Emotionally intelligent male protagonist. Idolizes his mother Respects his girlfriend Is caring and supportive of his friends Empathizes with his enemies Believes in negotiaton and compromise over force
I’m LunaObsessive, and these are surveys for non-Sterek ships. I did the Sterek survey yesterday, the results of which can be found here, and as that was so successful I wanted to try with other ships.
I got 1000 responses for the Sterek survey in a very short space of time. As Sterek is such a large ship, I expect it will be harder to collect that number for the others, but I intend to try. The more responses I get the more accurate the results with be.
(tumblr has malfunctioned and eaten my attempt at this prompt two times which just goes to show I should get way better about saving drafts, get your shit together, Amanda. once again I apologize for myself.)
Stiles’s most obvious asset is his mouth. It’s also his most obvious drawback, Danny thinks - Stiles even talks in his sleep, for fuck’s sake - but some of the best things are like that: a delicate balance, where too much or too little spoiling the whole thing. Not that Stiles is delicate. Not that Stiles is anything like delicate. Sure, more of a tempest in a teacup than bull in a china shop, but delicate? No.
“You’re staring again,” Stiles says. He’s got one-eye cracked open, and there are crease lines from the pillow on his face. It’s actually incredibly unattractive. “I had the creepy crawly sensation of being watched. Taking lessons from Derek?”
“Derek does his best to avoid being in the same room with me,” Danny says. He thinks it’s because his introduction to Derek involved Stiles dangling Derek like a piece of meat in front of him, but it might also be that once Danny found out why Jackson had been acting so weird, he’d tried to break his fist on Derek’s face. Gorgeous abs only take Danny’s goodwill so far.
“Than you are luckier than me,” Stiles yawns. “I mean, are you sure he’s never in the room with you? He likes to lurk. It’s kind of his thing.” And Stiles stretches, arms resting up above his head, fingers twisting in his hair until it peaks into little tufts. ”He could be here now!”
It had taken Danny a stupidly long time to pay attention to Stiles’s hands - too often shoved into pockets, or tucked away in his hoodies, or just flying around when he talked. Danny spent so long being distracted by Stiles’s mouth, and all the crap coming out of it, that he missed everything those hands were saying.
Danny shrugs. “Well, if he is, he’s going to get a show,” because Danny has his boyfriend sprawled over his bed, shirt pulled up and twisted around, with his stupid pillow creases on his face and his stupid adorable bedhead, and Danny’ll be damned if he’s wasting that opportunity.
“Am I getting lucky?” Stiles says, delighted - who asks that, seriously - hands already on Danny’s hips and pulling him down. “Derek, dude, if you’re under the bed, this is your last chance to run.”
“Stop talking,” Danny says. He runs one hand up the length of Stiles’s neck, until Stiles’s head tips back into the pillow, and his Adam’s apple juts out far enough that Danny can see every nervous swallow, every breath. “And Derek, if you’re hiding in the closet -“
The burst of Stiles’s laughter is worth the sophomoric joke.