Chapter Text
Stiles is in the middle of trying to yank on his socks when suddenly his phone starts to play Avicii's summer hit. He lets out a groan and swipes his finger to answer it. "Scott! Hey, buddy, I'm on my way, I promise, just heading around the corner now," Stiles lies, as he pulls on his sneakers.
Scott sighs over the line, "Stiles, we said we were going to meet ten minutes ago. Can we at least order if you've not left yet?"
"What are you talking about?" Stiles get up to his feet and hurries out the apartment, locking the front door behind him. "I'm just trying to cross the road now. It's hella busy."
"So that wasn't the key just turning in the lock that I heard?"
"Nope," Stiles says boldly. "Like I said. Traffic; I don't wanna get hit by a car and you know what this road can be like."
"I'll see you in ten, Stiles," Scott says with a weary sigh, and the line goes dead.
"He's so untrusting," Stiles mumbles, stuffing his phone into his pocket as he sprints down the stairs. He narrowly dodges his upstairs neighbor who's carrying her bike up the steps. She swears at him in polish, and he knows she's knows he still can remember the bad words from his grandmother, after the last time when he swore back at her.
"Sorry Mrs Nováková!" Stiles yells over his shoulder as he jumps the last few stairs, and yanks open the front door. It's a miserable day out, stray clouds blocking out the light and the slight threat of rain looming over them. Stiles half sprints/half jogs down the street towards the coffee shop that he, Scott and Lydia arranged to meet; Perk.
The roads are actually fairly quiet, making it easy for Stiles to dart across them. If he's walking, he and Scott live maybe ten minutes away from Perk, but running Stiles can make it there in under five.
He flies around the last corner and drops his pace to a respectable 'quick walk' so that it's not totally obvious that he’s running super late.
Perk is nestled in between a small corner shop, (that is apparently famous for it's willingness to sell minors alcohol and is constantly being 're-opened' or shut down because of this fact,) and a jewelry boutique that's much too fancy for the street they're on. Stiles pushes open the door to Perk, jingling the small bell attached to the door frame. There's a few regulars seated around the place but there's no one behind the till so he heads over to the booth in the back corner where Scott always sits.
Lydia and Scott already have coffees in front of them, and are in the middle of a deep discussion when Stiles breezes in, unbuttoning his coat. "Who's on shift today?"
"Derek," Scott answers.
"Oh, good," Stiles grins, sitting down next to Lydia. "Sorry I'm late, you wouldn't believe the traffic out there."
"You live ten minutes away and have to cross two roads," Lydia says, rolling her eyes at him. "Stiles, I know what your IQ is, you could surely come up with a better lie then that."
Stiles shrugs, reaching across the table and tearing a corner off of Scott's pastry. "Could've, didn't really see the point though. You guys didn't have to order without me though, rude."
He hears a door open and twists his head to see Derek poking his head out onto the shop floor from the back office. Stiles waves an arm at him. Derek's head twists around and his gaze lands on Stiles, then he nods at him and turns to the coffee machine, starting to prep him a coffee.
"I love the service here," Stiles says, leaning back into the seat. Lydia makes a dismissive noise but he decides not to pursue it. Nothing good ever comes from that.
Perk is small and out the way enough that Stiles doesn't have to deal with people, a fact which comes in handy early in the morning when he shows up for his caffeine fix before classes. Sometimes he's surprised that it's not full of hipsters; it definitely has the aesthetic for it with a lot of odd bits of furniture, fairy lights and personal post cards tacked up around the place for decoration, but then the menu is pretty simple.
Coffee
Tea
Orange juice.
Sandwich.
Pastry.
That's it. It's entirely up to fate what you end up with because Derek doesn't offer options for the sandwiches or pastries, it just depends on what he has in on that day. Sometimes in the winter he removes sandwiches and makes a pot of soup but that's only when it gets really cold. Derek's menu is very take it or leave it, Stiles isn't sure if it's a clever marketing thing or if Derek's just weirdly stubborn.
Derek lifts up the counter and brings over a mug with coffee in it. The mugs all don't match other and Stiles doesn't know if Derek purposefully crafted the mismatched decor or if he literally just decided 'I want to open a coffee shop' and put it together with whatever spare shit he had from his kitchen.
"What's your sandwich today?" Stiles asked.
"No sandwiches," Derek shook his head, "Sorry I forgot to check the bread, it went moldy.”
Stiles squints at him, mouth dropping a bit. "How do you manage to keep this business afloat?”
"I'm pretty sure it's all down to the small fortune that you alone spend in here," Derek says with a smirk. "Anything else?"
"Pastry please," Stiles says with a glare. "And add it to my tab."
Derek turns around to the counter and reaches back to grab the already plated up croissant. "I knew you'd order that."
"Of course you did. That's not impressive when it's literally the only thing on your menu," Stiles says, taking the plate from him.
Derek raises his eyebrows, "You could try saying thank you."
"Fine, thank you Derek, are you happy now?" Stiles rolls his eyes.
"I'm never happy, I live in constant pain and sadness," Derek deadpans.
"You're such a dork," Stiles shook his head, snorting.
"See you tomorrow, Stiles," Derek says, before heading back to the office.
Stiles picks up the coffee and takes a sip, letting out a low hum of contentment. When he looks back up Scott and Lydia are looking at him with varying degrees of confusion.
"What?"
"When did that start?" Lydia asked
"When did you get a tab?" Scott interrupts.
Stiles snorts, shaking his head, "It's no big deal, I came in one morning and realized that I didn't have any cash on me and you know what Derek's like any time someone suggests getting a credit card machine-"
"No, no I don't," Scott says. "Literally no normal customer would know that."
"I come in every day!" Stiles says defensively. "I was bound to make a few suggestions."
Lydia's looking at him intently, and she's got her problem solving face on, which is always terrifying.
"God, what? I'm friends with my barista, it's no big deal," Stiles says quickly. "Can we move onto discussing something else. Lydia, what do you think of Scott's ridiculous mustache?”
"Please," she says dismissively with a flip of her hair. "I already informed him that if he's not shaved by the next time we have brunch then I can't be his friend anymore. Also you're not allowed to pick where we go next time, this place has a ridiculous selection for food."
"He usually has sandwiches," Stiles mumbles, but Lydia just rolls her eyes at him and turns back to Scott.
"I'm considering moving in with Jackson," Lydia informs them. Well, informs Scott, she's not looking at Stiles because she can probably guess what his reaction will be.
"Jackson?" Stiles interrupts incredulously. "You're thinking of moving in with that douche?"
Lydia lets out a resigned sigh, "Lord give me strength, I don't know why I'm your friend Stilinski, I really don't."
"It's the brutal honesty," Stiles says smugly. "Everyone else is too afraid of you, you need someone with my lack of filter."
"I'm not afraid of you," Scott interrupts. "I'm just not an asshole that voices everything that pops into his head."
Stiles grins, "Love you too, Scotty."
Stiles loves their weekly lunches.
#
He isn't quite sure why he decided to go to grad school, but Stiles has a creeping suspicion that rather than a desire to learn and become better educated it was a crippling fear of the future and a desire to put off making grown up decisions for as long as possible. He's a year and a half into his degree on folklore, and he can count how many times he's been drunk this semester so far one hand. He's not had a proper night's sleep in two weeks or had a proper meal since that weekend his dad visited and bought him a lot of vitamin supplements. He can't remember exactly when that was but the bottle's starting to get empty.
Stiles has a routine though. He get's up at seven most days, showers and heads to Perk by seven thirty for coffee to make his morning just that slight bit more bearable. The morning shift at Perk is always done by Derek's one and only employee, Erica.
Usually by the time he walks in she's already got a coffee sitting with his name on it, but when he walks into Perk she just blinks at him.
"What are you doing here?" Erica frowns.
"Uh," Stiles is confused. It's too early for this shit. "Trying to exchange money for goods and services?"
"Stiles," Erica says, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You know it's Saturday, right?"
"What?" Stiles exclaims, eyes opening wide for the first time. "Fuck! Fuckety fuck, fuck. Urghhhhh."
"You're holding up the queue," Erica lies. It's seven thirty on a Saturday, there's no one there.
Stiles is sprawled out on the counter, groaning, "It's Saturday, I should be in bed."
"Uh... do you actually want coffee?"
Stiles finally stands back up straight, rubbing a hand over his eyes, "Yeah there's no way I'm getting through this day without it. Actually if you could get it in an IV and just put the caffeine straight into my veins that'd be great. Y'know, cut that middle man out completely."
He lays out his arm on the countertop and taps the inside of his elbow.
"I don't think your veins are prominent enough," Erica says dryly. "I'd just end up stabbing you a few times in the attempt."
