newroutines | From the Causeway Parking Lot to the Mansion (and back and forth again), Friday Afternoon

You know, Mike had never expected to suddenly not like the style of furniture he owned, all dark and heavy wood. Don't get him wrong, it was still great to see his familiar stuff again, and he had missed it. And he still liked it all, too. It was just that when the truck with all his stuff arrived on , the guys driving it took one look at the island and all its stairs and decided they really weren't getting paid enough to haul everything across town. They'd help get stuff off the truck, and wait around, but they weren't going to drag anything across what they defined as an unreasonable distance between the parking area and the house. Guess they were used to neat suburbs.

Mike wasn't going to fight them about it. He was just getting Derek to help him. A fit normal person and a werewolf were going to be able do this, right? It was just... a heavy dresser, and matching shelves, and his bar, and a couple of armchairs, and a table with some chairs, and then assorted boxes of household appliances and clothes and random crap he hadn't managed to stuff into his car when he'd driven himself up here.

And his bed. He honestly wasn't sure they wouldn't have to take the frame apart to carry it home. This was going to be a long day.

"Guess there's no choice but to just get started."

[ooc: Open to the housemate as well as other random helpers/observers!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"We can't all be blessed in the roommate department," Stiles said. "Consider me checking out Mike as reward for putting up with your terrible fake boyfriend skills."

"Pick something up, Stiles."

"Make me." Take that, Derek.

"Really. You want to do this?"

"Sure, why not?" It's not like he had anything better to do.

"Help or I will make sure you never get a single date here."

Because that had been possible. Ever.

And he wasn't allowed to threaten him with violence. DAMN YOU ALL.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. "How would you pull that off?"

Derek just gave him a look. Because Stiles clearly didn't understand how dedicated to making a teenage boy's life miserable he was.

Damn, damn dedicated.

"That's not an answer." Look, you've gotten him all curious now, Derek, this was your fault.

"I'm a jealous boyfriend, aren't I?" Yeah, Stiles. Don't make him push this. He'll show up at prom and loom behind you at the least opportune times. Like when you finally get a girl to agree to dance with you.

"You wouldn't." Well... "Okay, you would but there's no way you'd know if I had a date. You're not that good."

"Is that so?" HE WOULD BULLY THE SQUIRRELS INTO HELPING HIM TORMENT YOU.

"That's so." Now he was in too deep in his stubbornness, he couldn't back out now.

"We'll see. Won't we?" It was like the most immature Mexican stand off of all time.

"Guess we will," he said. "Until then I don't have to do any work, so there. I win."

You had the best taste in fake boyfriends, Derek, really.

DAMN HIS NEED TO TORMENT YOU.

"Then you can leave. Shouldn't you be doing homework or something?"

"You're my fake boyfriend, not my dad," Stiles reminded him. "Unless we're having a fake very disturbing roleplay relationship. Which I don't think I'm down for."

Ew, Stiles. Ew.

"Go away."

"Come on, when has that ever worked?" The answer was never, Derek. Never ever.

Derek responded by taking a step closer to Stiles. "The offer to throw you in the ocean still stands."

He'd claim it was totally a boyfriend thing. Not a 'I'm an emotionally stunted bag of dicks' thing.

"I don't believe you." And then as added boyfriend material, Stiles reached up and patted Derek's cheek.

This was fun! Taking pissing off Derek to a whole new level.

Oh, you did not.

Derek looked down at the hand like he wanted to bite it off at the wrist. Feel the force of his anger, Stiles. Feel it.

Stiles at least had the self-preservation to take his hand away rather quickly, but it didn't stop him from smiling at Derek. "Be a good fake boyfriend now."

Derek responded with that serial killed smile, twisting in order to put an arm over Stiles' shoulders. Because that would be more difficult for the kid to escape and look friendly to everyone else.

"A good fake boyfriend?"

"Ugh." And that would be him looking away from you and your creepy smile, Derek. "This was your idea, you know."

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