I am weak and I wrote more “past!Sciles, jealous Dere/Isaac” fic :D
Inspired by tonight’s episode where Derek punches Stiles’ hand haha. Basically, a kind of what-if scene revolving around the possibility of Derek hitting too hard.
~*~*~*~*~*
“I can’t believe you broke three of my fingers,” Stiles says hysterically for the fourth time that night. “Three. Of my. Fingers.”
“I said I was sorry,” Derek mutters, and the thing is, he sounds it. In fact, it’ll be a long while before Stiles forgets the face of absolute horror Derek made when Stiles had cried out in pain.
It almost makes him feel guilty for making Derek feel worse, but still. Three broken fingers.
tagged: #love square fic #teen wolf #derekstiles #sciles #scisaac #Thebatwiggler is not a writer
~*~*~*~*~*
“Stiles.” Nadia steps forward, boot heels clicking loudly on the cement floor. “Meet Tom and Kalinda. They’ve been hunting that particular werewolf for a while, now.”
“Yeah, whatever,” he mutters, dusting off his pants and dragging himself up slowly. His head is killing him, but it’s not bleeding excessively, so he figures he’ll be fine. He glances to the side and- Yeah. He’d rather have a headache and a few stitches than a snapped neck any day of the week. Speaking of which, Stiles holds his hand out and says, “My gun, please.”
Kalinda (foreign, that’s for sure, but Stiles can’t seem to figure out where from) inclines her head and hands the weapon over, barrel facing down. “Thanks.”
Nadia inches closer, deceptively delicate hand poking his head. “We should get that checked out.”
Stiles shrugs with a wince. “Might as well,” he says.
Continuation of this.
Summary: In which Stiles and Scott have a history. Derek and Isaac are not happy.
~*~*~*~*~*
“This is so boring.”
Lydia only hums in absent agreement, her focus more centered on her chemistry homework than on Stiles’ complaints. Completely used to it, Stiles only continues.
“Why do we even have to be here?” he exclaims, kicking his feet up on the porch rail as he stares at the group of sweaty teens on the lawn. “I mean, all we do is stare at the werewolves as they trounce around doing their so-called training.” Stiles rolls his eyes, lowering himself even further into his uncomfortable lawn chair.
“So have you reconsidered?”
Stiles jumps, so startled he splashes coffee over his clean white shirt. “Godda- You werewolves really need to work on making noise, you know?” He mutters irritably. “Ugh, that was hot, too.”
Peter only shrugs and smirks. Stiles rolls his eyes.
“I said-“
“Yeah, I know what you said,” Stiles cuts him off. They’d had the same conversation just yesterday, and frankly, Stiles was too tired to hash it over again. He didn’t particularly want to explain, point for point, why he didn’t want the bite (that was twenty minutes he just did not have). Besides, he had mothereffing trolls to worry about at the moment.
“And?” Peter implored, trailing a finger over Stiles’ wrist on the keyboard. Stiles subtly rolls his eyes, the intimidation a little too useless given the fact that the Argents, Scott, and Derek’s pack are all present and more than willing to rip Peter’s throat out at any sign of a threat.
Peter leans down a bit, his breath ghosting over Stiles’ shoulders as he tries to concentrate valiantly on the laptop. “I could make it worth your while,” he breathes out, a lone finger elongating into a claw as he traces it up his arm.
“I highly doubt that,” Sties answers blandly. Peter had tried the almost exact thing on Monday, too, cornering him at the local Starbucks before propositioning him. Stiles almost laughs- he hadn’t been scred then, and he isn’t scared now.
Then again, that might have a bit to do with the protection spell laced around his neck and wrists, but Peter couldn’t know that. No, all Peter would sense is his calm heart.
Just like he wanted him to.
Stiles almost jumped again when he felt strong arms enclose him completely, Peter’s left hand on top of Stiles’ shoulder while the other practically held his hand on the mouse. “Think about it. Please.”
Stiles raises an eyebrow, about to open his mouth and say something along the lines of, “No, you creepy pedo”, but he’s beat.
By Derek of all people.
Who now has claws digging into Peter’s forearm, and wow, that certainly looks painful.
“Stop. Interrupting. The human,” Derek states, eyes red and promising violence, and Stiles wisely goes back to researching how to kill a troll efficiently.
He almost misses Peter’s amused mutter of “Jealous?”, but the small skip in Stiles’ heartbeat gives him away.
tagged: #werewolfparade #thebatwiggler is not a writer #Nelly Answers
ok so i had this little drabble idea from a while back where stiles has always been in love with scott and not lydia
but now, given season 3, im kind of in love with the idea of scott using this to get over allison?
because of course he’s always known about stiles’ feelings, i mean, stiles is not the most subtle person ever and scott is far from an idiot.
but scott never felt the same, so they just never talked about the giant elephant in the room- which suited them both fine, in all honesty. and if stiles maybe cuddled a bit too much for being just friends, or if they had a few too many sleepovers that ended with them knocked out in one bed- well, scott wasn’t about to be cruel, and hell, it was nice being able to cuddle whenever he wanted.
but then he became a werewolf, and allison came into the picture, and scott felt whole. because yeah, it might be cliche as hell and his mom might tell him that hes too young to know what love really is, but-
he knows allison was it for him. and so when she’s gone, he feels hollow and hurt and desperate, the urge to claw right out of his own skin too large to ignore.
and stiles is there, you know, like he always is, at his side and ready to comfort, but now that scott is a wolf, he-
stiles smells of love and comfort and arousal and home
so scott… makes a move. maybe one night where he goes through his things, scents out what was allison’s, and gets drunk on her scent
and then stiles enters the room, you know, practically like he lives there because to scott’s wolfy nose, this is stiles’ home as much as it is scott’s so-
so scott pushes him up against the wall, kisses him exactly like he used to kiss allison, tender and raw and sweet, grips hips and grinds. he pays no attention to the erection or the flat chest, scott merely- takes.
and stiles holds on, no illusions about what this, knowing full well that he’s getting scott broken and in pain, but so willing to love him and care for him that he ignores it. ignores the nibbling feeling in his gut that tells him he deserves more than this, more than sloppy seconds- but stiles has been wanting for so long, that he doesn’t even care in what manner he gets
Derek curses when the doorbell rings. He’d just sat down, and with John out on a food run, Derek has no choice but to answer.
Easier said than done with his leg.
Derek grunts as he pushes himself up, weight placed entirely onto the cane and his good leg as he stands. The doorbell rings again, and he can’t help himself as he yells out a gruff, “Give me a damn minute!”
