entertainme720 asked you:

Lord I want to ask for too many things, but: there was a trend a while ago where everyone was writing “Derek has a good day” fics. I’d love your version of what a great day would be for Stiles. (With some Sterek makeouts, perhaps? And domestic fluff/future fic/present fic is fine, I’ll take whatever!)

His bike is a beater, a salvaged wreck he pieced together with the help of one of the Berkeley collectives. It’s not nearly as nice as the sleek featherlight mountain bikes Isaac and Boyd keep hanging from hooks in their apartment’s lobby, or Allison’s sturdier all-terrain version but it’s Stiles’, something he made himself with his own two hands. He likes to pull it out on weekends to inspect and tune it, reacquaint himself with all of the little vulnerable moving pieces.

It’s been a rainy spring, too damp to ride except on paved paths, which are always choked with slow-moving families and meandering geriatrics. The first week in June it finally stays clear for six days running, and when the seventh, a Saturday, dawns bright and lovely, Stiles drags himself out of Derek’s warm bed to put his hard work to good use. 

"What," Derek mumbles, sleepy, reaching into the empty space Stiles leaves in the sheets. 

"Gonna go for a ride," Stiles says, sinking down long enough to press a quick, chaste kiss to the corner of Derek’s mouth. 

"Sure, sure." Derek’s grip tightens on Stiles’ wrist, tugging him closer.

"A bike ride, Derek.”

"Yeah but." They’ve been together long enough that Derek knows how to play this: he stretches and squirms, sits up so that the sheets slide down his torso. His hair is sleep-mussed and there are pillow lines on his cheek and he looks— soft, and vulnerable and familiar. "You could also stay here."

"You make a compelling argument. And yet."

To his credit, Derek only pouts a little bit. “Give me a minute to shower, I’ll come with you?”

"This must be that compromise thing people are always talking about," Stiles says, keeping his smirk to a minimum, in deference to Derek’s self-restraint. "I’ll put coffee on."

The bike ride is sublime, and the sweaty sex they have after is perfect, and Stiles has always preferred fucking after they’ve both brushed their teeth anyway, so it all works out, pretty much.

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