"You're no fun," Stiles says. Erica places the mug in front of him, it's steaming and it smells amazing. "Oh hot damn," he says, taking a sip. "It's so good. You guys must put something in this coffee, it's the best coffee in town. What is it? What's your secret?" Erica taps her nose, and Stiles pouts in response. "It's not crack, is it? I mean, you should tell me if it is. I probably should know if I have a crack addiction."
Erica snorts at him, "I think that we'd be charging more than one-fifty a cup if there were drugs in it. Also crack's not so much tasty, as it is just addictive."
"You make a valid point. Anyway, I'll leave you to your busy shift," Stiles gestured to the next-to-empty shop. "And I'm gonna go inhale this coffee and hope it wakes me up."
He heads towards his usual booth at the back of the shop and has already taken a seat before he realizes that the table was in fact, already occupied, and Derek Hale is sitting across from him, glaring over the top of piles of papers and forms. Stiles ignores the glare, "What are you doing here?"
"I own this place. The coffee's free for me."
Stiles snorts, settling back into his seat. "Urgh, it's too early for this shit." He rubs a hand at his eye, before picking at the sleep crusted in the corners.
Derek frowned, "Isn't it Saturday?"
"I thought it was Friday." Stiles says, figuring he should just answer the question before Derek even asks. "I came here on autopilot, alright? It was early and my alarm was going off. I was barely even conscious."
As expected, Derek starts laughing at him. Ass, Stiles thinks.
"Why are you up at this godforsaken hour then? You're not working a shift."
"I work best in the mornings," Derek explains, looking back to his computer screen and adjusting his glasses. Most of the time Stiles manages to forget how hot Derek is, or at the very least block it out, but that morning was not one of those times. Stiles ogles at him from across the table for a minute, he's wearing a button down that's pushed up past his elbows, and his hair looks messy, as if he's been tugging at it in frustration. Derek looks like some sort of accountant/pornstar hybrid and that is a very dangerous route for Stiles' brain to be going down.
He lets out a groan of frustration, slouching down in his chair, but Derek pays him no attention. They sit in silence while Stiles drinks his coffee. He spends most of the time trying not to let his thoughts wander, which is difficult considering Derek keeps frowning and biting his lip. Finally Stiles tips back the last of his drink and gets to his feet, "uh, I should be..."
Derek glances up at him, "Alright, I'll see you later then."
"Good luck on the taxes," Stiles says, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to leave.
It's early in February but the cold of winter is still holding onto the town firmly, so Stiles tugs up the collar on his coat and quickens his pace on the walk home. He walks so fast he makes it there in seven minutes. He heads up the stairs and pushes open the door to his apartment. He can hear the TV going, which means Scott must be awake.
Stiles takes off his coat and shoes, "Hey Scott."
The front door opens straight into their living room/kitchen. It's a pretty tiny place they've got, but what it lacks in space it makes up in proximity to campus and therefore sleep in the mornings.
"You're up early," Stiles observes, dropping down onto the couch next Scott.
He shrugs, not looking over. He's got a mixing bowl full of cereal and a blanket wrapped around his shoulders. "I was gonna go on a run but then I woke up and it was freezing out so I switched on some cartoons. This is definitely the better option."
Stiles nods, "To be fair, I feel like tic removal is better than voluntarily going on a run."
"And that's why you're dying of a heart attack when you're forty."
"Says the guy who regularly cooks eggs in bacon fat," Stiles retorts.
"It's tasty!" Scott says defensively. "Anyway, where the heck were you?"
"I thought it was Friday, ended up going to Perk."
"Could be worse," Scott says, chewing on his cereal. "You could've made it to your office before you realized."
"True dat," Stiles nods. "True dat."
Scott's not moving his eyes from the screen, and Stiles frowns, "Are you sure you're okay?"
"I'm okay," Scott says, shaking his head. "Just figuring some things out. Well, I should be; right now I'm putting it off."
Stiles sighs, "Life can be tricky. Is this about a girl?"
Scott nods.
Scott's not had a date since his ex. He and Allison had been high school sweethearts, went to college together and everything. Scott though they were going to get married, but Allison decided to go to France for a PhD. Apparently it was the only way she could afford it. Stiles noticed Scott's was rubbing his tattoo, it had become his sort of tell for when he was thinking of her.
"I know it's hard to move on," Stiles says. "But you don't want to wreck the chance at something good because you're focusing on what you had."
"That was," Scott's brow furrows. "Surprisingly good advice. For you I mean."
"Yeah, well, it's in my best interests to get you laid. The tissue bill in this house has gone through the roof."
Scott rolls his eyes, "You're one to talk. When was the last time you went on a date?"
"That's exactly my point," Stiles says. "Only one of us can be single at a time, and I had dibs. I've been single longer than you, I'm better at it."
Scott snorts at him. "Speaking of your relationship status," he starts.
"Oh no," Stiles waves his arms across his chest, shaking his head. "There's nothing to talk about."
"You sure?" Scott lifts an eyebrow, "I'm just saying, I thought I saw sparks flying between you and Derek when we were in Perk."
Stiles laughs, "Look, Derek may be hot like the sun but that's it. I don’t want to sing him lullabies and stroke his hair as he falls asleep.”
"You've been single for way too long if that's what you think that's what a relationship is," Scott says, making a face. "I mean, I would start by asking him for coffee? Work up to the hair stroking thing.”
"Scott, I literally drink coffee with him every day."
“That’s not an argument against asking him out. Try again.”
"Okay, so what about this then," Stiles says. "I don't want to ask him out since I don't like him like that. Also when am I going to find time for this dating crap? My life's super busy."
Scott gives him a look up and down, "You spend most of your time in your underwear on the internet. Your life is not that busy."
"Lies," Stiles cries, pointing a finger, "Lies and slander!"
Scott snorts, "I'm just saying dude. Think about it."
#
Stiles does think about it; twice that night alone in fact. All that he concludes from this thought process is that Derek's hot like sin.
Unfortunately, all that thinking makes it awkward as hell the next time he ends up in Perk and realizes that he can't really look at Derek without blushing red. God Stiles needs to get laid so bad. If he had the time he would just go to a club, drag a guy home, knock a couple orgasms out and he'd be good for a month or so but which his thesis deadline approaching fast he really can't afford the night getting drunk and then the morning after to recuperate from his hangover.
Stiles had started his night in the library, but he was having trouble focusing on one task so he relocated to Perk in the hopes that a new environment and a steady stream of coffee would help. He sits himself in the back corner, making sure he's turned away from the counter and sets up his laptop.
Surprisingly the change of scene works. He's acutely aware that Derek's keeping an eye on him and Stiles has inadvertently made it so that Derek has a direct view of Stiles' computer screen. Stiles switched to Buzzfeed once and he got a wet wadded up napkin launched at his head.
His coffee is refilled without him realizing and about two hours in there's a sandwich put down in front of him with a note to take a twenty minute break.
Stiles should really study at Perk more often.
He's having such a productive evening that he doesn't notice the time, since the word doc he has is pulled up on full screen, but Derek is tapping him on the shoulder. He tugs out a headphone and blinks, looking around the empty cafe.
"Oh, shit," Stiles' eyes widen. "I'm sorry dude, what time is it?"
"Uh, eleven? I can't lock up till your gone. "
"Fuck," Stiles shuts the lid of his laptop, "I'm so so sorry, the time just got away from me."
"Just- I need to go to bed."
Stiles frowns, "You should have told me earlier, I didn't mean to keep you open. "
"I forgot you were still here. I was cleaning down then I went to go lock up and realized you were sill sat there. "
"Oh," Stiles says. "My bad. "
He digs out a ten dollar note from his wallet, "uh, thanks for the food, I sometimes forget to eat. "
Derek's expression is unreadable, his jaw set firm and arms folded over his chest. He wearing a stretched out gray T-shirt that's exposing the top of his chest and a curl of chest hair and all Stiles can think is how unfair it is that someone that attractive exists.
Derek's brow crinkles, "What?"
Stiles' eyes went wide, "Oh, sorry, that was meant to be in my head." He can feel his cheeks turning red but he waves it off with a shrug of his shoulders, before giving Derek a small smile.
"You really think that I'm attractive?"
"Dude," Stiles says, stunned that he's even asking that. "Have you even seen yourself? You're hot like burning, I mean, like ten out of ten, would bang-“
Derek steps forward and presses his lips against Stiles'. Stiles blinks, eyes widened in surprise before his brain kicks in and starts yelling at him to shut your fucking eyes, you're being weird.
