 

“Cora never lets anyone sleep because she doesn’t sleep. The call was my boss though, he was just wondering where I was since I didn’t show up for work.” 

Stiles’ tired expression looked alert in an instant and his mouth dropped open. 

“Oh shit! Oh my God! I didn’t even—it’s a weekday! You have work! Shit, I’m so stupid! Do I need to go?” He was already on his feet. “I can go. I can grab my stuff and—”

“No,” Derek insisted, turning to him and pointing the spatula he held out towards him. “No, you’re not leaving. I told him I was taking a personal day. He told me to take tomorrow too, since I still have a lot of time off left.” 

“Oh.” Stiles looked relieved. “Still, sorry. I didn’t—I should’ve realized it was a work night for you. That was my bad.” 

“You really think I’m going to complain about what happened last night?” Derek arched an eyebrow at him, turning back to the stove so he could keep an eye on the eggs. “Pretty sure I bullied you into coming home with me.” 

“Not how I remember it, but sure.” Stiles grinned, crossing his arms on the counter and leaning forward. “It was fun.” 

“Yeah,” Derek agreed, then hesitated for a second. “Was that... all it was though?” 

Stiles frowned. “What do you mean.” 

“Last night. Was it just fun, or was it...” Derek winced, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. He wasn’t really good at this sort of thing, and he didn’t know how to ask something that sounded so juvenile. 

“Are you serious?” Stiles asked slowly. “Derek, I wrote a song for you. I don’t think I could’ve been any clearer with what I was hoping would happen.” 

Derek broke the yolk in one of the eggs so he could flip it over, not looking at Stiles while he took in what he’d just said. What it implied. 

“You live in Vegas,” he finally settled on. 

“I can live anywhere,” Stiles argued. “I like living in Vegas because nobody notices me there. Or cares. It’s crazy how blind people are when compared to LA, I never get bothered. But I mean, I’d probably never get bothered here, either.” Stiles shrugged. “I’m sticking around for a while, so how about before we both start thinking about all the ways this won’t work, we actually, you know, try.” 

That was fair. Derek supposed he was just automatically thinking this was going to fail because, well, this was Stiles. AllAboutMischief. Derek was just a YouTuber who’d posted a video about him as a hobby from a desk job. Comparatively, they were completely different. 

“I’m willing to try,” he admitted, flipping his egg back over. He hadn’t actually asked Stiles what kind of eggs he liked, but he also hadn’t planned this well timing-wise since the oven was still pre-heating and he hadn’t even gotten started on the toast. 

Oh well. 

“Me too.” Stiles beamed at him. “So how about, for now, we just try, and go from there.” 

Derek nodded, turning to offer Stiles a small smile. “Sure. Sounds good to me, Batman.” 

Stiles looked startled for a second, and then let out a laugh, rolling his eyes dramatically. “Whatever, Superman.” 

Derek shrugged. “You’re the one who gave me that moniker, now you get to deal with it.” 

“I think I can live with that.” 

Man, Derek sure hoped so. Because he wanted Stiles to live with a lot when it came to him. 

“So, don’t freak out, but we’re trending.” 

Derek arched an eyebrow on his way out of the downstairs bathroom, wiping his wet hands on his jeans while walking towards Stiles, who was camped out on his couch. 

He’d gone home after a full day of hanging out together on Thursday, and had met up with Derek after work on Friday for another sleepover. There was less touching and more talking on Friday night, but Derek attributed that to them being a little bit less desperate for each other this time around. It had been a good night though, and Derek kind of loved that Stiles curled into a little ball against his side. He was comfortable to sleep with, honestly, and he loved it. 

He was worried about how much time Stiles was spending with him as opposed to his father, but apparently the man was working a lot right now, and Boyd and Erica were busy visiting friends and family, so Stiles had nothing but free time to hang out with Derek.

Not that either of them was complaining. 

“What do you mean we’re trending?” Derek asked, moving to sit on the couch beside him and leaning into his side a bit so he could see Stiles’ phone. 

The number of apps he had on that thing gave Derek anxiety, but it was Stiles’ phone and he could do what he wanted. 

Stiles tilted the phone more in Derek’s direction, and he saw that it was open on Twitter. Just as Stiles had said, their ship name of MischiefLover was indeed trending, alongside the hashtag ‘True Love Online.’ Derek honestly didn’t understand how news had spread so fast, because while Erica and Cora were nosy as all hell, they were both also considerate people who knew how private this was for the two of them. 

