"I don’t have fleas."

"You have fleas, Derek."

"I don’t have fleas."

"If you don’t have fleas then why are you in this bath?"

"Because you said you’d give me a blow job if I got into the bath."

Stiles rolled his eyes and continued to scrub flea and tick shampoo into Derek’s hair, “You’ll fall for anything."

Derek stilled under the boy’s meticulous hands, “You mean I’m not getting head?"

"Don’t get your flea infested panties in a twist. You’ll get head after I finish de-bugging you."

"I don’t have fleas, Stiles."

"They are falling off you dead as we speak, Derek. How can you deny the obvious?"

"Until I get my blow job, I believe nothing that comes out of your deceitful mouth."

"Stiles! No performing sexual acts in the kiddy-pool on the lawn or I’ll arrest you for public indecency," the sheriff yelled from the front steps where he must have been standing for a while before heading toward his squad car. “And Derek," He turned as he opened the driver’s side door, “You have fleas."

"Hah! I told you!" Stiles yelled in victory as his father slammed his door shut and sped out of the driveway.

"Your dad’s gone, do I get my blow job now?"

Stiles rolled his eyes, pouring more shampoo on top of Derek’s head and wondering if he should scrub it into Derek’s greedy eyes as punishment.