Derek: I'm so ready to take you up on that tutoring offer.

Stiles: Fun with Economics not so fun?

Derek: I'm pulling my hair out right now. I may be bald the next time you see me.

Stiles: God no, don't do that. It would be a sin to destroy that gorgeous hair. Put the Econ book away, I'll be there tomorrow to make it all better.

Stiles: Where is there, exactly?

Derek let out a half-laugh, able to admit to himself that he was thrilled at how easy and comfortable the banter between he and Stiles already was. It was strange, in a way. Things were never this easy for him, and while he'd met many people in his life, both those who bore the initials that were emblazoned on his skin and those who didn't, he'd never had a reaction like this to any of them.

It killed him that Stiles wasn't his soulmate.

He'd never wanted it to be someone this badly. The moment Stiles had looked up at him and their eyes connected Derek had just known; he knew this person was the one he was supposed to be with. And then Stiles had introduced himself and that precious certainty, so intense and so fleeting, slipped away.

No sooner had he finished texting Stiles his address, adding that his last class of the day was over by noon, than his phone was ringing. "Hi, Laura," he answered, biting back a heavy sigh. He loved his sister, he did, but all she would want to know was if he'd met his soulmate by now. Apparently just being in a new place was all it was supposed to take. Never mind that the first semester was only into its second week and he'd hardly had a chance to meet anyone yet.

Except Stiles. And he absolutely, one-hundred-percent didn't want Laura to scent out his reaction to the charming, funny, sexy-as-hell, scarily-smart sophomore. She would lecture him on the futility of falling so instantly and completely for someone who would never be his.

"Hey, baby bro," she returned easily, and he settled into what was sure to be a daunting conversation. "How's your second week going?"

"Good," he replied cautiously. "My econ class is going to kill me, but I made a friend who's taken every one of this prof's classes and aced them, so he's going to help tutor me."

"Oh?" He could hear her voice perk up and swallowed a sigh. "What's this 'he''s name?"

"Stiles," he answered, voice short. Of course his family all knew he was bi, and they also knew the initials on the nape of his neck. When he'd kept his hair super-short everyone had been able to see them; it was one of the reasons he'd grown his hair out long enough to cover them up, although he couldn't stand letting it get much longer than that. "Stiles Stilinski."

He could hear her deflate even before the flat-sounding, "Oh," came out of her mouth. "Well, that doesn't mean you won't find him around campus. Maybe this Stiles will introduce you or something."

Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. "Laura," he warned, and she breezed past the topic without missing a beat.

"I got an A on my swimsuit today," she announced, as if she hadn't been pressing the one thing Derek hated most for what felt like the millionth time. "My mentor thought it was amazing with all the mesh cutouts and the way they revealed some skin in a flattering, classy way."

"That's great, Laur," he responded automatically, and while he meant it, he winced as he heard the robotic tone of his voice. Laura was sure to catch it as well.

She did. "What?" she asked, suspicion creeping through her voice. "You're barely even listening to me, Der-Bear. I know fashion isn't your thing, but you usually at least talk to me when I tell you about one of my projects." She paused for a moment and Derek fell back against his headboard, waiting in resignation for her to go for the jugular. "You met someone, didn't you?"

"It never ceases to amaze me how you can read me like a book even when you can't see my face," Derek muttered, frustrated.

"YOU MET SOMEONE!" she shrieked excitedly, and Derek flinched away from the burst of noise. "Who? What are their initials?"

He debated whether to be honest or not, knowing that it ultimately didn't matter because she'd figure it out eventually anyway, and his silence went on long enough that it answered for him. "The tutor," she realized, sighing in exasperation. "Derek, you know better." Her tone was sympathetic and it was almost worse than the excitement. "Don't get too invested, okay? You know it's only going to hurt you. If he hasn't found his soulmate already, he will, and you don't want to be the one caught in the crossfire when he does."

The bitterness seeped into her voice and Derek felt a flash of sympathy. Laura had fallen head-over-heels in love with her best friend's older brother, only to be discarded when he met his soulmate. It had eventually cost her the best friend, too. "I know, Laura," he admitted quietly. "I'll keep my distance. I'm not stupid."

"That's debatable," she grumbled, sighing. "Please don't go and get your heart broken, okay? I can't bring you Ben and Jerry's from New York."

A surge of affection flooded him and he was reminded of how much he loved his sister, and more importantly, why. "If I get my heart broken, I'll eat a pint with you on Skype," he promised solemnly, and she laughed.

A knock sounded at his door and he frowned. He had a single-room apartment, no roommate, and there was no reason for anyone to show up at his place unannounced. Or at all, really. It was probably just someone looking for a friend and getting the wrong apartment. "Hey Laur, I gotta go, I have a half-dozen econ essay questions to get through before Friday, and apparently I also have to redirect some lost freshman."

"Don't scare them into peeing on your doorstep," Laura teased him, and he made a face at the phone.

"I'm not scary," he grumbled.