Kira and Laura certainly wouldn’t have said anything, nor would Boyd, and for either of their parents to have spilled the beans made absolutely no sense. So how did the internet always know everything basically the second it happened?

“That was fast,” Derek commented. 

“Yeah, Erica says it’s because of the song.” Stiles smirked at him. “A few people recorded it and posted it online, which is fine. I told them they could, so it’s not a big deal. But apparently I was too obvious with who I was talking about.” 

“Was it the Pringles, or the pie?” Derek asked dryly, Stiles grinning even more. After all, he’d written two short songs about pizza Pringles, and then one about strawberry-rhubarb pie, so really, people were well aware Stiles had a problem with Derek’s life choices. Especially when it came to Pringles and pie. 

Mostly pie, if the song was anything to go by.

“What can I say? I’m not subtle,” Stiles insisted, waggling his eyebrows. “Though speaking of not subtle, Erica’s mad she can’t post any pictures of us together on social media.”

“Why not?” 

Stiles gave him a look, then motioned his neck. 

Yeah, Derek wasn’t mad about that at all. And apparently, neither was Stiles. He didn’t care if people saw him wandering around town with hickeys littering his pale skin, he actually thought it was funny. Apparently his dad had sighed when Stiles had showed up at his workplace to pick him up for lunch without even bothering to try to hide them. 

Stiles didn’t see the point in hiding them, and considering the fact they were trending, he was even less likely to bother trying to hide them. 

“What are you going to do?” Derek asked curiously. 

“Do?” Stiles repeated, eyes still on his phone as he continued to scroll. 

“About the rumours. Are you going to say anything about them, or just leave them be?” Derek didn’t mind either way, he was mostly just curious. They’d only really formally talked about trying to be a thing two days ago, so he wouldn’t blame Stiles for wanting to keep this to himself until he was sure it was what he wanted. 

People speculated about stuff online all the time, that didn’t make it true, or even worth commenting on. Stiles just wasn’t really one to let things drop, and Derek knew that first-hand seeing as that was how he ended up becoming friends with him.

And then a little bit more. 

Stiles was quiet for a long while, still scrolling through his phone, and then eventually closed out of Twitter. Derek arched an eyebrow at him, but Stiles just grinned and opened his camera function, holding his phone up. 

“What are we doing?” 

“Taking a picture,” Stiles informed him. “Smile!” 

Derek just gave him an unimpressed look, but that didn’t seem to deter Stiles, who leaned in to kiss his cheek loudly. Derek heard the camera shutter click, still finding it weird that iPhones had that sound built into them. 

Stiles pulled away from him and brought the phone closer to himself, inspecting the picture and laughing. 

“How do you make resting bitch face look hot? Look at this hot face.” Stiles turned the phone to show him the picture. “Look at it! Such a hot little resting bitch face.” 

“Glad you approve.” 

Stiles winked saucily at him and leaned heavily into his side, phone angled towards Derek so that he could see what he was doing. It wasn’t until he realized exactly what Stiles was doing that he clued in to, well, what he was doing. 

Which was silently asking Derek for permission. If he didn’t want this to go public, Stiles wouldn’t post it. But if he didn’t care, then Stiles was going to do as he pleased. 

He said nothing, watching as Stiles uploaded the photo, wrote out a tweet, re-read it a few times, giving Derek ample time to ask him not to do it, and then posted it. 

“If you’re not careful, I’ll legitimately go eat a whole can of Pringles.” Derek paused, thinking. “Maybe I’ll even sit on you while doing it so you have no escape.” 

“I’d bite you.” 

“Maybe I’d like that,” Derek teased, and Stiles laughed, closing out of Twitter and letting his phone drop into his lap. 

Tilting his head back, Stiles’ Cheshire-like smile slowly dissolved into something a bit softer, more honest. He angled his face a bit until he could press his lips to Derek’s, kissing him softly. Derek kissed him back, then shifted to kiss his forehead, pressing his cheek against the other man’s head. 

“Your PR must hate you,” he finally said. 

“Nah, they love me, I’m a treasure.” Stiles insisted. “But yeah, they get a lot of forehead bruises from all the headdesking.” 

“You seem like a handful.” 

“That a problem?” 

“No, I’ve got pretty big hands.” 

“Yeah you do,” Stiles said with an almost maniacal cackle. “Big hands indeed.” 

