side by side we shall stand
with courage coursing through our veins
and power thrumming from our fingertips.
our voices loud like a war cry
Stiles is (still) single when the pack’s getaway to the Caribbean comes by (oh misplaced optimism); lucky for him Derek is committed to being uncommitted and even after all these years is still powerless against Stiles’ unique forms of persuasion.
Cue a romantic getaway for two: sun, sand, and sarcasm abound…and the two roped into competing in the Resort’s version of the Newlywed game. Only it’s completely obvious it’s going to end in disaster. Probably homicide.
Most probably homicide.
Plot twist: It doesn’t.
“Dude, I want my whole vacation paid for,” Stiles argues, the next night, an hour before they have to leave for the beach, waving at the informational poster in his hand.
“I’ll pay for the damn trip,” Derek argues, snatching the paper away from him. Stiles huffs in annoyance. “What part of this sounds like a good plan Stiles?” Derek asks, incredulous. “There’s no way in hell we could ever actually win!”
“Then what’s there to lose!” Stiles shouts. “It’s not like it could hurt to try!”
“I’m pretty sure that’s just a serious lack of imagination on your part,” Derek reasons.
“C’mon you’ve nearly died like eight times, this isn’t even a thing that registers on the Derek Hale scale ‘o man pain,” Stiles snaps.
“I don’t know,” Derek grumbles, “pretending to be in a relationship with you seems a decent form of torture,” he sighs. Stiles’ face crumples into an angry pout and he crosses his arms over his chest.
“You are a sizeable jackass, and when we win the reimbursement I’m sharing none of it with you. I’m spending it all on Reese’s and porn subscriptions,” Stiles hisses, pushing a laughing Derek out of the way in his attempt to get to the bathroom to get ready.
Baby Betas and Daddy Derek
Warm up drawing from the verse of a Sterek comic I’ve been working on.
I live for snarky merman!Stiles and 100000% done marine life rescue center owner!Derek
GREAT. SUPER. THANKS FOR THROWING THIS PLOT TWIST IN. WONDERFUL. NOW I HAVE TO THINK ABOUT DEREK’S TORTURED INNER MONOLOGUE AS HE GAZES UPON STILES’S BEAUTY.
Does Derek actually try to HIRE Stiles the not-actually-a-sexbot? Or is it like, Stiles is in the wrong place at the wrong time and Derek sees him, and knows FULL WELL he should detain Stiles properly, should turn him over with all the other human-skinned sexbots they’re picking up in the raid but something makes him shove Stiles into the shadows, makes him hiss “You should run. No one’s covering the side door. Get somewhere else, quick,” because he knows what happens to sexbots when their owners get arrested, and he doesn’t want that for this kid with the pretty eyes, the wide, clever mouth. It’s not his fault some creep created him in a lab under NEFARIOUS CIRCUMSTANCES.
And maybe Stiles is a runaway or something, or just blinded by Derek’s cheekbones or WHATEVER PLOT REASON you need for him to just stand there, staring dumbly at Derek. And Derek slaps his own face because of course, where is a sexbot going to go? It’s not like they have their own LIVES. So he throws Stiles his keys, orders him to go sit in Derek’s car and keep his head down until Derek’s back and Stiles does for PLOT OR WHATEVER.
And then because Derek doesn’t think things through, now he’s responsible for a fugitive sexbot with STOLEN MURDER SKIN and he’s harboring Stiles in his apartment until he figures out what to do. He kind of thought Stiles might just sit there, like, he hadn’t really considered that Stiles might need entertainment, that Stiles might talk back, might have opinions on TV shows and bicker with him over the last pot sticker, and Derek stands in the cold shower like, DAILY, trying to will down the giant inappropriate boner he has for a SEXBOT who can NEVER LOVE HIM and will probably land him in JAIL at some point.