He’s never had the sunniest personality, he knows that; Stiles had taken to calling him a sourhead when they’d been together in training, and Derek had never failed to punch him for it. Derek smiles a bit at the memory, can practically hear Stiles’ soft ribbing in his ear as he stumbles to the door.
He’s not so irritable when he finally crosses the room, opening the door with a blank expression instead of a frown. His stomach drops, though, the second he sees the soldiers in full-dress on the porch.
“No,” he whispers, and he grips the door handle tight.
“Is John Stilinski home?” the boy in front asks, so young he has to be no older than twenty. There’s sympathy in his expression, and no small amount of pity, but all Derek can take in is the slow carving out of his heart straight from his chest, the pain unendurable.
“I’m Officer Anthony Jones,” the boy adds in the silence. “And this is Officer Tanisha Green,” he says, pointing to the older woman standing to the side. She nods at him, but Derek focuses on the trembling of his hands, instead, and the sweat he can feel accumulating on the base of his neck.
“This is our chaplain, also, Father Thomas.” Jones points to an older man, dressed in religious garb.
“So,” the officer starts, obviously hesitant, “is it alright if I ask who you may be?”
“Derek Hale,” he replies, and his grip on his cane falters a bit. He slumps against the doorway, and it’s obvious in the way that Jones’ eyes widen that they know who he is. So Stiles did make the changes on the emergency forms, Derek thinks absently.
“May we come inside?” Officer Green asks, her voice deep and calm. Derek breathes, a moment, then two-
“Just tell me he’s not dead,” he whispers, his head turned into the wood of the doorway, eyes stinging with tears. “Please. Tell me he’s not dead.”
At their resigned looks, he steadies the hand around his cane as well as the one around the door handle. He steps back, quickly, and slams the door as hard as he can, falling to the floor as soon as he puts the lock on. In between his tears, he wonders what he’ll tell the John about Stiles.
“Leave.”
Scott doesn’t flinch, but it’s a close thing. He stands his ground, feels the small press of Allison’s fingertips across his palm, and thanks the heavens for how small Beacon Hills is. An empty hospital is a godsend in a situation like this, Scott knows.
“John,” his mom says. She looks so tired, Scott notes. Guilt rolls in his stomach, the feeling familiar and unwelcome. “Let Scott explain,” she demands (she doesn’t plead, has lost the ability to show any kind of weakness after everything she’s been through- after everything he’s put her through).
“I don’t need to listen to anyone, Melissa, least of all you or your son,” the sheriff spits out. His eyes are red and his hands are shaking, but his gaze is even as he glares at them. Scott can feel Derek tense beside him, wonders briefly how the alpha is dealing with this given his own involvement with Stiles, but-
Scott can’t bother himself with thinking about anything else other than Stiles’ dad staring at him with nothing but hatred.
“Stiles wasn’t supposed to get hurt.” Scott clenches and unclenches his hands, drops his gaze, unable to stare the Sheriff in the face as he talks. ”Th-the threat,” he says, because despite the hallway being empty, one can never be too sure, life has taught him that much, “wasn’t hostile, we were sure of it-“
“Being sure doesn’t excuse the fact that my son’s on fucking life support!”
Scott does flinch then, and his mom’s small gasp of, “John!” doesn’t even register until after he’s stepped forward. “I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he says, wanting to make him understand. John was the one adult aside from his own mom that Scott could always count on, no matter what. The man who took him in the week his father left, hugged him and called him son-
“Stiles could die.” It’s said low, John’s voice broken and cracked to the point that Scott knows he’s close to crying. “He’s all I have left, and he could die.” A sob, then, and no one moves, Scott too scared to reach out lest he lashes out (and it’s selfish, but Scott doesn’t think he can handle that again). His mom eventually steps forward, though, curls an arm around him and whispers soft platitudes in his ear.
“Why did you think it was ok for him to get involved?” he asks, hands scrubbing his face frantically to wipe at tears. “He’s not like you, so why did you-” The Sheriff is back to anger now, and Scott is still as speechless as before.
“I can save him,” Derek interrupts, and Scott almost sags in relief. Allison full-on grips his hand now, comforting him as best she can. “The bite.” He stands, firm and resolute as John gapes at him. “He’ll die otherwise,” Derek finishes.
It’s quiet, the Sheriff dragging a hand through his hair a few times in thought. Finally, he stops, but his stare focuses on Scott instead of Derek. “Fine. But after this,” John pauses, clenches his fist, “stay the hell away from my son.”
tagged: #memekon #for you babe #teen wolf #scott mccall #i imagine stiles talking to his dad after this #and informing him of how its his fault SCOTT is a werewolf #but john is stubborn #and he makes stiles move away regardless #and he and derek break up #because his dad begs him to #and his dad never really asks anything of him #not while crying and holding on to him as if stiles was going to disappear any moment #so stiles is a good boy from then on #and a decent werewolf (all that learning for scott comes in handy after all) #and idk everyone lives miserably ever after hahaha #Thebatwiggler is not a writer #but she tries to be one anyway
“I’m really sorry for interrupting your lunch,” Jon says, still so apologetically sincere despite it being the fifth time today he’s told her that.
“And I’m still really ok with it, Jon.” She smiles at him, though, a brief flash of crooked teeth to let him know that she’s not irritated by him in the least.
After all, despite following her around for the last couple of hours, Jon has been more than useful. He’s helping her organize files at the moment, and Brienne can’t help but notice that he’s better than most secretaries.
tagged: #Game of Thrones #jaime x brienne #Thebatwiggler is not a writer #but she tries to be one anyway #I feel like i messed up brienne a bit #she seems too happy and nice to jon #but fuck it #she likes her job and most of her coworkers and her and sanasa are totally bffs so she is a happy person ok #or #well #a /happier/ person #ok ill stop talking now #(plus i hold to the thought that brienne will be comfortable with jon because she knows hes interested in her friend and hes a nice guy) #(so shes pretty chill around him and not nervous at all how he thinks of her)
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Leonard mentally repeats his mantra as he inspects Riley’s shoulder, noting the leftover bruising in his PADD before tapping the man on his knee. “Everything checks out. Your shoulder’s been healing up nicely, so just don’t strain it too much when you go back on active duty.”
Riley smiles, a bit awkward and a bit strained, but Leonard pretends not to notice. “Thanks, doctor. I’ve been itching to get back on the bridge, you know. Boring as all hell when you’re not working.” McCoy grumbles out an affirmative, turning his back on the patient as he digs up the medical forms. “Mostly I’ve just been in therapy, though,” Riley says.
