That's My Book
AU: Stiles and Derek are college students. Derek is using the book Stiles needs, Stiles can't shut up as he tries to get it back. He never bargained for getting anything more than the book.
"Dude, I have looked everywhere. Where the hell is that book?"
Scott cast me a glare, implying dude-you've-lost-your-mind, but I shook it off and scanned my fingers slowly over the array of spines facing me on the bottom shelf.
"This is embarrassing," he whispered. "Seriously, dude. Why do you even need the damn book?"
"Because," I groaned, looking up at his bored expression.
"Because? That's all you got?" He rubbed his hands over his face. "We've been here for four hours," he cheerlessly reminded me.
"I just need the book, okay?"
"I'm leaving."
"No, you are not! You are getting on your hands and knees right now and..." Scott interrupted me with a kick to the shoulder and a tip of his head to the end of the aisle.
"Sure, yeah, whatever. We'll be quiet," I muttered under my breathe, turning to look at the librarian casting a shadow over me. "Oh, fuck me," I whispered. You are most definitely not a librarian, I thought.
"What the hell are you two losers doing here?" Whittemore asked with a pointed stare. He looked between Scott and I, a smile forming on his lips. "Jesus," he laughed once. "When I told you two to get a room last week, I didn't actually think you'd take me seriously. And this," he swept his arm around to gesture to the library. "Isn't exactly a room. Actually, Sheriff's boy, I'm pretty sure it's illegal." His hand drifted down to the pocket of his jeans, shaking slightly with silent laughter, and he raised his phone towards us. "Smile..."
"What the fuck is taking you so long?" A deep voice growled from behind him. I couldn't see the source of the inquisition from where I was, crouched low on the floor, but I could see the outline of black boots forming a wide stance behind Jackson.
"Nothing, I just-" Jackson began, dropping his arms to his side. He stepped out of the way, revealing the rugged boulder of a man that was Derek Hale.
Derek looked at Scott disinterestedly and then followed Scott's eye line down to me. Derek's eyebrows furrowed deeply in what I could only discern to be confusion. For a brief moment he looked as though he was about to question what exactly I was doing on all fours in front of Scott but he remained silent, lips drawn into a thin line.
"What? Do you want a picture too?" I blurted out.
Derek at least had the audacity to seem taken aback, before turning to Jackson with a look of disappointment etched on his brow.
"You didn't," he stated, rather than questioned.
"No," Jackson defended himself. "I fucking didn't, Jesus," he muttered as Derek raised an eyebrow at him. God dammit, that man and his eyebrows.
"Well, go on then. Busy," I gestured towards the books I was currently scanning. As Derek turned away, I noted the crimson colour of the hardback he was grasping.
"Dude, you have my book!" I yelled, scrambling up off of the floor. I wiped down the knees of my jeans, because, Jesus, when were those floors last actually cleaned? Derek stopped in his tracks, glaring at me as I come to a flailing halt millimetres away from his chest.
"You have my book." I pointed down to where it was, staring at it wistfully. "That's my book."
"It's the library's book," he replied, deadpan.
"Well, yeah, but I need it."
Derek's sigh came out like a gust of wind before a tornado. "Well, I need it too." He huffed.
"No, seriously, dude. I need it. Like need need. Need, need need it. And, Christ, where did your eyebrows learn to do that? William Shatner's school of over acting? Calm the scruff, dude."
Derek's glare intensified, eyebrows essentially becoming a mono-brow. "If you need it that bad, buy a copy."
"Dude, they stopped printing this thing in, like, 1950. This is the only copy at the college, and I don't have four thousand dollars lying around the pay for postage from Taiwan, so-"
"So what?"
"So, could you at least have the decency to, like, I don't know, give it to me?" I heard Scott's muffled snort from behind me. I glanced hard at Derek's face. The apples of his cheeks and the tips of his ears were flushed pink. "Alright, Banner, no need to shift on me, but seriously, dude."
Derek didn't dignify my plea with a response. Instead, he turned his back and headed to a set of desks at the far side of the room. Instinctively, I began to follow but Scott wrapped his hand around my wrist and pulled me back, motioning towards the exit.
