[Sterek] Sink Us to Swim (boyxboy) (complete)

Part 39

The rest of the shopping goes surprisingly smoothly. Stiles had tried shopping with Scott before, but he was too slow for her, and always took forever to decide between red and blue Doritos even though there is only one true flavor and it's obviously Cool Ranch.

Derek is fast though, or – not fast, exactly, but he knows exactly what he's looking for and just moves through each aisle with purpose. They're in and out and have dropped the groceries back at the house all within an hour before heading back out to her house.

Some of the mail has built up, poking out of the box, and Stiles shoves it all under her arm before pushing inside. They've only been away for a few days, but the house definitely feels different somehow. She tosses the mail down on the kitchen table to sort out the bills from the junk while Derek hovers awkwardly in the doorway.

"Grab a drink or something, you're making me nervous," Stiles says, waving him towards the fridge. He opens the door and makes a face, quickly closing it again.

"Where do you keep your garbage bags?" he asks, opening the cupboard under the sink before she can answer.

"Right there. Why?"

He shakes open a bag before opening the fridge again. "Your milk is expired," he explains. "Among other things."

Stiles watches him for a minute, bent over and rooting through her fridge and examining a tub of sour cream. Now that he's got something to do, Derek looks surprisingly comfortable, almost as if he's forgotten this isn't his house. She shrugs and leaves him to it. "Knock yourself out."

"You could probably tell people you're staying with us because of the smell," he jokes.

"Yeah, yeah," Stiles replies. "Laugh it up. It's more likely that he doesn't want me to be alone with the whole 'mountain lion' loose in the town thing," she adds, complete with air quotes. Derek actually looks away from the fridge, eyebrow raised.

"That's good, actually," he says. "Laura and your dad have to work more, and they'd both probably prefer that." He pauses to fire off a text, presumably to Laura before continuing to empty out her fridge.

By the time she's finished with the mail, Derek has moved on to her freezer, making increasingly aggravated sounds and chucking frozen mystery meat into the bag. Figuring it's probably safest to leave him to it, she heads upstairs.

The room Laura gave her is nice, but clearly a guest room. It doesn't have the pile of dirty socks at the end of the bed from when her feet get too hot about an hour after she gets home. There's half a glass of water sitting stagnant on her dresser, so she dumps it in the bathroom sink.

All week she's thought about the things in her room that she missed, but looking around there's not really anything she can take with her. There's no reason to grab her surfboard from the corner, and she already has her laptop, her meds, a bunch of clothes. And there are some things she definitely wouldn't want to bring into a house full of werewolves.

Instead she winds up shoving more socks and underwear and a few more shirts and jeans into her bag. She's just thinking about turning on a lamp and rooting around under her bed for another hoodie when her cell phone goes off.

"Yo," she answers it, bending down to stick her head under the bed anyway.

"Stiles?" It's Lydia, and she sounds awful, almost afraid. "I need your help."