Author's Note: This is a sequel to my other fic, You're Gonna Go Far, Kid- I strongly suggest you read that one first for this to make sense! That said, I've been putting off uploading this fic here for quite a while thanks to getting a bunch of horrible PMs about my other fics. I finally decided that all the nice comments I got on my other work outweighed the asshole stuf so I'm finally uploading it! I hope people like it...
The bar is too loud, too hot, too crowded: everything Stiles loves about a Friday night. He's been dragged away from the bar, and his roommates, by a red headed guy with sparkling blue eyes and is currently grinding up against him on what the bar proudly refers to as a 'dance floor' and what Stiles has personally dubbed 'a slightly less sticky area of the floor with fake beech floor boards'. That's a bit too much of a mouthful though and he soon forgets all about dance floors and semantics when red headed guy grabs his hips and pulls him closer. Stiles raises his eyebrow and smirks when he feels the guy's semi erect cock brushing against his hip, and loops one arm around the back of his neck so he can pull him into a filthy kiss. OK, so the guy is cute, and he has no qualms about kissing him, but he just isn't doing it for Stiles in that way. As red headed guy returns the kiss, Stiles realises that no one had really done it for him since he went back to Beacon Hills four weeks ago. He blames that entirely on Derek. Stupid fucking Derek Hale and the quite frankly life altering sex they had.
"Uh, I think your cell is ringing," Red headed guy tells him, breaking their kiss and leaning close to shout in his ear.
Stiles digs in his pocket, raising an eyebrow when he sees that Toby was calling him. Toby who's supposed to be out on a date. He'd argued pretty badly with Toby a week after he'd come back from Beacon Hills when Toby had suggested they hit up the bar and 'have some fun'. Stiles had turned him down, turned him down for the third time that week, content to sulk in his room watching porn instead. For several days afterwards, he'd seriously questioned why he'd thought casually fucking one of his roommates was a good idea. Thankfully they've managed to resolve things, but they haven't slept together once in that time and if he's honest, he's pretty pleased that Toby has gone out on a date and probably won't be giving him the sad puppy dog eyes for the next couple of weeks.
He disentangles himself from Red Headed Guy and make for the door, flashing his hand stamp to the bouncer as he steps out into the cool night air to call Toby back; he picks up immediately, sounding annoyed and slightly panicky when he says Stiles' name.
"Hey man, what's up? Thought you were on a date tonight?"
"He bailed. Look dude, this guy has turned up at our place. He, uh, looks kind of like that porn star you like, says he knows you."
"Driving a black Camaro?" Stiles asks suspiciously.
"Yes! You're coming home, right? He's kind of freaking me out."
"Yeah, he does that to people. I'll be back in fifteen, I guess?"
"Is he the guy you hooked up with when you went home last month?"
"Maybe," Stiles replies vaguely. "I'll see you in a few."
Stiles ends the call and scowls at his cell. What the hell is Derek doing in Arcata? Yeah, OK, so he'd written down his address when he'd snuck out of Derek's apartment after their night together but he'd assumed that Derek would at least have had the sense to call first, rather than making a three hour drive and turning up unannounced. On a Friday night, no less. He sighs, jamming his phone back in his pocket and heads back into the bar, grabbing his jacket from where he's abandoned it with Hannah and Craig as he gives them his apologies and tells them he'll see them at home. He's hoping to slip away without Red Headed Guy noticing him but turns around to find him standing directly behind him.
"So, uh, look, I've gotta run," Stiles tells him, running his hand through his hair. "Sorry man, maybe another time."
"Michael," Red Head Guy replies, holding out his cell so Stiles can put his number in it. Stiles sighs and takes it, quickly entering a fake name and number before handing it back and rushing out of the bar. He isn't interested in hooking up with Red Headed Michael anytime soon, and is far more concerned about what would prompt Derek to drive all the way up to Arcata unannounced.
:::
The walk home has left him mostly sobered up, and the sight of Derek and Toby sitting awkwardly on the couch makes him wish that he was still drunk.
"So," He mutters, glaring at Derek. "You're here."
"Yeah."
"And why's that exactly?"
"I wanted to see you," Derek shrugs, shifting uncomfortably and glancing at Toby.
"Yeah, OK. I think I'm going to head out," Toby mumbles, getting to his feet and looking from Stiles to Derek. "Where are the others?"