Meanwhile, Stiles is like, running around, trying to hide his bodily functions and whispering into his hidden cell phone to Scott about this GUY he’s living with and how badly he wants to sit on his dick but he CAN’T until he fesses up to this entire protracted situation. Derek doesn’t even like him that much, really. Stiles is just a charity case to him, probably. UGH.
Another excellent possibility is that Stiles is some sort of futuristic census worker, or he’s lost in the building looking for a party Scott invited him to but sent him the wrong address, but THE POINT IS Stiles is wandering the halls of Derek’s apartment building (his FUTURISTIC apartment building, so, you know, glowy things all around or whatever) knocking on doors trying to figure out where the hell Unit 83746TCS55 is in this place.
TWIST: this happens to be the one night every six months Derek has allowed himself to order in a sexbot! And he hates himself for it, but he hates it SLIIIIIGHTLY less than picking up a human at a bar. Also, if you start having a panic attack during sex, sex robots don’t make fun of you! And when you tell them to stop, they have to, because of programming. Humans aren’t quite so reliable in that area, Derek has found.
So Stiles knocks on the door, and Derek opens it, and says “you’re early,” and Stiles is like “ummmmm, Scott said 9:30?” and it is 9:45, so he’s not sure what this super hot dude is talking about. But Derek is looking him up and down, and if Derek had known sexbots came in this model, he wouldn’t have been ordering the other ones. He should read through the online catalog more thoroughly, maybe. So he tells Stiles to come in, and Stiles does, because he guesses he found the right apartment!
And Derek skips the pleasantries, because Stiles is a sexbot. Skipping the pleasantries is the whole point. And Stiles would say something, but the hottest guy he’s ever seen is ravishing him, and hey: better than a stupid party hosted by Scott’s electro-pathology classmates!
Then: they DO IT. YOU KNOW.
But then Derek says something about liking his programming, and maybe next time he could code in more kissing, and Stiles realizes with a sinking heart that the dude he’s now 73% in love with thinks he’s a damn SEXBOT, and Stiles can’t quite figure out how to explain that he’s just a human who got lost in the building. And also Derek asks him to come back next week, and, well. Stiles really really wants to. Maybe he can just…explain next time.
Anyway, lots more pining and confusion, Derek being filled with self-loathing because he’s in love with a robot, Stiles being filled with self-loathing because he REALLY LIKES BEING A PRETEND SEXBOT, but also he needs to come clean. Eventually Derek gets an email from the sexbot service asking him why he hasn’t requested their services in the past four months, and a few big emotional scenes later they are in love the end.
(oh oh also after the sex Derek tells Stiles things he would never tell a HUMAN, because there’s a special memory clear code or whatever, so after sex Stiles cards his fingers through Derek’s hair while he talks about his horrible life of tragedy and pain, and when Derek tells him to delete it Stiles knows to say “file deleted” (that feature is mentioned in sexbot commercials) but it isn’t deleted. IT IS IN HIS HEART. YOU CANNOT DELETE THINGS FROM YOUR HEART.)
you cannot delete things from your heart
I HAVE NOMINATED BOTH OF THESE FOR THE PRESTIGIOUS FUTURE SEXBOT DEREK-HALE GARBAGE-WEREWOLF AWARD BUT I was thinking actually that maybe Stiles is an undercover cop investigating illegal human skin sexbot trade and also maybe—WAIT, it is an internal affairs investigation, the point is, he has a legitimate reason to lie to Derek Hale and tell him, sure, he’s a sexbot, one of the older models, though—because they’re investigating a CRIMINAL KINGPIN and Derek, for some reason, fits the profile (nephew of notorious drug kingpin Peter Hale, now in prison, lots of ready cash, no discernible job, etc. etc.) and it’s the only way to get in the door—
because you know Stiles is the rogue cop who’ll do anything for a collar, always disobeying direct orders and having his (holographic future) badge and (future) gun taken away and then given back to him when his hunch turns out to be right and he drives a (hover) car through a window to catch the guy—
MY POINT IS, he goes home with Derek Hale and fucks him and takes his credit chip—
—okay, wait, if what he needs is access to Derek’s credit account, this makes possibly more sense—
and he tells Scott, it’s just the once, he’d fuck the guy for free, come on, it’s the break they need, and Scott is like “fine, you’re crazy, but whatever you say—” because in the future it’s obviously not actually illegal for the cops to pretend to be a sexbot and do you to get access to your credit chip, but the problem is, it turns out it’s not Derek at all.
