Note: Well I'm posting this chapter a couple weeks before my exams, so I probably won't be updating for a few weeks. It's a pretty long fic, and it seems like it's gonna be over 100k. Despite the name and the fairly fluffy premise that it will develop into, this fic will have it's triggering moments that I've been wanting to write for a while so be warned! Enjoy :D
Stiles didn't know when it happened, but at some stage his mind had finally caught up as to what he was doing. He was sitting in his jeep outside the school, hands gripping the steering wheel and blinking bleary-eyed. He didn't even know how he got here, or even remember getting out of bed this morning.
Was he sleepwalking? Had he driven? Did he fall asleep at the wheel? What if he killed someone? Would he be arrested, and if so, would his father have to arrest him? Holy shit, his dad wouldn't do that would he? Surely he'd protect him, send him out on the lamb. But what if-
He's pulled from his thoughts at the sound of a car horn blaring from somewhere behind him. He looked at the school, groaning lowly at the sight of all his problems in life.
''It's good to be back,'' he sighed, exhausted, twisting the key in the ignition and pulling it out, rubbing his eyes sleepily with his free hand. The first days back were always the worst of the school year, and today was no different. It was the beginning of January, and the first day back after Christmas break. He blinked at his disheveled self in the rear-view mirror and sighed, exiting the car.
He could hear the snow mocking him every time it crunched under his feet. There had been a thick blanket of snow covering the entire town for the past month and a half, and Stiles was counting down the days for spring. He couldn't wait to see greens and reds and yellows instead of white and grey. More importantly, he couldn't wait to finish fighting off the cold he's been plagued with.
He sniffled as he walked, the air cold and uninviting. All he wants is to be wrapped up in a blanket at home, like when he was a kid and his mom would make him hot chocolate and snuggle up next to him on the couch to watch movies together. What he'd give to go back ten years, anything to see her in the flesh one last time.
He pushed the thoughts away, deciding he already felt bad enough without heavy thoughts like that clouding his mind.
He had Econ first thing today, and that was always a joy, especially since Coach took over as his teacher. As if his morning couldn't get any worse, he could see the twins watching him from the corner of his eyes. Ethan and Aiden Jones. He's received more thumps, elbows, kicks and tackles from them than he'd care to count. Hell, he even got a swirly once.
He didn't think that was a thing outside of TV shows
Lacrosse practices are like a field day for them, they can tackle him as much as they want without so much as a blink from Coach. He hopes the weather means that practice has been cancelled until further notice. He should be so lucky.
He walks to his locker, hearing the faint whispers of his classmates about some sort of prank they've done on Coach. He can't wait to hear what kind of ''original'' or ''innovative'' prank they've pulled this time. It can't be as bad as the final day of being sophomores last year, when they egged him and dumped flour on him. Like he said; ''original''. They could have at least took some inspiration from the Halloween prank he pulled last October, or learned something at least.
He wakened at the faint sound of familiar heels clucking from a distance, the sound getting louder and more prominent as it neared. He chanced a glance over his shoulder to see the two most beautiful beings on the planet, straight off a Cosmo or some shit. Derek Hale and Lydia Martin.
The way they walk, it's like they think they're on a runway or something. It's like everything should be really bright and glamorous, and a twinkle of lens flare in the corner of his sight.
Derek Hale's neck twitched as he strode by next to Lydia, like it always does any time Stiles takes the time to look at him, which, shut the fuck up, Scott, I do not stare. Okay, so maybe he takes a little peek every now and then, but it's hard not to when he's wearing t-shirts Stiles is sure are five times too small for him. He's pretty sure they cut off the blood flow of his arms because veins that big on a hand aren't something he thought was healthy. Or sexy.
Jesus, everything to do with Derek Hale was sexy. The jawline, the spiked hair, even his teeth do it for him. Teeth. It's not like he even sees much of his teeth, the guy's mouth barely moves.
He always looks so tense and constipated, he never thought a guy like Derek Hale would be his type, but hey, stranger things have happened. He can keep dreaming, though, because he's not sure Derek Hale even knows he exists. It's like some sort of cliche teenage romance story. One day they'll meet and by the end of high school they'll be madly in love and live happily ever after.
Yeah, fat fucking chance of that happening, eh?
