A/N: Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf or the characters.

Serendipity (noun): The occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

...

"Damn it!" Stiles curses as he rushes to class, one of his shoelaces untied, his hair ruffled from sleep, and his backpack slipping off his left shoulder.

I can't believe I overslept, he thinks as he heads to Bane Hall, weaving between students walking on the quad.

Stiles likes his professor, he really does, Professor Lahey, or Isaac as he tells his students to call him, is one of the coolest professors on campus. He's only about four years older than Stiles himself, and goes to school as a grad student, but teaches a couple classes on the side.

Isaac is a great guy, but the one and only thing that pisses him off to no end is students walking in late to his lectures.

Stiles quickly realized this.

After watching a guy waltz in twenty minutes late dressed in pajamas and yawning to the second class, Isaac had stopped the entire lecture, and stared at the kid until he had glanced up and realized the room was silent. Isaac proceeded to kick him out of the class and told him not to come back until he could come to each class five minutes early.

Isaac really is a stickler for punctuality, and Stiles can do without the humiliation of walking in late and being kicked out of class, so he always sets his alarm for the morning of Isaac's class an hour and fifteen minutes before the class starts, to ensure that he has enough time to get ready and still be early.

So when Stiles' alarm went off this morning and he glanced over at his phone to turn it off, he shot out of bed swearing when he saw that it read 9:20 AM instead of 8:20. His class starts at 9:35 on the dot, and he usually tries to get there at 9:25, but no later than 9:30, ever.

It must have been Scott's idea of a funny prank.

Scott is Stiles' roommate, and the only way Stiles could describe Scott would be to call him a puppy. It's the only description that fits really. Scott is so obnoxiously nice that Stiles wonders how he does it all the time.

When Stiles jumped out of his bed like his ass was on fire, Scott was rolling on his bed laughing at him.

"Dude, you look like you're gonna pass out," Scott had laughed. "You still have over half an hour till your class starts, chill."

"My class starts at 9:35," Stiles had told him, while pulling his shirt over his head and trying to tie his shoes at the same time.

Scott had choked mid laugh, and then immediately started to apologize.

"Oh my god, Stiles, I'm so sorry! I though your class started at 10:00! Don't be mad at me, I didn't mean to do that! I thought you would have plenty of time! Oh man, I'm so sorry, I can't believe I did that, I feel like such a jerk now."

"Scott!"

Stiles cut off Scott's rambling apology as quick as he could.

"Look dude, it's okay, I know you wouldn't have done this on purpose, it's fine, I just really gotta get to class now, Isaac's a bitch about late people."

"Oh man, you have Isaac right now?" Scott had asked. "I'm so sorry dude, he hates late people! Oh man, of course this would happen, I'm sorry Stiles! I can't believe the one day I decide to–"

"Yea, Scott, it's fine, later," Stiles had shouted over his shoulder, cutting off Scott as he rushed out of the room.

Scott always means well, you can't rally ever get mad at the guy, Stiles thought fondly as he finally reached Bane Hall, opening the door and heading to the stairs. (The elevator was always breaking down, and he did not need to get stuck on it today.) I just wish it wasn't before this one class he had to get a prank wrong.

Stiles took the steps two at a time, checking his watch, which read 9:33.

He finally reached the fourth floor and opened the door, letting it slam against the wall as he ran all the way down the hall to where his class was.

Opening the door to his classroom, he hurried inside, completely missing the sign on the outside that read "Mythological Creatures with Isaac Lahey: Moved to Gitsu Hall, Room 348."

Once inside, Stiles scanned the lecture hall for empty seats and seeing one in the back, he walked up to the seat, and plopped down in it, looking at his watch again. 9:34. Just made it.

Stiles sighed in relief, before pulling out his notebook for the class and a pen.

He looked up as he heard Isaac begin to speak, then did a double take.

Well that's certainly not Isaac, Stiles thought, looking at the man up front in his late thirties, (or early forties, Stiles was never the best at judging age,) with dark hair and a whistle around his neck.

This dude looks like a high school gym teacher, not a college Professor, snickered Stiles to himself.

As the Professor started to talk about dying stars and black holes with the enthusiasm of a five year old reading the dictionary, Stiles quickly realized that he was in the wrong class. This is definitely not a Mythological Creatures class, he thought.

