0.6
It had almost been 5 days since Laura had revealed to Stiles that Derek was smitten with him. He may never admit it, but he was smirking the first few days when he discovered it – secretly so, of course. Laura had not left the home and it seemed apparent to Stiles that she was going to enjoy her time in New York for a pretty long time. Derek was not amused of the whole Laura and Stiles being in the same room, as he believed both of them are conspiring amongst each other. Perhaps it was the lengthy, random conversation that the two of them have. Derek, if possible was becoming more sour of them, and even pictured his mind of a scenario where he threatened to leave the place and have both and Stiles and Laura keep the apartment to themselves, but even then, Laura and Stiles will nonchalantly accept the threat as an offer, adding more anger to the brooding man himself.
Life was not giving any pleasure in the course of the 5 days as Derek could not escape the wrath of Stiles and Laura's chattering. Wherever he goes, Derek could not help but punch or peel his skin in aggravation and annoyance as he could literally hear them talking, at most laughing from a far distance. Had he known that the two of them would be a challenge, he would have trained himself to build patience that he so deserved at the moment. If having one sister is annoying enough, add Stiles to the combination. Derek was at least, although reluctantly, grateful that Stiles was not a legitimate nor real brother to him, or otherwise he would be having a real fit. Stiles would fit the bill to a T if he were a real brother, but that would create all kinds of wrong seeing that the older man was actually having intimate attraction to the younger man. Incestuous relationship is the last thing he needed to be having with anyone.
It did not make Derek kick them out though, as he secretly missed the atmosphere that was filling the interior. Stiles had frequently slept on the floor and Derek had to pick him up to place him on the bed. Whether he did it on purpose or not was still a mystery to Derek. He repeated the process once more until it was patent to
On that faithful Tuesday, Stiles had left to buy groceries, which he felt as an inmate in Derek's apartment it was his duty to go and stock up the necessary provisions for the month. He had money and he refused the money that was offered by Laura, seeing that Laura was the guest and it would only be rude if a guest had to pay. Laura was not in with the idea but conceded when Stiles used the Derek argument, citing that she had never paid for Derek during her visits. He left and gave his cheerful goodbye to the duo. Derek was sitting on the sofa, with his book in his hands, reading the context and contents with genuine interest and intent. Laura was busy buffering her nails, like any normal girl would do, and was quite relaxed during her entire stay. Derek also had to be thankful for one other thing. With Stiles around, Laura's attention was now directed more towards Stiles rather than Derek, allowing the man to having the space and peace he needed that has now receded by a significant percentage and ratio. Most of the time, they never left and even though Derek called them annoying, their chattering was a small price to pay for the peace that he desired. It was either that, or them pestering them twenty-four seven.
"So...," said Laura, her gaze still transfixed on the bluntness of her nails, "What do you think of Stiles?" Derek did not answer, and instead shrugged his shoulders in indifference and insouciance. Laura was not pleased of the answer and went to scoot her position to Derek, who was still reading through his rimmed glasses. Laura, ever the sensible one, grabbed the book out of Derek's calloused hands and shut the book, with a bookmark of course, as she was gracious enough to know that Derek hates it when he lost track of his reading rhythm. "Derek, you're not answering the question,"
"He's fine, alright?" said Derek noncommittally, "The book, Laura,"
"My, my. So touchy now, aren't we? 'Fine' is not going to cut it, Derek. You like him and it's really obvious. It's written oh your forehead. I should just get the marker for good measure," said Laura playfully, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"I didn't say that I like him," riposted Derek.
"Ahh, but you're not denying it," countered Laura reflexively. Derek could feel his patience and composure thinning. The interrogation was invasive, and Laura knew that but it mattered littered to the older Hale as she continued with her interrogation.
