Stiles was feeling good.
Well, not good-good, but he was on a roll. He knocked out three assignments today for his criminology major and he only had one more to go, and then he could reward himself by going out for drinks with Erica tonight.
So yeah, he was wiped, but he was still feeling good at 10 o’clock on a Friday night in the college library. He downed the last dregs of his long-cold coffee and gathered up the books to return to the shelves, whistling as he went.
He loved the library at this time of night. He first started coming down here when he was sexiled by his roommate, but with not a soul in sight and no distractions he could keep his ADHD in check and really focus on his work.
When all the books were put back where they belonged, Stiles did a little dance to his whistling, pulled out the pens from behind his ears and started tapping the stacks to match, loving the slight echo they made across the empty rows.
… Mostly empty rows.
Stiles turned around cautiously. He’d heard stories of the new library assistant. How he stalked through the stacks glaring at everyone who tried to approach him. How meticulous he was about food anywhere near the books. And especially how he once made a girl cry simply by looming over her desk only because she kept clicking her pen.
Stiles was shocked, however, to find that not one person mentioned how fucking pretty this guy was. Thick glasses framing kaleidoscope eyes and dark brows, biceps of marble folded over a barrelled chest, and rough stubble that Stiles had no trouble picturing between his own thighs.
Stiles could only imagine what he looked like. Hair mussed all over from running his hands through from frustration, deep purple bruises under his eyes from only managing 12 hours sleep this whole week, a pathetic splattering of two-day stubble, and his own glasses askew on the bridge of his nose. He was embarrassed enough under the scrutiny of the sex-god in front of him, even if he ignored his tragically humiliating happy dance.
He gulped, sticking one pen behind his ear, and the other between his teeth to hold him back from running his mouth. “Heeey dude” he stammered, flicking his pen around his mouth “I thought I was alone, sorry about that.”
The man just frowned at him. In absolute silence.
Aw crap. Here comes the incessant word vomit.
“You see, I had just finished my third assignment for the day and that’s a big deal for me as I used to procrastinate like, a lot because of my ADHD, but I’ve been sexiled like, every day this week because my roommate got a new boyfriend so it’s like gay sex 24/7 in there. Which is not to say I don’t like gay people. Or sex, y’know? It’d be a little hypocritical of me because I’m bisexual, so I can totally appreciate the butt sex, although I haven’t gotten any since, well, a while. So yeah, being insistently horny and no place to ‘go’ bought me down here to finish off these assignments that have been a pain in my ass. But not the previously mentioned good sort of ass pain? So when I finally finished these I can go out drinking at the Jungle and get me some, so that’s why I was whistling and dancing and stuff, and apparently why I’m still talking, sorry.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Way to go, Stiles, talk to the walking wet-dream about sex, that’s not suggestive at all.
Stiles chewed on his pen nervously, waiting for the guy to say something, anything.
“Are you finished?”
Well, that will do it.
“Yup. Absolutely. I’m going to go away now, and I won’t make any more noise I promise. It’ll be like I’m not even here, so you can loom and frown at books as much as you want.” He keeps biting at the pen, and the guy keeps frowning at him, gaze flicking between his eyes and his mouth. Stiles started to walk backwards towards the direction of his desk “Alrighty, I’m Stiles, it was… nice… to meet you. Bye!”
He wasn’t running away. He was making a tactical retreat.
Stopping in the café to grab another coffee, he pulled out his phone to share his embarrassment with Erica.
|CATWOMAN: aw sweetie, you’re fucking precious. which assistant was it? The red-head?
| BATMAN: she’s strawberry-blonde. And no, it was the guy who looks like he murders puppies with his eyebrows.
| CATWOMAN: no way, Hottie Hale?
| BATMAN: you know him?
| CATWOMAN: honey, Cora is his baby sister
| BATMAN: BOYD’S CORA?! THAT CORA?!
| CATWOMAN: bitch please, she’s MY Cora. And yeah, murder-y eyebrows? Definitely a Hale trait
| CATWOMAN: we’ll do shots for you tonight, m’kay?
| BATMAN: fucking A
So ‘Derek the Single Fireman/Writer’ and ‘Mr Go-Find-the-Book-Yourself’ are the same person. Cora and Boyd having been telling Stiles about him for half the year, ever since Boyd joined the department. It’s always ‘Derek said this’ and ‘Derek does that’ and ‘Derek adopted the kitten he rescued from a tree’. Scott and Erica have recently met the guy, too. Scott doesn’t get along with him apparently, but Boyd seems to think that Derek and Stiles would hit it off pretty well.
“You’re both rude shits” he had said. And that was the impression Stiles had received.
Whatever. That’s future Stiles’ problem. And after tonight’s embarrassment, hopefully, it will be future drunk Stiles – he’s looking forward to those shots.
Twelve minutes later he has all the textbooks he needs, his coffee nearby, and is ready to smash out the last half of this final essay. He straightens all his papers, plays his OST Playlist, and starts to write.