And then there's Lydia Martin. Everything used to be all about Lydia. Not anymore, though, he's past that. These days it's all about Derek Hale, the grumpy, moody, unpleasant, angry lacrosse captain. Has been ever since the 'Gay Crises of 2012', as Scott likes to call it. He still thinks she's gorgeous, though, but these days it's more of an observational kind of thing than it is a personal opinion kind of thing.
Like, it should be illegal to not stare at them.
He averts his eyes and spins on his heel when he realizes he's essentially staring at a couple of kids in the hall with a watery mouth and wry smile curling his lips. He's such a creep, God, he should be locked up and shot or something.
He shook his head, shaking the thoughts away, grabbed his Econ book from his locker and headed straight to class. Econ. First thing. On a Monday morning. Brilliant. He lazily swept his feet towards his usual desk and flopped his ass down on the seat, feeling himself slowly drift off. He used the palm of his hand to hold his head up by his chin, eyes fluttering closed, not even noticing his head slowly slide off his hand.
Stiles' face falls unceremoniously against the desk. He groaned loudly, jerking his head up and ignoring the giggles that erupt from the witnesses sitting behind him. He sighed heavily as his eyes slowly peeled open, just in time to see Scott approaching, snorting and smiling like a goof as he gives Stiles' right shoulder a knowing, reassuring pat.
He sat at the vacated seat next to Stiles while Stiles resumed his position of cupping his chin with an open palm, fingers thrumming stiffly against his cheek. He closed his eyes and began to drift off again, snapping out of his daze when Scott clicks his fingers right in front of his face.
''Yeah, I'm awake'', he yawned, batting Scott's hand away with distaste. He groaned with pleasure when he straightened his posture and pushed his arms out in a more than satisfying stretch. The black rings and engraved lines etched under his eyes say he was feeling anything other than awake.
''Are you okay, Man?'' Scott sat back in his seat, leaned over and squeezed Stiles' shoulder soothingly. Stiles sighed with content and nodded sleepily.
''Yeah. I'm just tired s'all.''
''Are you sure? You don't look so good.'' Stiles snorted, too lazy to think of a witty comment to retort with. Scott winced, mouthing a sorry and Stiles nodded warmly.
''No, no, I just had a late one last night,'' he assured. ''It's hard getting back into routine, ya know?'' Scott nods, a relieved smile on his face, although he still looks at him with suspicion. ''Dude, you'd know if I was lying,'' his voice trailed off, eyes darting around them to make sure nobody was listening.
''Yeah, you have a tell,'' Scott said casually, pulling his Econ book from his bag. Stiles eyed him from his desk, eyebrows raised in disbelief.
''A tell as in having a heartbeat that your supernatural ass can hear when I lie? Oh, boy, I should probably work on that,'' he deadpans, tilting his head from side to side and wearing a dumbfounded look. Scott laughs.
''Yeah, I'm awesome like that,'' he smiles smugly.
Stiles rolls his eyes as his line of sight moves to the open classroom door, where Finstock storms into the room, slamming the door behind him, almost knocking it off it's hinges. Everybody jerks their head to the top of the room where Coach is scowling furiously, like he wants to wring their necks one by one, like he'd take pleasure in it.
''Morning, Sir. How-'' Greenberg greets from the front row. Finstock cuts him off with a slam of a hardback book against his desk and Stiles almost laughs at the way Greenberg flinches. Coach glances at Greenberg with a look in his eyes that could wilt a plant.
''So somebody thought it would be hilarious to paint a custom job on my car this morning.'' Stiles doesn't miss how Finstock's eyes dart towards him briefly, and he raises his hands in his own defense. ''So to celebrate we're having a surprise pop quiz. Everybody take out a pen and some paper. Now!'' he shouts over thirty people groaning simultaneously.
Stiles groans as his face slams unceremoniously against his desk.
''Stilinski!'' Finstock yells from his desk and Stiles immediately lifts his head. ''Take out pen and get writing.'' Stiles sighs, rooting through his pencil case, and sighs again. Scott quirks an eyebrow at him as Finstock glares something fierce.
''You okay?'' Scott asked.
''Yeah. Can I borrow a pen?''