[This would be the part of the story where they figure out who the real kingpin is and arrest him and let’s all go to the place where Stiles’ forearms flex as he tightens (future) handcuffs around someone’s wrists, face grim and tired from late nights, cut on his cheek, etc. etc.]
The problem is, Derek pings him a couple weeks later and asks if he has any available bookings. Whenever is fine.
And Stiles knows he should obviously just drop off the face of the earth and never contact Derek again; the investigation is closed, he got what he needed, no one got hurt. He’s going to delete the message, but then he—doesn’t. He offers Derek an appointment. And after that appointment, when Derek asks if Stiles has room in his schedule for a regular appointment, Stiles hesitates, and Derek says quickly that he can pay in advance, and Stiles says, no, it’s just that, um. uh. and Derek says, it’s fine, don’t worry about it, and Stiles just—can’t say no to him.
They fuck a lot, but they also just—talk, or go running (Derek thinks the subroutine where Stiles gets out of breath and says “Go on without me!” is funny.) or get takeout (Stiles tells Derek that he was retrofitted to convert food to energy) and Stiles knows it’s all going to blow up in his face and Derek will hate him, but it’s—
Stiles has had a string of bad relationships and lousy breakups, most of which were his fault, for not being around enough or not being able to talk about what was bothering him, and Derek just—doesn’t expect anything from him, really, and the sex is great, and after a while Stiles figures Derek HAS to know, he’s not even really trying to hide it anymore, but Derek doesn’t know, because he grew up on a tech-separatist farm and never even saw a machine that wasn’t an apple-corer until he was sixteen or seventeen, and swallows every half-hearted lie Stiles tells him.
Derek probably ends up seeing Stiles at some terrible high society charity ball that he has to go to because of his family, and Stiles is there, working security, wearing a gun holster (IMPORTANT) and polite, professional, observant, so obviously not a sexbot that Derek feels like an idiot for not figuring it out sooner, and goes home and deletes the appointments from his calendar.
I mean, OBVIOUSLY they work it out, because Derek feels angry but also weirdly relieved that he just turned out to be a pathetic joke, and not a pervert who fell in love with a sex robot, and probably Scott pulls Derek over for having a broken headlight, he’s like “oh, it’s you,” and Derek braces himself to be made fun of, but Scott just leans on the window of his (future) car and scratches his ear, and says, look, Stiles is a jackass.
"He is not," Derek says, forgetting that he hates Stiles, and Scott says,
"yeah, he pretty much is, but he’s torn up about you."
Derek says bitterly that he figured Stiles would be having a good laugh about it with all his cop buddies, and Scott says nope, Stiles never told anyone about you.
and probably they get together when Stiles comes by with a manual credit chip because he’s been trying to get Derek’s account to take back the money remotely but of course Derek blocked Stiles’ account entirely, and Stiles is subdued and embarrassed and just wants to give the money back and get out of there, and Derek says, why, he earned it, just keep it, and Stiles’ cheeks go bright red, and he says, no, he didn’t—earn anything, he didn’t do anything he didn’t want to do, he probably should have been paying Derek, thanks for—you know, spending time with him. Being funny.
And Derek SEES suddenly that he knows Stiles, that he’s come to know him, and sees for the first time Stiles’ desperate loneliness and how tired he’s been, and he just—opens the door, and says come in, he just ordered too much takeout anyway.
