After being pushed out of a very angry Prof Hale's office and running across campus like a lunatic, Stiles feels ashamed. Like, to the level that he's never felt before, even though he has done a lot of very embarrassing things when in high school. But through the years he's learnt to make better calls and think things through before acting. That obviously didn't happen this time, because if he had stopped for just one fucking minute to think and consider the consequences, he would have realized what an ass he's going to make of himself.
Flirting with a professor in class is one thing; harmless fun that doesn't lead anywhere. This, though? This can very easily lead to serious stuff that could potentially derail his future. Derek could already be in the Dean's office, for all he knows, detailing him Stiles' inappropriate conduct through the past weeks. He could lose his sport scholarship as a result, and his grades are sure as hell not enough to keep him from dropping out without that.
And fuck, Scott was right! He told him to not do it, but no, Stiles was so cocksure and confident in his charm that he had to go and put everything on the line. No, this can't be it, this can't be the end.
He needs to do better and forget this whole thing: the plan to seduce Derek just to get back to him. How childish is that, when you say it out loud!? He needs to grow the fuck up and get his shit together.
There are several other Eng Lit classes he can switch to which he will do first thing in the morning. And from now on college is all about attending classes and getting good grades because if (when?) Derek tells on him, his ass will be thrown out of the scholarship program and sure as all hell, he's not going home to his dad like a dog with his tail between his legs. So, the new and revised plan is this: a lot of studying and good behavior.
His determination falters a bit when later that evening he gets an email from Derek. He feels so embarrassed by the possibility of it being a long and angry essay in which Derek describes his very inappropriate behavior in a rather colorful language that he deletes it without reading it. He doesn't need more negativity in his life, his own stupid choices are enough of that.
This determination lasts approximately 5 days; two weeks if we're counting the days when Stiles is like a machine on autopilot, waking up, going to classes, practice, studying, sleeping and repeat. But he's still an 18-year-old, and he just can't keep this up. He needs to let some steam off and have fun finally.
Lucky for him, Scott, Danny and Jackson are there to cheer him up and suggest going out to a bar to watch a baseball game. Which is exactly what he needs, just some junk food, a drink or two and some quality time together.
There is this little bar not too far from his work that he always liked to look of, so they go there. It seems like a popular place among college students, because there is barely any free table when they enter. Most of the people, it seems, are there to just have a good time, though, and ignore the game altogether. There's faint music in the background that is almost completely drowned out by the chatter of people. When he walks up to the bar, Stiles needs to raise his voice to be able to order some drinks for themselves.
By the time he's paid, Scott is waving at him from one of the empty tables (closest to the toilet, go figure) so he tries to balance the four beer glasses without dropping or spilling any of it.
"You know me so well, guys," he says as he takes his first sip of the cold brew, the foam sticking to his unshaved face.
After his miserable last encounter with Prof Hale, he couldn't make himself look at any of the clothes and products that he had bought with Lydia, so he's back to wearing one of his hoodies and sporting a week-old stubble.
"Yeah, I was starting to get worried," Danny laughs, but his face contradicts the light-heartedness of that laugh. "I know you came here to study, too, but it was a bit… out of character to see you so focused on it."
Stiles tries to force a smile on his face as he taps Danny on the shoulder, but he's having a hard time keeping his expression neutral. He really doesn't want to tell his friends that the reason he could be so focused is that he called the College Counselling Service and was put back on medication. None of them realized that his staying up most nights wasn't because he was studying but because he couldn't sleep, or that he lost weight because of the pills and not because he was working out harder. But really, he didn't want them to worry. He could do it; he didn't need to rely on others. They were always worrying about him; it was getting a bit ridiculous that he was the only one of them who always needed attention.
"I need to improve my grades so I can get a decent job when college is over. I can't rely on my athletic skills all my life, I have to have a plan B," said Stiles and froze for a second when he realized that all three of them were looking at him with wide eyes.
"What?" he asked and took a swig of his beer.
"Who are you and what did you do to Stiles?" Scott asked, shocked. "Don't get me wrong, dude, I'm glad you seem to be figuring this adulting thing out. It just that it came out of nowhere. But good for you, man," and with that Scott clinked his beer bottle to Stiles' and finished his beer.
Stiles did the same and volunteered to get more drinks. The guys threw some bills in his direction which he took and went to the bar to order.
With a big smile, he asked for four beers and a double shot of whiskey. The bartender looked at him funny while pouring the shot, but Stiles didn't care. So, what if he sometimes had a shot or two while studying? Nobody needed to know about that. He had everything under control.
He chugged the shot, wiped his lips, thanked the bartender and made his way back to his friends who were arguing about the game that has already begun. He looked at them and wished he could feel as excited and alive as they were, but he just felt empty.
When Derek didn't get an immediate response back from Stiles about their date, he didn't think much of it. It hurt a bit more when Stiles didn't show up for his class the next week. Then he got the official transfer request, from the administrators, not even Stiles himself, that he is switching to another Eng Lit lecture.
And that hurt. Derek could have looked past not getting a reply to his email, because he thought (hoped) that Stiles would talk to him after class and they would set a date. He was so happy about it, looking forward to it. He also prepared a little speech to apologize to Stiles and promise that he will explain why he reacted the way he did. Derek even practiced it a few times in his head on the way to school that day. And then Stiles wasn't there.
He still hadn't thought much of it, maybe he stayed out late the night before, had an exam he was studying for or something. But then it happened the next week again and Derek was starting to get worried.
And when he gets worried, he tends to overthink things and it is usually a downward spiral from there, hitting rock bottom at self-hatred. And that is exactly what happened. After Stiles' second no-show, Derek went to his office to think. Surely Stiles wasn't so offended by his reaction – which, okay, might have been a bit over the top – that he refused to go to his class, right?
Should he email him again?, he thought. No, that would be ridiculous. He is his lecturer; it would be glaringly obvious that something was going on if he asked his student why he isn't attending his classes. He needed to find a way to talk to him, though, because not knowing what was going on was stressing him out.
He was fairly used to making bad decisions here and there, and he also knew that he could lose his temper when he was cornered. And that is what he felt when Stiles was in his office, pushing him, touching him. So he lashed out, and chased away Stiles.
Maybe he doesn't even deserve a chance, and it is better this way. Stiles was probably just toying with him anyway, and when it got a bit heated, it was easier for him to just back out. Because Derek wasn't worth it, not like that. Stiles just wanted him as a trophy, to boast to his friends that yes, he did in fact give it to Professor Hale.
But that's what Derek deserves, right? He's not good at this. He's not good at anything.
He is really good at one thing, though. And that's why he is grabbing his jacket and out of his flat without pausing to think this through, even though it is not Thursday, his regular day, but fuck it, he needs this. He needs to feel good about something, like he can do things right because he really messed up here.
When he gets to Head-onists it's still early enough so that he can have a seat by the bar and chat with Buchannan a bit over a few shots. It's been a while since he was last here and he needs the drink to just forget. Forget crushes, work, his insecurities, everything.
Four or five shots in, liquid courage makes him feel at peace, like everything is alright and he can't even remember that something was wrong before. He is enjoying himself and dancing without any care in the world. There is a small knot-like tightness in his stomach, as if something was not right but he honestly doesn't want to think now. That can wait. He is free and a gorgeous, tall and lanky guy has his hands around him as they are dancing to a really great tune.
When the song changes and a slower one comes on, the other guy doesn't pull away, for which Derek is really grateful. They hold onto each other, slowly moving, swaying with the music. Derek rests his head against the guy's as he slowly kisses his neck and nibbles on his ear. His breath is warm, and it tingles Derek's skin which makes him chuckle a bit. When the song ends, he takes the guy's hand in his and leads him the bathroom. He knows what he wants and isn't shy about it. He pushes the skinny guy into one of the stalls and kisses him hard. The guy has short brown hair and pale skin. He vaguely reminds him of someone which makes his heart ache a bit, but his brain is too fried to think about it more. Derek lets the guy touch him all over, from his neck down to his ass, while they are kissing. And it is nice, really nice. And uncomplicated, which is what he needs now.