::: :::
As luck would have it, lacrosse practice was indeed not cancelled. Stiles hits the ground with a thud, groaning loudly at the ache that is currently constricting his back muscles, wind knocked out of him. He hadn't even seen the two of them coming. He knew it was inevitable before either one of the twins shoved him to the ground, but both of them at once?
He's pretty sure he somersaulted upon impact, flipping at least twice before landing heavily on the cold, icy ground, knocking the breath out of his lungs. He waited for the immediate pain in his back to simmer down before sitting up, groaning at the movement, before he felt a hand grip his arm and pull it around the other person's shoulder.
He blinked up to see Ethan acting like a crutch for him, Aiden standing further away from him smiling smugly, no doubt thinking of something witty to say. He groaned against Ethan's shoulder, hearing the sound of hushed laughter around him. There were hisses and ooh's that came from the crowd sitting on the bleachers at the first impact.
He just got tackled in front of Lydia Martin. That's great.
''Sorry, Buddy, I didn't see you there,'' he said in a demeaning tone, like he was some sort of child. Stiles scoffed as his breathing began regulating again. Aiden cupped his cheek, slapping it lightly. ''Sorry, man,'' he sneered.
He felt another body pull him from Ethan, arm slung around his waist as he pulled Stiles' over his shoulder. He assumed it was Scott, it was always Scott. ''You looked right at him, you assholes. I saw you!'' The twins glanced at each other, lips curling into an innocent smile, Ethan placing a hand over his chest.
''That's quite an accusation, Scott.''
''Why would I tackle my own teammate?'' Ethan added, and it sounded so genuine, that it just riled Scott up even more. The players were beginning to gather around them now, and the last thing Stiles wanted was more attention. This was humiliating enough without Scott making a scene out of it. ''It was an accident, it wasn't even that hard. It's not my fault the little runt can't take a little shove.''
''What did you say?'' Scott stepped forward, peeling himself away from Stiles, fists clenching behind his back.
''Scott, leave it,'' Stiles pleaded from behind him, finding his feet without having someone to cling onto, but Scott didn't process his words, just kept edging closer. The twins glanced at each other before lowering their folded arms and taking a defensive stance. Scott took a long stride forward, arm pulled back. ''Scott! Scott!'' Stiles called from behind him.
''Do it,'' one of them said, tilting their head forward and exposing his face for Scott to easily punch. ''Scott!'' Stiles reached forward to grab his arm, stilling at the next word spoken.
''Enough!'' a voice called from behind them. Every head jerked towards Derek Hale, the team captain, who was looking as furious as ever. Seriously, does the guy ever smile? He doesn't think he's ever seen Derek Hale smile, or even laugh for that matter. Every time Stiles looks at him he's twitching his neck and scowling. They guy's weird but hot so, it kinda balances out.
''Yeah, Scott. Enough,'' one of them whispered, the one Scott was just about to punch. Scott tensed his arm, fist clenching again, his face strained as he had an inward battle as to how to go about this. He really wanted to do it, but he knew he was going about this the wrong way, and he was only gonna get Stiles hurt even worse.
He sighed as he lowered his arm to his sides, turning as both of the twins laughed. Derek was glaring at all three of them now, his attention to Stiles seemingly forgotten.
''McCall, Stilinski, get outta here,'' he urged, and for a moment Stiles' heart skipped a beat. Derek Hale knew his name? The brief smile that split his cheeks fell after about a second once he realized Derek probably just read it off the back of his jersey, and, wow, that sympathy. Sighing, Stiles slowly limped towards Scott, tugging on his collar and dragging him away. Scott continued to stare them down as he stepped backwards.
''Yeah, you run off with your little boyfriend, you pussy,'' Stiles heard one of them say quietly, promptly ignoring him and holding Scott tighter when he tenses.
As Stiles stomped off the pitch, he glanced back as Derek watches him leave inquisitively. Before he made it off the pitch the team was practicing like normal, as if the entire incident was just forgotten about in Derek's head. Asshole.
He let go of Scott eventually, opting to focus on his own limping without having to deal with guiding Scott, too. Neither of them said a word as they walked to the locker rooms, but Stiles was fuming, trudging forward without looking back to make sure Scott was still walking behind him. He knew he was. When Stiles held the door open for Scott, he saw his face, an expression of guilt and something that looked a little like worry.