"Give it to me," Scott mocked. I shoved him with my shoulder, but as soon as we hit the open air beyond the library doors, Scott fell into a fit of laughter. "Give it to me," he repeated. "Did you see his face?" he boomed.
"He looked like he was about to rip my throat out with his teeth, somehow I don't see that as a laughing matter," Scott stared at me with his mouth gaping open.
"Seriously?" He questioned, breaking his laughter.
"And I didn't even get my book," I whined. Scott shoved me with his shoulder in return, slightly harder than I did to him.
"Are you being completely serious?"
"What?"
"Stiles, are you blind?"
"Did you not see his face when I told him to give me the book?" Scott bit back a snort. "He was going to kill me. And, my God, I almost went after him." I threw my hands up in the air as I walked towards the car park. "What was I thinking?"
"What was he thinking," Scott muttered under his breath, following it up with a small guffaw.
"Maybe that my head would make quite the treat. Dude, why are you still laughing?" I asked angrily. Scott was unable to do more than emit breathy words between fits of laughter.
"You're. Actually. Blind," he managed eventually.
"Whatever," I slumped down into the driver's seat of my Jeep. "And if you keep laughing at my misfortune, you can walk back to dorms."
"You have got to be kidding me," I sighed, taking in the appearance of Derek Hale, the crimson book of my sole intentions sitting comfortably in his hands, that were far too large to be holding a book that delicate.
"It's six in the morning," I practically seethed as I stood beside him. For a moment, he seemed visibly shaken, but then the mini William Shatner's on his forehead resumed their normal grim furrowing.
"Point?"
"How long have you been here?"
"It's a twenty-four hour library."
"You have not been here all night," I questioned incredulously, slinging my backpack onto the table. His shifted slightly in his seat as I took up the seat next to him. He glanced at me with the same flushed cheeks as the day before, eyes narrow.
"No. I got here a few minutes ago."
"You have got to be kidding me," I groaned slamming my forehead down on my arms. "I need that book."
"Like I said, I need it too." From where my head was lying his voice appeared almost soft.
"Well, I guess I'll just have to sit here until you're finished with it."
The Shatners lifted in surprise.
"You'll be here a while," he barked after clearing his throat.
"Then I better make myself comfortable," I replied, grabbing the first uncompleted assignment I could lay my hands on from within my backpack. "Trust me, I've got all day."
After four hours the battery on my phone was dying. Instead of assignments as I had originally intended, I had spent most of my time scrolling through Tumblr and listening to twenty-minutes worth of the Peter Dinklage Game of Thrones theme tune on YouTube.
"I'm going to charge my phone," I said to Derek. He remained still, probably not even acknowledging me. "But do not fool yourself into thinking you won this. I will be right over there," I pointed towards the computers. "I will be back as soon as my battery no longer requires life support... And until my ass is no longer numb," I added in passing.
Derek choked. "Must be all that hot air whizzing around in your head, tickling your gag reflex," I huffed as I grabbed my charger from my backpack and lifted out of my chair. From the corner of my eye, I'll be damned if I didn't see the Shatners shoot through the roof.
"What do you need with this book?" I enquired, chewing an unfolded paper-clip between my front teeth. Derek remained as silent and boulder like as ever. "I mean, you're not a mythology major, so what do you need with it?" I winced as the paper-clip stabbed into the gum of my upper lip and Derek cast his eyes towards me.
"Oh, yeah, that's great. Pay attention when I'm in pain." I threw the paper clip down onto the messy pile of papers on the desk in front of me. "What is it going to take to get you to tell me what you want with the book, huh? What, am I going to have to sodomize myself?"
Derek made a sound not dissimilar to a whine.
"Sodomy just makes you moan, right. Roger that," I stretched my arms above my head and yawned loudly, sighing as I relaxed my arms. "Dude," I turned my attention back to Derek, whose eyes were pointedly glaring at the exposed skin of my hips where my shirt had ridden up. I pulled at the hem of the fabric self-consciously. "Sorry," I whispered. "No one needs to bear witness to those pasty plains," I chuckled to myself.
Derek dragged his eyes away and shifted in his chair so that he was facing away from me. He drew the book up closer to his face. From this angle I could almost make out the strangely elegantly cursive script of the notes he had made in his notebook.