He breaks the kiss and sinks to his knees and does what he's so good at. And he can tell that yes, he's finally doing something right, because the guy is falling apart in front of him; his hands are grabbing at Derek's shoulders, and he's getting louder with every move Derek takes. He doesn't last long and after he's finished, he pulls Derek up for another kiss and Derek can see the appreciation in his eyes. And really, that is what he needed, to feel like he's good and worthy of appreciation.
The semester goes on with barely any changes. Stiles keeps his head down – partially because he spends more time studying than before so can't even make it to most of the parties. But that's not the only reason and on dark and lonely night he's not afraid to admit it to himself. He is also tired. So, so exhausted.
The medication takes him only that far and then comes the crash. He feels wiped, like doing just a bit more would shatter him. So he does what he has to (training and classes) and then collapses on his bed to sleep. That doesn't last much more than an hour, though, just enough to see that the room is now empty, Scott probably enjoying his night like any other college student would.
Anyone but Stiles because Stiles feels like he can't enjoy anything anymore. He is in a rut and he knows it, but it's just really tough to get out of it. If he wanted to, that is. He's not even sure anymore, he doesn't believe that it would be much better anyway. Maybe this is what being an adult is like: grey days going by in a blur, ever day the fucking same.
So it shouldn't come as a surprise to him that his solution (it really isn't one, he knows it) is the exact same thing as what he watched his dad go through for quite a long time after his mom died: alcohol.
It starts out slow and infrequent – just a beer while he's studying for an exam or when he has to write a paper and he tries to muster the motivation to sit down and get to it. When he feels like he is at a low point, he buys a bottle of vodka. It's a really nice bottle and a good brand. At first he uses a nice glass that he has lifted from one of the bars and occasionally shares it with Scott.
Then when washing the glass and putting it away so it's not sitting on his desk all the time becomes a chore, he switches to a plastic cup. That he can just leave lying around on whatever surface. He feels like the good and expensive stuff doesn't belong in a plastic cup so he buys a cheaper one. He feels a bit ashamed about it so he decides to hide it from Scott, telling him that he just ran out of vodka.
As the semester gets closer to its end and his responsibilities are piling up, so do the empty bottles that he carefully hides under his bed, socks wrapped around them so they won't accidentally clink and give him away. Deep down he knows it's not okay that he even considered making sure to cover his tracks, let alone went and did it, but a few sips later he doesn't feel so bad about it.
He is careful enough about it that he usually has nothing more than a nice buzz, just to take the edge off things and make him see the world in a better light than he normally would. The only exception to this is when Scott and the guys manage to coax him out of his room to go to a bar or a club. It's a lot harder to keep track of how many drinks he's had (on top of what he had consumed throughout the day) when the music is loud, the lights are dimmed and they are all having a good time.
One of these times is the big bonfire celebration that officially ends their semester, classes, papers and exams all out of the way.
He's been looking forward to this, to just let go and feel like himself again. He wants to enjoy tonight, laugh, dance and maybe meet someone. Even if it's for nothing more than to get off, he needs to feel that he has control over things.
So with a bitter shake of his head, he puts on one of the nice shirts he bought with the help of Lydia what feels like decades ago. It's a dark purple, and it makes his pale skin pop against his dark hair. At least that's what Lydia said, and he trusts her judgement in this. She knows fashion a lot better than Stiles anyway.
Scott is in the room, too, putting on a black button down, leaving one button more than necessary open, showing off just a hint of toned chest. He's pouring a drink for himself and Stiles – in a glass, not like Stiles usually does – and hands it over to him.
"You look good in that shirt, dude," Scott says, "even though I can't recall ever seeing you this pale. Are you okay?"
He seems worried, and comes up to Stiles to look at his face with his eyebrows knit in a straight line.
"I know you don't like to talk about feelings, but if there is anything, you can talk to me, you know that, right?"
Stiles smiles a sad little smile and hugs him close. Scott is nice enough to not comment on how tight he's holding him, or that he needed to catch Stiles because he just flung himself at Scott.
"Thanks, bro, I appreciate it. I will," he tries, even though he knows he probably won't. He's never been one to open up easily when it comes to serious things like depression or his problem with drinking.
"Alright then," Scott slaps him across the shoulder one more time. "Let's down this and then we can go. Danny said they are waiting outside by the library."
Stiles does as he's told, welcoming the burn of the drink. He's beginning to feel optimistic about tonight, forgetting to worry about things that he usually worries about, like the disappointment in his dad's eyes the last time he saw him, or how he seemed to notice things that you would only from personal experience.
When they join Danny and Jackson, there are already a handful of people heading in the direction of the big bonfire, just off to the main entrance of the campus. There are stalls around it where delicious smells are wafting from; sweet and salty, smoked meat and freshly baked goods.
There's a DJ off to the side, playing electronic music that's not offensively loud but makes people have to raise their voices to be heard. Altogether it's the familiar cacophony of laughter, chatter and music that Stiles has always loved.
He can see people from his classes, some of them sitting on blankets in the grass, enjoying the last rays of sunshine as the sun is about to disappear behind the horizon. Some people are sitting on benches further from the bonfire, couples making out and freshmen arguing loudly.
This is one of Stiles' favorite parts of the year, a warm summer evening full of life and potential.
Scott touches his shoulder and indicates that they are heading to one of the vendors to get something to drink and Stiles follows. He skims the crowd slowly growing in number, just people watching and enjoying that he gets to see moments so personal to others but that he can share with them as an outsider. He has always been fascinated by what you can observe when you just take the time to study someone.
And that's when he sees him.
Professor Hale, standing next to another prof, blonde hair and a really revealing cleavage. He looks awkward as he tries to politely keep a conversation going with a student, but it seems like he would prefer to be anywhere else but there.
Stiles turns away then, and has to take a steadying breath. He probably didn't handle that… whatever it was… with the most finesse but things worked themselves out. He didn't get kicked off the team, his grades improved and he didn't get in trouble in quite a while. He tries not to think about the medicine he had to swallow this afternoon, or the bitter taste of alcohol he washed it down with.
He asks for a beer but when Scott turns around, it's a beer and a shot of whiskey that he unceremoniously dumps in Stiles' glass.
"Another fucking year is over, thank God," Scott laughs, and raises his glass.
Danny and Jackson do the same and they all down it in one go. Stiles follows suit.
Later on he is dancing with a guy – Chuck or Chris or something, not important – when he spots Derek again. Looking at him from the corner of his eyes while talking to someone.
Whatever.
Stiles looks away and tries to focus on the guy in front of him. His dark hair, broad shoulders and strong hands on his hips, snaking down to his ass. Stiles should push his hands back on the small of his back but he feels warm and loose so he just throws his head back and sways to the rhythm of the music. The other guy's hand pulls him closer so their hips are touching, and with his other hand, he holds Stiles' head so he can whisper dirty things in his ear.
Stiles just laughs and takes a swig of his bottle of beer. He doesn't remember when he finished his last glass and switched to a bottle, but he doesn't care.
Things get a bit blurry after a while. He dances with people, Danny and Scott, a petite brunette, another jock… He can't keep track of people. Or his drinks. It's like he's in a fast carousel and he can't quite focus his eyes on the person standing outside, unmoving, while he is spinning in circle trying to catch a glimpse of them. He's dizzy, his stomach is turning and after a few unstable steps, he is in free fall.
Darkness embraces him, and all the noises go low. He feels something soft, like a big rug, underneath his head and then it's just… nothing, and he's floating in darkness, like he's in outer space with no sound, nothing against his skin, nothing.
For someone who is so ready to overthink everything until he's almost in tears thanks to the horrible thoughts swirling around in his head, Derek is surprisingly calm and collected when there is an emergency. People have been running around him terrified at more than one occasion when accidents happened, yet Derek felt a great calmness fall upon him when all his attention snapped to the problem at hand and he could take care of it with laser sharp focus.
Those who have seen it usually tell him that it is a bit terrifying, how unaffected and cold he seems, barking orders to people running around aimlessly, who more than anything need just one thing to focus on to be able to endure.
This all comes in handy when he sees it happening.