A beat, then two- “That’s good to know, lieutenant.”
A sigh and the muffled sound of movement reaches Leonard’s ears. “I’m just saying, Doctor, that-“
“If that’s all, Riley,” he mutters, “I’ll see you in a week.”
-
“Breathe in. Breathe out,” Leonard tells himself, clenching his eyes shut and gripping the walls with his last ounce of strength. The joys of sonic showers are the shortness of them, but the mere thought of-
Breathe in. Breathe out.
He stumbles out of the bathroom, towel forgotten, and curls up on the bed, panting from exertion and panic. He’s calming down, albeit slowly, and he checks his pulse before finally sitting up.
“Jim,” he says, startled but not surprised. Leonard’s grip on the sheets tightens, but he makes no move to cover himself. “Your shift isn’t over yet.”
“Lunch break.” Jim eyes him, arms limp at his sides and expression gut-wrenchingly open. “Come here,” he says, but he’s the one inching closer to the bed, dropping his golden shirt on the floor before gathering Leonard in his arms.
“It’s not getting any better, is it.” Leonard doesn’t say anything, recognizing it for the statement it was. The arms around him tighten, Jim’s palms flat on his chest and stomach, and Leonard can’t stop thinking-
Breathe in. Breathe out.
“Riley told me he saw you yesterday,” Jim whispers against his shoulder.
Leonard shrugs, irritation already bubbling up. “Yeah, what of it?”
“Counseling-“
“Don’t, Jim. Just don’t.” Leonard can’t help but admit to himself how tired he sounds.
“You haven’t been able to take a shower without getting a panic attack for weeks, Bones. What do you want me to do here?” Jim implores, voice quiet and worried. Leonard tenses, but Jim holds strong, his extra muscle and well-rested body faring much better than his own. “Just tell me how to fix this and I will. Just tell me, Bones.”
“I wasn’t even the one- they never-” Leonard can’t finish, tucking his head into the pillows in a helpless fit of anger. It’s so damn frustrating. He was the lucky one on the away mission, everyone knew it. The high ranking CMO, too important to mess with.
He was left alone, not a hair on his body touched. No, it was the others who were beat and questioned and starved, not him.
It was Rodriguez who was drowned alive. Not him. And yet here he is, unable to take even a shower without clinging to the furniture in desperation. He feels shame and indignant anger, but mostly he just feels choked.
Breathe in, he tells himself, as anxiety bubbles up to the surface and he gasps for air. Breathe out, Jim urges him, hands soothing his back as tears prickle at the edges of his eyes, the burning in his throat too much to ignore. He’s unable to do anything as the water rises and rises, overtaking his head and swallowing him hole, his vision blurry and stomach cramping in pain.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Leonard reaches for Jim.
[PART ONE]
[PART TWO]
YOU ARE SO PERF AND I AM SO AWFUL, AND NOT JUST BECAUSE I HAD THIS HALF-TYPED AND THEN TUMBLR ATE IT? AM I THE ONLY PERSON THIS HAPPENS TO ????
SO MANY RUN ON SENTENCES.
Obviously what happens is that Laura and her husband have to go home, because really. Derek is starting to act like a normal person, mostly, and Laura does not have the time to spend making Derek a fully-formed human being, because come on.
“You’re on your own now, little brother,” she says, “so don’t fuck it up.” And even though Derek growls at the diminutive, he hugs her so tightly she feels something crack.
And Derek makes good on his promise. He keeps a polite distance from Stiles, a respectful distance. He doesn’t sniff him, or try to tousle his hair, and he doesn’t stare nearly as much. It’s - well, on one hand it’s nice, because it’s the way Derek should be acting, right? Respectful and polite and not too familiar, but on the other hand - Stiles misses it, a little? He sees the way Derek still acts with Jules, and to a lesser extent with his parents; they’re a very physically affectionate family, which is not necessarily the norm among the upper classes, but it’s not unheard of for them to show affection, come on, Stiles, get it together.
BUT YES, you genius, the tipping point comes when Boyd, Erica, and Isaac come to visit. (In my head, Erica and Boyd are betrothed, and Isaac is the chaperone because he’s Erica’s adopted brother, ILU Isaac, Erica will always give you cuddles even if she bitches about it at the same time). And of course these are Jules’s ‘Uncles’ and ‘Aunt’ so when she hears they’re coming she shrieks like a little banshee and everyone at the table winces, and Stiles has to scold her about proper behavior for a lady. So they’re all waiting to greet them when they get here - Jules is in her nursery while Stiles tries to teach her French, technically, but all of a sudden she shrieks (again with the shrieking, Jules, geez) and bolts out of the room, screaming, “they’re here!”, even though Stiles can’t hear anything, and then Stiles has to hustle down the staircase after her, apologizing to Lord and Lady Hale when he passes them at the bottom of the stairs, though of course they smile and say it’s fine, Jules is allowed to get excited about family.
AND THEN SO Stiles is a little behind everyone else, but he’s definitely in time to see Jules launch herself into the carriage and come out, laughing, on the shoulders of a young man with curly blonde hair, quickly followed by a tall black man helping a pretty girl out of the carriage (Erica doesn’t need the help, obviously, she could probably flip out of the goddamn thing and land on her feet, but Boyd is a GENTLEMAN okay.)
Yeah, that’s the first time he sees Derek like this with people who aren’t family. Stiles realizes Derek does this with his friends - actually comes forward to shake Boyd’s hand and clap him on the back. He lifts Erica off the ground into a bear hug and spins her around while she laughs, and then he runs both his hands through Isaac’s hair until it’s hopelessly fluffed up. Jules is still yelling at everyone, perched on Isaac’s shoulders, but she seems to have take it down a few decibels so Stiles decides to let it ride. Isn’t sure he could scold her properly, actually, because he’s a little busy gaping at Derek.
And after a moment or two off all the touching and smelling and scent marking - because I feel like Boyd is the Alpha of their own little pack now, maybe, but of course it was a peaceful transition, of course they still love their former Alpha even if they aren’t together anymore - Stiles is introduced to everyone, and Stiles gets the particular sensation of being measure up and found terribly wanting. Not that Derek’s friends aren’t polite to him, because they are, but they’re also incredibly territorial and protective of Derek, after everything, and like Laura they’ve become particularly sensitive to Derek’s brand of emotional constipation, and they don’t know exactly what’s happening but they know it has to do with Stiles. (I don’t know if they met Derek pre- or post-Kate, or if they know what happened either way, but things that make Derek even grumpier are not to be tolerated.)
