Hey people. Sorry for the long wait, i've been super busy (Midterms, traveling, etc.)
In a previous chapter, Derek's father's name was Chris. I've corrected that-it's now John. sorry for the confusion.
Enjoy :]
"Hey, lame ass, it's time to wake up."
Stiles felt the wrath of God descend upon his dreams. Or maybe it was just his jerk of a roommate slapping him in the face.
Excellent. Excellent way to wake up on the first day of school.
Stiles looked at his alarm clock. 9:30! "It's 9:30 already? What the hell?"
"Oh yeah, about that." Jackson responded, slinging a black jacket over his shoulder. "If your stupid alarm wakes me up at 8 am again, I will end you."
"But my first class is at 10. That means I only have a half an hour to get ready!"
"Not my problem." Jackson called as he let the door slam behind him.
Really Excellent.
After rushing through his shower and throwing on the closest articles of clothing, Stiles found himself speed walking around the campus looking for his first class.
"I don't even know where the social sciences building is. That can't be a good sign, right?"
Scott, the helpful person that he was, just shrugged. "Just don't ask me where it is."
"Yeah, because you're such a fount of knowledge." Stiles muttered.
"Hey, I didn't have to wake up two hours early to help you. "
"It's not my fault Anthropology 101 is a morning class! And if you can't help me, d'you think you could point me in the direction of someone who could?"
Scott was thinking really hard about it. Stiles could tell; his thoughts were practically flickering across his forehead. "You got it, bud? I don't want you to strain yourself."
"You always crack jokes about me being dumb, it's not funny, dude."
"You're not dumb, just absent minded."
"What did they tell us in freshman orientation?" Scott bit his lip before clapping his hands together. "Okay, I got it: 'if you can't find your way, just ask your R.A.'"
"That's really cute, Scott. Except I don't know my R.A." Stiles thought about it for a minute. "Well, that's not true, strictly speaking. I know her name: Lydia Martin. Do you know her? Or where I could find her?"
With his right arm, Scott smacked him on the chest to stop his babbling. With his left, he pointed across the quad at a small group of students. "That's her with the long red hair and blue coat."
Oh my goddess. "I'm in love." Stiles sighed.
"If you start quoting Shakespeare, I will burn all of your clothes." Scott warned. "Anyway, you're better off wandering around. She's with the Hales. They're like ϋber protective over her. It's actually kind of creepy."
"Like creepy incest threesome creepy?"
"Eww! No, dude! What the hell is going on inside your head?" Scott had to physically shake the image out of his head. "It's more like: Stay away, my shiny thing."
"So the Hales are…?"
"Well the other girl, you know-the one that's not Lydia, is Laura Hale. She may look petite, but the girl is scary."
"What about the guy?"
"Oh, that's Danny. Huh." Scott pouted. "I guess he looks a little like Derek from the back. Danny isn't technically a Hale. You might have a chance with Lydia after all."
Stiles started to walk towards the group, when a hand stopped his progress. He looked back to see Scott's serious face.
"Just be careful, Stiles. Lydia can be kind of scary too."
Derek parked his Camaro in front of his childhood home. Old Hale Manor looked smaller and smaller every time he saw it. He ran up the creaky front steps, running his fingers up the bannister as he went. He put his hand on the ledge of the front door, finding the spare key at once.
The door unlocked with a quiet snick. "Mom. Dad." He called into the foyer. After decades of living in the same house, his parent's scent lingered everywhere. But Derek could hear that their heartbeats were close by. Encouraged by this, he stepped further into the house. He followed the steady ba-dump ba-dump ba-dump beat all the way to the kitchen.
His mother was sitting at the small white table in the middle of the room. Her curling brown hair was pulled back into loose ponytail. Her gaze alternated between her latest read and her husband. The man in question had his back to the kitchen door. But Derek could see his sleeves were rolled up. He smelled brown sugar, vanilla, butter, and flour. Seemed like his dad was making pie.
"Derek," His dad sighed. "If you're planning to just stand there all day, you might as well help me with this pie. You'd look a lot less ridiculous."
Derek plopped his jacket on the back of a chair and headed towards the sink. His mother took one look at his work gray shirt and said, "Derek, I don't understand why you insist on wearing those ratty old shirts. Why won't you wear those shirts your father and I sent you?"
Derek just laughed. Same old same old. "I like my clothes, Ma."
"How do you expect to find yourself a steady girlfriend with clothes like that?"
"Girls like my clothes too." Derek turned off the water and dried his hand a towel. He stood side by side with his father and helped him shape pie crusts.
This is how his Uncle Peter found them. All smiles and jokes with a contented air about them. A slow smile couldn't help forming over his face. Outside of this house, the Hales were known as a serious, reclusive bunch. But here, at the Manor, it'd be hard to find one without a smile.
"Hey there, family. What's cooking?"
"Not Derek's love life." His brother quipped.
Derek elbowed his dad lightly. Looking back at his uncle, he said "We're baking pies for tonight. My parents are also feeling particularly silly."
"I sympathize. I also was surrounded by excessive silliness today."
"Really?" Maggie asked. "No-nonsense Professor Hale allowed silliness in his classroom? I'm intrigued."
"I really had no choice in the matter." Peter sighed, sliding into the seat next to her. "The kid was a whirlwind. It didn't help that it was my 10 am 101 class."
"Go on, tell us more." His sister-in-law urged.
"So this kid comes in 15 minutes late. Whatever, I'll allow it: first day of school, relatively big campus- it happens. Now, most people would just hide in the back of the class. Not this kid, no way. He sits right in the first row, front and center. He then starts pulling out all kinds of unnecessary crap: binder, pencil, pens, laptop, high lighters, etc. You name, he had it."
"How is that a problem?" John asked.
"It's the first day of school!" Peter dropped his head onto the table. "Then he started asking all kinds of questions. Twenty minutes: that's how long it took me to convince him he didn't miss anything in the first 15 minutes of class. Then there was some pencil tapping, loud whispering. Ugh. I can't. And that's not even the worse part."
"What's the worst part?" Derek laughed.
"The kid is actually pretty smart. And weirdly polite. He came up after class and introduced himself. He asked me serious questions about the course and used words I hadn't heard since I took my SATs."
Maggie tried not to be amused by Peter's exasperation. She placed a comforting hand on his arm. "What's this "kid's" name?"
"Something as equally ridiculous as his personality. Now I can't pronounce his first name, so I won't even try. But his last name is Stilinski. He told me to call him Stiles."
The older Hales didn't notice the way Derek's entire body stiffened. Just as he didn't notice the worried glance passed between his parents.
His dad tried to mask any awkwardness by saying "Sounds like you'll have your hands full."
Peter promptly asked for someone, anyone, to shoot him in the foot.
And that night, if Derek dreamed of long forgotten summers and sandboxes, he certainly didn't mention it.
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