He really didn't want to come to this party. He'd told Erica several times that there is nothing fun in standing by a bonfire all night, smelling like smoke two minutes in and not being to remove that smell even after a long shower and washing his hair several times… But she insisted.
"You need to show up so students can see that you are one of the cool lecturers," she said.
And, fair enough, that can never hurt.
So he did. He dressed up in something he doesn't mind getting all smelly and dirty, and headed out to stand around all day. He didn't have high expectations here.
What he really did not expect was to see Stiles. It'd been months since their last encounter, after which he transferred to another class, not saying another word to Derek.
He wondered sometimes how things could have taken a different turn had he not reacted like an idiot when Stiles… well, propositioned him. But there was no point in dwelling on the past as it seemed like the campus was big enough for the two of them to never run into each other. Derek also made sure to avoid that coffee shop where Stiles worked, which helped a lot.
Of course, he should have known, that the end of the semester party would be different, but he secretly hoped that he would manage to escape without having to see Stiles having a great time, long have forgotten what happened in Derek's office, while he was reminded of that day again and again.
The first time he saw Stiles was when he and his friends sat down to eat something while loudly arguing. Derek tried to be subtle about it but he still had to see how Stiles was doing. Pretty great, it seemed, because Stiles was devouring a hot dog in record time. He had the decency to lick ketchup and grease off of his fingers, which made Derek freeze to the spot, unable to look away. When they finished eating, the boys disappeared.
The second time Derek saw him, Stiles was dancing with someone, a big guy from the swim team, judging by his jacket. His hands were all over Stiles who seemed to be enjoying the attention, swaying to the music with his eyes closed. When he opened them, though, he was looking straight at Derek.
Fuck. Busted.
He dragged his eyes away to stop staring, his empty hand in a fist, the other fingers white around the coke bottle he was choking with that death grip. He looked at the poor student who was excitedly talking about her plans for summer, and tried his best to keep his attention on the conversation. By the time the student left, Stiles was away.
The third time Derek sees him is when his heart skips a beat. He is just trying to find Erica after a bathroom break (took him almost 10 minutes to get through the crowd), when he sees it happen.
Stiles is standing (leaning) against a tree, blinking slowly when his arms suddenly flail and his knees give in. He buckles and falls face first on the grass, without blocking the fall.
The next thing Derek notices is that his legs are taking him towards Stiles and he's there, standing by his side. His face is smashed in grass, his shirt riding up on his back as the tree was dragging on it when he fell. Derek reaches out to find a pulse on Stiles' wrist but he can't feel anything. A bit of a panic clenches at his chest but he closes his eyes for a minute, takes a deep breath and steadies himself. This is another thing that he is good at. Keeping calm when shit hits the fan.
He yells at the first person to walk by, asking them if they saw who Stiles was with. He gets a scared look and a headshake in return. It worries him that no one but him seems to be concerned with a student lying face planted in the grass.
He pulls Stiles' shirt collar away and touches his really warm skin to feel for a pulse. After a second he finds it. It's there, thank God.
He turns Stiles on his side, positions him so if he were to throw up, he wouldn't choke, and looks around. He can't see anyone he knows and it's not like he is so familiar with Stiles' life that he would know his friends.
So he does the only thing he can. He hoists Stiles up into his arms and with swift steps heads to his car. He is so grateful right now that he didn't drink more than a coke so he can drive to the closest hospital.
It doesn't take long for him to get there, thankfully the streets are not too busy this late at night. When he gets there, he finds the closest parking spot, stops the car and takes Stiles out of the passenger seat.
When they get in, there's a flurry of doctors and nurses who take Stiles away while asking questions from Derek that he doesn't know the answer to. He has no idea what Stiles has consumed, if he's allergic to anything or if he's been under medication. He just stands there, feeling like an idiot, wishing he could help more.
As soon as the doctors leave to examine Stiles, Derek sends a message to Erica.
"Found Stiles passed out. At the hospital now. Find his friends. "
And then he just sits there, staring at the light blinking over his head, letting the adrenalin rush over him now that danger isn't imminent. His hands are shaking and he needs to take several steadying breaths to calm his heartbeat to something that resembles normal.
When Stiles' friends arrive, they look shocked, scared, nervous, the whole palette. They don't even see him, just run past him to the counter to ask about their friend. A nurse gives them directions and they run into the room. A few minutes later Erica walks into the building, sits down next to Derek, and without saying a word, holds his cold and clammy hands.
He's not entirely sure if he's dreaming or things are really happening to him but everything is in slow motion. He feels hands on him and for a split second he's terrified because he can vividly remember what his dad always told him about drinking and drinking responsibly: there is a point after which standing up for yourself is just impossibly difficult because you're not in full control of your limbs. It's not only this that he's feeling now, that he can't control his limbs, but it also feels like they are deadweight and hold him down, not letting him move. When the hand moves to his neck, he tenses, expecting the worse but thank fuck, the hand goes away. He feels the sway of being lifted but that motion is enough to push him into unconsciousness.
He comes to when he hears loud voices around him, and beeping, and there's so much light, and his senses are attacked by all of it and he passes out again.
The next thing he remembers, and wishes that he could have stayed unconscious for, is when something is being forced down his throat and instinctively, he scrambles to lean forwards and just let it all go, emptying his stomach wherever. The stuff never reaches his legs, though, so there must be a bucket or something but he honestly can't keep his eyes open as he slumps back on really soft pillows. Something stings the inside of his elbow, but it's not too bad, so he drifts off.
It's darker this time when he tries to pry his dry eyes open. His mouth is dry and tastes disgusting, his tongue like sand paper. He groans loudly as he turns his head to see where he is at. He is in a strange bed, and there's something like a shower curtain around it. Ah, no. It's just a hospital bed.
Feet shuffle and he feels sweaty hands touch his arms. He tries to look at the people around them but his eyes are still a bit unfocused.
"Are you okay?" Scott's voice asks.
"Mhm," is all he manages.
"Dude, you scared us." This is Danny now. "One minute you were there, standing by the tree, talking to some dude, and the next you disappeared. I almost shit my pants when we couldn't find you."
"S'rry," he says, and reaches for the cup sitting by his bed.
Jackson helps him take a sip and then puts it back down.
"What happened?" Stiles asks.
"Dude, that's what we're asking!" Scott says. "All we know is that we're losing our shit looking for you when the DJ announced that Stiles Stilinski's friends should go over to him. You can imagine how fast we were running."
"And then Ms Reyes was standing there, telling us that you fainted and had to be brought to the hospital," Jackson continues.
"I didn't even know you knew her," Danny is looking at him quizzically.
"I don't," is all that Stiles can manage.
"Thank fuck he found you, dude, 'cause the doctors said you were in quite a bad shape, unresponsive and all. They had to do stomach pumping but right after that you passed out again. We were worried," Scott adds, and all three look dead sober even though they weren't holding back only an hour ago.
"Who found me?" Stiles inquires.
"Hale," is the simple answer he gets.
Fuck. Of course. Let's just add intoxication to the list Derek is probably writing about all the things that are wrong with Stiles, right under inappropriate conduct.
"He's still outside, you know," Scott says gently. "Do you want to talk to him? We can go."
Stiles takes a deep breath to compose himself, to be brave enough to face the shitstorm that's probably about to come, and nods.
Scott nods back and heads to the door, Danny and Jackson following after him. A few moments later the door opens again and Derek is there in the doorframe.
"Is it okay if I come in?" he asks.
Stiles clears his throat and croaks out a weak yes.
Derek stands next to the bed then pulls up a chair to sit, eye level with Stiles.
Shit, he's so not ready for the lecture that is about to come.
But it doesn't. Instead, Derek only asks one thing.
"Is everything alright?"
And at that, Stiles breaks a little. Because no, things are not alright. He pushed himself too hard, didn't look after himself like a fucking adult should, and he ended up in a goddamn hospital bed because he didn't eat anything all day but mixed his medication with copious amounts of alcohol. Does someone alright do that? No.
He can't really do anything but shake his head, too afraid that he wouldn't be able to talk from the big lump in his throat.
