FBI (For Basic Idiots) [FemStiles&Derek]

The Blonde Wh*re Who Must Never Be Named

“Excuuuse me?” Stiles is flabbergasted as she stares back across the table, because she simply cannot believe what she’s just been told.

Derek blinks, expression half blank, half confused. “What?”

He asks so innocently that Stiles almost feels bad for the amount she’s about to absolutely mercilessly tease his “old” (old and still sexy) ass. “What’d you mean ‘what?’?!” She sputters out a scoff, is grinning, but also narrowing her eyes in suspicion as she carefully tells him, “Say it again.”

Derek knows she’s trying to catch him out of a lie, fights an amused smirk and quickly replaces it with a more confused looking expression. However, he does as he’s told – and that’s a whole other new kink he doesn’t have time to address right now. “What is Netflix?”

Stiles sputters, seems to glitch for a moment before breaking out into the cutest giggle (that Derek has to fight even harder not to smile at.) “Oh, my God. No. Uh-uh. Nope. This is too much.” She shakes her head in defiance, tells him, “I refuse to believe you right now, sir.”

And how Derek’s brain and cock also take a deep interest in her calling him “sir” is even possible on top of his other now new and very specific kink is beyond both his knowledge and control.

Oh, his mother would be so proud of him...

“Is it like a sex thing?” Derek asks, and how he keeps a straight face is also beyond his knowledge.

Stiles chuckles at that, thinks he’s joking until she watches his expression stay the same. “Even my old man knows what Netflix is!”

A small smirk finally cracks Derek’s lips over watching those flustered pink cheeks and those crazy wide and annoyed amber orbs. “Of course I know what Netflix is.”

Stiles pauses, mouth dropping slightly, because she doesn’t know if she’s annoyed or amused. OK, both, because he’s definitely really cute when he’s trying to mess with her – when he’s being goddamn playful with her. She may just have a heart attack at any moment now.

Her eyes narrow as she tells him, “OK, you lie like a psychopath, and it’s very disconcerting.”

Derek chuckles, though, is shooting her a pointed look before he “bites” back with, “I could say the same about you being able to lie to werewolves before you even learned how to do any magic.”

Stiles scoffs at that. “Besides Scott, who’s an idiot – God, love his soul – which wolf have I ever successfully lied to?”

Derek loosely folds his arms over his chest – absolutely enjoys the fact that her gaze momentarily flickers down to his bare forearms (long sleeved Henley rolled up to his elbows for precisely this reason) – and is snooty as he tells her, “Peter told me the first time he ever offered you the bite, you told him you didn’t want it.”

Stiles scowls. “That asshole told me he knew I was lying.”

Derek chuckles, nods. “Yeah, that’s an old trick of his. Assume everyone is lying, all the time, and see who flushes themselves out of the woodworks. You’d be surprised how often it works.” He joins her in scowling as he remembers, “Used to work on me a lot as kid.”

Stiles smiles at his adorable scowl, nods as she tells him, “Yeah, they use that technique for interrogations. Though, it only works on the ones that actually feel any remorse.”

Derek smiles, a real smile, but is still sheepish as he says, “I know it’s a cliché question for being on a date, but... do you enjoy your job?”

And while he’s genuinely interested – what is he supposed to say if she actually says no? He’s ridiculous in thinking he could ever get her to come back home – let alone just for him.