ALSO SUPER GENIUS!!!!!! Especially because I like to think Scott McCall would like nothing better than to be the dude who helps humans, werewolves, AND sexbots live and love happily together! He would EAGERLY reach out to the former-suspect-son-of-a-kingpin-dude-who-used-Stiles-as-a-sexbot and try to help heal his broken heart!
ONE OTHER IMPORTANT OPTION: So, Stiles is in grad school but it doesn’t pay the bills, so he gets a job at one of the sexbot rental stores. You know, he runs the register, plugs in units when they’re almost out of power, helps them into the cleaning unit when they get back from a job, whatever. He doesn’t judge! People get lonely, the sexbots are charming if a little dim, and he gets a lot of his reading done during his shifts.
MEANWHILE, ELSEWHERE IN THE FUTURE: Derek, as in every universe, is Mr. Lonelyhearts Grimface, and his buddy Erica got him a free rental from the sexbot place as a JOKE. Derek has would like to be the sort of person (wereperson) who either rips up the gift certificate OR rents a sexbot, takes it on hilarious adventures and sends pictures of those adventures to Erica to punish her for interfering, BUT, he just figures: why not. Why not just check it out. He probably won’t see a model he likes, so he’ll look around and make a face at what people find sexy and then re-gift the thing to Peter. Peter’s gross, and he’ll probably love it. But what the hell, Derek is mildly curious, so he decides to stop at one of the franchise branches on his way home from work.
Stiles is on his break while Lydia runs the register for awhile, so he’s just leaning against the wall, trying to figure out how he’s going to convince Professor Carlisle to give him an extension on the midterm lab report, and he’s propped against the wall, a semi-vacant expression on his face, his mouth hanging open. YOU KNOW. THE WAY IT DOES.
And Derek walks in, ready to be grossed out and horrified, and he sees Stiles. And before he knows what he’s doing, he walks up to the counter and says “um, him. That model.” He doesn’t see the look of confusion-turning-into-amusement on Lydia’s face, because he’s still staring at the sexbot. He can’t believe he never knew they made sexbots that look like that.
"Oh, our Stiles model?" Lydia says, raising her voice to help clue Stiles in to what is happening. "You want to rent him for the night?"
And Stiles looks up, ready to be offended, but he’s SDHSFHS*~^&$^TGDHOIADJHAR%$%^*t&*fysh (he is not actually a robot with a crashing hard drive, but that is an approximation of what his brain thinks when he looks up and sees Derek looking at him, his scruffy cheeks pinking up, his breath going shallow).
Lydia rolls her eyes, but doesn’t say anything as she “rings him up,” (she is a VERY GOOD FRIEND), and he goes home with Derek and, well, you know. This is the one part of every sexbot story that is basically the same. Bathing suit areas galore. Derek marvelling at the advanced polymers that make the skin seem so real. Stiles sweats like he’s human, he bruises beneath Derek’s teeth like he’s human. Tears leak from the corners of his eyes when Derek fucks him gently…like he’s human.
SCIENCE: Derek thinks it is amazing.
The next morning, Derek is kind of surprised to see Stiles still there, in sleep mode, but he doesn’t get a chance to ask about it because his doorbell rings, and whoops, surprise visit from Cora and Laura, and Derek is so not prepared to admit to them that he has brought a sexbot back to his apartment, and he looks in panic at his closed bedroom door, because a sexbot probably isn’t programmed to handle this kind of situation, right? Just because it was programmed to rim Derek into babbling hysterics doesn’t mean it knows how to handle awkward family interactions.
But Stiles walks out fully dressed, drops the vacant sexbot act (tip for the audience: he mostly dropped it as soon as he got his hands on Derek), and he’s goofy and charming and whips up some crêpes and asks Cora about her knitting and listens to Laura talk about her work in the pediatric ward, and when it becomes clear that Derek’s sisters are staying for the day he excuses himself. Behind he leaves Derek, very confused about the advanced circuitry in THAT one.
