a little birdy told me in french (sterek)
daunt replied to your post: “where allison, derek, and lydia all have conversations in french like…”:
I love your brain
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“Talk to me like one of your French girls,” Stiles sighs, falling dramatically across Derek on the couch. Shifting under the added weight, Derek spares Stiles a skeptical glance, then returns his attention to his book with a snort.
It takes all of two minutes before the prickly sensation of Stiles glaring at him is enough to make him look down at the kid in his lap.
“Can I help you?” he asks. Stiles wiggles around a bit, frowning.
“You think Scott and I haven’t noticed, but we totally have,” Stiles accuses, going limp and sliding to the floor by Derek’s feet, expression pitiful. “You know, you can admit it: Ever since Lydia found out you can speak all kinds of languages - like some kind of werewolf wizard of tongues - she’s made you a part of her little ‘Better Than You’ club with Allison, and now you think you’re just too cool for us.” He flicks at Derek’s toes, tries to remain mournful even in the face of Derek’s fluffy blue socks. “Whatever, we get it. Tossed out in the cold because we took Spanish instead of French.”
Derek kicks his foot at Stiles, feeling his limb twitch involuntarily as the pads of Stiles’ fingers dip inside his sock to caress his ankle. They’re warm from the fireplace and rough from the callouses and Derek remains silent as Stiles slips the sock off entirely to drag a nail along his arch.