They treat him politely but removed, because that’s how Derek treats him. That wouldn’t be so bad to most people - that would seem right - but to the other werewolves it means that Stiles is not theirs, not pack, not especially important. So they’re nice, of course they’re nice - well, maybe Erica is a little mean, but let’s be honest, Stiles sasses right back while still managing to be perfectly polite; he has the best back-handed compliments ever, learned them at Lydia’s knee; and soon half the time no one can tell if Erica and Stiles are sniping or carrying on some kind of weird friendship-courting ritual - but Stiles is definitely The Help, and that’s - that’s how it should be.
Right.
Right? Because - it’s not that Stiles wants Boyd to pat him on the head or anything, or Erica to smell him, because he’s still definitely on Team That Is Weird Okay but he also - he misses Old Derek? Stiles didn’t miss him when he had him, God knows, but now that Stiles realizes that’s just how Derek is… it’s seems less weird in retrospect, is all. Like he didn’t know what he was rejecting, at all.
One night, after Jules is put in bed - after two stories, Stiles has got to get better at resisting those puppy eyes - Stiles is sitting in the library, reading a little. Tired from chasing Jules around all day but still a little restless, and trying to brush up on his French because at this rate Jules is going to outpace him. And Derek comes in. Tries to run back out, basically, with a stammered excuse, but Stiles tells him to come in first, because at this point he’s sorted out Derek’s responses, and they really do come down to fight or flight most of the time.
Derek was probably planning on drinking and brooding into the fire, but now he’s got to pretend he wasn’t going to do that, so he starts to scan the shelves like he came in for something, or he’s looking for something to read now, and he nonchalantly - not thinking at all - starts to reach out to scratch his fingers through Stiles’s hair, and he just. freezes.
Stiles notices, because he notices pretty much everything when Derek is around. “You, uh,” he says, and then clears his throat. “You can, you know.” Derek is still just staring at him, a little like a spooked animal, and Stiles continues, gently, “it’s okay, really.”
And Derek can hear that Stiles isn’t lying to him - can smell that he isn’t angry. His heart is beating fast but so is Derek’s, and they both slow down the minute Derek puts the tips of his fingers to the crown of Stiles’s head; sweeps his fingers back, all the way to the nape of his neck. Digging his thumb in for a moment before retreating from the library and all the way up to his room.
After, Derek takes that as his cue to start touching Stiles again. Not always as invasive as before, usually asking, “okay?” before he does, and sometimes Stiles says no, because Jules is there or one of the other Hales are, or one of the guests, but they all see at one point or another, and while Jules has always been about NO BOUNDARIES! the other werewolves start it up too. Slightly less into it than Derek, obviously, but enough that Stiles finds himself sandwiched between Boyd and Isaac on a settee, or Erica will put her slippered feet in his lap, totally and entirely improper, but no one seems to bat an eyelash, so - Stiles is learning not to care.
and Jules is snuggling up next to him at storytime and she sighs, all, “you smell like Derek,” not at all freaked out or anything - just sort of smugly pleased, and then she frowns because, “you’re still mine, right?”
“Of course, sweetheart,” Stiles says, and kisses her on the forehead.
ASHJGHDAFSHJ YOUR WRITING WILL NEVER CEASE TO MAKE ME SMILE WITH AWE (and cringe in shame because mine will never compare haha).
So after Erica, Boyd, and Isaac depart (all satisfied with the thought that their old alpha will be taken care of, because Stiles), Stiles receives a note from Scott asking him to visit- after all, Stiles hasn’t seen his two best friends since he moved into the Hale house.
Stiles accepts, thinking it’ll be nice to be removed from all the Hale-craziness for a few days.
(Which is such a hilarious and blatant lie, especially when he tears up saying goodbye to Jules and gives the brooding Derek a hug so tight that Stiles can still smell Derek’s cologne on his clothes when he’s riding away.)
Anyway- Stiles stays with Scott and Allison, and the first couple of days are wonderful. He’s missed his best friend, after all, and they spend the entire time catching up- playing games, talking, drinking, laughing.
By the third day, however, even Scott notices that Stiles might be pining. A little.
“You mention the Hales every other sentence,” he says, expression more curious than bothered. “You’ve really gotten attached, haven’t you?”
Stiles can’t help it- he flushes. “Of course not! I mean, what else can I talk about? I’ve been living with them for months, it’s not like I’m obsessed with them, I just have nothing else to talk about.”
Allison raises an eyebrow, clearly entertained by the conversation. “I now know every subject Jules is ‘proficiently excellent’ at, as well as a clear and vivid picture of how much of a confusing mess Derek Hale is. I also know far too much about Laura Hale’s wardrobe, which, Stiles, I didn’t know you were so into fashion before.”
“I’m not,” he mutters, “Erica likes clothes.”
“Not attached, dear?” she says with a small laugh.
“You both suck.”
~*~*~*~*~*
Their teasing just continues from there, and Stiles thinks he takes it relatively well.
“I do not want to have Derek’s babies!” Stiles shouts from on top of Scott.
Scott laughs and easily reverses their positions, pushing Stiles’ head into the mud with obvious glee. “Stiles and Derek, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g ow!”
“Ha!” Stiles says, gleeful at gaining the upper-hand. “How do you like- oh my god!”
“Boys.” Allison drops the empty bucket at the men’s feet, water pooling on the floor. “Please stop making a mess of yourselves and come inside?”
And they do, after a bit more playful arguing and fighting, finally make it inside. Only for Scott to pick up their conversation within seconds of entering the drawing room.
“So what’re your plans for landing the elusive bachelor Hale, huh?” Scott grins in jest, and Stiles is prepared to reply with a pillow to his friend’s head, when Allison interrupts.
“I heard he was already in the process of being landed,” she interrupts, teacup in hand and stoic expression on her face. “He’s always been a popular man, but his parents have been refusing every attempt to court him lately. Rumor says that he’s trying to court someone himself.”
“Oh,” mutters Stiles.
“He’s never done that before,” continues Allison, stirring her tea gently. “I heard he’s a man, too, and that the Hales all approve. Wonderful match, really. Have you heard anything of the like, Stiles?”
Stiles shakes his head, but now he can’t get the words out of his head.
Because if Allison was to be believed, then- Stiles doesn’t know what to think.