He pulled out his phone, and checked his email, seeing that he had a new one from Isaac.

Stiles opened it, and saw that his class for the day had been moved to Gitsu Hall.

All that work to get here on time, thought Stiles, and our class isn't even in here. Figures.

Stiles stood up and headed to the door in the back of the lecture hall, intending to leave to go find Gitsu Hall. He was stopped by the high pitched whistle coming from the front of the room.

Stiles looked down at the professor with furrowed eyebrows.

"And just where do you think you are going?" said the man, whistle held an inch from his mouth.

"Um," started Stiles.

"Just kidding, I don't care," the man cut him off. "SIT DOWN!"

"But," started Stiles, the whistle cutting him off again.

"SIT!" the man said.

"But I'm not" said Stiles, once again being cut off by the whistle.

"SIT!" the professor said.

"I'm in the wron–" Stiles didn't even get out the rest of his sentence before he had to cover his ears, the whistle was so loud.

"You want to ditch my class today? I don't think so. You're sitting right up front where I can watch you," the professor said, glaring at Stiles.

Stiles sighed. Figuring it'd be better just not to argue, and seeing as he didn't want to be deafened by the whistle, (who the hell even wears a whistle to class?) he walked down the steps of the lecture room, feeling everyone's eyes on him as he came to the front row, and sat down in the seat the professor was pointing at.

I guess I'll just sit here and wait it out, Stiles told himself, maybe Isaac will laugh and let me off the hook when I tell him what happened.

So Stiles sat, and hoped that the next hour would go by quickly and he could be on his way.

But when was Stiles' life ever easy?

"What happens to an average sized star when it dies?" the professor asked.

The class was dead quiet, and Stiles looked up from his notebook in which he was doodling to see the man looking directly at him.

Oh great, thought Stiles. Of course.

Stiles looked around, pretending like the professor wasn't drilling holes into his face with his stare, and hoped someone would answer.

"Nice try buddy," said the professor, "what's your name?"

Stiles pointed at himself, hoping the professor wasn't talking to him.

"Yes, you!" he said, exasperated.

"Stiles. Stiles Stilinski." said Stiles.

"Bilinksi…what happens to an average sized star when it dies?" the man asked.

Stiles looked around, feeling annoyed and a bit embarrassed, even though he had no reason to be. This definitely was not his mythological creatures class. From what he had heard, he assumed it was astronomy. And what the fuck did he know about astronomy? Nothing.

It actually was a class he actually was interested in taking but he hadn't had the chance yet.

Also he had heard the professor was kind of a dick.

Guess they got that right.

"Well?" prompted the professor.

"I…I don't know," said Stiles.

"Great." the man said. "Even though we only went over the deaths of stars two classes ago, let's go for something a bit easier. How many stars are in the Milky Way Galaxy?"

Stiles looked down at the desk he was seated at, and then up again. He shook his head at the professor. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the student next to him, a guy with dark hair and impressive scruff, edge a piece of paper to the corner of the desk.

Astronomy 110: Intro to Astronomy, Professor Finstock it said, and the professor's name was highlighted and underlined three times. Use his name the owner of the paper had written on the syllabus.

Stiles cleared his throat.

"I don't know, Professor Finstock, sir." He replied, figuring it was easier to just say I don't know and let the Finstock guy move on.

If only it was that easy.

Professor Finstock came right up to Stiles' desk, and stared down at him without blinking.

Although the class was silent, and Stiles knew nothing good would come out of this, all he could think was how totally Harry Potter this moment was. Finstock was Snape, and Stiles himself was Harry.

He could only hope there was a Hermione nearby to help him out a little.

"Here's a real easy one," Professor Finstock said, "If you can't answer this," he continued, with a sneer, "you don't deserve to be in my class. Answer it correctly, and I'll forget your idiocy demonstrated by that blank look on your face that appeared when I asked you the other questions."

"If I told you something was at the edge of the universe, would you believe me? Why or why not?"

Stiles looked up at Professor Finstock, half of him trying to contain the laughter that was threatening to spill out, the other half trying to think of a good answer.

As the professor paced in front of his desk, Stiles looked around, hoping to get some help from some students in the class. The girl on his left avoided eye contact, and then turned to giggle with the girl sitting next to her.

"There's no edge."