It wasn't until Scott was seated at a bench and Stiles was pacing in front of him that Stiles decided to speak. ''What the hell was that about, eh?'' he threw his hands up in the air and Scott flinched. '' What the hell were you thinking? No, you weren't thinking, you weren't thinking at all because if you were you'd know that an incident like that could cost you your chance at first line. You shouldn't have done that, you know Derek's gonna be on your case now, right?'' he points. ''Team fucking spirit and all that bullshit. Team spirit,'' he scoffs.
''Stiles,'' Scott says calmly from where he's still seated.
''What?'' Stiles stops, the word sounding more impatient than he'd intended. Scott just looked at him with a soft smile on his face.
''I don't care. Stiles, I don't care if Derek puts me on the bench next game. I don't even care if he puts me on the bench for the rest of the season.''
''Well, I do!'' he yelled, throwing his arms out in an exasperated manner. ''I care, Scott, because if you lose your chance in this then that's on me, and I'm not okay with that. I can't live with dragging you down to my level, I already hold you back as it is-''
''Stiles,'' Scott says again. ''Stop talking.'' Stiles stills in his movements again, sighing as his arms drop to his sides and stay there. ''Somebody had to do something, if you won't.'' Stiles opened his mouth but closed it immediately when Scott held up his hand at him. ''I know, Stiles. I know what they do to you, and I don't like it.'' Stiles sat across from him at the opposite bench.
''How?'' he swallowed, eyes fixed on the locker behind Scott's head.
''I've seen the marks, Stiles, okay? I know. And I know I shouldn't have sat back and let it happen but I thought you'd tell me. I wanted you to tell me, or somebody, you need to tell somebody, and have them-''
''And have them do what, Scott?'' he stood up again, sighing. ''What could they possible do to make them back off, huh? Suspend them for a couple of days? A couple rounds of detention? They won't get expelled. Scott, there is nothing anybody can do. Just drop it, yeah?''
''I can't,'' Scott says firmly, eyes locked on his. He can see the pent up anger and frustration building inside him, and he realizes just how helpless Scott probably feels right now. Despite the enhanced senses, the supernatural strength, Scott can't do anything. This is the first time Scott hasn't been able to help him in some way since he got bitten. ''I won't let them do this to you.''
''So, what? What are you gonna do?'' Stiles sat back down, clapped his hands together and looked him in the eye for the first time since they came in here. ''Rip their throats out? Stab them in the stomach with your claws? Bite them and hope for the best? Beat them to a pulp every time they put a foot wrong?''
''Maybe,'' he ground out.
''No, you won't Scott. You're a goddamn werewolf and if you lay a finger on them you know you're gonna do some serious damage, and that's not you. You're a good guy,'' he says, standing up. ''And I can handle them. You know me, I'm not one to stand for being pushed around.''
''I just don't want you getting hurt,'' Scott stands and approaches, placing a hand on his shoulder. The veins on his arm fade into black and Stiles sighs at the sudden relief in his back muscles. Eventually Scott pulls away and Stiles smiles.
''With a walking morphine dispenser of a friend like you, why does it matter?'' he grins, heading to the shower without another word. Scott watches him leave, but they both know this isn't over.
He does not look at Derek's ass when he leaves the locker room later on.
::: :::
There's a reason why Stiles wants to sit at his own table during lunch everyday. That reason rhymes with 'Scott and Allison'. There's just the three of them, Stiles sitting at the end seat bored and sleepy and half way to collapsing into the slop this school labels 'food'. Scott and Allison are sitting across from one another, making heart eyes and flirting.
It wouldn't be so bad if they were together. Jesus, how hard is it to admit to somebody that you like them? It's not like the other doesn't know it, either, it's so fucking obvious a dead man would be able to feel the sexual tension.
With the smiling and the touching and the eyes and the compliments and- oh, God the flirting. The endless flirting in the halls and at lunch and when they're doing homework together or just hanging out in general. Flirting's not terrible, but Scott is just so bad at it it just makes Stiles cringe and want to crawl up into a ball and die.
He can sense a line coming already, he has a tell that Stiles can read as a I want to say something but I don't know if I should because I'm going to mess it up and make an ass of myself kind of look. It doesn't really matter, though, because Allison's a nice girl who is really sweet and humors him anyway. She appears to think he's being cute.