He’s been living at the Hale home for months now, and he knows all of the intricate workings of the home by now, and he can say that the only time he’s ever seen Derek interact with someone outside of family and not already betrothed- was with him.
And Isaac.
Once the thought enters his mind, he can’t get it out, because he knows it to be true.
Derek obviously cares for Isaac deeply, as do the rest of the Hales. Jules adores the blonde, climbing him like a tree whenever possible, and Derek smiles often in his presence. Isaac was from a decent family, too, and with no parents and no siblings, he was far more well-off than Stiles-
But Derek cared for him, too. The awkwardness, the touching, everything- Stiles isn’t blind, he knows Derek might feel something for him. Whether that something can measure up to Isaac, well.
He’s not sure.
OH NOOOOOOOO I AM NOW FULL OF FEELINGS. (also, I totally forgot it was my turn for a bit there, I AM THE WORST)
Stiles stays a day or two more at the McCalls, but he doesn’t feel comfortable staying for much longer. He has a job to do, even if the Hales were more than generous in giving him time off. Besides, Scott and Allison are still in their honeymoon phase - Stiles is actually beginning to doubt whether they’ll ever be out of the honeymoon phase, actually - and as wonderful as being with Scott is, seeing the two of them together only makes Stiles feel more lonely. Feel worse. Now that Allison has mentioned that Derek and Isaac might be betrothed, it’s the only thing that Stiles can think about.
Stiles gets back to Beacon Hills very late at night, after a very long journey - too long of a distance to take a horse, Stiles knows, but being inside a carriage for hours on end drives him half-insane, truly. So he sort of half-falls out off the carriage step, but someone’s hand on his arm stops him from falling into the mud.
“Derek!” Stiles says. “I - thank you,” and as soon as Stiles’s feet are solidly on the ground Derek takes two steps back, quickly, as is proper. The way Stiles wants it, right?
“My parents are in bed,” Derek says, stiffly, and Stiles always forgets, somehow, how much softer Derek’s voice is than his visage would suggest. “They insist you take the morning off tomorrow and sleep in.”
“I -” Stiles thinks about protesting, but he really is tired, and the Hales are persistent, as he’s learning. “Tell Lord and Lady Hale thank you for me,” and Derek just dips his head, and looks really dark and dangerous and terribly aloof, and then mutters something that might be “good night,” before rushing back into the house, while Stiles helps the footman drag his luggage to his room and collapses face-first on the bed.
Jules comes to find Stiles after breakfast all the same.
“I missed you!” she wails, though happily, and gives him a surprisingly bone-crushing hug for a small child.
“I missed you too!” Stiles says, once he gets his breath back. “Do you want to walk through the gardens with me? It’s going to be a lovely day, I think,” and Jules of course agrees, and Stiles wrestles her into a little jacket because it’s still before noon, okay, there’s a chill. And they’re walking through the Hales’s immaculate gardens, surprisingly riotous for a house garden, Stiles thinks, and then he tries to find about more about Derek’s betrothal. Because why have a tiny charge if you’re not going to use her to spy now and again?
“So how was everything when I was gone?”
“Boring,” Jules says, and makes a little pfft noise that Stiles says is definitely not fit for proper company. “Derek read me my books, but not the French one.”
“He doesn’t speak French?”
“He’s really bad at it,” in the kind of child’s whisper that isn’t a whisper at all, and Stiles can’t help grinning down at her. “He sounds like he has a head cold. So I hid it.”
“Very enterprising of you.” And the perfect seque for Stiles. “And Derek’s - did Derek do anything else while I was gone?”
“Mother said he was moping.”
“Moping.”
“You know. Growly.”
Not so different from Derek on the best of days. Stiles almost asks about Isaac, but he does have some sense of propriety, in the end. “Should we start with French lessons, after lunch?” he asks instead, and Jules squeals again.
And so Stiles settles back into his routine, back into his nestled little place within the Hale family, and he’s sitting at dinner just that night when it hits him: would he still be able to sit here when Isaac and Derek are married? Not that he thinks Isaac would insist Stiles be let go - Stiles and Isaac have a grossly similar sense of humor, as it turns out - and Isaac, like the Hales, doesn’t seem to care much for propriety, which would normally insist that Stiles and Jules should eat in the nursery. No, Stiles means - would he be able to sit at this table and watch the two of them? Knowing they would retire to the same bedroom every night? Knowing that one day they would have heirs of their own, so Derek could continue on the family name?
He doesn’t think he could.
“Stiles?” Jules says, and when Stiles looks back up from his plate everyone is staring at him, the conversation ground to a halt now that Stiles has missed a cue.
“Sorry,” he says, “forgive me, I must still be tired from my trip. If you’ll excuse me,” and he heads up to bed, feeling all the Hales’ eyes following him as he goes.
AND THEN BLAH BLAH HAND WAVE Stiles teaching and doing normal things, and then at some point he and Derek are in the library at the same time, the way they often are because it’s Stiles’s favorite room in the house, and Stiles is done with snooping, with trying to see if Jules knows anything, done with trying to trip Derek up, because Derek is somewhat tight-lipped on the best of days.
“I heard some interesting gossip when I was back home,” is what Stiles says, as casually as he can. He’s not fooling anyone, obviously, because even if Derek couldn’t smell that way Stiles has gone sour with sweat, he can certainly hear his pulse speeding away. “I heard that your parents had to turn down suitors for you. That you were - that you were courting someone yourself.”
And Derek, suddenly, can’t help the way his heart is thudding against his ribcage. “Stiles -“
“And I wanted to know,” Stiles continues carefully. “If it were true. If this… someone… was approved of by your parents.”
“Stiles, yes,” because he thinks Stiles understands, that it’s finally on the right track - Derek isn’t being too subtle but isn’t being too weird, that Stiles understands Derek isn’t trying to seduce Stiles for a notch on his belt, that it is so much more, that everyone here loves him, they don’t care about anything stupid like rank and title - Derek doesn’t care, even if everyone else in the world does.
“Oh,” Stiles says, softly, and Derek frowns, because Stiles’s scent is - he should be happy? Well, ideally happy; maybe angry, or embarrassed, or something like shy, but sad and hurting is not what Derek would have expected.
“Stiles?” he says again, one hand hovering just over Stiles’s shoulder, because he’s really not sure if this is one of those times he’s allowed to touch Stiles or if he isn’t - it’s so goddamn hard to parse -
“I hope you and Isaac are really happy,” Stiles says, and Derek has no idea what just happened.