Stiles drops the sheet of paper he was in the middle of holding, and hears it flutter to the ground, but he doesn't really care he's just trying to kick his body into gear and out of the shock factor that he's kissing Derek Hale, and Derek Hale apparently enjoys kissing him and Stiles wishes that someone had told him this months ago.
He grabs a hold of the back of Derek's neck and presses their bodies together, wrapping his other hand around Derek's waist and fuck he's hard already.
Derek responds by grinding their hips together, while he starts to kiss down Stiles' jaw line, and it feels so much better than any half assed wank he's had recently. Stiles's head lolls back and he grabs at Derek's ass, grinding harder against Derek's thigh, and he's sure it looks obscene and ridiculous but he can't bring himself to care. Stiles feels giddy. He's getting pushed backwards until Derek's got him pressed against a wall. Then Derek sucks down, hard, on a spot on his neck and Stiles' hips jerk in response, his grip tightening.
"Uh, Derek," he gasps. "Derek, we gotta calm it down, or I'm gonna cream my pants."
Derek pulls back, and smirks, his pupils are blown wide, lips swollen and hair mussed, fuck, Stiles just wants to jump him.
"Bedroom?" Derek asks, and Stiles can tell he's trying to seem smooth but there's a desperate edge to his voice.
"Oh fuck yes," he grins, launching himself back at Derek. Derek grabs him by the bottom of his thighs and hoists him up around his waist. They’re kissing at a different angle now, with Derek's hands holding Stiles’ thighs, and god, Stiles hasn't been laid in a while and he's trying to figure out how long it's been since he trimmed his pubes when Derek bites his neck again and oh god he needs to be naked.
Stiles' back hits a door, and Derek lets go of one of his legs. The other is still wrapped around Derek's waist so he doesn't exactly fall down, but the loss of support is unexpected. Stiles lets out a yelp, holding onto Derek tighter. "A little warning would've been nice! What are you even doing?"
"Just," Derek's breathing is ragged, "Trying to lock the door."
There's a click and then Derek's got both hands holding Stiles up again and they're heading up the stairs.
The stairs are bumpy and rough, but Derek seems committed to this carrying thing, and they finally make it up and Stiles is dropped unceremoniously onto a bed.
He bounces up and down, letting out a laugh, but before he can say anything, Derek is back onto him, kissing him fiercely.
"So," Stiles, gasps between kisses. "What do you want to do?"
Derek's kissing down his neck, settling in-between Stiles' legs, and this is happening, this is really happening.
"I want to blow you," Derek swallows, looking up at Stiles from underneath his lashes. "Is that okay?"
"Okay? That is so okay. That's like the okay-ey-est thing that's ever been okay," Stiles babbles, as Derek's eyes darken and he starts working on the buttons on Stiles' jeans. Stiles' cock is confined in his boxers but it's certainly at attention. Derek's staring at the bulge and Stiles can feel his breath ghosting over it through the fabric.
Due to the lack of anything else to do, Stiles lifts up his hips and allows Derek to yank down his clothes, which lets Stiles' cock spring free in an almost comical movement. Since Derek is settled between his legs they only make it past his knees, but that allows Stiles a little room to spread his legs further.
There's a brief pause, while Derek reaches over to grab a condom from the nightstand, before he settles back down on the bed and rolls it down Stiles' cock, keeping Stiles' gaze as he did so and, fuck, it feels so good to have someone else touching his dick for once. Derek looks back to Stiles' cock and fuck everything, he's licking a stripe up from the base of Stiles dick. Stiles' head falls back, and he lets out a guttural moan.
He can feel Derek's tongue swirl around his head, and Stiles hands clench in the sheets as he takes his head in his mouth. It's all too much, there's warm hands holding down his hips, and a warm mouth sucking down Stiles' dick, and he can feel every flutter of Derek's tongue. There's a heat pooling in his belly, his forehead breaking out in sweat as he writhes in the sheets. Stiles threads his fingers through Derek's hair, trying his best not to tug too hard. Derek continues bobbing his head up and down, a slight suction that's almost unbearable, and it's all too much, it's overwhelming, it's-
"Derek," Stiles chokes out, grip tightening on his hair. "Derek, I'm' gonna-"
Derek keeps up his steady pace, and rubs a circle into Stiles' hip as Stiles comes, hard, his back arching off of the bed and grip tightening, to, in hindsight, a probably uncomfortable level for Derek.
He falls back against the sheets, panting, as Derek worms his way up the bed to lie down next to him. Stiles still has a shirt on, his jeans are only pushed as far as his ankles, and Derek's still fully dressed.
Stiles chuckles.
"What?" Derek asks, making a face.
"We're just so dressed," Stiles laughs, before leaning down and pulling off the condom, tying a knot in it and tossing it towards the trash.
"You're lucky that made it to the bin."
"Luck has nothing to do with it,' Stiles smirked. "Pure talent."
Derek snorts at him, "Sure."
"I'm a pretty talented dude," Stiles smirks, before leaning down to tug his bottoms off the full way and kick them off the bed. "You wanna see some of my other talents?"
Derek rolls his eyes, "That was such an awful-"
Stiles shuts him up by kissing him, which he decides is the best way to shut Derek up ever. He rolled them over so that Stiles was straddling Derek by the waist, and started to work on undoing his buttons.
They were in for a long night.
#
The first thing that alerts Stiles to the fact that he's not in his own bed is the pillows. There was an... incident with Scott and a stray that he'd brought home the previous week and Stiles hadn't gotten around to buying new ones yet.
The second is that there's an alarm going off that's not his own, and god is it annoying.
The third thing is the a snoring figure next to him.
He squints open an eye, glancing at the bedside clock that is making this infernal beeping. He reaches out an arm to smack the button on top of the alarm. He turns the other way and reaches out a leg to kick Derek. His foot brushes up against Derek's leg hair and he resists the urge to intertwine them and snuggle in closer. Stiles tends to jerk and kick in his sleep and it's far too early for morning sex.
"Urgh," Derek grunts, pulling the comforter up further over his head and curling into a ball.
"Derek," Stiles groans, giving him another kick. "Alarm. Yours."
"Five minutes,' Derek says, voice muffled under the sheets.
Well, no one could say Stiles didn't try.
#
"Oh shit."
The bed jostles as Derek jumps out of bed like he's been set on fire. Stiles pokes his head out from the sheets, wincing in the sunlight, "Little harsh."
"No not-" Derek groans, hopping into a pair of boxers. Stiles tries not to giggle at the way his penis jiggles. "It's eight. I'm meant to be opening the shop."
"Oh," Stiles says. "Shit."
Derek is already tugging on a shirt. "Go back to sleep, take a shower if you want and you can get breakfast from downstairs when you want to go."
Stiles opens his mouth to respond, but Derek's already fled from the room.
He's too awake now to go back to sleep so instead he get's up, pulls on a pair of boxers from the drawer he'd seen Derek open earlier, and pads through to the rest of his apartment.
He's been in Derek's apartment before. Well, once, when he was complaining about the sandwich of the day so much that Derek let him have some left over lasagna that he had in his fridge, and then he'd only seen really seen the living room.
The hallway leads straight down to a staircase that leads to the back of the shop, and it has four doors off of it, one to the living room/kitchenette, one to a bathroom, one to the spare bedroom and another to a closet with towels. He grabs a towel and decides to shower. Derek's shower has ridiculously good water pressure he finds out, and Stiles spends a good twenty minutes under there before finally gathering the willpower to switch it off. He steps out and grabs the towel from the hook, drying his face, before he wipes the mirror. He looks okay, maybe a bit tired but then that's really a constant state of being by now, and oh fuck, Derek's left him one fucker of a hicky.
He tips up his jaw to get a better look, but the bathroom mirror is re-fogging up. He sighs and wraps the towel firmly around his waist, padding back through to Derek's room.
It takes most of his self-restraint, but he stops himself from snooping through Derek's drawers. He does glance back in the mirror to examine the hickey that's been left on his neck. He gives it an experimental prod but it's tender, and a deep purple color.
He's not even mad, it was totally worth it. He's a little impressed at the sheer size of it even.
Stiles pulls on his shoes, and pads down to the cafe. He left all his stuff down there last night, and is praying that someone's tidied it up.
Derek looks frazzled, his hair is still mussed up and Stiles is pretty sure that his shirt is on inside out, but Erica's working alongside him so nothing can be going too wrong.
Erica turns and spots him, her face breaking out into a grin, "Damn, Stilinski, that is one hell of a hickey."
Stiles adjusts his shirt, "Uh yeah..."
"Don't worry," she points to the corner where his bag is sitting, before tossing him his cell phone. He catches it by the tips of his fingers. "I gathered up all your stuff. That phone's been bleeping all morning by the way."