He’s done about two and a half pages when he thinks he hears a noise. He pulls out one of the earphones and yup – something is definitely making a heavy thump sound. He tries to ignore it and gets back to his essay.
But he’s not even finished the sentence when the noise happens again. Stiles pulls both earphones out this time and looks down the stacks to see Library Assistant Derek Hale frowning at him, and then shift his gaze to the shelves. Stiles can’t decide if Derek is always mad, or if he has bitchy resting face. Stiles decides to go with the latter and try to ignore him.
Fucking what!? Stiles rips the earphones out one more time and starts to look around for the noise. His eyes drift over to Derek more often than not, but it isn’t until Derek looks back that the noise happens again.
Derek is slamming books closed. While maintaining eye contact with Stiles. And frowning. What the hell is this guy’s problem? Yeah Stiles ran his mouth a bit, but this is ridiculous. Stiles tips his chin up in some sort of sign of acknowledgment, but Derek drops the book back onto the shelf and walks into the next stack.
Where he immediately opens up another book, scans a few pages, and looking up at Stiles again, fucking slams it shut.
Stiles can feel his eye starting to twitch in frustration. He is so damn close to the end of his essay and this fucker is screwing with his focus.
Fine. If this guy is going to be a dick, Stiles will have to be the mature one. He turns his music back on and changes the album to Pirates of the Caribbean. He is going to finish this essay, and he’s going to have an epic soundtrack to match.
He finally gets back into the swing of things when a shadow falls over his paper. Out of the corner of his eye he sees a dark pair of jeans but he refuses to look up at the man wearing them. He reaches over his paper, downs his coffee, turns up his music, and continues to write.
At this point he could practically feel the frustration coming off Derek. As he continues to just stand there.
“Alright. I apologise, once again, for my lack of brain-to-mouth filter earlier and for apparently pissing you off with whatever it is I’m doing now,” Stiles states calmly, still not looking from his writing, “but the library doesn’t shut for another half hour, and then I’ll be out of your hair. Until then please go loom someplace else” Stiles briefly glances at Derek, “And then I promise you’ll never have to see me again”.
Derek gets a strangely pinched expression on his face, but moves away nonetheless. It’s probably just gas, or the fact that he’s stuck with Stiles for another thirty minutes.
Regardless, Stiles’ essay is done and dusted twenty minutes later and has just enough time to put all the books away and gather his things before running towards the exit.
Where Derek is looming. Mother of–
“It’s 10:57 – and I’m fucking going, Jesus H Christ.” Stiles mutters under his breath at Derek before running off to his dorm. Goodbye and fuck you, assbutt.
Danny and his new beau could be fucking on the kitchen bench for all he cares, when Stiles bursts into the apartment, changes his shirt, grabs a jacket, and runs out just as fast. He’s practically sprinting by the time he make it to the Jungle and meets Erica at the door.
She’s wearing a tight leather skirt, stilettoes that could cut off a guy’s nuts, and a bright yellow corset that only she could pull off. He greets her with a kiss on her cheek, and after taking one look at his face she’s dragging him to the bar.
Stiles downs shot after shot trying to get a buzz going, but Derek Hale has left an impression on him, and five shots later Stiles still isn’t in a good mood.
“Fuck Derek Hale!” he says as he orders another shot. “I thought he was an ass at first, too,” Erica yells over the music “but he’s alright once you get to know him.”
“That’s like saying ‘if you have something often enough you’ll learn to love it’. Like drugs. Or cheap wine.”
“He’s not bad to look at though,” Erica shrugs, “and he doesn’t say much. You could get used to that at least.”
“What pisses me off most is that I was actually looking forward to meeting the ‘legendary Derek Hale’.” He downs his shot, “but instead I make an ass out of myself, and he’s a total dick. From everyone’s stories I figured he was a regular Prince Charming.”
Erica opens her mouth to probably argue with him some more, but he’s starting to feel a buzz growing in the pit of his stomach and pulls her off her seat and onto the dance floor.
This is Stiles’ element. While he’s all limbs and no grace outside of clubs, put him in the middle of a room filled with intoxicated and beautiful people, Stiles finds just the right way to move his hips and stretch his neck. He pulls at Erica’s hips until she hooks her wrists behind his head and is flush with his front. He loves dancing with her – there’s nothing sexual about it between them, just physical contact, good rhythm, and trust. After a while people start to notice them and draw in closer. Erica breaks away to grind between another couple, and Stiles is getting his own fair share of attention. Two guys grind up against him, one with his hands tight on Stiles hips, crowding in close and resting his forehead against Stiles’, and the other one behind him has his face hot against Stiles’ neck, a hand reaching around to grip the top of his thigh, and fingers pulling at his belt loops.
It’s the hottest tug of war Stiles has ever had the pleasure of being a part of, and he doesn’t quite know which one he wants to take home. He lets instinct and tequila shots take over and finds himself pressing against the guy at his back. His eyes slip shut as the guy infront gives him a deliciously wet open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue across Stiles’ before backing off to find someone else to dance with.