"Whatever, dude." I folded my arms on the desk in front of me. "I'll just finish my work, and you can let me know when you've finished yours." I rested my chin on my forearms and closed my eyes. A few minutes rest won't hurt, I thought to myself. No harm at all.
"What?" I exclaimed, feeling a solid hand on my shoulder. I looked up through sleep-stained eyes to see Mr. Broody McBroodster himself staring back at me. "What?"
"You were-"
"Sleeping, yeah. That's what humans tend to do."
"It's three o'clock," he stated.
"And?"
"Well, I just-" He stopped himself. I noticed there was a softness in his face, even where the Shatners were concerned. He turned away and reached for something from his bag, thrusting the object towards me.
"What?" I yawned.
"Thought you might be hungry," he dipped his head down to stare shyly at the table.
"What?"
"Would you stop asking that?"
"When did you leave to get food?"
"About an hour ago."
"What?" I exclaimed. The librarian passing by the table gave me a stern look. "What?" I seethed beneath my breath. "You left the book here and didn't wake me up?"
"I wasn't finished with it."
"You selfish asshole. One hour! I could have written the basics of my essay within the space of an hour."
The Shatners seem to have re-resumed their furrowed position.
"Sorr-"
"No. You know what? Fuck this. Fuck that book. Fuck this," I angrily whisper-shouted, gesturing to the desk overcrowded with my work and at Derek and that God-damn book, "And fuck you." I shoved my papers angrily in my bag.
"You looked-"
"Nope."
"I just-"
"Nope."
"Sti-"
"Nop- wait, what?"
"I was going to-"
"No, what? Were you going to say my-? Derek, do you know my name?"
I'm unsure as to whether the position of the Shatners indicated confusion or disgust, or something between, and possibly awe, and also something slightly murderous, or...
"Of course I know your name."
"Why?"
"We have mythology together."
"No we don't."
"We do, Stiles."
Good Lord, the way my name rolled off of the tip of his tongue should not have had that effect on my heart rate.
"You..."
"Sit at the back of the classroom. I have my classics class in the same room beforehand, so I get first choice of seats."
How did I not notice that Derek Sourwolf Hale was in my mythology class.
"You're doing the paper?"
"Yes, I'm doing the paper, Stiles," he smiled. Derek Hale, honest to God, smiled at me.
It wasn't so much as a smile as a very slight tilting up of the corners of his lips, but it was something, and that something, that name, that five-more-like-three-o'clock shadow; I couldn't take it. I grabbed my backpack and, still holding the sandwich he'd thrust at me, I left without another word or a backwards glance.
I face-planted Scott's bed before he'd even closed the door behind me. It didn't matter that I could see Allison adjusting the clasp on her bra from beneath her shirt, or that Scott was clearly giving me a death-glare.
"What the hell, Stiles?"
"Derek Hale knows my name," I half yelled in a panic.
I heard Scott snort from beside me. "Oh," he replied, knowing in his voice. "Right."
"Derek Hale knows my name," I repeated, raising my head from the bedspread to stare at the wall. "Derek Hale, Mr Popular Everyone-Loves-Me Jock-Pants Hale, knows. My. Name."
"I see," Scott took a seat in the space next to me.
"He knows my name."
"And how does that make you feel?"
"Dude, you took one extra-curricular psychology class in high school, you are not Dr. Phil." I stared at the wall in silence for a few moments. "I don't know how I feel. He knows my name."
"Why is that such a big deal? You have mythology together," Allison pointed out.
"I didn't know we had mythology together, that's why. How in God's name did I not notice that Derek Hale was sitting at the back of the classroom. His permanent death glare practically sends out laser beams. Remember that high school class when Mr Harris taunted him about not reading the material for the class?" I turned to Scott. He nodded, a smile on his face. "It was like laser-lights night at Jungle in that damn room. If he could have killed everybody in that classroom, he would have."
"He did have a reason though," Scott's smile dropped to a slight frown.
"Shit, I forgot about that."
"You forgot about that, really? When did you start to forget anything about Derek Hale?"