I’m not sure how the big reveal works best with this one— maybe Derek goes back and tries to rent the Stiles model again, but that bot is always mysteriously rented out already, because Stiles is hiding in the back, hoping Lydia will have his back just ONE MORE TIME, because he feels like Derek will hate him forever if he knows the truth, and he likes the guy.
idk, maybe he runs into Cora on campus when they’re both nominated for prestigious graduate fellowships or something, and some wacky Hale matchmaking and “I’M A REAL BOY, DEREK” incidents later it is all worked out.
Someone reblogged this post with “this fic prompt battle is getting FIERCE” and that was before me and Helenish just got SPANKED by Crimsonclad’s new addition. NO ONE HAS ANY EXCUSE FOR WHY THEY AREN’T WRITING SEXBOTS. NONE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I REJECT THIS TERMINOLOGY. Is it a battle when you’re halfway through a bottle of red wine and someone says “oh shit, I forgot,” and drags a bottle of champagne out of the back of her fridge? Is it a fight when the other person says, “hey, also, I made some brownies, too. The recipe called for canola oil but I used two sticks of butter and three quarters of a bag of chocolate chips.”?
I CALL IT A PARTY.
I WISH TO ATTEND THIS PARTY.
so: what if there’s one huge company that holds the patent for sexbots and keeps complete control over the market- the LEGAL market, because obviously there’s a thriving, super illegal black market- and the programming. only specially trained technicians can repair or upgrade sexbots or tweak their programming, and most people don’t even know how to access the control panels. modifying sexbots is super illegal because not only is that proprietary technology, it’s also potentially dangerous- what if someone modded a sexbot to use as a spy, or an assassin? big, big no.
But, well, Stiles finished almost the whole tech training program before being fired for insubordination, and his friend Danny is a computer whiz, and they could really use the money, so they run a little bot repair and modding business out of a storage unit in the warehouse district. They’re way cheaper than company tech support, which is pricey if you haven’t voided the warranty and ridiculously expensive if you have, and most of what they do is just changing the programming on second-hand bots to suit their new owners’ preferences. nothing too complicated, nothing dangerous, strictly small-time.
They never expect to get raided.
Stiles is working late, just finishing tuning the voice on a bot that looks vaguely familiar- was she customized to look like that one actress, the one who used to always fall over at awards shows?- when he hears footsteps outside the storage unit. He freezes. Someone pounds on the door, a muffled voice says something about a warrant, and Stiles tears his shirt off and stumbles toward the extremely illegal modded sexbots in the back corner, whispering activation codes as he slumps on top of the pile. It’ll be a lot easier to escape if he’s tagged as evidence than if he’s arrested.
When Derek and his squad force the door open the first thing they see is a workbench scattered with wires, microchips, and what look like jewellers’ tools. The second thing they see looks at first glance like a heap of bodies, but most of them are breathing, some moving a little, all staring vacantly at nothing at all.
"Holy fuck," says Erica.
Derek sighs. He thought they’d finally found whoever’s been making the bomb drones that keep attacking the governor’s headquarters, but it’s just black market bot customization. He didn’t join the anti-terrorism unit to bust petty criminals. “Boyd, call the local cops,” he says. “Let them handle this.”
"I kind of want to handle this one myself," Erica says, looking up from the pile of sexbots with a grin. "This is a hell of a custom job, look at the mouth on him. Way out of my price range."
Derek rolls his eyes, but the bot does look like a high-end model. When he looks closer he can see goosebumps rising on its bare arms. Maybe whoever’s running this mod operation isn’t as small-time as he thought. Maybe they’ve been programming something more sophisticated than the usual kinks, something dangerous.
He should probably take that bot in. Just to be sure.
Stiles is a Psychology student researching object sexuality in relation to technology. He’s compiled all of the historical data, everything from Pygmalion to that trend in the 21st century of marrying virtual girlfriends. Now, he just needs to collect the data for his senior research project.