“Yours aren’t exactly small either.” 

“Guess we both got lucky.” Stiles waggled his eyebrows at him and Derek laughed. 

“Yeah. I guess we did. We did get lucky.” 

Derek didn’t know about Stiles, but he wasn’t talking about big hands anymore. 

Something told him, based on the soft smile on Stiles’ own face, that he wasn’t talking about big hands anymore either. 

And I’ll be your Batman if you promise to be my Superman, Derek sang in his head, then bent down to kiss Stiles again. 

TBC...

Chapter Text

Two Years Later

“No, no, I’m not saying that it was a bad concert by any means,” Derek insisted, eyes on the chat as the words flew by quickly, not wanting to miss anything. “I’m just saying that it was a bit too much. There was too much going on, so it was hard to figure out what to pay attention to. The music was amazing, and the overall theme of the concert was great, I just think there was too much going on.” 

He watched his chat as it went by, seeing a few people agreeing, and others asking more questions. One person asked what was going on and who he was talking about, but another user answered before he could so he just kept looking at the opinions flying around. 

“I think having too much going on detracts from the overall concert itself, you know? I didn’t go for the flashy show or the crazy dancing, I went for the music. And there were way too many feather boas, like—way too many.” 

Derek read the chat as quickly as he could, hoping they could move on from this conversation sooner rather than later, and almost hit the ceiling when arms wrapped around him from behind and he felt teeth at his ear, tugging at the shell. 

“F–rick!” Derek just barely managed not to swear, since he didn’t want his stream to get demonetized once it posted, and reached back with one hand to smack at the intruder. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” 

“Why not?” Stiles asked, kissing along the shell of his ear now and down towards his neck. 

“I’m streaming,” Derek insisted, shifting to shove one hand into Stiles’ face to get him to back off, even as his chat just sent through tons of ‘LOL’s and a few greetings to Stiles. He’d become such a recurring presence on Derek’s streams that his chat didn’t freak out anymore. He was just like any other streamer’s significant other now, he just happened to be a celebrity, was all. 

But Stiles never came by to hog the spotlight. He usually only came to bug him when he was feeling lonely or ignored, generally after a long day of something or another where he wanted to end it snuggled up on the couch with Derek. 

“I noticed,” Stiles informed him, licking a stripe up Derek’s palm. That didn’t deter him, Derek had Stiles’ spit in many places so why he thought having it on his hand would bother him, he didn’t know. 

“Go make yourself useful and heat up dinner.” 

“What if I want something else for dinner?” Stiles managed to shift his face out from against Derek’s hand, mostly by moving to the other side of Derek’s head and blowing in his ear. “What if you’re the only thing I want to eat tonight?” 

Derek looked straight into his camera. “You see this?” He motioned over his shoulder. “You see what I have to put up with? Unbelievable.” 

“Chat understands,” Stiles argued, wrapping his arms more comfortably around Derek and resting his chin on his left shoulder. “Right chat? Who else would eat this man head to toe if they could?” 

The number of ‘me!’ and ‘I would!’ that entered his chat were quite alarming. 

“Okay, and on that note, we’re gonna pick this up again once my leech of a boyfriend isn’t around to bother us.” Derek leaned forward so he could grab his mouse. “See you guys tomorrow, and have a good day or night wherever you are in the world!” 

“Bye!” Stiles said, arms still around Derek but lifting both hands to wave until Derek turned off the stream. He made sure his camera was covered, just in case of any mishaps, then angled his head back and to the side, arching an eyebrow at Stiles.

His boyfriend grinned down at him. “Hi.” 

“You’re a menace.” 

“You love me.” Stiles kissed him before pulling away. 

Well, he wasn’t wrong. 

Derek got to his feet, stretching and turning to follow after Stiles, almost tripping on a stray guitar he’d just left lying right in the middle of the corridor. Unfortunately, this was a common occurrence with Stiles, because he sometimes got inspired at inopportune times and just sat down in the middle of nowhere and started playing or writing. 

To be fair, Stiles had very kindly given up his office so Derek could turn it into his recording studio. They shared the second guest room for various things related to their jobs, effectively making the sheriff’s guest room a general guest room, but Stiles still mostly just hung out in the sunlit hallway where his instruments were set up when he sat down to actually focus on writing. He didn’t seem to mind, especially since he could go and bother Derek whenever he wanted in the other room. 

“You start packing yet?” he called, Stiles already across the house and in the kitchen. 