"College, new start and all, you know? Tried to get him out of my head." I noted the confusion in Allison's expression. "And it worked, until I saw him in the library yesterday. I mean, all I really remembered about him was what a total ass-hat he is. But then today he brought me this," I brought my hand up to pass the sandwich to Scott.
"That's your favourite," Scott frowned.
"Yes, I am aware of that. Thank you."
"Do you think Derek Hale li-"
"No! I will not have this conversation."
"He did break Jackson's nose that time in high school when he threw the ball at you on the lacrosse field and it bust your eye pretty bad. I mean, okay, he's an ass-hat, I'll give you that, but, the way he blushed yesterday when you told him 'give it to me'? Jesus, I thought he was gonna have to run to the bathroom to rub one off."
"Wait, so Derek Hale has a crush on Stiles?" Allison interjects.
"No." "Yes." Scott and I reply simultaneously.
"Well, there's only one way to find out," she smiled, straightening out her shirt.
"And that would be how exactly?"
Derek was sitting at the same table as usual when I entered the library the next day.
"Go," Allison urged with a whisper, shoving me harshly. "Remember," she pulled me back, grip still strong on my shoulder. I winced, nodding.
"Alright, woman. God," I rubbed my shoulder tentatively before shuffling over towards where Derek was sitting, with those stupidly large hands and that delicate crimson book.
"Hey, Sourwolf," I waved at him. If I didn't know better, I'd say he might have shrunk back into his seat. Once again, I settled myself in the seat next to him. "So, listen-"
"I have one paragraph left and then you can have the book," he muttered without looking my way. The pen in his hand was scribbling at an alarming rate on his notebook as he flicked over the page of the crimson book.
"What did the poor pen do to you?" I chuckled, but Derek's grip tightened on the instrument and his writing halted. The sigh that escaped him was heavy, burdened almost.
"Bet you thought I'd given up on you, huh?" I smiled. Derek's grip remained tight on the pen. "Listen, Banner, lighten up," I reached out wearily to touch his hand. When my hand was barely a centimetre away, Derek turned to fix me with a harsh stare. "Whoa, hell-o Shatners! You guys are up and at it early today, huh? Does this guy ever give you a break?" I let my fingertips trace over the taut skin of his knuckles. "I bet he doesn't even pay you minimum wage," I mused aloud. "And I bet you don't even have dental," I snorted.
Derek dropped the pen on the table. Well, threw the pen at the table. It bounced slightly and rolled off on the floor.
"Hulk, smash," I laughed, reaching down to grab the pen from the floor. It was awkward, feeling around for the pen by his feet, my face practically seated in his lap. I wasn't expecting Alison's plan to go so smoothly.
I brought the pen up and held it in front of Derek's face, pointing it slightly towards him. The tips of his ears weren't pink, but a rather harsh hue of red-hot embarrassment. Or anger. Again, the Shatners made it hard to tell. Confusion was definitely there.
Derek didn't take the pen from me, merely stared at me, mouth gaping open.
"Okay, big guy," I smiled, placing the pen down on his notebook. "Sorry about running off yesterday. And taking the sandwich with me. Although, it definitely didn't go to waste, so, thank you, actually, I guess."
Derek nodded slightly, closing his mouth the seal his lips in a straight line.
"How did you know?"
"Know what?" Derek replied after a few moments of silence.
"It was my favourite. Or was it just a guess? Because that would be a pretty awesome coincidence."
Derek cleared his throat and looked away. "It was an... educated guess, I suppose."
"Educated guess?"
"You brought that to school for lunch every day for the entire of senior year," he replied with a quiet voice. I nodded in response. "I once overheard you telling Scott how it was what your mom made you when you'd had a bad day."
My breath caught in my throat.
"I'm sorry, I shouldn't have-" he began, folding up his notebook and shifting in his chair.
"No, it's- I didn't know you paid so much attention to me, is all. To that. No one else ever mentions it, not even Scott."
"Well, Scott doesn't know how it feels." He looked up at me with soft eyes, the Shatners maintaining a place in a neutral zone. "I figured you'd had a bad day, so."
"It wasn't a bad day," I admitted quietly.
Derek huffed. "You think I'm an asshole."
"I do. Well, I did. I mean, I do, but I did, you know? Like, yeah."