Stiles evidently does not.
He just can't wait for this to be over. He thought they were finally there on New Years. They had a plan, that when the countdown ends, Scott would lean over and give her a friendly peck on the cheek. It wasn't going to be overly clear on what Scott wanted from it exactly, but that doesn't matter because he didn't. Fucking. Do. It. He never does it! And that's the worst part, he makes all these plans to finally kiss her after weeks of reassurance from Stiles and then- Nope. Nothing. Nada.
It's getting to the point where he's starting to feel sorry for the guy. He's always been so confident until Allison. Something always gets in the way of them, and sometimes Stiles wonders if she does it on purpose and that they are fooling themselves, but then he sees the way she looks at him and it's as clear as day that she likes him. Great.
It's not like he doesn't want them to get together or anything, but if they do, where does that leave him? Stiles doesn't think of himself as a selfish person, but he needs a best friend as much as she needs a boyfriend. Not that she needs a boyfriend, or anything, he's sure she's a perfectly capable, dependent woman who doesn't need-
Who's benefit is this backpedaling for? Sometimes he thinks of himself as crazy, but that's mainly because he has conversations like this one in his head like 24/7, but that's probably the ADD or something.
Anyway, his point is, he needs his bro time, too. He needs Scott for when they stay up late during sleepovers and play video games until the sun comes up. Who will eat their weight in junk food with him when he has a bad day, or listen to his constant rambling with a fond smile on his face? If Scott and Allison do end up together, Scott will have no time for him. What happens then? He gets singled out, that's what.
He won't be invited to watch the next shitty romcom Allison wants to see at the movies. He won't be able to join them at the intimate dinner's they'll have on the weekend. He won't be able to spend any time with Scott without feeling guilty for pulling Scott away from Allison or being a third wheel. And what if they begin to resent him for it? Then he'll nobody at all.
''Hey, Allison,'' Scott says, catching her attention during one of the rare occasions she isn't staring at him. Stiles glances up, too, watching Scott's face go a little tense. Here it comes. Stiles is bracing himself. ''Did you do something with your hair? It looks...'' nice, shiny, vibrant, like it matches your eyes, pretty, ANYTHING, ''um, unusual.''
Allison's smile falters a little and accepts his compliment(?). She's more than likely thinking he's being cute all the while not acting on the fact that he went out of his way to compliment(?) her hair. Stiles wants to smack his face against the table. And theirs. Definitely theirs.
The day doesn't exactly get any better as school progresses. Chemistry is as riveting as it always is, Harris still has it out for him and he's still just barely passing the class in general. He sees Derek and that blonde girl Erica laughing together during one of the experiments. He swears the tightening in his chest is due to the cold he has and the fact that he instantly dislikes her is due to some plausible excuse that hasn't thought of yet.
They're probably together, and Stiles is one hundred percent fine with that, because he doesn't want to be with a guy like Derek. He just wants to be with a guy that looks like Derek. Anyone with an ounce of sanity should want to be with a guy with Derek's face. Hell, when he thought he was straight he wanted to be with Derek. Does that make sense?
From a distance, Derek seems to be like Jackson. Good looking, plays lacrosse, could have any girl they want, popular. If he's really like Jackson then he uses those looks and popularity to look down on people. In his fantasies Derek's not like Jackson at all, and he hopes Derek's not actually like that. It wouldn't make much difference to him either way anyway.
Of course, for all he knows Derek's a nice guy, he's never given him a reason to think otherwise. He's never interacted much with him or any of his friends other than Jackson. Stiles knows for a fact he's an asshole, and he sure as hell wouldn't put up a guy like Jackson in his own group of friends. The only kind of people who put up with stuck-up assholes like Jackson are stuck-up assholes.
Then again, Danny's his best friend and Danny's not a thing like him. And it mostly seems like Derek has a problem with Stiles, and not the other way round. Every time Stiles gets close, or looks at him, Derek always gets so tense, and his frown furrows even deeper if that was even believable. He's never done anything wrong on Derek, considering they've never spoken a full sentence directly to each other. He doesn't know what Derek has against him.
He might find out one day.
