When Stiles came up with his "Seducing the honorable Professor Hale" plan, he clearly didn't think it through. Why the hell is it so difficult to choose a pair of pants and a shirt? He's been staring at his reflection for minutes and then he got naked just to start it again. This was 30 minutes ago and Stiles is still standing in his briefs, amongst a huge pile of clothes, unsure of what to wear. Because, make no mistake, he wants to be irresistible. He wants to make a good impression, okay. Wearing graphic tees and plaid shirt is not going to make Prof Hipster Glasses double check him. The sad thing is, Stiles only has 3 nice shirts and 2 pairs of tight pants; both khakis in different shades. He is in some serious need of a makeover.
But it's not going to happen today, so let's go back to the task at hand, namely choosing from those five pieces of clothing which combination is the best. To give himself time, he runs to the bathroom to brush his teeth, thinking about colors that compliment his eyes and complexion. He spits and rinses and stops for a second to mourn the normal life he used to have, when things like complexion wouldn't even mean a single thing to him. But this is what you get for following Lydia, his former crush/now best female friend, while she's shopping. Stiles is man enough to admit that he only goes for the free treat Lydia buys him to thank him for his patience. Maybe they should buy some stuff for him the next time, because he can't go on with 3 shirts and 2 pairs of pants for too long.
As he goes back to his room, his eyes fall on a picture of his high school graduation party, where he and Scott went to a gay bar. He was wearing the dark blue shirt with the lighter khaki pants and he got hit on quite a few times. He even remembers one guy telling him how the shirt's color and his eyes were in perfect contrast.
So yeah, this is what he'll wear today, he nods to himself, and starts to dress up. He'll meet Scott at lunch, because he had an early class, and then they can plot for Stiles' afternoon Eng Lit lecture.
~o~
Predictably, Scott is surprised when he sees him. So are Danny and Jackson, who join them a few moments after Stiles.
"Wow, man. You have a date today?" Danny asks as he looks him over appreciatively.
"Dan, don't even ask. He's gone crazy," Scott replies and shakes his head a little while he digs in his mashed potatoes.
"I thought that's the way he was born," Jackson chimed in.
"Har-har, Jackson, you are very funny," Stiles says sarcastically. "Answering your question, Danny, no, unfortunately I don't have a date today. Keyword being today." He informs them and smiles smugly.
"What the hell does that even mean? Jesus, Stilinski, we're having lunch, skip the riddles and spill the bean!" Jackson cries and stuffs his face with a huge spoonful of potato.
"He has the hots for Prof Hale," comes Scott's helpful reply. Scratch that, it's not helpful at all, because Jackson chokes on his food and then starts laughing. His head turns read and tears spring to his eyes.
"Dude, really?" he sounds disbelieving as he dries his tears. "That guy, as I've heard, is a hermit and celibate."
Danny, on the other hand, seems to stay completely unaffected. When Jackson's hiccups stop, he turns at Danny and looks at him like he's weird.
"What?" he asks, looking confused. "He's hot. I understand him."
"Back off, he's mine," Stiles blurts, going red as two sets of eyes turn to stare at him. Scott just sighs in defeat.
After a moment's silence, though, it looks like that something clicks to place in Jackson's brain because his eyes widen and he snorts.
"You can't be serious. Are you going after the dude?" He looks around, meeting eyes with Scott who just nods; glaring at Danny who seems to be approve and Stiles, of course, who looks a little angry and very determined. "Jesus fuck, you are. Why the hell do you need that dude? Are you that out of pussy and dick?"
A loud thump signals that Danny, yet again, banged his head on the desk, groaning loudly. He is Jackson's oldest friend but he is surprised every time Jackson is especially rude or obtuse.
"It's because the guy rejected him," Scott provides and Stiles is really feeling like hitting him with his tray, full or not, because he's supposed to keep this a secret.
"WHAT. YOU ASKED YOUR OWN PROF OUT ON THE FIRST DAY OF CLASS?!" Jackson shouts. Several people turn their way and Stile can only hope they didn't understand what he said.
"NOOOOOOOO. Jesus Christ, Jackson, the fuck?!" Stiles shouts back, almost just as loud. Damn, gossiping will start soon.
"The dude rejected him a few weeks ago when—" Scott starts but Stiles covers his mouth with his hand.
"Scott, dammit, can't you keep your mouth shut?! I told you that this is something to keep between ourselves! Why am I friends with you all, again?" He slowly lets go of Scott when it seems like he won't open his mouth again.
"Because otherwise you'd be alone?" asks Danny, totally meaning what he says.
"Sometimes I think that would be better…" Stiles says grumpily.