"I'm sorry," Derek says. And why is he apologizing? He can't have known that Stiles would start down a self-punishment spiral when he kicked him out of his office. "I am not so full of myself to think that this was because of our last conversation, but I feel responsible for not being there to help. As your lecturer," he adds after a pause, and isn't that a kick in the ass.
Of course, his lecturer. Because Stiles is nothing more than a student who made a complete fool of himself by crossing a line he never should have.
"The thing is, I overreacted, and I'm sorry about that. I shouldn't have been that harsh when rejecting you." Derek is looking at Stiles when he says that, trying to solve some puzzle that is written on Stiles' face, it seems.
And it makes Stiles feel really small and broken. Not only because of the state he's in but broken inside. What is wrong with him that he wanted to play with this man's feelings out of childish spite? Derek is a nice guy and he doesn't deserve it.
"No, I'm sorry," he says, closing his eyes. He'd rather not look at Derek while he's saying these words. "The way I behaved towards you was very childish and it didn't come from a good place."
When he opens his eyes, he can see Derek's face fall, but he composes himself quickly and a second later his expression is unreadable.
"Don't worry about it," Derek mutters as he stands to leave. "Get well, Stiles," he says quietly as he leaves the door.
And he doesn't even know how fucking true that is. Stiles needs to get well.
It starts with a shower and a good night's sleep. Then good food and quality time with his friends in the next few weeks. Strictly alcohol free, once he admits to them that for the past months, he's been drinking every day, in secret, hiding. They go on freaking brunches together after working out, and they spend a lot of time outdoors. The summer goes by and Stiles slowly comes back to normal. A normal where he feels like himself again.
He spends a lot of time contemplating emailing Derek but he doesn't. He doesn't know what to say. What do you say to a dude (your former lecturer) with whom you flirted, then hit on, then ignored for months just to end it with him dragging your intoxicated ass to the hospital?
Yeah, no, that can't be covered in an email.
So he makes up his mind and takes a bold move: asks to be transferred back to whatever class Derek is giving come fall. He needs to be brave and hope that it's not going to be too awkward.
Derek tries his best to hide what has just happened when he walks out the hospital door. Erica stands up as soon as she sees him and they walk to the parking lot. He hugs her, but doesn't say anything, because his voice would betray him, he knows. He says goodbye, kisses her cheek, promises to call tomorrow and drives away.
He shouldn't feel as crestfallen as he does, really, because nothing he heard in that hospital room was news to him. He knew Stiles was just after a trophy but it still hurt. Sometimes you wish things you believed to be true were actually not.
This is why he is surprised when, come the new semester, he sees Stiles' name among the students attending his classes. He doesn't let himself read anything into it, and just forces himself to go on as normal.
When the date of the first lecture comes, he is somewhat nervous, he admits. He's done this class countless times but he convinces himself that it isn't because Stiles will be there, because that would be just childish.
He arrives 10 minutes early to the class to set up, and when he's ready, he sits down and takes out his Kindle. Trying to pretend that he is not waiting for someone to enter, he looks up every time someone enters and greets them with a smile.
And then he enters. And Derek's jaw almost drops. If he thought Stiles was handsome before, that doesn't compare to this. His usually pale skin is tanned, standing in perfect contrast to his teal right – too tight – shirt. He seems stronger, more toned than before when he was all lean.
He looks up at Derek and smiles a little. Derek tries his best to smile back but he isn't sure that it looks all that genuine. It's hard to keep his mouth closed when he feels like his jaw is somewhere by his knees.
As the class starts, he composes himself and focuses on his work, not letting his mind – and eyes – wander. He survives without humiliating himself by repeating things or losing his train of thought, although he feels like he was way too stiff and not as funny as he usually is. He will still take is a victory.
When the class ends, the students start to leave as he begins packing his things up. As he's just about to stand up to leave, there's a quiet cough, making him look up.
The room is empty now, except for Stiles standing awkwardly in front of him.
"Hi," he says softly.
"Hi," Derek replies. "You look better," he blurts out, but immediately cringes.
"I am better," Stiles smiles and leans against Derek's desk. "I just wanted to say thank you for taking me to the hospital back then. You didn't have to, but it was nice of you."
Derek feels uncomfortable by the politeness of this conversation but awkwardly smiles up at Stiles anyway. "You're welcome."
There's a long pause where both of them realize that you can't really keep this going with niceties only so they either need to steer this conversation somewhere or just walk away.
"I was thinking I could tell you why it happened over coffee," Stiles breaks the silence and Derek just stares.
He looks honest, and open, opening up for rejection. Derek doesn't have the heart to say no.
Stiles leads them to that godforsaken coffee place where the whole thing started, the place where Stiles works. His coworkers greet them when they walk in, and Derek could swear he gets a few looks that seem just a bit judgemental. It must be his insecurities, he tells himself.
They take a seat my a big window facing the street, which makes Derek feel incredibly exposed. He just doesn't like people looking at him through glass like he's part of an exhibition or something. But this isn't about him, he reminds himself. This is about Stiles who is about to share personal information with him, and if he wants the window table, so be it, he can suck it up.
When one of the waiters comes over, Stiles, smiling at them, orders a chai latte for himself and Derek gets an Americano. As soon as it's just the two of them, though, the boy looks anxious, fiddling with a piece of paper he found on the table.
"It's okay if you don't want to talk about it, you know," Derek says, trying to sound reassuring.
"No, it's… it's not that I don't want to talk about it, it's just hard to admit it, you know?" Stiles looks at him for a second but he averts his eyes almost immediately. "Not many people know about it but I have told my closest friends and my therapist. It still doesn't mean it's easy to say out loud."
He takes a deep breath but before he could say anything, there order arrives. He flashes a grateful smile at the waiter, and takes a fortifying sip of his drink. Derek tries to suppress his need to squirm in his seat as Stiles' introduction didn't leave him with the best ideas about what Stiles wants to reveal. The tension in his shoulders just grows with every passing second as his mind unhelpfully provides various scenarios, one more horrible than the other.
"So…" Stiles starts and Derek stills himself and takes a deep breath to focus on the jittery young man in front of him. "I don't know if you've noticed, but I have ADHD."
Well, Derek kinda didn't, he was too busy noticing other things about Stiles, if he wants to be honest. The realisation makes him feel like an ass, that he was too busy ogling a student to pay attention to his behavior.
"Growing up it got better but there are certain situations when it is more difficult to manage. Well, getting good grades is one of them. So when I went to your office and you sent me away… I really freaked out. I wasn't sure what you were going to do… well, honestly, I was convinced you were going straight to the dean to have me suspended. Which would mean I would have lost my scholarship and my grades were just atrocious at the time so I decided that I needed to get my ass in gear to stay here, you know?" He looks up at Derek who just stares, eyes the size of saucers, wishing for the ground to open up and swallow him, chair, coffee and everything included.
That thought has never crossed his mind, ratting out Stiles. Even when he believed him to be an asshole who just wanted in his pants, he never thought about actually making an official complaint. Without interrupting Stiles, he just nods and hopes the boy will continue.
"And I did," Stiles goes on, taking another sip of his drink and licking his lips, which Derek tries not to stare at. "I kept myself busy with classes and practice, and did my best to improve my grades. The thing is, you see, concentrating for an extended period of time is fucking hard."
He looks up at Derek, eyes wide, and mumbles an apology. It eases some of Derek's nervousness, to see him get bashful about swearing.
"But I had to do it, there was no other way, so I went back on medication. It was alright for a while but then it started to feel like a never ending cycle of just focusing on things all the time and that shit really drains you, you know? And… well alcohol helped. It colored the boring, grey days, you know? Gave them some details and accents. It wasn't bad, not at first, anyway. Just one more drink when going out, or a drink after a workout. But… from one day to another, it got to a point where I was hiding several empty bottles under my bed, hiding them from my roommate. And I know what it looks like, my dad was a heavy drinker after my mom died, so I should have realised that I had a problem. Of course, it's so much easier to see it when someone else does it, but fucking impossible when you're the one drinking cheap crap out of plastic glasses and hoarding empty bottles just so you can get rid of them when no one is looking. So things got out of hand. God knows how long things would have kept going if things at the bonfire don't happen."