His French teacher hands the Christmas tests back which results in a nice 'B-'. He's kinda surprised, to be honest, but surprise turns to something like shock when he glances over to see Derek holding a test with an 'A+' scrawled across the top. Surely, that's someone else's exam. Surely, he stole it. Jock's like Derek Hale aren't smart, are they?
Is Derek Hale smart? He's never really paid attention so much as to what he was doing, but how he looked doing it. Lacrosse captains never seem to be the brightest of people. Maybe he should stop being so stereotypical. Maybe that's why he doesn't get on well with people like Derek Hale.
::: :::
Stiles chooses to opt out of lacrosse training the next day. He has a reasonable excuse, his back problems are killing him. Nobody has to know his back has been fine since Scott pulled the pain out of him yesterday, so he doesn't miss the opportunity to save himself from further tackles and/or kicks from the twins.
He decides to use the now free period to catch up on some homework he chose not to do last night. First day back privileges and all. He's walking past the lacrosse field, sniffling into a tissue when he sees something so satisfying yet peculiar that he has to stop and watch it for little while and make sure he's seeing straight.
The twins are doing endless suicides, Derek standing from a distance watching them, a smug smile on his face as he watches their pain. He's standing with his arms folded, looking like he's enjoying this as much as Stiles is. He takes a seat on the steps a couple hundred feet away from the pitch and revels in the sight. It's an experience to remember, that's for sure.
It's not until his eyes meet Derek's that he realizes he's supposed to be down there, so he gets up and leaves before Derek can even think to call him down and make him do suicides next to the twins as punishment for skipping practice. He heads to the library and finds a free table to sit at, taking out his 'Heart of Darkness' and begins to read.
He makes it three pages in before he gets bored and begins glancing around the room for entertainment. He can hear girls laughing, which is weird because he thought he was the only one here. He strains his neck to see around one of the corners, seeing Allison and Lydia sitting at a table together laughing like good friends.
It's weird, Allison's never mentioned being friends with Lydia before. He shrugs when he comes to realize he doesn't care and goes back his reading. Maybe it's a newfangled thing.
By the end of the period he's made it to page five, and he doesn't spend most of the time remembering Derek's ass from yesterday. No, he does not.
::: :::
It's the next day when Stiles receives ample opportunity to test out his theories as to whether or not Derek Hale does have a problem with him. He doesn't know what the guy's deal is, or which one of them is the real asshole here. Maybe he indirectly offended him? He doesn't know, but either way he's not particularly excited to find out.
He doesn't know if he'll be able to last an entire lunch hour sitting at the same table as Jackson Whittemore.
He knows he's an asshole at least.
He's sitting in his usual chair at the usual overly empty table between Scott and Allison staring into each other's eyes. Nobody's said a word yet and he's afraid that if he brings up a topic of conversation he'll be violating the bro code or something. You do not violate the bro code. He almost startles when a soft voice comes from behind him.
''Allison, do you wanna come sit with us?'' a girl asks, and when Stiles turns he sees none other than Lydia Martin standing behind him, asking Allison to eat lunch at the table of Stiles' nightmares. Allison pauses for a second, considering her options.
''Can Scott come?'' A pleased smile spreads across Scott's face as Stiles balks at the girl sitting next to him. She doesn't even look over at him, just hopefully watching Lydia. It's just like him to be forgotten about at any given point of important social gatherings. He rarely gets an invitation to parties, and he even rarely goes to them when he is.
''Sure,'' Lydia says casually. Stiles quickly turns to his ''meal'' and pretends like he hasn't been paying attention for the last fifteen seconds, focusing on his meal. He forcefully crunches some Doritos he brought to school this morning to avoid eating the slop in front of him as much as possible. He's pretty much lost all hope of being invited until Allison speaks again.
''And, Stiles?'' Stiles jerks his head up like this is the first he's heard of the conversation, and he ignores the knowing smile Scott is sending him in favor of turning to Lydia. Lydia looks at him for a second with eyes that appear to be roaming across him, inspecting him like she's some sort of Terminator or something. He realizes then that she's actually quite terrifying. She has a wry smile curling her lips, which confuses the fuck out of him.
''I don't see why not,'' she says, before turning on her heel and walking away. Stiles breathes a sigh of relief, before he realizes what he just got signed up for. He doesn't want to even go, it's just nice to not be singled out and be reassured that people actually like him enough to invite him to sit with them. He wants to cringe when he nears the table, tray in hand. This is what nightmares are made of.