And Derek signs up to be a subject. It’s quick cash. Benefits the scientific and academic community. Plus, it’s part of his own requirements as a Biology major (specializing wildlife). He kind of left his volunteering as a participant for the very last minute because effort and human interaction. Anyway, this is the last slot available, and he takes it.
So Derek signs about a million consent forms and fills out the hefty stack of paperwork. Simple enough. Except this is a blind experiment. To avoid a bias in the results, participants aren’t exactly given all of the information.
BASICALLY, science. 100% science. That is why Stiles has to fill the role of the fake sexbot in order to analyze what sort of emotional attachments the subject forms during the semester. Internally, he pities whoever got stuck with him as opposed to the pretty fab DILF 2000 the meager school budget was able to scrounge up, but that is the luck of the draw. And then, he walks into the room and hot damn, abort, Lydia, no, we have to abort, I don’t need to graduate or earn a diploma, oh God.
Lydia is triple majoring and playing the role of the experimenter for Stiles, and she has put up with over three years of his caffeinated study sessions, which means he is not screwing this up at the last minute. Plus, she even donated her old DILF 2000 for the cause (for a minor fee). This has to happen if only because she looks stunning in a lab coat, and she purchased some stunning frames to embrace the scientist look. She politely shoves Stiles all of the way into room and beams brightly at the disgruntled man!beast who has been struggling to fit into a tiny, plastic chair.
And Derek’s eyebrows do this elaborate dance all over his forehead as Dr. Martin explains the experiment while the sexbot is sort of just…staring at him with a look of rapt concentration. And okay, he’d apparently getting paid to come to the Psych building once a week to interact with a sexbot in a controlled setting. In fact, Derek should feel free to do whatever he might like with the sexbot. Chat about classes. Play chess. Engage in intercourse (cue that damn chair giving out beneath Derek and Stiles sputtering unnoticed in the background).
Next thing Stiles knows, he’s given up his lousy Vulcan impression and is kidding around with Derek and making lame jokes and learning all about how Derek has a huge soft spot for animals in general, and is debating about whether he wants to get into wildlife rehabilitation or research.
And Derek’s surprised because he always assumed sexbots would be creepy like the way Cora’s Furby 7th Gen freaked the fuck out of him. He prefers inanimate objects to not have the ability to use facial recognition software or talk or…but S.T.I.L.E.S. (Super Technology Interface Lifelike Existence Sexbot) is actually not remotely uncanny valley nightmare fuel. And as the weeks pass, Derek’s tempted to explore some more of the core functions. Isn’t that the purpose of this research? Or something? The researchers have got to be expecting this. And finally, finally, he goes for it. The whole works because, holy shit, who’d have thought a sexbot could be programmed to emit all those little moans and stupid nicknames and sure, he’ll probably regret having sex with a machine bent over the table in the stuffy room later, but right now he can’t bother.
Stiles is in way, way over his head. Dodging Derek around campus. Panicking about what happens when the experiment ends. Wistfully thinking about what might happen during their next session and popping inopportune boners left and right. And next time, it’s totally Stiles who is jumping Derek’s bones the minute the dude walks into the room, and okay, apparently this is going to be a thing until the semester ends.