Stiles looks up at Derek and anxiously rakes his hand through his hair. He looks tired just from reliving it and Derek wishes he could just reach out and put his hand on Stiles'. As it is, though, he needs to relax his grip on the table because his knuckles are going white. He licks his lips and takes a sip of his coffee.
"What happened that day?" He asks quietly, and braces himself for the answer.
"You can probably guess what happened. Quite the cliché. IIt was a busy day and I didn't have time to eat, really. And then I mixed my drinks. Alcohol and my medication don't mix well together." He hangs his head and scratches the slight stubble on his cheeks. "If you hadn't been there that night, I don't know what would have happened to me," he whispers and looks straight into Derek's eyes.
"I'm glad I was there," Derek confesses and reaches out to touch Stiles' hand.
A slow smile stretches across the boy's face and it's like the first ray of sunshine after a storm, it warms Derek's heart.
"Thank you for telling me all this. It couldn't have been easy," he returns Stiles' smile.
After this, they just sit there in comfortable silence and eventually start talking about more lighthearted things.
Next week after class, Stiles is leaning against the classroom door waiting for Derek to finish packing up. When he starts walking out of the room, Stiles only asks "Coffee?" And then they head to the place they have been to last time. This time Derek feels like he owes it to Stiles to return his honesty with his own. He tries to psych himself up to it, kinda hears Erica's voice in his head saying " You've got it, Hale " as they order and take a seat at the same spot as last time.
After a few minutes of chatting about Stiles' courses and some of Derek's more memorable students, he takes a deep breath and leans forward.
"I think I, too, owe you an explanation for my behavior that time in my office."
And even though he feels ridiculous confessing that he thought Stiles was after him to brag to his mates, he trudges on and talks to Stiles about his previous relationships. Only in vague terms, as he doesn't feel comfortable with sharing intimate details, but Stiles seems to get it. He tells him how those past relationships have affected, or destroyed, more like, his confidence and how, for years, he was quite self-destructive. He doesn't go into details much, only mentions torturing himself with diets and workout routines, but thinks about his Thursday night activities with bitterness.
This is probably the first time in a while when he feels ashamed about it, that maybe doing it was hurting him more than was helping him. He pushes these thoughts to the back of his mind to examine later, as their conversation, once again, flows to a more neutral ground.
It becomes a habit, that after class they grab a coffee together. The third time there's no heartfelt conversation as they just chat about movies, games, music and hobbies. Stiles has a wicked sense of humor, he learns, and being around him just feels natural. Slowly they start to get to know each other and with that their coffee breaks start getting longer and longer.
After having coffee four times, Derek suggests Stiles transfer from his class. This time Stiles doesn't do it to get away from him. It's the exact opposite: so that he can be with Derek.
Over summer, things take on a new form of normal: Stiles works in the coffee shop five times a week, then goes for a run after each shift. Derek gives summer courses for high school students, tutors college students and runs a book club for little kids (which Stiles totally thinks is adorable as hell). All in all, it's probably the best it has been in quite a while for Stiles. He is content with his routine, with being able to focus on his well-being, and all this provides enough time for the two of them to explore their relationship.
After they are done with work, they usually meet at the park to enjoy the sun and to just talk. Derek seems to be inclined to take things slow, and Stiles is totally fine with this. It might have been a surprising challenge to just slow down and not rush things, because honestly, that's not what he was used to, but then again, he argued, Derek wasn't a college student looking for a quick summer fling, so Stiles tried to match his pace. Taking it slow meant it's been two weeks and he still hasn't been to Derek's place, and if anyone thought (Stiles included) that Derek would be willing to go over to Stiles' dorm room, well, yeah, no, I'm a bit too old for that, Stiles. So, it was usually neutral ground, with plenty of people around, keeping things certainly PG. As far as Stiles is concerned, though, it is all good, great even, and it is no one's business that most of the time after he walks Derek home and kisses him goodnight, he most definitely doesn't even try to keep things PG while taking a cold shower to calm himself down. He is a healthy (and finally, he feels like he is) nineteen-year-old.
His friends seem to be relieved that he is doing better, which makes him appreciate them even more. He has caught Scott looking at him with a fond smile on his lips when he thinks no one is watching; and Danny is back to being more tactile with him, bumping into his shoulders, slapping him across the back, and just not treating him anymore like he might break by the slightest breeze. Jackson is still an ass but in an affectionate way, always ready to snarl at anyone who looks at Stiles the wrong way. Which happens, sometimes. People whisper when he walks by, gossiping about the popular (dumb) jock who couldn't handle his drink and the smoking hot Prof Hale had to save his ass.
It's a mixture of shadenfreude and envy, he knows, but it still hurts. He can only imagine what would happen if people actually knew about him and Derek. They never wanted to keep it a secret, which Stiles is really delighted about, because sexy Professor Hale doesn't want to keep him a dirty secret! But they try to be as professional as they can be, so they usually don't go to places where a lot of Derek's students would be. It's easier now that it's summer and they don't have to be on campus, and the town is sometimes like a ghost town because a lot of people have left.
To be with Derek over summer, Stiles decides against going home. When he tells his dad, he sounds pleased that Stiles is at a good place and tells him not to worry about him. He can visit his hometown whenever he wants to, but he should enjoy his summer with his new special friend. That comment makes Stiles groan and bang his head against his desk.
Scott, though, is planning on going home for the summer, so they decide to celebrate his last night there. It takes a lot of back and forth between Stiles, Danny and Jackson to decide what they want to surprise Scott with.
"We should go to that new arcade like place that opened by the swimming pool," Stiles, resident nerd, says.
Jackson's eye roll is so exaggerated that Stiles is surprised he didn't sprain something.
"…or not, okay. What do you suggest then?"
"How about some cocktails and pool in MacTavish's? I've heard that's a hot spot for summer schoolers" Jackson supplies which earns him two sets of very judgmental eyes.
"Dude, they aren't even allowed to drink," Stiles replies.
"Neither are you, Stilinski," Danny interjects, and Stiles can't fault his logic there.
"Yeah, I'll leave the fresh-out-of-highschoolers for you, Jackson," Stiles shoves at Jackson, who just shakes his head. "I like my partners with some experience," he smirks, and the other two just groan and 'eww' at him. They know about Derek, of course, and it provides endless source for them to tease Stiles about.
"Oh! Talking about experience," Danny exclaims, "you remember that gay bar with the glory hole?"
Stiles has very vivid yet rather blurry memories of that place and the glorious head he received there. The thoughts make him blush and he wishes really hard that Derek would just not leave him with a serious case of blue balls every time they part ways because then maybe (big maybe) he wouldn't be turned on by just the memory of a blowjob.
"Yeah," Jackson confirms.
"Well… umm…" Danny fixes the collar of his shirt, "my sources say the guy hasn't been there for a few months now."
"Your 'sources', eh?" Jackson cackles and mimes a blowjob to Danny, who turns even redder and awkwardly smiles.
"Yeah, his regulars miss him," he admits sheepishly, and that has both Jackson and Stiles break out into hysterical laughter.
In the end, they go to a pizza place for dinner, then to a 90s themed party. Scott seems happy with their choice and they all have a great time.
At the beginning of August, Stiles is having breakfast with Derek at their favorite pastry shop, when Derek looks at him, hesitant, unsure, and it makes Stiles' heart painfully clench. He is both apprehensive and excited by that look. He reaches out and runs his hand down Derek's (broad, muscular, very impressive - hey! mind out of the gutter!) back, which seems to relax him a bit.
"It's Zoe's birthday next weekend," he says after a while and Stiles is just staring at him.
"Mhm," he supplies eventually, when Derek seems satisfied with saying this much.
"I would like for you to come with me," Derek says, hand reaching out to touch Stiles'. It takes Stiles a second to realize that Derek is actually asking him to meet his sister, not his niece. His sister, Laura, the only family he has.
Stiles swallows his apple strudel and fighting down questions like what am I going to do with a bunch of little kids around, I am not good with kids, he smiles at Derek.