He hits the hold button to see three missed calls and six texts from Scott that all amount to 'call me so I know you're not dead.'
The rush of guilt hits him swiftly; Stiles is a terrible friend.
He's in the middle of tapping out a reply to Scott when his battery promptly dies, which is just his luck really. Stupid iPhones and their stupid battery life. "I gotta go, Scott seemed pretty worried and my phone's died."
"You could use mine," Derek offers, but Stiles shakes his head.
"I don't remember his number, but thanks though."
"You're both welcome for covering your asses this morning, by the way," Erica says, folding her arms over her chest. Derek blushes beetroot.
"Uh, sorry about that."
"My bad," Stiles interrupts. "I turned off the alarm."
"Don't let it happen again," Is all Erica says, before she turns around to the customer waiting at the till.
Stiles blushes, ducking his head and dropping Derek's gaze. God, if the ground could just open up and swallow him, then that'd be great. "Uh, well... I'd better go."
"That was... fun," Derek says. "At least... I thought it was?"
"No, me too," Stiles interrupts hastily. "I thought it was fun. Too."
"We should do it again?"
"Guys are fucking hopeless," Erica mutters, pushing past him so that she can get to the small fridge.
They both snort, and Stiles looks up to catch Derek's gaze. The corner of his mouth twitches, and Stiles decides that he should be decisive. He reaches forward and grabs a pen out of Derek's apron pocket, then pulls Derek's arm to wards him and scrawls his number along it. "Call me if you want to do that again," he presses a brief kiss against Derek's lips before he can change his mind and he dashes from the apartment.
When he finally makes it back to his flat he finds Scott curled up asleep on the couch and another stab of guilt goes through him. He grabs a post it from the fridge and scrawls - Home, sorry bout that -- Stiles, then sticks it to Scott's face. Scott sniffs, and rolls over, but doesn't wake.
Stiles forgot to get coffee, since he left in such a hurry, and their coffee maker makes a lot of noise so he just grabs a glass of milk and heads through to his bedroom.
Milk though, unlike coffee, does not have caffeine in it, and Stiles ends up falling asleep on top of his laptop before he'd even turned the thing on.
#
Sometimes Stiles and Scott can go days without really seeing each other. Stiles' schedule of a lot of readings and not many contact hours contrasts heavily with Scott's intensive Vet-School-Shit. Scott would often leave early in the morning and return late at night when Stiles was in the library.
Unfortunately for Stiles it wasn't one of those days.
Stiles blinks as the door of his room is thrown open, Scott standing in the doorway, "I thought something had happened."
"Dude," Stiles yawns, "Chill."
"You couldn't have texted?"
"I was busy," Stiles says defensively. "C'mon, it's not like I've not stayed out all night before, heck I used to spend more nights in other peoples beds than my own."
Scott rolls his eyes, letting Stiles know he's not really pissed. He leans against the doorframe, folding his arms over his chest, "Yeah, when you were an undergrad. Seriously Stiles, think about it; When was the last time that you stayed out all night?"
Stiles does. It's been a painfully long time, he realizes. He shuts his laptop and gets to his feet deciding he's in dire need of coffee if he's going to put up with Scott lecturing him.
He pushes past Scott towards the kitchen, there's already a pot sitting in the coffee maker, thank god. Stiles pours a mug before going to sit at at the table.
Scott takes a bag of Doritos from the cupboard and sits across from Stiles, "D'yo wanna talk about it?"
"Talk about what?"
"Last night? Decompress, y'know. Where were you?"
"I'm fine Scott, it was sex. I can do sex, I may be out of practice but all the things still go into the same places. It's like riding a bike, or, y'know, riding a person," Stiles says with a grin at the word-play.
Scott makes a face, "Thanks for that image dude. So, uh, was it someone you know?"
"Well I know him now. Biblically," he wiggles his eyebrows.
"You're deflecting," Scott accuses
Stiles rolls his eyes at him, "Fine I knew him, but Scott, it's no big deal; we fucked and it was damn good. Nothing you need to get all worried over."
Scott's looking at him curiously and fuck, he knows exactly who Stiles slept with. Stiles tries not to blush, holding Scott's steady gaze. "Did you talk at all?" Scott asks.
"Y'know me Scott, I'm not really one for small talk," Stiles says, giving him a wide grin.
Scott rolls his eyes at Stiles, "Did you talk after?"
"No I just left."
Scott just raised an eyebrow at him. "Rude."
"He was working! and Erica kept leering at us," Stiles says, his voice reaching a high, defensive tone. "I gave him a peck on the cheek and got out of there."
"You're a mess," Scott says after a minute. "Are you gonna sleep with him again?"
Stiles shrugs. "Maybe? I dunno. He's got my number, we night set up a booty call thing. Or we might not. I'll have to wait and see."
"Keep me updated dude," Scott says, before finally opening the bag of Doritos. "I'm kinda invested in your life."
"Story for a story," Stiles says, reaching over to grab some chips. "You'll get more of the Stiles Stilinski Show when you gimmie some dirt on your life."
"I don't have any dirt."
"Well then, you better do something interesting," Stiles says, liftng his eyebrows. "Or else no more Stiles Stories."
"You're the worst." Scott announces. "The actual worst."
#
He isn't sure how he manages it, but he convinces Lydia to give Perk another chance for their Saturday morning brunch. It's easier than he expected, which means Lydia definitely has an agenda but he can't figure out what it is.
The ordering goes smoother than Stiles had expected, he's pretty sure no one can tell that he's fucked the barista by looking at them.
"Right, now hear me out," Stiles starts, "I know you don't do requests or substitutions. Sandwich or no sandwich, coffee or no coffee etc... but just this once, could you do me a solid and make Lydia's no mayo. I don't know whats going to be on it, and she's not that fussy but she just hates mayonnaise and I'll be getting an earful about dragging her to this place again if there's nothing she can eat."
Derek opens his mouth to argue, but Stiles gives him an exaggerated pout. He lets out a sigh, "Fine. And three coffees?"
"Two Coffees, one tea," Stiles says.
"Would you guys like a choice of tea?" Derek asks, but his voice is strained like it's paining him to say.
Stiles snorts, "Don't hurt yourself there dude, just take your pick."
Stiles waits by the counter until Derek comes back with his coffees, "I'm just saying dude, this whole 'let the customer choose what they want to eat' thing might catch on. You should prepare yourself."
"If there's allergies or a medial reason then I'm willing to compromise," Derek says. "I just don't have the facilities to have six different types of sandwiches and 18 types of coffee."
"Whatever," Stiles says, picking up the coffees and tea gingerly. It's a fine balancing act but he thinks he's got it.
"You need a hand?"
"I got it," Stiles grins.
"I'll bring over your food once to the table," Derek says, eyeing him suspiciously, "It's a slow morning."
"Thanks!" Stiles calls, turning and heading over to the corner where Lydia and Scott are already sat. Scott jumps to his feet when he spots Stiles’ precarious hold on their drinks and takes the tea from his hand.
"You can make two trips," Scott points out.
"Yeah but then that would be admitting defeat," Stiles says, before sliding into the booth next to Lydia. He turns his head and presses a kiss into Lydia's cheek. "Morning."
She smiles at him, "Good morning, how's the thesis?”
"God Lydia," Stiles rolls his eyes, "You don't just ask someone how their thesis is."
She gives him a withering stare, just as Derek comes to the table, three plates stacked in his hands. "Two sandwiches of the day, and one special with no mayo."
He places the plates down in front of them all, giving Lydia the special one.
"You guys need anything else?"
"Nah, thanks man," Stiles says, already picking up his sandwich. He takes a bite, "God this is good today."
Derek doesn't say anything, he just slips away and back around the counter without a sound. Stiles glances over to Lydia who is picking apart her sandwich. He eyebrows scrunch and she looks up at Stiles.
"You slept with him," It's a statement not a question, but Stiles tries to deny it anyway.
"What?! Me? You think I could hit that," he gestures to Derek, who's glowering at the countertop as he tries to scrub at a particularly difficult stain. "Pft, in my dreams maybe."
Lydia rolls her eyes. "Please, Stiles, I don't think you could, I think you did. Well, know actually, it's obvious."
Stiles sighs, "What gave me away?"
Lydia leans over and presses a finger into his neck, right over the gigantic hickey he'd almost forgotten about, causing him to hiss and flinch away. "If you want to tap that again you should sit further away from me. Lover boy keeps steeling glances and looking at us like a wounded puppy."
"Please," Stiles rolls his eyes, but he does look over towards Derek who looks away quickly. "There's no way he wants to do it again anyway. I left him my number and it's been three days. No calls. It's fine though; I'm fine with it. I mean, it was possibly the best sex of my life so, y'know, just be glad it happened and what not."
