Title from 'Everlasting Light' by The Black Keys
_
Stiles had never had the typical childhood. He was always a bit weird, only had one friend, and not the most normal of interests.
And then his mom died, and he was known as the weird kid whose dad was never home, only had one friend, and no mom.
And that was blessedly normal in comparison. He'd known of other kids that were weird, other kids that didn't have many friends, whose parents overworked, who didn't have parents. He wasn't that different.
But then the letter came. He watched as his father read it over dozens of times with a pained twist in his eyes, then sitting him down at the kitchen table, pouring himself a glass of whiskey, and telling him about his mother. His mother, who was apparently a witch.
He didn't know anyone else whose mother was a witch.
Then came the packing, and the hugs and the tears, and the train, and meeting Scott- who was no Heather, but maybe could be, someday. And everyone around him was just like him, in one way or another. He wasn't the weird kid anymore; they all were, which made them all normal.
So of course something had to happen to give him back that title, and it happened his first damn day.
As the lady with the tall, pointy hat, whose name he couldn't remember amid everything else he was seeing with his own two eyes, read names off of a paper, the talking hat assigned them a house within a couple minutes at most. The tables cheered as another was added to their family, and Stiles couldn't wait to meet his. The woman called his name- somehow getting it right- and a few kids snickered, but Stiles didn't care. He walked up to the stool, sat down, and waited with restless excitement as he felt the smooth material of the hat slip over the tips of his ears.
And didn't make a single sound for nearly five minutes.
Students were whispering, the lady with the hat was making aborted movements towards him, other teachers were watching with concern and curiosity. He had never felt so on display, not even at his mom's funeral.
And then a voice sounded, surrounding him.
"So many elements to consider, almost too many aspects to address. There's courage, that's for certain- bravery beyond that typical of one your age. But towards what is it aimed? Hard to tell in an instant, but obviously centered in a way that suggests great loyalty to those close to you. However, it seems almost selfish, wanting to protect them for yourself. Highly ambitious, there is no doubt, with goals that go far beyond any means given you. And that's not to mention your brain! Such a sharp intellect, one that has been honed immensely already, despite your age, and a natural cleverness that surpasses most. An unusual predicament to be in- both fitting in all of the houses, yet belonging to none. Whatever shall we do with you?"
The tension in the room was palpable, and Stiles hated feeling this way. He could sense the anticipation as another moment of silence went by, and he was already dreading the years to come. It figures, even at a place where the extraordinary was the ordinary, he could still be nothing less than the odd man out.
Scott, who had been placed in Gryffindor without a moment's hesitation, was seated near the end of the table closest to Stiles, staring with wide eyes that had Stiles' stomach churning wildly.
The quiet was once again disrupted by the hat. "Well, if there's one house where the odd is embraced, I suppose it would have to be…"
The room took a deep breath, and Stiles held it.
"Slytherin!"
The table on the right side of the room jumped up with shouts and whistling while the other tables slumped back down in their seats with scoffs and disinterested huffs. Stiles pushed himself to unsteady feet and quickly made his way over to the Slytherin table, ready to be out of the spotlight.
The intrigue of his odd placing experience died down quite a bit, but it still followed him for years. Six years, in fact. He was still known to most sixth and seventh years as the guy the Sorting Hat didn't know what to do with. The guy that didn't belong, as it had said. It made making friends hard, as people normally didn't know what exactly to make of him, and the story of his sorting somehow trickled down to the younger students as well. He didn't act like a typical Slytherin, but didn't act like any of the other houses, either. Dating wasn't really an option either, considering the only people interested were interested for the wrong reason.
But he wore the green, and he cheered on his team during quidditch matches, and he tried to help his house win House Cup. It didn't fix everything, but it made him feel better.
And luckily, despite the odds, Stiles had managed to scrape together a ragtag group of amazingly mismatched friends. There was obviously Scott- the puppy from Gryffindor that always had his back, Lydia- a genius from Ravenclaw, Jackson- a jackass that somehow got into Hufflepuff, Danny- the source of Stiles' Bisexual Awakening from Slytherin, Allison- Lydia's badass girlfriend from Gryffindor, and Kira- Scott's adorable, yet also badass girlfriend from Hufflepuff. They were an odd bunch, but Stiles wouldn't give them up for the world.
And then, of course, there was Derek.
Derek- the adorably scowly and gorgeous seventh year from Hufflepuff. Derek, who was so incredibly out of Stiles' league, it made his heart hurt. Derek, the older brother of Cora- Stiles' lab partner in Potions class.
Derek, who was currently approaching the Slytherin table. No, approaching Stiles.
"Danny, could you do me a favor?"
Oh.
Of course.
Danny.
Who was sitting right next to him.
Stiles felt his ears turn red at his own foolishness and he quickly turned his face down towards his breakfast. He was so damn stupid.
Stiles heard Derek and Danny talking, something about Derek's wand being broken during Defense Against the Dark Arts and needing repaired. Of course he'd come to Danny, it made perfect sense. The Slytherin was going to be the next Olivander someday, after all.