THIS IS SO LATE, OMG, I APOLOGIZE SINCERELY
I legit forgot this wasn’t completed (I’m trying to go through all of my WIP and mark them- and then I found this and I wanted to curl up in shame haha)
BUT BACK TO THE FIC-
Stiles then tries to leave- he can feel the way his throat is closing up, the heat crawling up his neck, he knows he’s going to embarrass himself utterly if he stays in the room, but Derek grabs hold of him so roughly, Stiles knows there will be bruises there come morning.
And Derek is just- he’s just so damn frustrated at this point. He’s tried so hard convey his sincerity, has changed the way he acts, the way he behaves, has pulled back on his instincts- and Stiles is still misunderstanding him?
“Are you being willfully ignorant now?” he asks, the hurt he feels leaking into his voice. “Are my feelings that unwanted that you wish to make something up instead of rejecting me to my face?”
Derek sighs, the sound bitter and hollow, as he yanks Stiles forward by his arm. “Your position is safe here, you need not play games-“
“Ok,” Stiles snaps, a bit flustered and shocked and bruised (Derek is really strong, apparently) . “Firstly, stop making me sound like some cunning harlot, ok, I was merely telling you what I had assumed.” Stiles huffs, now more irritated than anything. “Secondly, how was I supposed to know about your-” Stiles sputters- “intentions?”
“They were obvious!” Derek argues, voice rising in alarm. “I tried every which way to convey the honesty of my feelings, and you still deny my efforts?”
“If by ‘trying’ you mean acting like a fickle mental case, then yes, I deny the very existence of your efforts! Sniffing me and touching my hair is not a declaration of love, Derek Hale!”
Stiles stops, face flushed and breath ragged, as he stares at the man across from him. Derek himself appears poleaxed, and the quiet stretches for a beat, then two.
“Then what would be?” Derek finally says, voice soft. “What would be an acceptable declaration of love?”
tagged: #1001-cranes #I AM A HORRIBLE PERSON #FOR THIS TAKING SO LONG #SORRY ROSEY I SUCK #but im leaving you the ending because it was originally your plot idea :D #bring it hooooome #tag tag tag #Thebatwiggler is not a writer #but she tries to be one anyway
AN: This’ll be a short fic, with only a couple more parts! This is basically a Lawyer AU, with Paralegal!Brienne and Partner!Jaime.
Summary: Jaime Lannister has been taking his sweet time in wooing his paralegal/part-time personal aide, confident that he’ll be able to sweep her off her feet whenever he so chooses. But when Brienne starts to spend a lot of time with the firm’s private detective Jon Snow, Jaime figurs out that there is no room for arrogance when it comes to love.
~*~*~*~*~*
“Take the offer, Theon.” Jaime crosses his long legs, elbows on his armrests and fingers laced on his knee as he smirks winningly at Greyjoy. He is the picture of arrogance and charm, and there is no doubt that he has won. “Crossing my partners wasn’t the smartest decision. These are the consequences.” Jaime’s previous smirk is gone, replaced with mocking grimness. Brienne raises an eyebrow in bemusement.
Theon opens his mouth, nose scrunched up in anger, pale blue eyes glaring fiercely at Jaime. There’s some defiance there, Brienne notices, and from the way Jaime leans forward, he sees it as well.
“Your dad left you out to dry,” he adds, not even a hint of sympathy present in his voice. “There is no one defending you and if the Starks take you to court, they’ll win. So take the deal,” Jaime pushes the contract forward on the table, “and walk away with some pride.”
When Finn drops the condom for the third time, Rae is less than patient. “Take your time,” she mutters, not moving an inch to help him.
He can’t help but clench his fist a bit, a wave of irritation coming over him. “Be faster if I could bloody see,” he mutters, still undeniably irked by Rae’s insistance at turning off all the lights.
tagged: #my mad fat diary #finnrae #rinn #mmfd #Thebatwiggler is not a writer #but she tries to be one anyway #OMFG THIS TOOK FOREVER #SERIOUSLY #THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE PWP #AND THEN #THIS HAPPENED #UGH #also i havent read het fic or written het fic in ages #so forgive for any awkwardness in the sex scenes please #also not betaed #so yeah #read at own risk? #haha
it doesn’t take fili long to figure out bilbo’s feelings for thorin.
it should bother him, how easily the dwarf has learned to read him. but bilbo understands how shared misery can bond people, and he knows that with fili’s heartache, he’s needed to focus on something other than his brother.
so when fili comes up behind him and pokes him gently in the side one day, whispering “don’t look now, but you’ve been capturing my uncle’s stare for a while. quite flattering, eh?”, bilbo only snorts and replies acidly, “you best focus on gathering wood, dear prince, and not on gossiping. it wouldn’t do you any good to capture your uncle’s stare for not following orders, now would it?”
after a chuckle and a quick bump of shoulders, fili heads off.
“my nephew seems to have grown quite fond of you, halfling.” bilbo almost drops his pipe in surprise, looking up to a smiling thorin standing ever so handsomely in front of him.
bilbo feels himself flush slightly, still not quite used to being in favor with the king. “he’s quite nice to talk to, for all his troublesome ways,” he replies, eyes focusing on his pipe.
thorin laughs softly, a small rumble from deep within his chest, and settles down beside the hobbit. “he’s a good lad. not quick to trust, too. i suppose that speaks quite well of your character, given how close you and he have become.”
bilbo only smiles, entirely sure that his ears were as bright as his cheeks. thorin returns his smile, inching just a bit closer to the hobbit, just enough for their knees to brush. bilbo can feel thorin’s hand on his outer thigh, palm facedown on the ground but pressed in-between their bodies.
he’s quite sure he’s not imagining those same fingers caressing his leg, however soft the touch may be.
so bilbo, impulsively as can be, places his own down as well, mere inches from thorin’s. it is an invitation, as much of one as a handwritten note is, and he can’t help the renewed flush that comes to his face.
it is all worth it, however, for the way thorin’s fingers trace his own mere moments later, calloused digits outlining the infinitely smaller hand with a care and gentleness bilbo had not known dwarves possessed.
the smile he carries for the rest of the night, fili tells him later, is practically obscene.
tagged: #the hobbit #durincest #thilbo #filikili #Thebatwiggler is not a writer #but she tries to be one anyway #i just love this fic a lot guys #yup yup #also #they're about to reach laketown #:)
the hobbit has done something that no other fandom has ever managed to do
it has made me ship an incestuous couple
and i am still super iffy about this fic idea of mine, but basically
fili has known for years that his brother is his one. has known that his steady devotion and strong affection for kili is more than brotherly, that the manner in which his eyes trail after his brother’s form is less than appropriate, and that no other person will ever stir his heart the way kili does.