"He wants to jump your bones again, or possibly write you poetry," Lydia says, still staring at Derek and completely ignoring Stiles.
"Definitely both," Scott agrees. "I mean, on the one hand I'm glad that they finally banged and got it over with, but on the other hand we now have to put up with Stiles when he's getting laid and he's always, like, fifty times more obnoxious than usual."
"Love you too, Scott." Stiles slouches back, angling himself slightly further from Lydia as he does so, "Can we talk about something else please? What about Scott's sex life, that's always a good topic."
Lydia frowns, before turning to Scott, "There's something to talk of?"
"I don't want to-"
"Spill."
"I may have met someone?" Scott says nervously. Lydia is eyeing him very critically, before she flips her hair over her shoulder and gives him an astute smile.
"Good. Allison's been dating someone for three months but she was two nervous to tell you."
Scott looks stunned. "Three months?"
"C'mon, Scott, I know you two were cute, but she's... gone. Having sex with some French boy and eating a lot of bread."
Stiles can detect the small note of bitterness, and he's reminded that while Lydia understands her friend’s decision to leave, she's still a little peeved about it.
"So tell me about this girl," Lydia demands.
"She's called Kira, and she's on my course," Scott starts, "She's got this really great smile and knows a lot of crazy interesting facts and..."
Because Stiles is a bad friend, he starts to tune this out. Scott got like this with Allison and while it's adorable, it's also deeply annoying to live with. He wished that he had the kind of optimism that Scott had for people sometimes.
Lydia however is focused intently on Scott's ramble, smiling. Once he stops talking she pauses before saying "I'm really glad that you're... happy."
"What's happening with Jackson?" Stiles asks, genuinely interested in her reply.
"Jackson is... Jackson," Lydia says, pursing her lips. Stiles waits for her to continue, but she doesn't.
"Are you still dating?"
"Technically."
"Technically?"
"Well we had a big fight but we didn't break up so we're still technically dating."
Stiles doesn't understand Lydia's relationship, "Were you not just about to ask him to move in? I don't know what you see in him, the guy's a douche."
She shrugs, "You'd do well not to judge others considering the state of your own romantic life."
She has a point.
Stiles doesn't really have any more points of conversation that week. Aside from the surprise sex he's not done anything out of the ordinary. He tells Lydia of some of the ridiculous emails that the undergrads have sent him and Lydia tells them both how her subtle but hostile take-over of the Math department's going. Scott talks a little about his course, and before they know it two hours have passed and everyone needs to be going.
"I better be off."
"Me too," Scott says, digging out his wallet. "Stiles, can you go pay the bill?"
He nods and takes both of their money, heading up the counter. Erica has arrived over the course of their meal, and she gives him a wave. Derek's stood behind the till, glowering.
"What's up with you?" Stiles frowns.
"Nothing," Derek snaps, but he quickly glances to Lydia, who's standing by the door, waiting on him, or most probably watching, he doubts she'd wait on him considering they're going in different directions.
"Wait, you don't-"
"It's not my business," Derek says quickly.
Stiles huffs out a sigh and turns around, waving Lydia to leave. She struts off, chin held high. "I'm not dating Lydia, if that's what's got your panties in a twist."
Derek blinks, eyes wide, "Uh, I didn't-"
"Save it," Stiles rolls his eyes. "Although really? You thought I was dating Lydia?"
"Well," Derek struggles for words, "You guys seem close and she comes in here a lot and... I just didn't want to be a part of that."
"Well there's nothing to be a part of, I'm almost insulted you think so little of me that I'd cheat on my girlfriend with you and then bring her here for lunch."
"It's maybe not my most logical train of thought," Derek admits. "I just... I've been on the other side of that before. I didn't want to-"
"Hey, hey," Stiles reached out a hand and placed it over Derek's arm, giving him a quick squeeze. "No need to explain. I'm a single pringle dude, absolutely no attachments. I'm so unattached, the last time I had a date was in 2012."
"I'm..." Derek pauses. "I'm single too."
"So, do you want to continue this being single together thing that we started the other night?" Stiles asks, giving him a lurid grin.
Derek blinks, and nods, grinning back. He grabs Stiles by the hand and drags him upstairs.
Erica looks like she could spit fire when Derek says he's taking a break, but Stiles can't really bring himself to care.
#
Stiles and Derek hook up again two days later, this time was totally Derek's suggestion though, so Stiles counts that as a win.
It started when Stiles was in the middle of taking a tutorial. When he had signed up to be a TA he vastly overestimated the student’s intelligence. Now he's just surprised they all manage to dress themselves and mostly show up to class considering some of the work he's had to mark..
"Colin," Stiles calls with a sigh, glancing over to the boy sitting in the back row. "I get that you apparently don't give a shit about anything, but can you put your phone away and take your feet off of the desk?"
Colin looks at Stiles like he's in physical pain before he rolls his eyes and thumps his feet to the floor. A titter goes around the class, but Stiles just ignores it.
"Anyway, now I'm going to remind you all about your essay that's due- hold on, that's my phone."
Stiles dug his phone out of his pocket and swipes right quickly to stop the ringing. He doesn't glance at the caller ID before picking up. "Hello, Mr. Stilinski,"
"Stiles, it's Derek," comes the reply.
Stiles blinks, and turns his back to the class, "Oh, sorry, I didn't know it was you. Hey, can I call you back? I'm in the middle of a class."
There's a pause, "Did you answer your phone while teaching?"
"Uh..."
"Go!" Derek exclaims, laughing. Stiles grins, hanging up the phone and turning back to the class.
"Sorry about that," Stiles says, shoving his phone back into his pocket. No one seems to care. "Where was I...? Oh yeah, remember your essays are due thursday before holiday starts. Any questions?"
There's a hand lazily thrust into the air, Stiles frowns trying to remember the name. "Uh... yeah?"
"Why thursday? Why not like... Friday?"
"Because," Stiles says with a sigh, "Undoubtedly one of you will "forget" to hand it in on Thursday. If I were to set the date for Friday then the same thing would happen but you'd be away for two weeks on spring break and wold be unable to hand it in and then I'd probably need to fail you. If I set it for Thursday and anyone forgets to bring it to class then I can accept it on Friday; obviously with a ten percent grade deduction."
There's a collective groan around the class, but Stiles gave up trying to be the nice tutor long ago. Another hand's thrown into the air, and Stiles remembers the name this time, "Yeah, Melissa."
"Yeah, uh, that's another thing, why is this due before the holidays?" She's chewing gum loudly as she speaks. "My friend Carrie who's in another tutorial has all spring break to work on her essay, which I don't find fair."
Stiles rubs a hand over his forehead, "I told you about this essay weeks ago! Months, even, you guys cannot be complaining about time."
The guy in the back row who had his feet up on the table decides to speak up, "I agree, it's unfair other people get more time with us."
"Well tough shit," Stiles sighs. "That's life unfortunately and sometimes stuff’s not fair. Now I can personally name three tutorial groups who got their essay questions after you who have the same deadline, so count yourselves lucky on that front. Dudes, this isn't a difficult essay, you still have over two weeks and I can guarantee that if I gave you it due after the holidays then you'd spend two weeks getting wasted then write the thing the night before.
"It's due March thirteenth, anyone who hands it in after the holidays will be getting getting a scraped pass at best. You all understand?"
The class mutter their understanding, so Stiles sighs, "Right, okay, I'll see you guys Monday, have a good weekend."
Stiles starts to gather up his stuff, clearing down the board as the students shuffle out. God he doesn't get paid enough for this. He pulls out his phone as he slings his backpack over his shoulder, redialing Derek's number.
"Hey," Stiles says when the phone picks up.
"Hey," Derek replies, slightly out of breath. Stiles frowns.
"Have you been on a run or something?" Stiles asks.
"N-No," Derek says, but his breathing is still uneven.
"Are you sure, 'cause you sound- wait, you're not...?!" Stiles exclaims, running a hand through his hair. Fuck, Derek's going to kill him, he's going to die in a glorious sex related death. He glances around nervously but no one's paying him any attention.
"I might be," Derek says, and Stiles can see him smirking in his head. That bastard.
"Is this why you were calling me earlier?"
"Why else?" Derek says, before he lets out a bitten off moan. Fuck that's hot. "Where are you?" Derek asks.
"Just leaving campus now."
"Be here in fifteen or I'm finishing without you."
Stiles makes it to Perk in ten and kicks off his jeans on the stairs in his rush to see Derek. Erica rolls her eyes at him as he rushes past.