"It only takes a few words, Stilinski," is Jackson's reply.
"Yeah, yeah, okay. Shut up and eat." And to be a good example, he starts shoveling food in his mouth.
~o~
After lunch, Stiles is excited to see Prof Hale. He has a plan, sort of, not really elaborate, though, but he knows what he needs to do.
Step 1: The "I am so interested in your class" act
When Stiles enters the class room, there are only a few people. He goes straight to the front rows and sits down right in front of the teacher's desk. Prof Hale comes in a few minutes later, wearing a gray button up shirt and a black vest. His ever-present glasses are perched on his nose and his black shoes are reflecting the lights on the ceiling. Stiles has a moment of doubt about this whole plan, seeing as the man is way too composed and just… uptight to flirt with, but Stiles won't back down.
As soon as the door closes after the last student, the class starts. Derek looks over the students and Stiles doesn't waste the opportunity to wink at the guy. He seems thrown off by it, which makes Stiles smile like a lunatic, if a little on the dangerous predator side. Derek, though, recovers quickly and continues talking.
By 25 minutes in, Stiles is bored, has no idea what they're talking about and is angry at Derek for not paying attention to him and, in those few instances when their eyes meet, ignoring him. That only makes Stiles more determined to succeed and he forces his attention on the things the professor is saying, not on his bunny teeth showing every time he smiles at a student's correct answer.
When class ends, Stiles deliberately drops a few notes on the floor so he's need to dive head first between the desks, his ass up in the air. He doesn't know if Derek saw it, but judging by how quickly he averts his eyes when Stiles looks at him, he'd say he did.
It takes a little more pointless shuffling for the other students to leave, but once the room is clear, Stiles strides towards Derek. It's not like he's using his "predator hunting down prey" walk, or that he has one, but determined steps, hands in pockets, lowering his head while looking up through his eyelashes are a must. As soon as he's there by the desk, Derek clears his throat and starts rearranging his notes.
"Hi," is all Stiles says.
"Oh, hi," is Derek's nervous answer.
"I really liked the class. You really are a good lecturer." Stiles heard once that being nice is a sure-fire way to charm a girl. He supposes the same applies to guys, too.
"Thank you." Derek looks up at him for the first time, his ears going red after a few moments of eye contact, and then turns away, back to his desk.
"The way you say things," Stiles starts, and leans against the desk, hip resting on it, drawing patterns over the wood of the desk with his fingers. "How they roll off your tongue. It's really mesmerizing, you know. I couldn't pay attention to anything else."
He hopes that the double meaning doesn't miss Derek, and he's satisfied when he can see the teacher swallowing hard and fidgeting a little.
"That's… very nice of you to say, thanks" Derek grabs his notes and shoves them in his bag. "I—I have class in 10, and I still—" he starts, flailing a little, trying to point at the door, when Stiles interrupts him.
"Yeah, yeah, me too. It's okay, though, I can walk with you," Stiles says, aiming for nonchalant. Derek's eyes budge and he nearly trips over.
"You don't need to, really," he mumbles, not looking at Stiles.
"But I want to. I enjoy your company," Stiles smirks to himself, and carefully touches Derek's upper arm. The man flinches like he was hit by a lightning bolt and stares at Stiles. He only smiles at him as he slowly lets go of Derek's arm, slow enough to stroke it gently.
Derek swallows almost audibly, and turns back to stare straight ahead. His brows are furrowed, his cheek red and there's a drop of perspiration on his temple. Stiles needs to remind himself that this is only a game for him, nothing more. But that doesn't mean he can't appreciate Derek's appearance, so he drinks in every detail of the man's face.
"Well, I'm going this way," says Derek as they stop at the stairs. "Have a nice weekend, Stiles. See you next week," he sways the books in his hand a little, nods at Stiles and goes up the stairs.
Stiles, grinning like an idiot, enjoys the view of a very firm and cute bubble butt ascending the stairs. He's grinning, because this little chat and those few minutes gave him a lot to work into his plan. Namely: 1) Professor Hale is a huge dork, which… cute. 2) He is really uncomfortable when complimented, which… cute. 3) He remembers Stiles' name! 4) He didn't pull away, when Stiles stroke his (surprisingly defined and hard) biceps.
All in all, Stiles is satisfies with his plan and is already planning his next move when he sits down just as his next class starts. If you'd ask him, what the teacher is talking about, he couldn't tell you a single thing (not even the subject), but he would try to describe how soft Derek's stubble looked and what color his blush resembled to. And no, no matter what you say, Stiles is, and always will be, totally objective in this whole seduction thing.