He gets stuck between Scott and a tall guy with a sharp jawline and loose, brown curls. He seems kinda nice, considering he hasn't moved to a different seat yet. Stiles is actually surprised when he holds his arm out in greeting. Stiles stares at it for a long moment before he catches up, reaches out and shakes it enthusiastically.
''Isaac,'' he says quietly, looking confused but fond(?) at the same time. He's surprised the guy didn't pull his hand away, or be hiding something sharp between his fingers. ''Stiles,'' he replies, and he nods before sitting forward again. Stiles turns forward, glancing around and immediately wanted the ground to swallow him up when he sees Erica, the blonde girl smiling a shit-eating grin at him as she takes a rather large bite of her apple with ease.
''Hi, Stiles,'' she breathes, before a faint thud is heard from under the table and she cringes. Stiles lifts an eyebrow at her, feeling scared and slightly aroused if he's honest. She looks like she could eat him for breakfast. Boyd nods beside her before going about his business. She holds her hand out for him to shake, which he does. ''I'm Erica, this is Boyd,'' she gesture to Boyd, who seems too busy with reading to pay him anymore attention.
''Hi,'' he smiles awkwardly, a smile that falters as soon as his eyes move to Derek Hale sitting directly across from him, wearing an expression that looks like shock, but with a hint of a scowl. His shoulders are hunched and stiff, before he completely looks away and the surprise turns to something resembling anger. It's not the warmest of welcomes, but well, Derek's not the warmest of people so he'll take it.
He still doesn't know what this dude's problem is. What, the big jock can't be seen sitting with someone as unpopular as him at lunch? Maybe he is just an asshole that uses his popularity to look down on him. He looks as though he wants to be anywhere but here, his face plastered in a scowl of extreme measures. He's beginning to make him feel uncomfortable.
It makes him feel unwanted, and if that reaction to Stiles sitting that close to him is anything to go by, Derek truly is an asshole. It could be worse, it could be to a level of Jackson Whittemore assholeness, who stops in his tracks as he approaches the table, mouth hanging open. It appears he's on the same page as Derek, which is wonderful.
He stops over to them looking like he's absolutely fuming. Isaac sighs beside him when Jackson sits next to Lydia, ignoring the smile she sends him to watch Stiles. ''What's this?'' he drops his tray on the table with a thud, and Stiles actually does cringe this time. ''What's this?,'' he asks again when nobody answers, pointing at him and Scott, laughing slightly like he finds the idea of them sitting near him is hilarious.
At least Derek doesn't voice his hatred for him and humiliate him.
''Lydia invited them, jackass,'' Isaac sneers from beside him. Jackson scowls at him, before he catches up and his attention is turned to Lydia, a look of innocence on her face.
''You're responsible for this?'' he eyes her, and she simply shrugs in return before going back to eating her carrot stick. ''Do you hate me? I can't be seen eating with these two losers. Are you trying to destroy my reputation completely?''
''Jackson!'' Derek interrupts him, making at least half the people sitting at the table flinch. ''The only reputation you have is that of an arrogant asshole. Shut the fuck up and eat your food,'' he says, nodding his head and angrily biting from a bagel. Jackson makes a bitch face to end all bitch faces, but Derek shut him up at least.
He's still not sure what Derek's deal is, but judging by his clear dislike of Jackson, maybe Derek isn't actually the asshole he seems to be.
''So, Stiles,'' Erica pipes up from the other side of the table. ''How'd you spend New Years?''
Jackson ignores everybody except Lydia, probably having realized that she's the only one that will actually tolerate him today. Boyd is as quiet and stoic as Derek, but Erica is loud and talkative like himself. She's dating Boyd so they probably balance out in a sense. Danny joins them a little while into lunch, but everybody's friends with Danny so there was no need for an introduction there.
Out of all of them, Isaac is probably his favorite. Lydia's actually kinda sweet, which probably shouldn't be as big of a surprise at it is to him. He wonders how she even wound up in a relationship with Jackson, they're polar opposites but it's not in a good way. Not like Erica and Boyd, no, these two seem kinda toxic together, and he doesn't get it at all.