but he doesnt entertain the idea of saying anything because kili reached maturity more than a few years back, and he hasnt shown any indication of returning fili’s feelings yet. and fili knows, as do all dwarves, that not all ‘ones’ are reciprocated.
and fili isnt willing to tarnish the bond he has with his brother over feelings hes not entirely sure are returned.
so on the journey, he tries to keep his feelings to himself as best he can, although he knows he mostly fails. he simply cant help himself when he fusses over kili’s braids, or tends to his brother’s injuries with a careful eye and soft touch. bringing kili his food first has always been a habit of fili’s, as well as ensuring him the best cut of meat and the warmest fur for sleeping.
his love is all-consuming, he knows, but fili is more than aware at how oblivious his brother is, so he continues on with his treatment despite the considering looks some of the company throw his way.
when fili overhears a conversation between his uncle and balin, however, he is utterly brokenhearted.
“everything all right with the lad?” asks balin, and fili knows he is speaking of kili from the way both men turn at stare at the young prince.
“hes informed me of his intention to court once we retake erebor” thorin replies moodily. “boy should focus more on the task at hand instead of day dreaming of an unsecured future”
balin chuckles as all color drains from filis face. “oh, leave him be. besides, a marriage can help raise the spirits for when we reestablish erebor. i know that my own dear brother has already planned a spring wedding for himself and ori”
thorin only sighs.
balin continues. “my heart goes out to fili, though-“
and it is at this point that fili cant handle it anymore and rushes out, because pity was never something he could stomach, not when he was a small dwarfling with little food and not now that he is an adult dwarf with a broken heart
(what balin was going to say, of course, was “i don’t know how he’ll deal with such an excitable and energetic spouse”. thorin hums and agrees, because kili is known far and wide for his endless supply of energy)
so fili rushes out, clearing a path for himself away from the camp, away from his love whom will never care for him. because although fili has tried not to get high hopes, his heart is still crushed with the thought that he never stood a chance at all.
it is bilbo who finds him, surprisingly.
bilbo wasn’t even looking for fili when he went out on a walk far from camp that evening. hed simply wanted to be alone for a moment, away from the confusing king that’d been consuming bilbo’s thoughts for the longest time.
it wasn’t that the king was still treating him like a bug under his boot- no, it was the fact that thorin was trying to be nice. and the small part of bilbo that has admired thorin since the moment he showed up on his doorstep cannot handle the small tokens of friendship the king is offering
because, damn it all, bilbo doesn’t want the dwarf’s friendship
so before he made a fool of himself with his silly affections, bilbo decided to take a walk, and that is when he happens upon fili
and he’s about to walk away, figuring that the prince also wished for some privacy, but his ears twitch almost instantaneously with the sound of fili’s crying
and bilbo is much too much of a baggins to leave a hurting friend alone, so he gathers his resolve and hugs fili, fiercely, because he knows that whatever is ailing fili isn’t physical
it takes a moment, for fili to relax in his arms. but bilbo simply holds on and whispers soft words of encouragement and love, petting golden hair with a timidness bilbo hadn’t quite known he still had. and after a while of this, of them sitting there on the cold floor, fili starts to speak
he tells bilbo a story, first, of when he and kili were only children, living in a small house with their mother and uncle. he explains that money was always scarce, as was food, but regardless of this, he had a good childhood. he knew love, unconditional love, from thorin and his mother, and so when he was young, he’d liked to pick flowers in the outskirts of town.
he’d bring them to his mum, sometimes more weed than flower, and shed always take them with a kind smile and a strong hug. hed even give some to thorin, occasionally, and fili’s lips twitch slightly when he explains the gobsmacked expression his uncle wore whenever this happened.
but, fili continues, as he grew older and matured out of such childish customs, he still wanted to bring flowers to one person. and hes never stopped wanting to since.
kili.
it is at this moment that bilbo understands- and he only hugs fili closer, for he knows how terrible heartbreak is. he still remembers those last few years of his mother, right after bungo passed, and bilbo would not wish that kind of pain on anyone
fili slowly explains the conversation he heard between thorin and balin, and bilbo, unsure of what to say, begins to share his own romantic history
he hasn’t got much of one, if he were completely honest, and his failed courtships are more embarrassing than not, but he figures that if fili is sharing such a vital part of his soul with him, reciprocation is at least polite.
so bilbo speaks of the brandybck girl who’d had it in her head for years that they were in love and destined for one another, and how bilbo had to hide in his own bushes of she were to suddenly appear when he was gardening.
he talks of a goold hobbit, who seemed very sincere in his affections for bilbo for many a month, only for bilbo to find out that all the dirty scrap had wanted was a share of bag end. and so, he continues, he’s been alone ever since, given up on romance for good, and has long since accepted his status as an old spinster.
and fili listens intently, momentarily putting aside his own dilemas for the sake of hearing of bilbo’s, and they both chuckle quietly over old tales and they sympathize with each other, and they hold one another close for comfort.
its a while before they head back to camp, but when they do, bilbo and fili sit just a bit closer around the fire and lean into each other’s warmth just that much more
fili’s opinion on their burglar changes much after that
before, fili viewed the hobbit no more favorably than his uncle had, although less frustrated with bilbo’s incompetence and insistence on frivolous things like handkerchiefs and more worried about the hobbit’s life-expectancy given his lack of skills in surviving. he was also less harsh on bilbo because of kili’s fondness for him, but fili hadn’t seen any benefit to there being a hobbit among their company either way. even after the incident with azog, fili only added foolhardy bravery as an additional trait of the hobbit.
now, though, he can see that bilbo is more than just a bit of foolish courage wrapped in a small package. bilbo’s love of soft-living is comfortable, fili thinks, for the hobbit knows what it is to appreciate a good cup of tea and a warm blanket. and now that bilbo has seemingly deemed fili to be in need of such comforts, he finds himself more often than not coddled like a babe.
not that he was complaining.
bilbo is far better company than his own dreary thoughts of kili and his brother’s unknown spouse. fili’d much rather sit and listen to bilbo’s surprisingly sarcastic commentary as they traveled, and if fili took to taking more of bilbo’s weight in carrying things around, then the hobbit was none the wiser.
despite his spending so much time with bilbo, however, fili was still surprised when his usually oblivious brother actually noticed that fili was avoiding him.