"That sounds great. What is the plan?" he asks and is shocked by Derek's beautiful smile. That smile alone is worth putting up with kids for a morning.
He only freaks out a little when Derek tells him that it is tradition in their family to cook and bake together with the birthday girl or boy, and then to play boardgames. The bigger freaking out comes when he realizes that he is a terrible cook and that he has never had to spend a whole day with a child around, let alone several.
"I can't do this. I am nineteen! How am I expected to be able to handle this? Scott, heeeeelp!" He knows he is like a petulant child – maybe he should join the partying kids instead of cooking with the adults – but Scott is just laughing at him.
"Dude, louder, please, my speakers aren't screeching just yet," Scott laughs at him, but there is an affectionate and understanding look in his eyes, even through the pixelated image of his laptop.
"Sorry. But seriously, buddy, I am so not mature enough for this. I mean, I know that Derek is 26 and I should have expected, like, adult things, but not this fast, you know? Also, it's not only that there will be kids, but his sister, who he hasn't talked to for years. What if I fuck that up? What if I do something stupid and ruin their newfound bond?"
"Stiles. Trust me, you won't. Derek likes you," Scott says in a serious tone, the one that belies his youthful features and makes him sound really wise. "He believes it will be okay, otherwise he wouldn't have asked you to go. Besides, he wants you to meet them. That's a big thing."
"I know," Stiles groans. "I just don't want to fuck this up, too. I have made quite a lot of mistakes lately, but this is something that I want to do well," he confesses, although he suspects Scott knows all this, maybe knew it even before he himself did.
"And you won't. Just be yourself, be nice to them and if you're unsure about something, be honest with Derek."
"Dude, when did you become so wise?"
Scott laughs, and looks at the camera. "I miss you, buddy."
"Yeah, I miss you, too." There's a beat before Stiles continues. "Thank you. Honestly, dude, thank you for always being there for me. You're the best."
"Aww, dude, stop, you're going to make me cry here," Scott sniffles and waves at Stiles. "Now go and get something for the birthday girl."
Stiles says goodbye, promises to call soon, and leaves his dorm to meet Derek and buy a present together.
They brainstorm over coffee and Stiles talks excitedly about games that are probably not even age appropriate for Zoe, but he likes the sound of them. Stiles is too excited to notice the adoration in Derek's eyes as he watches Stiles gesticulate wildly, showing images on his phone to Derek, describing toys and games. In the end, they go with wooden blocks and a picture book – neither of which are princessy because Stiles is a firm believer of gender-neutral toys. Derek believes him and lets him call the shots. Stiles thanks him by giving him a long, slow kiss in the car that leaves Stiles' insides tingling. Derek just looks dazed when he pulls back, and a small smile spreads across his face.
On the day of the birthday party, Stiles has to get up rather early which makes him grumpy. He stumbles to his kettle to make some tea – he decides that should be enough caffeine, he doesn't want to end up too pumped lest he makes an ass of himself. After a quick shower, he picks up a dark blue and read plaid shirt and khaki pants, fixes his hair and heads downstairs. Derek is already waiting for him in the parking lot, eyes looking tired but glinting as he sees Stiles.
The drive to Laura's is a peaceful one, they listen to some music, holding hands. Stiles' palm is slowly getting clammier and clammier, but Derek doesn't say anything, he just rubs circles into it.
Derek kills the engine in front of a lovely two-story building, and as they step out of the car, Stiles can already hear rowdy children running around in the backyard. He walks to Derek, takes a deep, steadying breath and nods at him. Derek wraps his arms around him in a tight hug and Stiles melts into it. With a soft kiss to his temple, they straighten and head to the door, hand in hand.
Stiles isn't sure what he expected to see when the door opens, but he is greeted with… well, Derek if Derek was a few years older and a woman. Same dark hair, although Laura's seems naturally wavy, expressive but sculpted eyebrows and the same twinkling eyes, which are just a shade or two closer to blue than Derek's.
"Derek!" she exclaims and pulls her brother in a bear hug. "I'm so glad you could make it. And you must be Stiles," she looks over at Stiles, who is standing there awkwardly, feeling like someone poured a bucket of water down his back, the fabric of his shirt sticking to his back. "I've heard so much about you," she continues which makes Stiles quirk an eyebrow at Derek.
Derek just laughs a little and answers with his own expressive eyebrows that say "What? I do talk about you to my family" and that soothes Stiles' nerves some.
"Hi Laura. It's really nice to finally meet you," Stiles extends his hand, but Laura wraps him up in another big hug. Seems like the Hales are huggers, which Stiles is more than okay with. He misses his dad's hugs and this reminds him of home.
"Come on in, we are just getting ready to start cooking. Zoe is already helping her dad measuring out flour to make cookies."
She leads them to the kitchen where a little army of kids are standing on kiddie steps to be able to reach the countertops and help their moms or dads.
Stiles is introduced to everyone as Derek's partner, which makes him both embarrassed (they never said it out loud, he always just assumed they were there) and extremely proud. Laura's husband, Zach gives him a knife and he's tasked with peeling potatoes while Derek is chopping carrots. The kids are loud and messy, but Stiles wouldn't trade this for anything. The adults are making jokes, the kids are signing and competing, trying to make the most impressive cookie shapes (there are dinosaurs, witches, sharks and dogs, too).
While the food is getting ready, Laura comes over to them to chat. She hands both Derek and Stiles a coke each, which makes Stiles what Derek has told her, but he decides he doesn't mind if Derek told her about his previous alcohol problem. Derek is looking out for him and he appreciates it. Laura herself is drinking some juice, too.
"So Stiles. Tell me how you two met."
Stiles almost chokes on his drink but composes himself quickly to reply "In school. Derek was my lecturer."
Which is true, but not even half of the truth. Derek and Laura share some intense eyebrow-conversation that Stiles can't even begin to understand, but he feels like this was a test.
"He isn't anymore, by the way," he clarifies.
"I'm glad to hear that," Laura smiles at him, but it is a knowing smile. She looks to Derek then and ruffles his hair. Derek pulls a face, but Stiles can see nothing but love in his eyes.
The rest of the day is spent with a delicious lunch, board games and a lot of laughing. Surprisingly, Stiles bonds with Zoe quite easily over dinosaurs and cookies, and Derek just watches them, leaning against Laura, whispering into each other's ears.
Stiles' heart is light in his chest, fluttering excitedly when he sees Derek this happy and relaxed.
"I'm glad we went. I really needed this," he whispers as he closes the distance to kiss Derek when he drops Stiles off that night at the dorm.
~x~
They have been officially dating for months when Derek tells Stiles that they need to talk. At first Stiles is nervous about it (damn all those romcoms where this sentence always means something bad) but then he gets over it. They are doing great and Derek isn't like that anyway, he would tell him straight to his face if something was wrong.
The only thing that isn't so great for Stiles is that it's been long goddamn months and they still haven't had sex. Sure, they have watched each other jerk off a couple of times and they have been dry humping each other like teenagers, but Derek always stopped him when he wanted to go further, when he wanted to take Derek's clothes off. Stiles is in no rush, though, so he didn't make a big deal out of it, but he's getting frustrated with constantly having blue balls and having to take long showers after being over at Derek's. Scott is giving him knowing looks.
So Stiles is a bit worried about what this talk will be about, but he is keeping an open mind.
When he arrives to Derek's apartment, the place smells great. Derek's been cooking which, okay, he didn't expect. Maybe the romcom drama is not going to happen.
"Something smells great," Stiles whistles as he walks up to the stove where Derek, in an apron with puppies all over, is putting food on two plates.
"I made lasagna, I hope you like it," Derek replies as he turns his head so Stiles can kiss his cheeks.
"You kidding? I love it," he says and sniffs the delicious food, followed by an appreciative sigh. "So what is it that you wanted to talk about?" Stiles has always been very patient.
"After dinner, okay? Let's eat just now," Derek looks up at him, a shy smile on his face.
Stiles digs in and starts talking about the latest YouTube videos he saw and forgets about the talk.