"Talking about heading to Sidelines when I left," Stiles tells him, turning sideways to let Toby slide past him in the doorway.
"You going to be OK, right?" Toby asks in a hushed tone as he rests his hand on Stiles' upper arm and squeezes lightly. Stiles nods and gives Toby a quick hug before he leaves. "Text me if you need me," Toby adds, glancing back over at Derek one last time.
"You know they have these things called cell phones, right?" Stiles complains, pulling his own out of his pocket and waving it at Derek as though it will strengthen his argument. "You could have called or text me or something. Anything, really, instead of just turning up here out of the blue."
"I missed you," Derek mutters, sounding annoyed with himself.
"See, that right there? Something you could quite easily have told me in a text message," Stiles sighs, flopping down in the arm chair near the door and kicking off his boots. "You seriously drove for three hours to tell me you missed me?"
"You didn't say you lived with your 'friend with benefits'," Derek mutters, looking down at the floor. "That's the guy you talked about, right? The one that wants a relationship with you?"
"I don't tell you a lot of stuff Derek," Stiles yawns. "Why are you here really?"
"Like I said, I missed you. I wanted to see you."
"Derek, normal people don't drive three hours across the state to see someone they aren't really friends with and slept with once. Especially not at 1am," He yawns again and stretches his arms wide before continuing. "I'd say you've officially crossed over into stalker territory, but I think you earned all your creeper guy merit badges a long time ago."
"I was – I thought after that night, you might need someone to talk to. To talk about things with," Derek replies, hunching his shoulders and frowning.
"You thought you might have traumatised me with the sex?"
"You know, if you want me to leave, you can just say." Derek mutters, looking up at Stiles properly for the first time and scowling. "Instead of bitching at me until I go. I meant after what happened with Deucalion."
"I know what you meant and I'm fine. Just so we're clear, that was also something you could have asked me on the phone. You didn't need to drive all the way up here just to check on me."
Derek scowls again and goes quiet, glaring at the collection of empty tequila bottles in the unused fireplace. He looks genuinely hurt by Stiles' comments, and the more Stiles watches him, the guiltier he feels, because if he's honest, he's sort of missed Derek too. At least he thinks he's missed Derek; the more rational part of his brain is telling him he's just missing sex, not Derek in particular. In retrospect, sleeping with Derek hadn't been one of his brighter ideas because now Derek's sitting in front of him and looking thoroughly miserable, the old affection he once felt for him is rushing back. He wedges his hands underneath his legs to stop himself for reaching out for Derek's hand.
"Thanks for giving a shit," He mutters, throwing caution to the wind and slipping off the arm chair so he can sit down beside Derek on the couch. "I tried to talk to Scott about what happened. Just the stuff in the woods, nothing about the, um, the whole having sex with you thing. And now he just keeps blowing me off when I call. I don't think he knows what to say to me."
"Sorry."
"For?"
"You wouldn't have been dragged out in the woods if it wasn't for me."
"Huh. Been a while since I've seen that."
"Seen what?"
"The good old fashioned Derek Hale guilt complex," Stiles laughs, running his hand through his hair and smiling.
"Shut up Stiles."
"Make me?" Stiles grins again, bumping his shoulder against Derek's; the physical contact feels nice and he leans into him a little more. Derek just glares at him, glancing down at where their shoulders are pressed together and raising his eyebrow.
"No."
"So where are you staying?" Stiles asks, nudging Derek's knee with his own. "Or are you going to drive back home tonight? Now you've established I'm fine."
"Don't know."
"Look, it's –" Stiles pauses for a minute to check his watch "- nearly 3am, Wow. You can crash here if you want. Drive back in the morning; later in the morning, whatever."
"Your roommates won't mind if I sleep on the couch?" Derek asks sceptically.
"Nah, they'll be cool," Stiles shrugs. "You don't have to though. If you don't want."
"Don't want to what?"
"Crash on the couch," Stiles replies with a glance towards the ceiling as he presses his leg against Derek's and watches him intently. "You could..."
"Is that really a good idea?"
"Better than sleeping on the couch where my drunk ass roommates will wake you up in an hour's time. It doesn't mean anything."
"I don't know..."
"Dude, I used to share a bed with Scott all the time. It'll be fine," He stands up and watches Derek expectantly. "Look, either way, I'm going to bed. You do whatever you want."
