hedwig_dordt: several color pencils (Default)
[personal profile] hedwig_dordt
Fandom: Teen Wolf
Pairing: Derek Hale & Scott McCall
Background: pre Derek Hale/Braeden, pre Scott McCall/Stiles Stilinski
Word Count: 1046

The one where Derek ships Ichabbie

Stiles doesn’t watch police procedurals on principle, Lydia and Kira only care for period drama if there’s ballgowns and romance, Erica and Boyd declare that supernatural stuff on tv just annoys them these days, Malia doesn’t really get tv shows yet. Which makes the Sleepy Hollow marathon something that Derek and Scott do together with the two of them. They’ve planned it so that they can watch the first season finale on Sunday afternoon and Scott can still make it to family dinner afterwards.


“I can’t believe they did that!” Derek yells at the innocent laptop screen. “Can you believe that?” Scott shrugs. “They had a perfectly good badass woman carrying the show and they swap her for the white girl.”

“You’re just grumpy Ichabod and Katrina are back together.” Derek takes a deep breath, clearly about to go on another rant. “It’s okay, I get it,” Scott says. “It feels personal to you. You are clearly Ichabod, and the parallels between Abbie and Braeden are so screamingly obvious it seems almost on purpose.” Derek deflates, not entirely sure what to make of Scott’s observation. “And look at Braeden: a beautiful woman, a competent one at that, clearly not in need of being rescued by you. If anything, it was the reverse.”

“Though I’m not exactly a revolutionary soldier.”

Scott looks at him flatly. “Well excuse me, but I brought my laptop so we could watch this show.”

“You like the show,” Derek says gruffly.

“Every now and again it’s relaxing to have other people deal with the demons for a change,” Scott grins. “Given our lives, this stuff feels like a documentary sometimes. Demons, possession, creepies from other timezones: been there, done that.”

“Got the video,” Derek reflexively supplies.

“Anyway, I’m just saying, you seem a man out of time some days.”

“Just because I like books…” Derek starts.

“Books are fine. It’s very much your thing and that’s fine. You are just very picky about which part of modern life you accept.” Derek looks like he wants to argue the statement, but Scott continues. “Which is a good thing. I mean, I like Call of Duty as much as the next guy, but it’s not for everyone. Possibly nothing is for everything. I’m just saying, you clearly identify with Ichabod. Which is fine, he’s a white guy, he was made for you to identify with.”

“I just can’t believe they relegated Abbie to Purgatory to release Katrina in her stead.”

“Sacrificing a black woman to release a white one, unheard of,” Scott says sarcastically. Derek crosses his arms and looks at Scott defensively. “What? You know I’m right. Anyway, all I’m saying is, if you and Braeden ever start dating for real, you have your coordinated Halloween costumes sorted.”

“I don’t think she feels about Ichabod that way.”

“Boy, do you ever need a tumblr account. We need more romance for black women that doesn’t bring them down. Their chemistry is amazing, he treats her right - or at least he tries. You treat Braeden like a person, which is important. Like someone to cherish. Ichabod does that to Abbie too. It’s the trust between them, how they rely on each other that makes the show run.” Scott is relieved to see Derek’s hands unclench. “And I think there’s parallels between you and Braeden there too. You trusted her to help you protect yourself. You had sex with her, perhaps a little sooner than you wanted to?” Scott looks at Derek expectantly to see how he’ll respond.

“It’s something I could do for her.” Derek says softly. “Give her pleasure.”

Scotts looks softens: “You have no idea how relieved I am to hear that you can still associate sex with pleasure. But you withdrew a bit after that, I guess? Since she’s not around anymore?”

“I told her to go on without me.”

“And she did?”

“She did.”

“Do you miss her?”

Derek goes quiet again, weighing his words with extra care. “I think we missed our window,” he eventually says. “She moved on. It’s fine.”

“And when she comes back?”

If she comes back, I’ll deal with it. We’re fine. We didn’t have a dramatic break-up or anything. She’s not even really an ex.”

“So you’re mourning a lost opportunity?”

“I guess?” Derek exhales slowly. “It’s fine though.”

“It doesn’t have to end like this, though,” Scott says, the eternal optimist. “Abbie might not stay in Purgatory forever and you might get a second shot with Braeden. I do think we’re not watching the final season of Sleepy Hollow though. If this annoyed you, then that ending will really piss you off.”

Derek grins slyly: “Oh I know it will. I read the reviews online.”

“You what?” Scott grabs a pillow from the couch and whacks Derek with it. “You cheated! You checked the spoilers!”

Derek ducks, and dramatically rolls off the couch, grabbing a pillow. He throws it at Scott, who dodges it with ease. “Of course I checked the ending,” Derek throws another pillow, “I am very careful which parts of modernity I embrace.”

Scott laughs while accepting the hit: “Should have seen that one coming.” Derek hides behind the couch, clearly waiting for another throw, but Scott just plumps it up and puts it back in its place. “You can come out now,” he says, “I declare spoiler checking amnesty. Alpha’s privilege.”

Derek gets up, pulling his shirt straight, “I’m not sure that’s how alpha privileges work.”

“I’m sure it’s in the by-laws somewhere. If not, I’m just going to ex cathedra it. I’m a true alpha, you have no idea what I can do.”

“You have no idea what you can do.”

“True. Which is where you come in, as the resident pack historian. And if we’re lucky, you’ll bring us another human badass investigator.”

“We already have one, I thought?”

“Stiles? Sure. But really, we can’t have too many in this place.”

Derek sits back down next to Scott. “If I ask out Braeden if she comes back, you know, properly. Will you ask out Stiles properly?”

Scott freezes: “what do you mean?”

“Well, if I’m ‘clearly’ still hung up on Braeden, then you’re clearly hung up on Stiles. So: I do my bit, you do yours. Deal?”

“Deal.”


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