“Nah, I’m more of a last minute kind of packer.” 

“The last time you ‘last minute’ packed, we almost missed our flight.” 

“And that would’ve meant driving back to Beacon Hills, which we both know is the safer way to go,” Stiles argued, Derek entering the kitchen. 

“More people die in car crashes every day than they do on planes,” Derek argued, kissing at Stiles’ temple on his way past him to the fridge to see what leftovers they had. They were trying not to buy anything seeing as they were heading back to Beacon Hills in two days. No point in loading their fridge up with food that would go bad. 

Derek still couldn’t believe this was his life sometimes. It had been a really tough decision for him, but in the end, it was one that had paid off and he didn’t regret it for a second. 

He and Stiles had been dating long-distance for almost three months before the distance got too hard, mostly for Stiles. He was a very physical person in all ways, including general hugs and cuddling and any other number of comforting things. It was hard to argue they had chemistry, and harder still to ignore their attraction to one another, and while Derek was worried about dropping his entire life for Stiles, he also knew this was something he didn’t want to give up. 

After discussing it at length with his family and Kira, and then eventually Stiles, they came to a good compromise that worked for everyone and allowed them to spend time together like they both so obviously wanted. 

They spent half the year at Stiles’ place in Las Vegas—which was basically half Derek’s place now—and the other half of the year at Derek’s place in Beacon Hills—which, similarly, was basically half Stiles’ place now. Derek had quit his office job, which had been terrifying, but that meant he had a ton more time for YouTube, and with Erica as an editor, and the ability to stream more frequently, he was making more than he had before with his office job and YouTube combined. 

When Stiles went on tour, Derek went with him, and they deducted those months of touring from the general half-and-half agreement between Las Vegas and Beacon Hills—so if Stiles was touring for four months, they split their time to four months on the road, four months in Vegas, and four months in Beacon Hills to keep things fair. 

Derek had been posting a lot of videos during his first tour with Stiles, and had basically created a playlist on his channel that was dedicated solely to the behind the scenes of AllAboutMischief while on tour. It had done really well, and while Stiles still couldn’t sleep on the bus, Derek at least managed to get him to lie down and rest, even if he wasn’t actually passing out. 

And was also very careful about not letting Stiles overdo it while onstage, and could happily report that Stiles hadn’t fainted from exhaustion once the whole time he’d been on tour with him. 

Overall, it was a complete upheaval of his entire life, but in a good way. People always said he could live off YouTube, and he was finding out that he could. Of course, he also had Stiles, but he was honestly more of a buffer in case something went wrong, not his sugar daddy. 

Derek was completely financially independent, as was Stiles, and while they lived very different lives, they complemented each other well and were both extremely happy with how things had turned out for them. 

They were about to head back to Beacon Hills for their stint back in California, and while Derek knew Stiles was already getting anxiety over the flight that was still a few days away, he could tell he was excited, too.

To see his dad, to see some of his friends, to see Cora. 

Stiles and Cora had really hit it off, Derek hated it. She was going to be an absolute pain at his wedding, he could feel it now. 

Not that they’d talked about that yet, but everyone kept saying they were heading in that direction, and Derek himself never reacted badly to the news, nor did Stiles. It was the next, inevitable step of their relationship, and he wasn’t going to complain about having Stiles be his for the rest of time. 

“Hey, spring rolls.” 

Derek turned in time to reach up and snatch the bag tossed his way, arching an eyebrow at Stiles when he grinned at him. 

“Nice catch, Superman.” 

“Mm hm, these are mine now,” Derek informed him, opening the bag and eating one of the spring rolls cold. Stiles let out a distressed sound, hurrying towards him and trying to grab for the bag, but Derek held it out of reach. They were almost the same height, but Derek was just that bit taller than him, which meant he could withhold spring rolls quite easily. 

“I hate you,” Stiles informed him. 

“You love me,” Derek insisted, kissing him lightly on pouty lips before handing over the bag of cold spring rolls. “Warm those up with your glowing charm.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes, kissed him back, and took the offered bag. Derek smiled, watching him turn towards the microwave behind them, not even having questioned for a second why Derek was making him put them in to heat up when he was also right in front of the appliance. Stiles was just funny that way. 

And Derek loved him. 

He loved absolutely everything about this man. 

The Batman to his Superman. 

Even if he still couldn’t appreciate the delicious taste of pizza Pringles. 

Art by Piratetattoos

END