When they finish eating, they clean up and then head to the living room to get comfortable on the couch. Stiles really doesn't want to push it but he's getting restless and Derek can probably sense this because he takes a deep breath and begins.
"You probably have been wondering why I always stop you when you want to undress me."
And yes, that is an understatement. Stiles, at the first few times this happened, was obsessing over this, trying to figure out if Derek didn't like him, or didn't want him, or didn't trust him. But Derek was always down to kiss and touch through clothes so Stiles thought he might have been just shy or self-conscious.
"Do you remember when I told you about my first time?" Derek asks, and Stiles needs to think about that for a while.
Derek helps him out and starts explaining that when he was 16, he fell for someone older. Stiles can remember this much, but what Derek tells him next is a shock to his system.
In a quiet voice, Derek tells him that the woman tied him up, gagged him, spanked him, fucking cut him with a knife and then left him there for two days. Then he talks about the long weeks he was bedridden because of healing injuries, but more importantly the emotional trauma he suffered, with the added baggage of all this happening in Derek's teen years when he was still trying to figure out who he was, which high school gossip really fucking didn't help. Stiles' stomach is turning, he's seeing red and getting angry with every quiet word leaving Derek's lips.
But when Derek stands and takes his shirt off, it's like a bucket of ice being dumped on him. He can see the cuts still, so many years later. They weren't deep, Derek explains in a clinically cold voice, so they healed alright, but they stand out pale against Derek's tanned skin. Almost a dozen long lines from his chest to his hips and arms, all different in length and shape.
Stiles lets out a shaky breath and unconsciously reaches out to touch but his hand freezes midair as he looks up at Derek.
"Can I?" he asks.
Derek moves closer, within reach. Stiles shuffles to the edge of the couch so Derek can stand between his legs and puts his hands on Derek's hips, not touching his skin. When Derek buries his hands in Stiles' hair and nods, Stiles begins to trail his fingertips over the white lines. Derek tenses, but with a rattling breath he relaxes and lets Stiles explore.
He traces each and every cut with his fingers, trying to change the memory of pain to a memory of gentleness. When he's touched all of them, he leans in and places the smallest of kisses against the one that goes from Derek's right hipbone towards his groin. Then he slowly rises to his feet. Holding Derek's chin in his hand, he looks him in the eye and whispers thank you to let Derek know how much he appreciates this. Him, his honesty, his straightforwardness, his trust.
With the force of a storm, Derek leans forward and kisses Stiles with everything he's got. Stiles tries to follow him but the intensity with which Derek tries to convey his emotions knocks the wind out of him and he can't do much more than allow Derek to kiss him however he wants to, he just responds in earnest.
After minutes, both panting, Stiles breaks the kiss and looks Derek in the eye.
"Is it okay?" He needs to make sure that Derek doesn't feel pressured.
Derek nods, and pushes him backwards until his legs hit the couch and he has to sit down. Derek is on his knees in no time and is already working on Stiles' zipper when Stiles catches his hands.
"Hey, Derek, slow down. I'm not going anywhere, I'm not leaving you," he says, and caresses Derek's cheek.
"I know," Derek replies, placing a kiss on Stiles' palm. "I know," he repeats, trying to center himself, let him believe what he's saying.
Stiles cups Derek's face and with a murmured "Come here" he pulls him up to kiss him again. This time it's slower, sweet and perfect. There's no rush to it, just heat and want. Derek shudders when Stiles flicks his fingers over his nipples, but Stiles just smirks against his lips and does it again.
"Fuck," Derek breathes deeply and plants a wet kiss on Stiles' neck.
This gives enough time for Stiles to rearrange them; Derek's head is resting against the cushions by the armrest, his legs splayed open so Stiles can kneel between them. He looks down at Derek's beautiful naked torso and pulls his shirt before leaning forward to steal another kiss. Their hands are roaming the other's body, mapping muscles, scars, birthmarks, trying to memorize as much as they can.
"Let me take care of you first," Stiles whispers in Derek's ear which earns him a deep moan and a hurried "Yeah, okay."
Stiles can't help himself and steals another quick kiss before he trails down Derek's body, stopping at his nipples to give them some attention as Derek seems to enjoy it. Sure enough, Derek's hand grabs a handful of Stiles' hair and his fingers flex reflexively. As much as he would love to spend a whole night kissing and playing with Derek's nipples, he continues his way down to Derek's thighs. The runs his hands up and down Derek's muscular legs, scraping his fingernails across the fabric of his jeans, which puts a teasing line of pressure going from his knees up to his hips and Derek chuckles a bit as it tickles him.
Placing another kiss on the scar by Derek's hip, Stiles unbuttons his jeans and when Derek lifts his hips, he pulls them down as much as he can. He quickly pulls those and his own jeans off, leaving them in nothing but underwear, both of them showing obvious signs of their interest in the proceedings. Derek sits up and pulls him in close to kiss him, and then he's leading the way to his bedroom. Stiles can't help but stare at Derek's gorgeous body; his toned back, round ass and strong legs. He can't wait to feel those wrapped around him as he has Derek under him.
When they reach the room, Derek gracefully sits back by the headboard and waves his hand in the direction of his open, bent legs, obscenely presenting himself.
"As you were," he says cheekily, and Stiles is on him in a second, his hands touching everywhere and his lips whatever snarky comment Derek wanted to add.
When the kiss ends, he looks at Derek, aiming for a deadpan expression but probably looking more excited and eager than anything else. "Lube?"
Derek twists around to reach for the nightstand which Stiles takes advantage of and pushes Derek down on the bed so he's lying on his front and Stiles has his extremely shapely ass inches from his face. Derek just laughs but lets him do it, pulling a pillow under his head and trying to look over his shoulder as much as he can. He drops a bottle and a condom on the bed.
Stiles, whether with girls or guys, has always loved eating ass. Acquired taste or not, it has always been the perfect mix of shouldn't like it and love it anyway. He kisses all over Derek's lower back and thighs, placing biting kisses wherever he reaches, which has Derek growl slightly, clearly frustrated about the teasing.
"Is this okay?" Stiles asks, after he bites Derek's ass cheek hard.
"Hhhnnng-yesss," Derek hisses as he instinctively arches his back to silently as for more.
Stiles just smiles and places both of his hands on Derek. His gentle kisses turn hungrier with teeth and more saliva the closer he gets to Derek's hole. Without hesitation or teasing, he places his mouth around it and kisses it, alternating between long licks, kisses, sucking and kitten licks. Derek is growing louder by the minute, his hands fisting the pillow, biting the corner as his eyes close from pleasure.
As much as Stiles enjoys this, his need has been increasing with every moan and sigh Derek made. He's dreamt about this, in vivid details, how he would take Derek apart with his mouth on his cock, his ass, his nipples. But this has to wait because Stiles wants to make this last. With a heavy sigh, he reaches out for the forgotten bottle of lube and pours some of it on his fingers, warming it before reaching towards Derek.
"Still okay?" he asks, but Derek's relaxed expression and curt nod comes before he could even finish those two words.
He gently rubs his finger around Derek's rim and when Derek sighs, he pushes in. The sigh turns into a moan and that spurs Stiles on to continue his movement without pausing. He starts a gentle but steady rhythm and as soon as he can, adds a second finger. Derek only wiggles around the get a better position, adjusting so with Stiles' pushes, his dick is gently nudged against the bed.
It doesn't take long for Derek to relax and sigh with every touch, non-verbal voices leaving his lips in an endless stream. Stiles then bites his ass one more time, slaps him gently before reaching for the condom and putting it on with shaking hands. He smears some more lube on his shaft before putting his hands on the bed by Derek's hips. He leans down to kiss and bite Derek's shoulder as he grabs his cock to guide it into Derek's waiting body.
Pushing in only a few inches, he stops to steady himself, Derek's heat and tightness overwhelming him suddenly. He hangs his head, forehead touching Derek's shoulder, as he takes a few deep breaths. Derek, though, is impatient, and shifts so he can take over, arching his back so he can move his hips and slowly inch his way back down on Stiles' cock. It's an intoxicating sight, his ass greedily sinking down on his erection.