“awful close with the hobbit, nowadays, aren’t you?” kili asked, uncharacteristically somber that morning as they loaded up their ponies.
“i suppose you could say that,” fili replied nonchalantly. “he’s more interesting than you’d think, and he’s quite a clever one.”
Kili huffs. “never knew you to like clever, before”
fili stops for a moment, remembering the way bilbo held him tightly and without reservations when he’d been wailing in the woods. “things can change, brother.”
“so it seems,” kili mutters, throwing his last bag harshly over his steed and climbing on briskly.
fili stares after him, longing festering in his gut like an open wound, but he forces himself not to follow. instead, he turns in search of bilbo, desperately in need of some hobbit coddling in that moment.
tagged: #Thebatwiggler is not a writer #but she tries to be one anyway #ALSO WARNINGS: when i actually flesh this out #i'll have a real idea of where the heck they are #right now im just sure they're past mirkwood #also #this will have hints of mpreg BUT NO ACTUAL MPREG IN IT #just hints at the idea of males having kids ok #because fuck it #i love me some mpreg #but yeah #aint nobody ACTUALLY getting pregnant (maybe in a sequel or something idk)
the hobbit has done something that no other fandom has ever managed to do
it has made me ship an incestuous couple
and i am still super iffy about this fic idea of mine, but basically
fili has known for years that his brother is his one. has known that his steady devotion and strong affection for kili is more than brotherly, that the manner in which his eyes trail after his brother’s form is less than appropriate, and that no other person will ever stir his heart the way kili does.
but he doesnt entertain the idea of saying anything because kili reached maturity more than a few years back, and he hasnt shown any indication of returning fili’s feelings yet. and fili knows, as do all dwarves, that not all ‘ones’ are reciprocated.
and fili isnt willing to tarnish the bond he has with his brother over feelings hes not entirely sure are returned.
so on the journey, he tries to keep his feelings to himself as best he can, although he knows he mostly fails. he simply cant help himself when he fusses over kili’s braids, or tends to his brother’s injuries with a careful eye and soft touch. bringing kili his food first has always been a habit of fili’s, as well as ensuring him the best cut of meat and the warmest fur for sleeping.
his love is all-consuming, he knows, but fili is more than aware at how oblivious his brother is, so he continues on with his treatment despite the considering looks some of the company throw his way.
when fili overhears a conversation between his uncle and balin, however, he is utterly brokenhearted.
“everything all right with the lad?” asks balin, and fili knows he is speaking of kili from the way both men turn at stare at the young prince.
“hes informed me of his intention to court once we retake erebor” thorin replies moodily. “boy should focus more on the task at hand instead of day dreaming of an unsecured future”
balin chuckles as all color drains from filis face. “oh, leave him be. besides, a marriage can help raise the spirits for when we reestablish erebor. i know that my own dear brother has already planned a spring wedding for himself and ori”
thorin only sighs.
balin continues. “my heart goes out to fili, though-“
and it is at this point that fili cant handle it anymore and rushes out, because pity was never something he could stomach, not when he was a small dwarfling with little food and not now that he is an adult dwarf with a broken heart
(what balin was going to say, of course, was “i don’t know how he’ll deal with such an excitable and energetic spouse”. thorin hums and agrees, because kili is known far and wide for his endless supply of energy)
so fili rushes out, clearing a path for himself away from the camp, away from his love whom will never care for him. because although fili has tried not to get high hopes, his heart is still crushed with the thought that he never stood a chance at all.
it is bilbo who finds him, surprisingly.
bilbo wasn’t even looking for fili when he went out on a walk far from camp that evening. hed simply wanted to be alone for a moment, away from the confusing king that’d been consuming bilbo’s thoughts for the longest time.
it wasn’t that the king was still treating him like a bug under his boot- no, it was the fact that thorin was trying to be nice. and the small part of bilbo that has admired thorin since the moment he showed up on his doorstep cannot handle the small tokens of friendship the king is offering
because, damn it all, bilbo doesn’t want the dwarf’s friendship
so before he made a fool of himself with his silly affections, bilbo decided to take a walk, and that is when he happens upon fili
and he’s about to walk away, figuring that the prince also wished for some privacy, but his ears twitch almost instantaneously with the sound of fili’s crying
and bilbo is much too much of a baggins to leave a hurting friend alone, so he gathers his resolve and hugs fili, fiercely, because he knows that whatever is ailing fili isn’t physical
it takes a moment, for fili to relax in his arms. but bilbo simply holds on and whispers soft words of encouragement and love, petting golden hair with a timidness bilbo hadn’t quite known he still had. and after a while of this, of them sitting there on the cold floor, fili starts to speak
he tells bilbo a story, first, of when he and kili were only children, living in a small house with their mother and uncle. he explains that money was always scarce, as was food, but regardless of this, he had a good childhood. he knew love, unconditional love, from thorin and his mother, and so when he was young, he’d liked to pick flowers in the outskirts of town.
he’d bring them to his mum, sometimes more weed than flower, and shed always take them with a kind smile and a strong hug. hed even give some to thorin, occasionally, and fili’s lips twitch slightly when he explains the gobsmacked expression his uncle wore whenever this happened.
but, fili continues, as he grew older and matured out of such childish customs, he still wanted to bring flowers to one person. and hes never stopped wanting to since.
kili.
it is at this moment that bilbo understands- and he only hugs fili closer, for he knows how terrible heartbreak is. he still remembers those last few years of his mother, right after bungo passed, and bilbo would not wish that kind of pain on anyone
fili slowly explains the conversation he heard between thorin and balin, and bilbo, unsure of what to say, begins to share his own romantic history
he hasn’t got much of one, if he were completely honest, and his failed courtships are more embarrassing than not, but he figures that if fili is sharing such a vital part of his soul with him, reciprocation is at least polite.
so bilbo speaks of the brandybck girl who’d had it in her head for years that they were in love and destined for one another, and how bilbo had to hide in his own bushes of she were to suddenly appear when he was gardening.
he talks of a goold hobbit, who seemed very sincere in his affections for bilbo for many a month, only for bilbo to find out that all the dirty scrap had wanted was a share of bag end. and so, he continues, he’s been alone ever since, given up on romance for good, and has long since accepted his status as an old spinster.
and fili listens intently, momentarily putting aside his own dilemas for the sake of hearing of bilbo’s, and they both chuckle quietly over old tales and they sympathize with each other, and they hold one another close for comfort.
its a while before they head back to camp, but when they do, bilbo and fili sit just a bit closer around the fire and lean into each other’s warmth just that much more