#
The next time he sees Derek is unplanned. He drags himself up the stairs to his apartment (god why did he and Scott have to get something on the fourth floor) on Friday after work has finished, looking forward to a night spent watching playing video games in his underwear. He's exhausted. He's had extra marking this week for his tutor groups, and his thesis still seems to be getting nowhere.
He kicks off his shoes, and yanks off his coat as soon as he steps into the door, letting out a groan.
"Stiles? Is that you?" Scott yells.
"No I'm a burglar," Stiles says, hanging up his coat. "I'm stealing all your things.”
"Stiles-"
"Yeah?" Stiles calls, before turning the corner and stopping dead in his tracks. "Oh."
Scott is stood in the kitchen with a girl and they’re both naked other than a blanket clutched tightly around them both. Stiles vaguely recognizes the girl as Kira, which is impressive considering they've only met a couple times and she's trying to hide behind Scott.
"Uh, yeah," Scott blanches.
"Shit, sorry dudes, I didn't-" Stiles says as his brain flips into gear and he spins around and slams a hand over his eyes for good measure. "I'll go."
"That would be good," Scott says and Stiles turns the corner. He freezes, covers his eyes and turns back to the kitchen.
"Sorry, uh, I was just wondering when-"
"Stiles, get out!" Scott yells. He lets go of the hand holding the blanket around his neck to point to the door, which means that Stiles can now see his chest and Stiles doesn't know when he's found the time but he definitely looks like he's been working out. Congrats to Scott.
"I'm going, I'm going!" Stiles says, rolling his eyes behind his hand and turning away. He grabbed his coat and stepped out of the door, he could go to Lydia's, but Lydia lived a bus ride away and would probably not be sympathetic to Stiles' plight. Also there was a strong possibility that Jackson would be there, and, y'know, fuck Jackson.
He should go to the library, but Stiles never particularly likes the Library. He's tired and he doesn't want to be sat at a desk for hours in crippling silence, so instead he finds himself walking to Perk
Erica frowns at him when he steps in. "Not the usual time for you, Stilinski," she observes.
"Yeah, well," he shrugs, sauntering up to the countertop. "I missed your beautiful face."
Her gaze narrows, "What do you want?"
"Is Derek in?"
"He's upstairs," Erica says. "You can head on up."
In order to get through to the back of the shop you have to lift up the countertop, but the first time he'd gone through to the back himself he'd let the counter drop down accidentally and it'd made one helluva bang. Erica had given him an earful about it and so now he just ducks through the gap underneath.
(Stiles finds Erica quite frankly terrifying and will do anything she asks without question.)
He pushes open the front door, and immediately Derek's calling out, "It can't be that busy Erica, you don't need help!"
"Not Erica," Stiles calls back, kicking his shoes off and stepping into the living room. Derek is standing at the cooker, frying something that smells delicious. He turns around in surprise, brandishing a spoon.
"Stiles, what... what?"
"Sorry for just dropping by," Stiles frowns, "I just... Scott had a friend over and I didn't want to go to the library again today. That place is soul destroying."
"Oh," Derek says, his mouth still slightly open. He looks lost.
"I hope it's okay, I mean, I'll be no trouble I'm just gonna do some readings tonight anyway," Stiles says uncertainly, but Derek's still blinking at him and not saying anything. "I mean, I can go, if..."
"No!" Derek says hurriedly, shaking his head, "No, sorry I was just surprised is all, grab a seat, I'm just cooking dinner. Have you eaten?"
Stiles tries to remember but Derek just gives him a resigned sigh and says, "I'll put on some more rice."
"Thanks dude," Stiles says, sitting down on the couch and pulling his laptop out of his bag. He needs to get his iPad set up with more of his research books, it would make it a lot easier than having to drag his laptop around every day. His laptop is a bulky Dell that he's had since his first year of college and it's getting to almost unusable it's so slow, but he's hoping to squeeze a few more months out of it until he graduates, then it can go into retirement.
Derek's pretty quiet, and there's some soft jazz playing in the background; the kind that Stiles often hears in the coffee shop, and Stiles realizes that he has no idea what Derek does when he's not working.
He bites down on the question, they're not dating, and there's no reason to get needlessly attached. Instead he types in his password and drums his fingers on the laptop case while the computer starts up.
"You like spicy food?" Derek asks.
"Yeah," Stiles answers, clicking open a PDF.
Stiles is not a silent worker. He's sat on the couch cross-legged, with the laptop onto of him and a notepad in one hand, pen held between his teeth, reading sections from his book out loud.
After about twenty minutes Derek shouts that dinner’s finished, and Stiles shifts aside his computer, stretches out his legs and heads over to the kitchen.
"This looks... fuckin' great dude. I mean, I can cook but it's mostly basic things and sauces from jars," Stiles says, glancing around the counter to see the empty tins, herbs and spices
"I like cooking," Derek shrugs, heaping a plate with rice and passing it over to Stiles. He then heaped his own with Chili before heading over to the kitchen table. "What are you reading about anyway?"
"Celtic mythos, I'm studying Folklore," he adds, unsure if he's shared that fact with Derek before. He heaps up a plate with Chili before going to sit down next to Derek.
Derek nods, which means he probably hadn't. "Do you... enjoy it?"
"Mostly," Stiles says. "I'm just trying to get my thesis finished with now so that's killing me slowly."
Derek nods along, "I remember trying to finish mine, god it felt like it was never going to end."
"You've got a degree?" Stiles says in surprise. "What in?"
"An MA in History."
"And you run a coffee shop? That bodes well."
It was only once the words came out of his mouth that he realized what an asshole-ish thing that was to say, but Derek just raised an amused eyebrow at him, "Well you're the one getting a degree in folklore. What job do you think that you're going to walk into?"
Stiles' eyes widen in surprise, "Damn, you're an asshole."
"Takes one to know one," say Derek, grinning in earnest now.
"Urgh, what are you, five?" Stiles laughs, picking up his fork and mixing together the rice and the chili before he starts to eat. On the first bite he just lets out this low moan. He's not eaten this well in months. "Fuck," he hisses, savoring the flavor. "Derek this is, and I mean this as a compliment, almost as good as Mrs McCall's chili."
"Thanks. I think."
"I mean, like on the scale from one to ten with ten being Mrs McCalls and one being the general population's chili yours is a solid four."
Derek sighs, "You're terrible at compliments."
Stiles just shrugs and takes another bite, "God this is good."
Derek just ignores him, deciding instead to eat his own meal.
When they're finished Stiles clears away and does the dishes, since he feel kind of rude for just turning up on Derek's doorstep, and Derek helps dry.
"Are you a TA?"
"Yeah," Stiles sighs, "I kinda wish in hindsight that I'd done the TA thing last year, y'know, gimmie a bit more free time this year. Also the group that I teach is awful so there's that."
"First years?"
"Yup. I had them all complaining because I set the essay deadline on the Thursday before the holiday, even though they've known about this for weeks," Stiles rants. "It's like they don't understand that I'm a person with shit too do, y'know? I need them in before the holidays so I'll actually have time to mark them."
Derek nods, "Well that's the thing, they don't think that you're a person. Not really, they're absorbed in parties and their first time living on their own and it's an important chapter in their lives, y'know? And most of them are selfish little assholes."
Stiles snorts, before handing the last dish over to Derek, "You mind if I stay here for another hour maybe?"
"Sure, take as long as you need," Derek reached up to put the plate on the top shelf of the cupboard, his shirt lifting slightly, exposing the thin line of skin of Derek's stomach which was covered with a scattering of hair.
"I'll just be an hour," Stiles assures him, shaking himself out of the train of thought. "If I'm not moving in an hour gimmie a nudge. "
"Will do," Derek assures him.
Stiles settles down to work, but his focus is completely shot, and he finds himself clicking onto Facebook within five minutes.
"Do some work!"
Stiles looked up from his laptop towards the armchair where Derek was sitting, reading a book. He frowns, since Derek can't see his screen, "What? I am working."
"You definitely aren't, you've stopped talking out your notes and I've not seen you write anything down in five minutes, you're just scrolling."
"But-"
"Facebook?"
Stiles hangs his head, admitting defeat. "Yeah."
"Get to work," Derek says, sliding a bookmark into his book and getting up to his feet. "I'll go get you a coffee."
Derek heads downstairs and Stiles sighs, closing Facebook and reopening his PDF. He's started working again when Derek arrives with a take away cup from Perk.
"Thanks dude," Stiles grabs the cup without looking at Derek, and puts it down on the table in front of him.
He's acutely aware that Derek has figured out how to tell when he's not working, which makes him actually keep working. The hour drags by, and Stiles just wants to quit because this assigned reading he has is so boring, but he plods on until the clock ticks nine and he shuts down his computer.