But it still made disappointment settle deep in Stiles' gut. He'd had hope, alright? However misplaced it was, considering Derek was older, more accomplished, more attractive, more athletic, more everything, Stiles had still had hope. Maybe this was a sign to finally start thinking realistically, Stiles thought.
But then Stiles heard his name and was drawn back into the conversation.
"Huh, what?"
Derek looked amused, which didn't exactly do much for his self esteem, but at least it was better than his trademark glare.
"I asked if… if you wanted to maybe go with me to Three Broomsticks this weekend." Derek's voice sounded oddly quiet and hesitant, as if he was the one banking on the answer of this question. As if he was the one whose world was suddenly spinning double time, making up for his heart that had stopped.
No fucking way.
"Um, what?"
Derek's face fell a little, and then drew back into his stone-like scowl, and Stiles was still reeling.
The Hufflepuff's voice was low and even as he said, "Nevermind," and turned to walk away.
But before he could go anywhere, Stiles' threw his torso over the table, no doubt getting all sorts of crumbs on his sweater, and grasped Derek's robe with an iron grip.
"No, wait! I didn't mean it like- I was just confused- Please don't- I mean-!"
Stiles cut himself off as Derek's hard gaze trailed down to where his robes were being crushed and wrinkled in Stiles' fist, and the younger boy quickly let go, falling back into the bench with a sharp intake of breath and an unexpected wave of courage.
"I'd love to go. With you. This weekend. Definitely. Nothing better I can think of doing, actually."
The deep creases on Derek's face smoothed out and his lips turned up in the tiniest smile to ever smile. But it was still a smile, and Stiles had put it there, and he was still fucking reeling.
This kind of stuff didn't happen to him. Ever.
But Derek apparently hadn't gotten that memo, because then he was giving Stiles a day and a time and one last smile before walking away.
It took Stiles a moment before he noticed Danny nudging him in the side and calling his name. His mouth snapped closed- he hadn't even noticed it was open - and he faced Danny.
"Dude. Did that really just happen? Am I imagining things? Did someone slip me something in Potions?"
Danny snickered, but his face showed his excitement for Stiles. "You better figure out what you're gonna wear, Stilinski. Your date is in two days, and trust me, you do not want to be scrambling the hour before."
Stiles nodded quickly and said, "Yeah, yeah you're right. I should- I should go right now. Should I? No, I don't need to go right now, that's stupid, that's stupid, right? But what if I forget? Who am I kidding, I'm not gonna forget; this is all I'll be thinking about for the rest of my life-"
"Stiles!" shouted Danny.
Stiles took a deep breath and held it in for a moment, then slowly released. "Sorry, I'm good."
"You better be, 'cause Lydia's headed this way."
Stiles' head snapped over to the Ravenclaw table and, sure enough, there was Lydia strolling over with a smirk on her face. He let out a groan as she took up the space Derek had just left, placing her hands on the table and leveling him with an evil grin.
"Please tell me he just did what I think he did."
"Lydia, I love you, you know that, but can I just have a second to process this before you grill me? I don't even know what just happened, I'm of no help to you. Seriously."
Lydia rolled her eyes and pushed off the table, crooking her finger at Stiles. "Come on, I need to make sure you actually have a decent outfit to wear. There's no way you're going in your robes, and you're definitely not going in one of your stupid comic book shirts."
"Hey!" Stiles sputtered indignantly, but followed after her anyway.
It was the day. Stiles had been dreading it just as much as he'd been eagerly anticipating it. He was nervous; he'd only been on one date before, and the girl made it clear pretty quickly that she was into him because of the stories. Because of the intrigue, the slight mystery surrounding him. She wanted to figure out why he was different.
It had crushed him, made him feel like a puzzle to be solved rather than a person to genuinely enjoy being around.
But now he was trying again, and with a guy he really, really liked. Sure, they had never really talked before, but Stiles knew that he helped train first and second year quidditch players, and he volunteered in the hospital wing whenever he could, and he spent a lot of time playing with all of Hagrid's creatures, even the ones that didn't typically get along with people. And he was a great older brother to Cora, if a bit overbearing when it came to her dating. He had a surly exterior, but everyone knew it wasn't who he really was underneath. Just catch him hanging out with Erica, Isaac, Boyd, and sister and it was obvious what kind of guy he was.
Derek was kind of perfect, and Stiles was nervous he would be a disappointment in comparison.
But there was no way he was backing out, no way in hell. He was no coward, and worst case scenario, he got humiliated. It wasn't like it hadn't happened before, so Stiles thought he could handle it.
What he wasn't prepared for was Derek being a total gentleman. He complimented Stiles on his clothes (thank you Lydia), he didn't seem to mind Stiles' rambling, and he was even smiling.
Things were going great. Amazingly even.
So, of course…
"Why did you ask me out?" Stiles blurted out. He had to know.
Derek's eyebrows furrowed. "What do you mean?"
"I mean… Why me? You could ask out literally anyone and they would say yes."
