S͟T͟E͟R͟E͟K͟ I͟M͟A͟G͟I͟N͟E͟S͟

Inspired

Before the fire, drawing had been Derek's thing.

For hours, he'd sit in the forest and draw. He'd draw the trees, animals, anything that inspired him. His room had been covered with his creations, one wall in particular had no square inch bare.

When he'd first met Kate, she was all he drew for weeks. Give her his drawings in an attempt to impress her. He remembers preening over her pleased smile when he gave her the first one.

Once he had her attention, she pushed him to do more. Kate teased him, said she wanted a picture like in that stupid Titanic movie. He'd blushed, never having seen a naked woman in the flesh before.

She took his virginity that night, and burned down his house the next.

After that, nothing inspired Derek.

He tried, but all that came out were angry black lines and swirls. Kate's face, distorted but with a clear smirk as smoke clouded around her.

But here, years later, sitting with the pack, Derek was inspired.

Stiles sat across the room from him with his head thrown back in laugher.

He was beautiful.

The curve of his neck, blue veins standing out against his pale skin. The litter of moles Derek loved made a trail of uneven steps down Stiles' body until they disappeared under the boys shirt. Stiles had one arm propped up on the couch, the muscles in his biceps bulging. His mouth.

Stiles was a work of art and Derek's hands were twitching to get his scrapbook.

Hours after the pack had left, Derek had located his scrapbook and was drawing. He drew all night long, until he fell asleep in the early hours of the morning, drawings of Stiles all around him.

By; stonerskittles