Derek glares into his food for the entire lunch hour, barely lifts his eyes up except for the time he looks at Lydia like he wants to murder her. She smiles brightly at him before going back to her food, seemingly unfazed. The guy doesn't say one word the entire time after his outburst at Jackson, unless you count a grunt as a word of the English language.
::: :::
It's Construction class before he interacts with Derek again, and it's when he realizes the universe really and truly hates him. He lightly walks towards Derek's table, a slight crouch to his posture like he's approaching a hungry lion or something. Derek fucking looks like one. He tries his best appeasing smile, but it probably makes him look more terrified and uncomfortable than calm.
Derek's expression doesn't change, not that he thought it would. Derek walked in wearing a frown, sat down wearing a frown, frowned the entire way through Mister Shannon's spiel about a partner project the class is taking part in, had a frown when he got paired with Stiles and is still expressing the same frown as Stiles warily sits down next to him, face collective and showing no fear.
It's not like he's afraid of Derek Hale or anything, but lunchtime wasn't exactly the warmest of introductions. He half expected a 'Mean Girls' moment to happen, where one of them would make a wrong move and suddenly it's feeding time at the zoo, jumping on each other and clawing each other's faces off. He's more prepared, than scared. Yeah, he'll go with that.
You can't blame a guy, either. He has reason to believe that even Derek Hale's eyebrows could beat him in a fight. Scared, pfft.
''Hi,'' he tries smiling genuinely, feeling as uncomfortable as Derek is looking. Derek turns his head to him and stares, so Stiles gives up and slumps into the seat, sighing at the awkward silence that threads the air between them. It only seems to make Derek angrier by his presence, so he twists in his chair, cursing the twenty eight others in the class who got paired with someone other than Derek Hale.
Mister Shannon smirks as he approaches them, clearly feeling the tensing between them that you could literally cut with a knife. He slaps their brief on the table and mutters, ''Have fun,'' before he's gone. Derek's sharp glare at him could give a real knife a run for it's money. He gingerly reaches out and takes the sheet as Derek tears his scowl away from their teacher so Stiles is left to face it.
Derek doesn't say anything, lips set in a firm line. Seriously, what the fuck is this dude's problem?
''It says here we have to design and build a piece of furniture. It should have all functional requirements the piece of furniture in question should have. All wood, tools and machinery will be provided. Yada, yada, yada. A sixty page portfolio should be presented alongside the finished piece. This project will account for fifty percent of your grade at the end of the year,'' he reads. ''It will take place for the next ten weeks.''
He glances up at Derek just in time to witness the wince that scrunches up his face. He didn't even make it subtle, hell, he shouldn't be wincing at all. It's not like Derek knows him, or has ever noticed him ever. He didn't think the impression he made at lunch was that bad, and judging by the friendly attitude of everyone else (bar Jackson), he didn't think they thought so either.
''So,'' he says slowly, tapping the table with his fingers. ''What do you wanna build?'' Derek considers him for a moment.
''A coffee table,'' is all he says (Oh, my God, it can speak?) before standing up and collecting a few sheets of paper from the shelf behind Mister Shannon's desk. No 'I don't know, Stiles, what do you wanna build?'. No 'I think we should build a coffee table but I want to hear your opinion on the matter'. All he got was a grunt and 'coffee table'. No 'I would like to build a coffee table and act like a real human being and make out with you'.
Was the last one too far? It was a little over the line. A boy can dream, can't he?
While Derek's back is turned he looks over at Scott, who glances back at him before his eyes dart to Derek at the top of the class. Isaac joins in on looking at the two of them, before whispering something in Scott's ear that sounds like a piece of real juicy gossip, judging by Scott's reaction. Isaac covers Scott's gaping mouth with his hand, laughing to himself.
Eventually they get over their little 'moment' and Scott calms a little. While Derek's back is still turned, he mouths for help. In return, they both just smile fondly as Derek approaches him again, squinting at the two children across the room in frustration and sitting down. Scott, the bastard, got partnered with Isaac for fuck sake, and now they're both just staring at him smiling. He got paired with the grumpiest, angriest, scariest person on the planet, there is nothing to smile about.
He can already tell Derek Hale is going to be an absolute joy to be around for the next ten weeks.
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