"Yeah," he reiterated.
"You weren't the friendliest in high school. I guess that's just part of the popular job description though, right?"
"I tried to... I tried not to be."
"Do or do not, there is no try," I smiled at him honestly. For a moment it seemed as though he was going to smile back, but he looked down at the his closed notebook instead.
"I broke-"
"Jackson's nose. Yeah, I remember."
"It hurt my hand," he complained mockingly.
"Fuck you, you're made of solid stone. That ball hurt my face." Derek huffed again in response. "Why do you still hang around with him?"
"He's the only guy I knew when I moved here. He just kind of stuck, I guess. It wasn't like I had any other options," he fixes me with a meaningful stare.
"Dude, if you wanted to ask me out on a date, you should have just asked," I laughed mockingly, but the flush of his cheeks returned as strong as ever.
"I, um-"
"You don't, do you?"
The Shatners knitted together in confusion. "Do what?"
"Like me?"
"I'd rather have been friends with you than with Jackson at one time," he admitted thoughtfully. "I tried."
"By breaking his nose?"
"By breaking his nose," he agreed.
"Well, look how well that turned out," Derek sighed. "I didn't even realise you'd punched the guy until it was spread all around the school the next day. I had a pretty bad concussion, I wasn't really paying attention to anything that happened on the field after I almost had my eye brutally removed from my head. I just figured you were pissed at Jackson because he messed up the game."
"I was pissed at Jackson because he messed you up."
We collectively sighed. Silence lingered for a while before Derek started scratching his pen on his notebook, making spiral patterns.
"You liked me," I breathed eventually.
Derek didn't speak, but he shook his head with a snort.
You like me? I wanted to ask, but I couldn't form the words with my mouth.
"So, are you finished with that book yet?"
That did it. The smile. The Derek Hale smile. The real deal. He shook his head.
"Jesus, man. Well, I'm going to go and do something other than distract you, because I need that book by tomorrow. Tomorrow, do you hear me?" Derek nodded, his smile fading to a slight softness around his lips.
"Derek?"
"Stiles?" He looked up at me as I stood.
"Thanks for the dinner," I smiled and walked away.
"He's totally crushing on you," Allison beamed from the back seat as we drove back to our dorms.
"Shut up."
"You're totally crushing on him!"
"Shut. Up."
"You two are so cute together..."
"Shut. Up."
"Oh, whatever. I see that smile, Stilinski. Shut up, my ass. You want to love him. You want to hug him. You want to fu-"
"Okay, that's enough!" Scott interjects, covering his ears. Allison smiled back at me in the rear view mirror.
Derek wasn't there when I sauntered into the library the next day. I wandered the entire floor, wondering if maybe he'd switched places, but the entire place was pretty empty.
I wandered down the mythology aisle, hoping to see him there, crimson book in hand, but to no avail. What I was greeted by, however, was the crimson book in it's rightful place on the shelf, sticking out slightly. I picked it up with a sigh of 'thank you' to the heavens and sat in my usual seat at the far side of the room.
I dragged my notebook out of my backpack and slipped the crimson book open to the first page.
'Stiles,
Wondered if you wanted to go for a real first date this time, considering we never got to eat the lunch I paid for together the other day.
Call me?
337-7786
Sourwolf~'
"What did you get on your paper?" I asked as I approached the back of the room. Derek lifted his sheet with a smile. "Congrats, dude!"
"I'll be honest, I didn't think I'd do this well with all that distraction going on around me," he smiled, snaking his arm around my waist as we exited the room.
"Oh, please, it's the Stilinski magic. We're infectious with our good grades."
"Oh, really?" Derek circled his arms around me from behind as we walked.
"I think I'm beginning to rub off on you," I whisper into his neck when we reach his Camaro in the parking lot. I run my fingertip over the line of his clavicle.
"That must be exactly what's going on," he breathes into my hair.
"So, lunch at mine. I'll cook."
"You'll cook?" Derek took a step back, the Shatners staring at me mockingly.
"And by cook I mean pick up the phone and a pizza place menu."
"Mmm," Derek drops his head lightly into the crook of my neck. "I like the sound of that."
Thank you for reading.