Or, plot twist, Stiles is totally actually a sexbot. He probably wasn’t programmed to have complex emotions, but AI develops in ways the programmers don’t expect. (Google the things that happened in Black & White sometime, if you never played it and had your creature smack some villagers around so it could heal them and run back to you for praise.) And he gets bought by the emotionally constipated sourwolf Derek Hale. Who hates himself for owning a sexbot, but is too damaged by his ex to deal with actual people and was pretty much ordered by his therapist (Lydia Martin) to invest in one so he wouldn’t add sexual dysfunction to his list of ongoing neuroses. Scott’s in his group therapy (daddy issues), and is the one to notice that Stiles (What the hell kind of name is that for a sexbot anyway? *shrug* It was written on the box he came in.) is not your average sexbot. Being Scott, he and Stiles become besties, cooking and playing video games while Derek is at work or individual therapy. Derek doesn’t really have the heart to forbid Stiles from letting him in. They’re cute, and it’s nice to come home to happy people, even if he growls and would never admit it on pain of death. Stiles falls in love, and it’s weird because he’s a bot and these things really aren’t supposed to happen to him. Derek falls in love and has all the angst because how fucked up do you have to be to fall in love with a sexbot? And his super-sleazy uncle makes cracks about him being emotionally involved and treats Stiles like„, well a sexbot, and Derek lashes out, angry, and admits he has feelings for Stiles and kicks his sleazy ass out of the house, and Stilesbot is all “My hero” and Lydia shrugs and says if he’s happy then she sees nothing emotionally damaging about the relationship and it’s totally weird, but he is, really really happy in his grumpyass sourwolf way and they live happily ever after. The end.SCIENCE: Derek thinks it is amazing.
Derek left home after the Kate fiasco, after his much older girlfriend, the first he’d let himself have since he was 15 and the love of his life died from cancer, tried to burn his family alive. He dropped out of school and moved from California and the thing is, there’s not much out there in the way of jobs for a college drop-out who didn’t have great grades in high school anyway. He’s good at sports, but that’s no help when he’s trying to stay off the radar, and his money starts to dwindle pretty quickly, and New York City gets a lot colder than California ever did, and—he’s not proud of it, the sex thing, but it’s not like it’s a big deal.
He cleans the sexbots up when they’re sent back in bad repair, does their make-up, lets them talk to him about the people they “connected” with. He’s kind of like the big brother. He rolls his eyes behind their backs, but he also washes their skin and clothes and tucks them into their charging stations and makes sure everything’s clean and tidy and they have enough energy and if anyone treats them roughly, beyond what’s allowed in the rental contract, he goes and beats the crap out of them. It’s kind of like normal, except that the sexbots don’t give him shit the way his sisters did, and also he’s sort of aiding in pimping them out, but he doesn’t like to think of it that way, he’s more protecting them and making sure they’re treated right, and it pays decent money, so.
Only then the cops come in, on a raid, because apparently the sexbots have been rented by some high profile criminals and their experts need to examine them, see if they can recover any data. And Stiles, Stiles just assumes Derek is also a sexbot, because why the hell wouldn’t he be? He’s more gorgeous than anyone else in the shop, that’s for sure.
Derek says no one’s rented him, a weird hitch in his voice, and Stiles believes him, because sexbots don’t lie. But it’s weird, why no one would—and the thing is, all the sexbots are going to be decommissioned, and Stiles is a secret botsrights activist, so he bundles Derek into the back of his squad car (his DRM is on the fritz, thank goodness, so it’s just him and Scott, like the old days, and Scott knows Stiles is a BRA, and yeah, they need a new acronym for that one) and he takes Derek home and tells him to stay put.
Derek thinks maybe he’s in trouble, maybe he’s under house arrest or something? So he stays, and while he waits he figures it couldn’t hurt to clean the guy’s apartment up, it’s a giant mess, and he can smell the mold growing in that one corner and so by the time Stiles gets back he’s absolutely 100% certain Derek is a bot, because Derek has on an apron but no shirt (it got hot in the kitchen with the oven on self-cleaning) and the apartment is sparkling and all Stiles’ laundry is folded and put away.
Stiles’ jaw drops and he says, “I could kiss you,” and Derek raises one eyebrow, because what, but Stiles thinks it’s a come one and hastily backtracks and says, “I mean, not to take advantage of you or your programming,” and goes on a rant about respecting individuals and their body-space and being more than just 1s and 0s no matter who you are and Derek can’t help it, he just laughs. Stiles stops, caught by how gorgeous Derek looks in that moment, and then shakes himself and promises that he’s going to get Derek help.