Without waiting for an answer, he turns away from Derek and heads out into the hall way, smiling to himself when he hears Derek getting up from the couch and walking towards the door.
"You sharing a bed with Scott is different to sharing a bed with me." Derek grumbles as he follows Stiles up the stairs. "You're friends with Scott for a start," He goes so quiet for a second that Stiles has to glance over his shoulder to make sure he's still there. "You haven't had sex with Scott."
"That's what you think."
"Scott's straight," Derek replies with a roll of his eyes.
"And you're no fun," Stiles shrugs as he turns around and frowns at Derek. "Look, it's a queen sized bed. You can even put pillows down the middle if it makes you feel better."
"Why would I want to put pillows down the middle?"
Stiles doesn't reply, ignoring Derek as he tries to push his bedroom door open, giving it a kick when it inevitably sticks. As much as he loves living with his friends, their rent is cheap for a reason; namely their landlord not giving a fuck about basic maintenance and repairs on the basis that he only ever lets to college students.
"Why?" Derek asks again as he comes to a halt.
"How should I know? You've got this look on your face like you think I'm going to jump you all of a sudden. I'm not going to grope you."
Derek snorts at him and continues loitering in the hall while Stiles shrugs off his shirt and kicks dirty washing into the corner of the room. When it becomes clear that Derek isn't coming in to the room anytime soon, he glares at him.
"What?"
Derek shrugs, leaning on the doorframe and glaring into Stiles' room like it has offended him. "It smells like you and that guy in here."
"Look, you can pull that face and go back downstairs to the couch where 'that guy' and my other roommates will come home and disturb you any minute now, or you can get the fuck over it and sleep here."
Derek purses his lips for a second before pushing off the doorframe and sighing dramatically. "Fine."
"Fine," Stiles repeats blankly and pops the button on his jeans, pulling them off and sitting down on his bed. Derek very pointedly looks at the posters on the wall as he closes the door and leans against it. "You're being weird," Stiles grumbles, kicking his way under the comforter and blankets.
"No I'm not."
"So what's the problem then?" Stiles continues, yanking the comforter aside on the other side of the bed and nodding pointedly at the empty space. Derek scowls at him again and reluctantly sits down on the edge of the bed, keeping his back to Stiles. "Just please lie down. I want to go to sleep and your sulky great ass sitting on my bed looking all morose doesn't help."
"It's not you I'm worried about."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Stiles," Derek sighs, keeping his gaze fixed on wall, because god forbid Derek ever actually make eye contact with someone when he's speaking to them. "You know how I feel about you. Felt about you. I don't know. Whatever. Just because this isn't a big deal for you doesn't mean that it isn't for me."
Stiles sighs in frustration and runs his hand over his face before stretching his leg out from under the covers and nudging Derek in the back. "I get it, OK? There's probably an pretty overdue conversation we need to have here but right now I'm tired and I just want to crash and the way I see it, we can have that conversation in a few hours when it's a socially acceptable time to be awake."
"A conversation," Derek repeats as he gets to his feet and finally shrugs off his jacket.
"Yes, Derek, a conversation. That's where two people say words to each other without threatening physical harm," Stiles replies with a smirk. "I realise it's an alien concept to you."
"Shut up."
"You shut up," Stiles counters, realising as he says it that it's a pretty feeble counter-argument. "You shut up until later on this morning when I'm awake enough to talk about this shit properly with you."
"Fine," Derek grumbles, undoing his jeans and pulling them off like the world's angriest stripper. "Fine. But just so you know, I still think this is a bad idea."
"You're a bad idea," Stiles smirks. "Now go turn the light off."
Derek does as he's told and comes back to lies down beside him and pulls one of the blankets free from the cosy little nest Stiles has made for himself; apparently actually getting under the comforter with Stiles is asking too much.
Stiles waits until Derek has stopped sighing and fidgeting in his ridiculous, dramatic way and clears his throat. "Um, Derek?"
"What?"
"It's not entirely one sided. The feelings thing. At least I don't think it is," with that, he rolls onto his side and away from Derek, pulling the tangle of blankets and comforter up over his shoulder. He hears a sharp little intake of breath and waits for Derek to respond. After a few awkward minutes, he feels himself starting to drift off to sleep and if Derek does reply, he misses it.