Derek looked down at the table and fiddled with his glass of butterbeer. "I've been… interested in you for a while. I'm not sure what made me wait, really."
"Why, though? Why are you interested in me? We've never really talked before now, I mean."
Shrugging lightly, Derek said, "I don't know. You're just… different, I guess."
Stiles felt his stomach churn, like he was going to throw up.
"Because I'm… different."
Derek nodded.
Breathing slow and even, Stiles' hand curled into a fist under the table.
Of course.
Stiles felt a burning behind his eyes, like he was about to start crying, which was so stupid because what did he expect? Nothing. He hadn't expected anything, so why was this such a surprise? Why did he feel so devastated?
But this wasn't the place. He could feel Derek's concerned gaze piercing into him, and he needed to get away from it.
"Um," Stiles started, but his voice was thick. This was bad.
"I'm- I've actually got to go. I forgot- I have… I have a Charms essay due on Monday that I haven't started on." Stiles stood up, and Derek's bewildered eyes followed him. "This has been really fun, but-"
"Stiles, what-"
"I have to go, I'm sorry."
And with that, Stiles was gone.
Stiles didn't leave his bed all Sunday. Scott brought him food and condolences in plenty until Stiles was tired of even him.
He just wanted to sulk in peace, for Merlin's sake. Was that too much to ask? To have a day to himself to get angry and sad and resigned, and then start all over?
Lydia thought he was overreacting, but she didn't understand how Stiles felt. She didn't understand that she was one of the only people in his life that liked him for his personality and not his sorting. She didn't understand that not everyone was like their friends. Even Jackson made jokes about it sometimes. Granted, they weren't that serious, but they could still bring him down when he was in a certain mood.
But regardless of how he was feeling, he still had to go to classes the next day. Which meant seeing Cora in Potions half way through the day.
He wasn't surprised when she seemed cold towards him- the Hale siblings were awfully protective of each other- but he was hoping she wouldn't take it as far as actually confronting him about it.
"What the hell did you do?" she snarled.
Stiles sighed. "Look," he mumbled, "Can we not talk about it, please? Sorry if I spoiled your brother's plans to 'figure me out' or whatever he had planned. I've been down that road before and I have no interest in going down it again. Just… leave it be? Please?"
Cora looked sufficiently confused and still a little angry, but she dropped it. They didn't talk for the rest of class.
Stiles was taking a walk outside, despite the sparse flurries that were falling around him, when he heard his name being called. Spinning around, Stiles huffed when he saw Derek jogging to catch up with him.
"Hey, what's up?" He mumbled half-heartedly once Derek was standing a few feet in front of him.
"I'm sorry."
Stiles narrowed his eyes, but Derek seemed genuine.
"Sorry for what?" He asked.
"You know what," Derek insisted. "I didn't mean it like that, I didn't even realize what it sounded like until Scott talked to me."
"Wait, Scott talked to you?"
"When I said I liked because you were different, that's not how I meant it," Derek continued, ignoring Stiles. "I meant, you make me feel different. I don't know how to explain it, but… even though we'd never talked, I just felt like you were.. better, somehow."
"Better?"
"Yes!" Derek scrubbed a hand through his hair, face burning red and breathing a bit quick. Stiles had never seen him like this- so flustered and nervous. "I don't give a shit about what house you're in or why you're in it, I just… I want to get to know you. I feel like I need to, you know? Like if I don't at least try, I'll regret it for the rest of my life."
Stiles stared at him, at how desperate he seemed for Stiles to understand, and he felt a spark of hope ignite in his chest.
"You're really not just doing this to figure out what's wrong with me or some shit? You promise?"
Derek looked straight in his eyes and said, "I swear, Stiles. Please believe me."
And Stiles really really wanted to. So he took a deep breath and said, "Prove it."
Derek's eyes widened and he sucked in a sharp breath. Then he slowly closed the distance between them, standing only inches away from Stiles. They were almost on eye level, with Derek less than an inch taller than Stiles.
His hand crept up Stiles' arm to rest on his shoulder, sending shivers down Stiles' spine. Then his other hand came up the other side and slid up Stiles' neck until his palm was cupping his cheek, his thumb gliding along Stiles' cheekbone. Stiles' own hands moved without his say-so to clutch at Derek's waist. Then Derek was leaning in, their breaths caught between them, and finally, Stiles felt Derek's lips brush across his. The touch was light and hesitant, but quickly turned sure and firm. There was nothing rushed, or too heated, just a confidence that came out of nowhere and left them both winded and calm- content. Then their mouths were sneaking open, and the sudden intensity had shudders bouncing all around Stiles' body, but it stayed slow and languid. Stiles didn't know you could feel butterflies in your feet and fingertips, but he did, and he loved it.
When the time came to pull apart, they did so naturally and with deep breathing, faces still only inches apart.
"Do you believe me?" whispered Derek.
Stiles' answer was a wide smile while pulling Derek back in.
Another thing Stiles hadn't known was that it was hard to kiss while smiling, but it felt amazing to try, anyway.