"Fuck, that's so hot, Derek," he whispers, then groans when Derek clamps down on him. "Show off," he chuckles, but leans down to awkwardly kiss Derek in his twisted position.
As retaliation, Stiles sneaks a hand around Derek's throat to keep him in place and finally starts moving. Derek chokes on a chuckle and his mouth falls open as Stiles slides out and then back in. Stiles keeps a steady and slow pace, trying to draw the teasing out before he knows he lose his patients and picks up speed.
"Stiles, come on, don't tease, just give it to me," Derek keens, his fingers whitening in the sheets as he's trying to hold himself up to kiss Stiles.
"Jesus, Derek," Stiles groans and falls forward, still holding Derek's throat gently, as his other hand comes to rest on Derek's legs to pull them up until Derek's ass is higher up and the angle is just right, judging by the choked off groan escaping Derek's lips.
And Stiles gives it to Derek, his pace becoming faster and faster, the only sound in the room is skin on skin and their curses and moans. Stiles bites Derek's ear and Derek shouts his name, surprised and turned on even more.
"You have no idea how many times I imagined this, what it would be like to fuck you," Stiles whispers in Derek's ear. "Seeing you in those tight jeans outlining your ass… why do you think I was sitting in the first row every time? Fuck, I wanted to bend you over your meticulously organized desk and fuck you until you made a mess all over it." Stiles is hand tightens for a second around Derek's neck and that has Derek wheezing for all deities to help him because he's falling apart.
"Touch yourself," Stiles instructs, and Derek scrambles to reach down between his legs to cup his straining erection, ignored for so long and so desperate for attention.
"Yes, fuck, Stiles, please," Derek whines and starts stroking himself in earnest.
"I want you to come first so I can feel your orgasm while I'm still inside you," Stiles grunts and places a kiss on Derek's neck.
Derek's breath hitches, his body goes rigid and he's coming over his hands, ass clenching down on Stiles, tightening even more. That throws Stiles' rhythm, his hips staggering a few more times and then he's coming, biting on Derek's shoulder gently, and then letting go of him.
He pulls his hand away from Derek's neck, petting his hair in apology as he's sure there will be red fingerprints for a few hours. As Derek goes lax underneath him, he relaxes, and his heavy limbs refuse to hold him up any longer.
He falls on Derek's back with an oomph, and for a minute or two they just try to get their heartbeats back to normal. Then he pulls out, kneading Derek's ass before leaning down to place a kiss on one ass cheek. He goes to Derek's bathroom to discard of the condom, clean up and get a wet towel.
When he walks back, Derek is lying on his back, his forearm over his face. His cheeks are flushed, he's covered in sweat and his neck is red in what seems to be in the distinctive shape of a palm. He looks beautiful.
Stiles climbs up next to him, pulls his arm away so he can kiss him. Gently, with emotion, as they are both sated now, so this kiss is just a reminder that they have each other. He cleans Derek off, then, and after throwing the towel on the floor, he cuddles Derek.
After a lazy shower together, they curl up in bed and fall asleep in no time.
The next morning, there are two things out of the usual, when Stiles wakes up. One, it's bright, like, really bright. Did he leave the lights on last night?
No, he's not in his dorm.
Right. The talk with Derek.
And oddly enough, being in Derek's bed is not the second unusual thing.
That has to be Derek between his legs, his face really close to Stiles' morning wood, giving it a kitten lick.
"Morning," Derek declares, with a playful look on his face.
"Apparently," Stiles blushes, but he can't look away.
"Can I?" He asks, almost unsure.
And if he wasn't already hard, Stiles' dick would have jumped at that hungry voice coming out of such red lips so freaking close to a hard cock.
"Fuck, yes," is all Stiles can muster. He props himself up on pillows so his head is lifted, and he can watch Derek scoot closer to kiss and lick.
Wrapping his hand around Stiles' cock, he places open mouthed kisses all over, like he's appreciating some rare art form.
"You have a really nice dick," Derek says, looking at it, turning his head this and that way. Having his mouth on his dick didn't but this definitely makes Stiles blush. "I'm a bit sad that I didn't get to play with it first before I had it in me," he muses, and Stiles groans and curses.
"Can you come from words alone?" He laughs awkwardly, when Derek looks at him. "Because I might if you keep up the worshiping."
"Guess we have to see that later. For science," Derek smirks and goes back to kissing Stiles' cock.
After peppering it with kisses, he switches to licking it, with long swipes of his tongue, up and down. Stiles, being the college student he is, is not used to languid blowjobs that last more than 5 minutes and are done in dark corners, so he is having a hard time keeping his hands from just grabbing Derek's head and pulling him down on his dick. So, he flexes his fingers a few times by his side and grabs the sheets to hold on.
Derek must see his frustration, though, because he puts his lips around the head and slowly, but without stopping, takes him as deep as he can. That is when Stiles needs to reach out for purchase, though, so he grabs a handful of Derek's hair as he moves to pull up.
This jostles his head enough to accidentally scrape Derek's teeth on the underside of Stiles' dick who moans out loud with a deep "Fuck, yes, do that again." Derek looks up at him, but Stiles' eyes are closed, and his mouth is open as he is panting loudly.
So, Derek does it again, cautiously at first, just pushing his lower teeth against the underside of Stiles' shaft but Stiles just groans, and his hands tighten in Derek's hair. Confident that Stiles is actually enjoying this, Derek bobs up and down a few times before, out of nowhere, he pulls off to bite the side of Stiles' cock hard.
Stiles lets out a garbled mess of noises and syllables as his head jacks up and the look he gives Derek is hungry and on fire. Derek goes back to sucking him off in earnest now, moving fast and sucking hard. Stiles is getting closer, his muscles tightening so Derek quickly pulls off, bites him one more time and takes him down his throat. Stiles holds his head as he fucks into his mouth once, twice and he's coming down Derek's throat with a loud "fuck". Derek swallows everything and when he lets Stiles' cock slip from his mouth, he just nuzzles in, face resting against Stiles' hip.
Panting hard, trying to catch his breath, Stiles plays with Derek's hair, and then he's laughing.
"You know, for a long time I didn't understand what the big deal about blowjobs was," he explains and Derek just hums, so he continuous. "Like, the ones I got were fine, but nothing amazing. But guess what. I like it on the rough side, with biting and teeth. And I needed to go to a damn glory hole in a gay bar a few towns over to find it out! My friends dragged me there, no, they actually dared me, and I was kind of wasted but, you know, not that drunk that I couldn't get it up. Anyway, the dude there was good, Jesus, like not as good as you, because hot damn. But anyway, I was so awkward I gave him a thumbs up through the hole and - Derek?"
Derek's face is flushed now, way more than it was when he had Stiles down his throat. He has a sheepish smile on his lips as he thumps his head against Stiles' stomach, which ouch.
"I…" Derek clears his throat. "I remember you," he mumbles against Stiles' skin and Stiles is just staring at him. Then he connects the dots.
And then he's laughing, which makes Derek's head rise and fall on his stomach, so he looks up, into Stiles' tear-filled eyes as he's laughing with his whole body.
"Professor Hale in a glory hole? I would have never seen that coming," he wheezes as he's gulping for air between hiccuping giggles.
"Shut up. I didn't always cope with emotions in the healthiest ways. Cheap sex was one of them, you know that," Derek says quietly, looking away, but Stiles can't let this turn sour, so he reaches out to run his thumb along Derek's cheekbones.
"Danny also said the glory hole guy haven't been there for a while, the timing of which is suspiciously close to when we started seeing each other," Stiles whispers and pulls Derek up for a kiss. "And that is all I need," he confesses and looks Derek in the eyes. "I love you, Derek, as you are."
There's a moment's silence as Derek's mouth turns downward, his lips pouting, and Stiles can see his eyes filling up with tears as Derek launches himself at Stiles, hiding his face in his neck.
"I love you so much, Stiles. I was so afraid this could come between us and I didn't know how to tell you this."
"Well, I guess, this was one way for it to come out," Stiles chuckles and kisses Derek. Their naked bodies curling around each other, holding hands and staring into each other's eyes, they enjoy their lazy morning in.