"Done! I'm done for the day!"
Derek looks over his book at him, then to the clock and back to Stiles. "Congrats. Say hi to Scott for me."
"Will do," Stiles says, getting to his feet and stretching out his back. He winces, remembering what Scott was doing when he left the apartment, "God I'm gonna need to fuckin' bleach the place."
"Where were they?" Derek asks.
"In the kitchen."
Derek winces, "Yeah, that might be helpful then."
"Anyway," Stiles says, stalling behind the couch. It's awkward, usually after they've had sex he'll give Derek a kiss on the cheek before he leaves, but then, that's after they've had sex. The situation's different; they're generally a lot closer and sweatier and a kiss doesn't seem as... out of place.
Stiles settles for a wave, before he pulls on his coat and thunders down the steps into the back of Perk. He says bye to Erica as he leaves and heads back to his apartment, praying that Scott and Kira aren't naked.
#
When Stiles gets home Scott and Kira are locked firmly in Scott's room, thank god. He goes to get a cup of coffee and finds a bra dangling from the tops of the cupboard. He lets out a sigh and yanks it down. There's a pair of Scott's jeans hiding under the table as well so Stiles folds them over the back of the couch while the coffee brews. He goes pretty much straight to bed after that, sitting with coffee and reading a book for a few hours to unwind it'll he feels like he can sleep.
He forget's that Kira's around when he wakes up though, so he trudges through to the kitchen in just his boxers and switches on the coffee maker. He's waiting on the machine giving brewing when he hears Scott's room door open. He glances to his left to find Kira stood in one of Scott's T-shirts and a pair of panties. He blanches for a minute, about to go get changed but she doesn't seem to care in the slightest that he's just in his boxers.
"Is that coffee?" she asks, sitting down at the table and smiling brightly but with tired eyes. She has a pretty smile, Stiles' observes. Scott always had a thing for girls with pretty smiles.
"It sure smells like it," Stiles grunts. The machine clicks and starts to dribble coffee into the pot. He opens up a cupboard and pulls out a box of cereal, turning to Kira, "You eat Frosted Flakes?"
She grins, "Love 'em."
He puts them down on the table, along with a couple of bowls and the carton of milk. He can hear the shower running which means that Scott's up too, so he grabs three cups and the fresh pot of coffee laying it all out for them.
"I feel like Scott should be the one doing this," Stiles muses.
Kira snorts, grabbing the pot and starting to pour out some coffee, "Yeah but the coffee would probably be burnt."
Stiles laughs, "Scott does not make good coffee, I really don't know how he does it."
"It's a mystery," Kira agrees, lifting her mug to her lips and taking a sip.
"What's a mystery?" Stiles' head jerks up to see Scott stepping out from the bathroom, hair slightly damp still and looking slightly confused. "And why are you both naked?"
"It's our illicit affair," Stiles shrugs, before reaching over to grab the box of cereal. "We just couldn't keep our hands off each other."
Stiles wonders momentarily if he's pushed it too far, considering he's met Kira twice and probably said like twenty words to her in total, but then Kira's smirking at him and playing along with the joke. "Stiles was just looking in the fridge for milk and I was like 'Damn I gotta tap that.'"
Stiles snorts and Scott just sits down at the table, rolling his eyes, "You're both ridiculous. Did someone make coffee?"
"Literally right in front of you," says Stiles, and he taps the pot's red handle.
Scott smiles, and grabs the pot, pouring himself a mug. Kira puts down her spoon and gets to her feet, kissing Scott on the top of his head. "I'm going to jump in the shower then."
"Oh great, this means I'm going to be late now, doesn't it?" Stiles sighs, slouching in his seat.
Scott shrugs, "You're the humanities student, it's not like you've got anything compulsory until twelve."
Stiles just glares at him.
"So where did you go last night?" Scott asks. "'Cause I texted Lydia and you weren't there."
"Lydia lives far away," Stiles says, avoiding the question. "I would've had to get a bus there and then I wouldn't have wanted to come home and would've ended up sleeping at hers again and then I would've had to put up with Jackson being an asshat and taking thirty minutes to wash his fucking hair."
"That wasn't my question, dude," Scott says, but he's got this knowing smirk. Scott know's exactly where he went; Stiles' doesn't know how, but Scott knows.
"Fuck you," Stiles says, before stuffing a spoonful of frosted flakes into his mouth. Scott laughs at him.
"I just knew it. Did you sleep together?"
"Fuck. You." Stiles repeats, after he's swallowed his cereal.
"You didn't sleep together?" Scott exclaims, and fuck, Stiles has really got to stop hanging out with Scott, the guy can read him like a book. He's grinning like a little kid on Christmas, "You really like like him, don't you?"
Stiles wrinkles his nose, "God, what are you, twelve? I don't like-like him. We occasionally sleep together and I studied on his couch for a few hours one time. That's it."
"You should tell him you have feelings for him," Scott continues, blatantly ignoring what Stiles is saying. "It'll probably solve a whole lot of problems. Then you can just sleep together and hang out while not sleeping together without it being awkward. Maybe kiss in public sometimes."
"That's all fine and well, but I'm not into him like that!"
"Please, it's written all over your face."
"Well then my face must've gotten its wires crossed. I'm not into Derek, end of story."
Scott pauses, pursing his lips before a wicked grin crosses his face, "For someone who's not into Derek you spend an awful lot of time in Derek."
"Oh my god." Stiles says, blankly. "Oh my god. What even was that?! I'm fucking ashamed to be your friend. We've not even done that yet." He jumps to his feet. "I'm leaving before you can say any more bad puns, and you're officially banned from giving me advice." Stiles storms off to his room, leaving Scott still chucking at his own joke.
A few seconds later Stiles pokes his head out of his room and yells; "My penis may be into him, but that is all!" before he slams the door again.
Scott is officially the worst.
#
Stiles isn't sure exactly when he and Derek started to text things other than a time or place, but it's happening fairly regularly now. It's not a big deal, really, they're not like they're dating or anything even remotely close to that, no matter what Scott may say. Stiles just likes to have someone to tell when he sees something ridiculous on campus; Lydia just ignores his texts when he sends her random photographs of things and Scott's classes are fairly strict when it comes to phone rules.
To Derek Hale 11:01 - There's a guy walking in front of me with an owl on his shoulder. I'm pretty sure that you can't just do that.
To Derek Hale 11:03- Update: The owl is looking at me. This has to be against some law.
To Derek Hale 11:03 - It doesn't seem to be tethered to anything. This super is weird.
There's no response. Stiles sighs, sliding his phone back into his pocket. The owl hoots at him, like it's judging him.
So what if he texts Derek, it doesn't mean he's into him. Scott's ridiculous.
His phone buzzes and he yanks it out.
From Derek Hale, 11:05 - Pictures or it didn't happen.
Stiles lifts up his phone, angling it at the owl, before he subtly tries to take a picture. The owl is staring straight at him and you can obviously see the back of them's head. He hits the capture button and his phone makes that obnoxious fake shutter noise. The man with the owl whips around and gives him a dirty look. Stiles puts his phone hastily back in his pocket and speed up, walking past owl man. Once he feels like he's far enough away he opens back up his phone and sends the picture to Derek.
From Derek Hale 11:07 - Well that's really an owl. What are you up to?
Stiles frowns, it seems too early in the day for a booty call.
To Derek Hale 11:07 - Got a class, then thinking of going to see twenty two jump street but Scott won't go with me and I don't think it will be as funny if I go alone.
From Derek Hale 11:08 - I wanted to see that - what time is it showing?
To Derek Hale 11:08 − 5:30 or 8:30, your pick.
From Derek Hale 11:08 - See you at 5.25.
Stiles shoves his phone into his pocket, before he picks up his pace and heads towards his office.
He technically has contact hours from eleven till one, but none of his classes have a deadline within the next few days which means that he's unlikely to have anyone actually use his contact hours.
He pushes open the doors to his office and sits down at his desk. There's a cup of coffee, and a cupcake sitting on it waiting for him. He has to share his office with two other grad students, a first year MA student called Kyle and a third year PhD student called Cassidy who never seemed to be there.
"Thanks dude," he says, swinging around in his chair.
"Your turn tomorrow," Kyle says without turning around.
"Yeah, yeah," Stiles takes a bite of the cupcake and twists around in his chair, booting up his computer.
He has six new emails, two of which are from Amazon confirming the order of penis straws that he had shipped Jackson's house, three of which are spam and one is from Lydia.
From [email protected]
Re: Holidays
Are you going to Beacon Hills for spring break? And if so have you booked flights?