Stiles heard a whisper come from the (hot) guy to his right. He turned to look at him, made eye contact, and mouthed "What?"

The guy next to him glanced at Finstock, then back at Stiles, whispering a bit louder.

"The universe has no edge."

Stiles made an "oh, shit, the light bulb just got switched on" face at the guy who helped him, then turned to the front of the class and cleared his throat.

"The universe has no edge," Stiles said proudly.

A little too proudly.

"Nice job," said Professor Finstock.

Stiles preened.

"…Mr. HALE." The professor continued. "You on the other hand, Bilinski, I can tell that you take this class for the credits, not because you care. Now get your ass out of my class and don't come back unless you're prepared."

"Gladly," Stiles muttered, as he gathered his stuff and walked out of the door.

"But that's ridiculous!"

Stiles heard a gruff voice arguing with the professor.

Is someone defending me? Stiles asked himself. That's kind of hilarious. But nice.

There was a bit more chatter coming from the door Stiles had just shut on his way out.

As he strolled down the hallway towards the stairs, he paused when he heard Professor Finstock shout.

"That's enough Hale!"

Stiles then heard loud footsteps, and he turned back to see the door to the lecture room bang open. The guy who was sitting next to him ("Mr Hale") stomped out, a glare on his face.

Stiles watched him, and after walking a couple steps, the guy looked up and saw Stiles. His frown softened, and he started to walk in Stiles' direction.

Stiles raised his eyebrows at him.

"Did you just get kicked out of your class because you talked back to that jerk about me?"

The guy smiled. "Something like that. Finstock was asking for that anyway, he was being a real bitch today."

"Well, thanks for that. I'm Stiles," Stiles told him, sticking out his hand, relieved when he saw that it wasn't completely quivering with want at the sight of the male model standing in front of him. (Ha. Stiles thinks that in another life he must have been an actor, with the amount of drama he brings to his every thought.)

"Derek Hale," said Derek, taking Stiles' hand in his. "So why were you in our class today?" asks Derek. "I mean, no offense, but it's pretty obvious you were in the wrong place. It is so like Finstock to just assume you were fucking with him."

"Oh, it was pretty obvious, then," said Stiles. "I was beginning to think I was in the Twilight Zone or something. Actually, I'm in Isaac's– Professor Lahey's Mythological Creatures class, but apparently the class got moved to a different room for today. My roommate decided to prank me so I woke up late, freaked cause my professor hates late people, and rushed over–"

Stiles was cut off by the door being slammed open.

"Hey, knuckleheads, if I'm gonna kick you out of class, that doesn't mean you stand around and disrupt the class from outside." Professor Finstock grumbled. "Get out of here!"

Stiles smirked, and glanced at Derek, who looked like he wanted to laugh and scream at the same time.

They started to walk down the hallway, and heard Professor Finstock shout from behind them, "good riddance!"

Stiles laughed, looking over his shoulder at the classroom door swinging shut.

"Man, what's his problem?" Stiles asked Derek as they made their way down the staircase. "Dude must have one hell of a stick up his butt to be like that. Is his class always so awful?"

"Actually no," said Derek. "It seems like you were just lucky enough to get him on one of his good days."

Sarcasm, thought Stiles. A man after my own heart.

"So you like sarcasm?" asked Derek.

"No, I hate it," said Stiles sarcastically, grinning.

Wait.

"How did you know I was thinking about sarcasm?" questioned Stiles, quirking his eyebrow at Derek, who held the door at the bottom of the stairs open for Stiles.

"It's easy to know what you're thinking when you say it out loud," said Derek, smiling.

Stiles stopped dead in his tracks, his thoughts screaming in his head.

OH. MY. GOD.

Did I just think that OUT LOUD?

I just thought that out loud. Smooth move Stilinski. What to do, what to do? Play it cool, Stiles, you got this.

Stiles shrugged. "Well, yea, I think sarcasm is incredibly hot," he said, and winked at Derek before slipping through the open door and walking outside. "Later!" he called, quick walking back towards the quad.

Stiles crossed his fingers inside his hoodie pocket, counting in his head. Come on, he thought.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

"Wait!" came the shout from behind Stiles.

He turned around to look at Derek, who was jogging to catch up with him, a grin stretched across his face.

Stiles smiled.

Thanks for reading! :)