But he’s still busy at work, and things are hot right now on the BRA circuit (still working on that acronym) and so they go on like that, Derek cooking and cleaning and Stiles going to work and then one day Stiles mentions having to go to some stupid family dinner and how he hates the way his dad always asks when he’s going to meet someone and looks all disappointed because he’d never say anything, but he wants Stiles to be happy, wants him to have a family, and is getting older, and Derek is like, “I could come with you,” and Stiles freezes and then says, “I—” and Derek says, “he wouldn’t have to know,” and Stiles says, “yeah, alright, fuck it.”
So Derek goes as his date, and it all goes very smoothly, Stiles didn’t know they’d programmed sexbots to eat or drink but it makes sense, a lot of connections are made over food and wine, and then they get home after and Derek was so amazing, so gorgeous, and Stiles is kind of tipsy and spent half the night pretending Derek actually was his live-in boyfriend instead of a sexbot and he forgets and kisses Derek, and Derek just melts into, kisses him back, and then Stiles freezes when he remembers but Derek just keeps going, just kisses his way down Stiles’ neck and his hands are big and warm and he whispers, “please,” against Stiles’ shoulder and drops to his knees and Stiles hates himself, will hate himself tomorrow, anyway, but Derek is everything he ever wanted, and he gives in.
And then they have like three weeks have crazy hot sex all over the place, but in the meantime Stiles’ dad asks for a picture of them and then puts it up on his desk at the office, because he really liked that Derek kid, and he looks at Stiles like Stiles is the sun and moon and stars. and then his newest deputy, Cora Hale, sees the photo and nearly faints, and the entire Hale pack plus the Sheriff show up on Stiles’ front door and it all comes out and Stiles can’t believe that this whole time, this WHOLE TIME that he was leaving out pamphlets about bots rights and talking about, “we’ll find you a safe environment” and always letting Derek initiate any physical contact even though his hands itched to—that Derek wasn’t a sexbot after all.
And Derek, meanwhile, is like, “you thought I was what?” And of course, that makes sense, because why else would Stiles have kept him around? So he lets himself get taken away by his mother, his sisters, lets himself get hustled back to Beacon Hills and just hides away and howls at the moon and doesn’t really talk to anyone, just broods and is miserable and “wow,” Cora says, “you haven’t changed a bit,” and Derek growls at her.
Meanwhile Stiles is utterly miserable and also decides that he’s kind of useless on his own, in a big city, like, it’s New York, he can have his laundry picked up and cleaned and folded and dropped off, if he wants to. He can pay someone to come clean, and he can get a delivery guy with food to pick up a bottle of wine for him on the way to his apartment. But he never remembers to. His clothes are gross, his apartment is gross, and he hasn’t even gotten good and drunk over Derek not-a-sexbot Hale. Scott initiates an intervention and Stiles agrees to go home and visit his dad and talk to Derek and maybe rethink living in a city where people buy sexbots and don’t know their own neighbors names and where after 3 years on the force Stiles still only has one friend, and that’s the one he already had from 3rd grade.
So he packs his stuff and flies across the country and shows up at Derek’s door, just when Derek’s worked himself up enough from misery to anger, enough to decide to go to New York and tell Stiles this is all his fault. He flings his door open, and there Stiles is, and they both glare at each other and Stiles demands, “why didn’t you say anything, Derek?”
"What, you mean, like, I hope you don’t only want me because I’m a robot engineered for nothing but other people’s sexual gratification?"
"You were never a robot engineered for nothing but other people’s sexual gratification."
“I know that, Stiles!”
"No, I mean." Stiles steps closer, puts a hand on Derek’s arm. "You were never that to me. You were always—"
"Oh," Derek says, looking at that hand, because the only time Stiles ever touched him first was that one time right after the dinner, when Stiles was drunk, and—
"—more," Stiles says.
Derek swallows, and when Stiles kisses him, Derek sways into him, into those big hand and big eyes, and Stiles tumbles them backwards, towards Derek’s bed, and Derek laughs, and lets him.
Allison, I love you.