Now that Stiles can focus better, he opens his eyes and pushes back even further against his partner and feels the man’s grip on his thigh loosen and drag up underneath Stiles’ shirt. His other hand slides around to Stiles’ chest and rubs his thumb lightly against his nipple through the shirt. Stiles drops his head back with a groan and feels a smile pressed into his neck. Heat floods and pools in waves throughout Stiles as they grind together with the music. The guy shifts his hips up slightly and Stiles can feel him hard against his ass.
Stiles takes the stranger’s hands in his own, lacing their fingers together and pushing back against his erection. He feels more than hears a stuttered breath and Stiles has only just closed his eyes once again before he’s being spun around into another filthy kiss. Although this one is so much better than the first as both men are pushing their erections against the other. A heavy hand falls to the back of his neck and a broken moan is whispered against his mouth.
His eyes snap open and there’s Derek fucking Hale, looking absolutely wrecked.
Stiles immediately steps back, but Derek still has a hold on his hands. Stiles tries tugging them out of his grip, but Derek pulls him, closing the gap between them and says into his ear “I really want to talk to you, Stiles.”
He isn’t sure whether it’s because Derek’s voice is still hoarse, or because he looks so earnestly at Stiles when he pulls back, but he finds himself nodding and being lead into a quiet booth at the side of the room.
As they sit across from each other, Stiles spies Erica forcefully grinding her new partners across the space to get closer to him. It’s kind of ridiculous – he knows that only she could get away with doing that, but she’s also doing it out of her own curiosity, not for Stiles’ wellbeing. When she nods at him, signally that she’s comfortable with the distance between them, he sits back and folds his arms across his chest. He’s not sure why he’s being defensive, but it feels appropriate.
Especially since Derek looks like he’s trying to map out every part of Stiles. He can see the other man’s gaze flick from his eyes, to his moles, to his throat, and finally his mouth. Stiles’ tongue darts out subconsciously across his bottom lip and he sees Derek’s eyes darken in what could only be described as hunger.
Derek seems to snap himself out of it and leans forward rest his arms on the table between them. “I think we had a misunderstanding earlier” and Stiles snorts. The corner of Derek’s mouth lifts slightly as he continues on.
“All I’ve been hearing from Cora since I’ve moved back is how ‘awesome Erica is’,” he glances away and Stiles’ follows his line of sight to where Erica has an eyebrow raised judgementally at them, even though it’s impossible for her to hear over the music. Until she shrugs and goes back to dancing, ignoring them entirely.
“And all I’ve heard from Boyd is not to ‘get in between her and her geeky sidekick because no-one can deal with both of them at once’. At first I thought he meant you guys were dating and that was fine. But then all I heard was ‘Stiles said this’ and ‘Stiles does that’ and ‘Stiles bakes for the entire police department’.” Stiles can’t help but snort at that, and Derek grins shyly. “I started to fall for you and I hadn’t even met you yet.”
“When I first met Erica she was sitting on my dining table, with Boyd standing between her knees and sucking on her tongue. I remember asking if it was safe to assume that you and her were not dating. She laughed at that and said ‘if you ever see a nerdy guy in bad plaid, looking like his hasn’t eaten or slept in a week, camping out in the library on a Friday night, tell him you thought that’.” Derek pauses to let Stiles catch up.
“I got a job at the library the next day.”
Well. Holy shit.
Something must have shown on his face because Derek leant back and dropped his head on the backrest behind him. “Yes I know its creepy, and I apologise for stalking you, but I worked every Friday night shift wondering if you were as perfect as they made you out to be.”
“How long?” Stiles is surprised he hasn’t butt in before now.
Stiles cleared his throat. “How long have you been working the Friday shift?”
“… 5 months.”
“And then I finally see you when you’re making an ass out of yourself, and all the crap you said about sex and being bi and it just… fried my brain. I wanted to take you here tonight, so I asked if you were finished with your assignments. You said yes and then blew me off. When straight back to writing something else. So I tried getting your attention, but you were so annoyed at me–“
“Wait, wait, wait. You never asked me about my assignments”
Derek lifts his head and frowns. “Yes I did. It was after you were talking about a ‘good pain in your ass’.”
Stiles is totally blushing. The ugly kind too, he bets. “No, you asked if I was finished. I thought you meant finished talking.” He shrugged, “I said a lot of words really quickly.”
“… Well shit.”
Stiles barks out a laugh and rubs a hand down his face “Yup.”
Derek reaches forward and takes Stiles hands gently. “Stiles Stilinski” he says softly, looking Stiles straight in the eyes, and holy shit Stiles can’t deal with this, “Can I be a good pain in your ass?” grinning faux shyly.
That is not fair.
Stiles removes one hand from Derek’s grip and slides it on the back of his head, pulling Derek in for one more long kiss, full of tongue and promise.