Stiles would always wonder who she killed for that email.
He quickly hits reply.
From [email protected]
Re: Holidays
Yes and no, in that order. Why?
From [email protected]
Re: Holidays
You owe me $250, we fly out on the 16th and back on the 29th. Scott's flying back on the 23rd, but flying out with us, any problems?
Stiles grins at the screen.
From [email protected]
Re: Holidays
No Sir. *Salutes*
From [email protected]
Re: Holidays
Don't call me sir.
From [email protected]
Re: Holidays
Love you too. Is Jackson coming?
From [email protected]
Re: Holidays
Yeah, but arriving a week later.
From [email protected]
Re: Holidays
Urghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh
Stiles closes his email after that, knowing that Lydia's not going to respond. Instead he tries to be productive and opens up his thesis from the dropbox he uses to sync it between computers.
He was right in his assumption that no one would show up to his office hours, but he uses his time fairly productively for once, actually getting some solid work done before his afternoon classes, which will make up for the fact that he's not going to get anything done later since he's going to the cinema.
His classes drag on though and he finds himself zoning out far too much. Stiles is uncharacteristically quiet, and so gets into trouble when he's asked for his opinion and has to ask what they were even talking about, but eventually five o'clock clicks around and he's free. Stiles packs up his things as quickly as he can manage and is out the doors and heading towards the cinema.
He stops at a 7-11 on the way, buying a load of cheap candy which he stuffs into his bag. There's a bottle of juice in his front hoodie pocket and he's aware that it's unsubtle but he's pretty sure that unless he's drinking or eating as he walks in then the ushers don't really give a shit.
The cinema is another ten minutes walk, and by the time he's there Derek's already standing outside waiting. He's wearing jeans that are sinfully tight, and a leather jacket and Derek looks like far too much of a rebel for someone who owns a coffee shop and likes to read Pride and Prejudice in his spare time and Stiles just wants to jump in right there and then.
He swallows, and saunters up to Derek, grinning. "Hey, dude."
Derek raises an eyebrow and glances down pointedly at Stiles midsection. Stiles has an awful blinding panic, shit, am I hard? Can everyone see that I'm hard? Fuck does just looking at Derek make me hard?! Before he realizes that no, in fact, he's not got a hard on, and Derek's looking at the bottle of juice he has stored in his hoodie.
"They're not going to care," Stiles says in response to his look.
Derek just shrugs, "Whatever. Let's get some tickets."
"Sure. Did you remember your senior citizen's discount card?"
"Are you sure you're old enough for this film?" Derek retorts as they step into the entrance foyer. As far as jokes go, it's a pretty bad one, but Stiles snorts in spite of himself.
"You're the one fucking me, dude," Stiles says, which earns him a scandalized look from cashier.
"Two for twenty-two jump street," Derek says, ignoring Stiles. Stiles goes for his wallet but Derek's already handed over a twenty and the woman's handing him back change.
"Dude-"
"It's fine. I've got money."
Stiles shrugs, "Whatever. You want popcorn? My treat."
Derek says no but Stiles buys them both popcorn anyway. He takes a stab in the dark and gets Derek a sweet, which Derek starts to eat immediately.
The trailers had already started by the time they got in so they slide quietly onto the end of the back row. It's not the film's opening weekend so the movie theatre is relatively quiet but there's a few groups of people.
There are trailers still rolling so Stiles toes off his shoes and settles down in his seat.
Derek wrinkles his nose, "What are you doing?"
"It's like two hours long," Stiles whispers. "I wanna get comfortable."
Derek makes a face at him, but doesn't say anything so Stiles counts it as a win.
The movie starts up eventually and the two of them settle in to watching the film. It's funny enough to keep his attention and Derek seems to be smiling at least so Stiles think's he's enjoying himself.
About half way through Stiles shifts his legs slightly and presses his knee against Derek's. Derek doesn't move his away, and Stiles can feel the heat of his leg through his jeans.
He keeps their legs pressed together for the film, until the lights go up and they're both left blinking trying to adjust. Derek stands up first, stretching out his back and Stiles gathers together their rubbish before following Derek out of the cinema.
It's still early, and they stand in front of the entrance for a moment, unsure of what to do.
"Uh, do you want to get a pizza or something?"
"I could go for pizza," Derek says, glancing back to Stiles. "I think I have a discount code for Dominos back at my place, if you want to go?"
"Yeah dude, sure, lemmie just fire off a text to Scott..."
He pulls his phone out of his pocket and quickly texts Scott to say that he won't be home for dinner. He locks his phone without waiting for a response and put's it away, looking back up at Derek.
"So, to yours?"
Derek smiles, before turning and starting to walk down the street. Stiles falls into step beside him, and he can't figure out something to say, to fill the silence, but then Derek seems content to be quiet.
They make it back and Derek orders them two pizzas and a portion of chicken wings to share. They end up sitting at Derek's kitchen table playing cards with a couple of beers for hours. Stiles talks a lot, telling Derek about all the ridiculous things that he and Scott got up to when they were young, and then some of the ridiculous things they did when they were not-so-young.
"I can't believe you didn't end up getting expelled," Derek says, before glancing at his hand grinning, "Oh and I think I win."
Stiles scowls as Derek lays out his hand. "You're definitely cheating, I mean, you must be."
"Just talent," Derek smirks.
"It's cards, it's like 99% luck."
"Tell that to professional poker players," Derek says.
Stiles rolls his eyes, "I can't believe you just compared yourself to a professional poker player. You're barely beating me at this card game that I'm sure you made up."
"I didn't make it up, me and my family used to play it all the time when I was young."
"Well then your family made it up," Stiles decides. "It's not a real game."
"It's a real game," Derek insists, folding his arms over his chest. "You're just bitter 'cause you're bad at it."
"Whoa whoa whoa," Stiles says, holding up his hands. "That's an awful big claim. I didn't think I was doing too badly. "
"Stiles we've been at this for hours and you've won one hand."
"Wait- hours? What time is it?" Stiles yanks his phone out of his pocket and slides the unlock button. "Fuck it's twelve already? I didn't realize it was so late. I should probably head home."
Now that he's realized it he's suddenly exhausted, he yawns, before getting up.
"You could always crash here."
Stiles laughs glancing over to Derek's couch, "That's kind dude,but that love seat you've got there is pretty tiny."
"No, I mean," Derek tugs a hand through his hair. "You could crash in my bed."
"Are you sure?" Stiles says carefully.
"Yeah, well," Derek shrugs. "It's not like we've not done it before. It beats you walking home this late."
Stiles observes him carefully, because they have slept in the same bed together but that was only the once, after that first time. Every other time they've fooled around Stiles had been very careful to go home, they needed boundaries.
Stiles wants to say no, he wants to stick to his rules and go home to his own tiny bed and go to sleep, but Derek's looking at him with this perplexing expression and he's wearing the sweatpants he changed into once they got back from the movie, and a loose henley and Stiles kinda desperately wants to cuddle up with him and go to sleep.
He nods, swallowing hard, and Derek grins at him. His smile is fucking gorgeous.
"Right, I'm just gonna brush my teeth, I probably have a spare toothbrush if you want one."
"Uh, yeah," Stiles nods, voice slightly shaky because this is crossing all sorts of boundaries and Stiles doesn't know what's what anymore. "Yeah a toothbrush would be good."
He follows Derek into the bathroom, and Derek roots around in a drawer before presenting him a fresh toothbrush. They brush their teeth in together, bumping hips, and Derek shoots him a grin in the mirror and Stiles almost drops the toothbrush.
Once they've both spit and rinsed they pad through to the bedroom. Derek strips out of his top and pants, leaving him in just his boxers, and Stiles is just stood there, blankly staring at Derek because this is heart wrenching, Derek is fucking stunning and Stiles doesn't want to look away.
"You okay dude?"
Stiles blinks, and shakes his head before reaching down to tug off his jeans, "Yeah I'm fine, just zoned out for a minute there.”
Derek nods before pulling back the sheets and diving into the bed. Stiles copies, deciding to leave his shirt on to have another layer between the two of them, and he should leave. He's done this before, he knows the outcome; they're fuck buddies and if Stiles is having feelings then he needs to get the hell out of there.
Derek switches off the light and then wraps an arm around Stiles’ waist, tugging him closer and fuck, Stiles is so fucked. He can't believe that he ever managed to convince himself he wasn't interested in Derek because he's so interested, he wants this every night, he wants date nights and arguing over card games and he just wants Derek. Snarky Derek who can cook and make a mean cup of coffee.
Stiles should leave.
Stiles should make his excuses.
Stiles should stop this.
He doesn't.