Laura laughed musically. "Between your eyebrows and the fact that you and Grumpy Cat might as well be twins, you terrify the hell out of anyone who doesn't already know you," she countered. "But I'll let you go. Talk to you later, Der-Bear."

Derek was already opening the door and his mind went blank when he saw Stiles standing on the other side, grinning and holding up a white paper bag of what smelled like tacos. He barely registered Laura saying goodbye and he shoved his phone in his pocket, blinking. "Stiles. What are you doing here?"

"I had the feeling that you didn't listen when I told you to put your econ book away and wait until tomorrow," he replied easily, letting himself in as if he'd done it a thousand times already. "So I brought food and my Netflix password, on the off chance you don't have an account of your own, and I'm here to rescue you from brain-numbing homework."

"I have Netflix," Derek replied dumbly, and Stiles smirked.

"Do you have tacos?" Derek shook his head. "Alright then. I'm useful after all." He plopped down on Derek's couch and glanced around approvingly. "Nice place."

Derek settled gingerly on the edge of the couch, on the opposite side from Stiles. "I pay for it myself," he explained, feeling the need to defend himself.

Stiles raised an eyebrow at him in amusement. "I didn't ask, because I don't care. Don't feel like you have to prove to me that you're not some spoiled rich boy. Because again, with the not caring."

He flushed, knowing he'd brought attention to the one thing he always tried to keep hidden. Somehow, Stiles had brought it out of him before he even realized he was talking about it. "I hate it when people know about my family," he admitted, his voice low. "Everyone either wants to buddy up to me because I'm rich, or they think I'm useless and get by on my family's money."

"I'm not everyone," Stiles said, his tone on the edge of sharp, and Derek immediately recognized that Stiles wouldn't ever take kindly to being lumped into a group. The tension was fleeting, however, and before Derek could even open his mouth Stiles already had his remote in hand, thumbing through Derek's Netflix list. "You've won my respect," he announced approvingly. "Although I have to take away ten points for the presence of Friends here."

Derek scoffed. "My tastes can't be entirely limited to 'cult' hits that really everyone on the planet knows and loves," he protested, referring to the fact that Firefly and Buffy were in his "most recently watched" queue. "Sometimes I like things that are just brainlessly funny."

Stiles ignored him. "Okay, so at least you have Studio 60," he conceded, starting up the first episode. "It's one of Matthew Perry's better roles, because Chandler of course doesn't count. It's criminal that this show only lasted one season."

"Especially considering West Wing lasted seven," Derek agreed as he headed into the kitchen, dragging some plates out of a cupboard. "Maybe people just got tired of Aaron Sorkin's style."

Stiles raised an eyebrow when Derek brought the plates into the living room. "Wait, aren't those supposed to be made of paper?"

"Please tell me you grew up in a home where proper plates were used," Derek remarked, raising an eyebrow right back at him.

He shrugged as he reached for the bag of tacos and started pulling them out, placing them on the plates. When Stiles stuck his thumb in his mouth to absently-mindedly suck the salt off of it, Derek could feel both his throat and his pants tightening and he had to swallow back a groan. It was almost frightening how bad he had it for someone he knew wasn't meant to be his. "Yeah, sure, but my parents were adults and stuff. They had a house and real furniture and paid bills and shit. We're still college students, we get to live in the land of paper plates for a little longer."

Derek debated for a second before admitting, "I usually eat off the paper ones, but I thought real plates would be nice for company."

Scoffing, Stiles stuffed one of the tacos in his mouth. "I'm not company," he explained around a mouthful of meat and cheese, and Derek was a little disturbed that it didn't make him want Stiles any less. "I'm your friend. I'm going to be here a lot. Don't waste the good plates on me."

He could feel the uptick in his heart rate at Stiles' assertion that he'd be at Derek's place a lot. "I'll keep that in mind for tomorrow," he replied lightly, taking a seat far enough away that Stiles wouldn't think he was being crowded, but close enough that they could touch, if they were so inclined.

Stiles grinned around the half-chewed food. "Don't think I'm buying tomorrow, too. I'm poor. You've got money out the ass, you can afford to cater the study sesh."

"I thought you didn't like me for my money," Derek challenged him, and Stiles shrugged.

"I can't carry this relationship on all fronts," he replied easily, wolfing down another bite. "This is one area you can. Pony up the pizza, dude."

Relationship. The word tugged at Derek, making him swallow hard as he looked askance at Stiles. "So, uh, you think this is a-."

"Shut up, Hale. I'm trying to watch Bradley Whitford," Stiles interrupted, but after a moment of silence he returned the glance. "We haven't talked about the soulmates thing yet, and we kind of need to before we decide where this is going. Just not tonight, okay? Tonight is for relaxing and hanging out and watching good TV and eating some, quite frankly, amazing tacos." He kept his gaze steady on Derek, pleading with his eyes to just let it go for now.

Derek nodded, sinking back into the couch. He could handle that. Something told him Stiles was worth waiting for.