"Come on, Derek. You're the one who carried the man onto bed, the first night he slept in your room. And the second, so don't bother trying to deny it. Stiles doesn't sleepwalk and he's well aware to know that," said Laura, "So, you're gonna be the good ol' complaisant brother of mine, or this book will never receive its owner's conclusion. And I heard that the ending is pretty shocking, unless spoilers are your thing these days," said Laura. With a glare that could burn holes if it could, the older man begrudgingly huffed in irritation before conceding silently. "Good. With that settled. How's Stiles treating you so far?"
Derek did not respond to the question. With a sigh, Laura immediately said, "I heard that the boy in the book will" but was cut off by Derek, who was desperate not to hear the ending of the book without his proper knowledge.
"He's nice, alright?"
"Just nice?" asked Laura.
"I guess. Annoying, but I never let him stop talking. I just don't like it when he calls me Sourwolf,"
Laura laughed at the remark, "That's just him showing his affection, Derek. Be happy and grateful that you're the one in honor to receive that nickname. It's not like he calls that to anyone else,"
"He reminds me of you," he said quietly.
"I know, Derek. I am pretty infectious and affectionate," Derek rolled his eyes at the comment but smiled at his sister, "but seriously. That sounds wrong though, coz it almost feels like you wanna date me or something. Incest alert," mocked Laura. Derek and Laura shook their heads with a wince, even though it was pretty blatant that it was a joke. Derek huffed out a laugh which made Laura smile. He had not seen his younger brother laughed in years and she was almost sure that Derek had lost his optimism and cheerfulness due to the lack of response towards other people's jocular nature.
"He reminds me of me," he added, with his voice barely audible.
"I know." said Laura, her tone matching the sadness, "Look, it's been what? 8 years? Come on, Derek. You're 26. Be grateful that you still have your uncle, me and Cora. Better than no one at all, if you ask me. Sure, it was hard at first but it tires you if you let it overtake your mind and decisions. Besides," she said before scooting next to him closer, "I miss the old you,"
"He makes me want to smile again," he admitted shyly.
Laura glanced up to meet her brother's eyes, "He does?" she asked expectantly. Derek simply nodded at the question, bringing another smile from the female Hale, "For what it's worth, Derek, he likes you too. It's just that, you know. He's never done relationships in his life. Why don't you go out and take him out somewhere? You know, dinner or maybe just a walk in the park. Just ask him. He doesn't know what he is, so that's one thing about him; self-observant," convinced Laura. Derek nearly bought the idea but was still hesitant of his decision to ask the younger man out, "Look, if it makes you feel better, I'll be meeting Paige later this evening, so you can use the opportunity to ask him out once more okay? Do it for me, please, Der-bear?" The man gave a deep sigh before nodding heavily at the idea. Laura returned the book and placed it on his lap before giving a kiss on his cheek, "Mom and dad would love him,"
"You think so?" asked Derek hopefully.
Laura nodded at the idea, "Of course. If you say that he's like me, then mom and dad will would have definitely love him one hundred percent. I know so. But seriously, if you do not make a move out of this, I will make sure that I will sleep with you tonight, and we both know how I am when it comes to bed space," she warns and Derek could not help but shudder in fear at the thought.
~RETURN~
"... and this is where we take the necessary precautions to handle...," says Deaton in a passionate teaching voice. Scott could not process most of his lecture, most likely due to the fact that Isaac was standing next to him. His tall stature and curly hair make it impossible to have a focal point in the lesson. He did not like the attention that he was giving towards Allison. He would be lying if he said that he hated Allison, but he did. He hated her solely because the attention that she has been receiving from Isaac was something that Scott craved and he wanted to be the one touched by Isaac, and have his lips locked with his, but the thoughts that swirled around his mind made him more anxious, and at times, asthmatic. He rarely relied on his inhaler, due to the fact that his asthma attacks were mitigating as he gets older, but with his anxiety crippling at an aggrandizing rate, it became almost impossible to gain nor regain his breathing. He was glad that Danny was the only one noticing that he was having a panic attack/asthma attack. Scott never told the Hawaiian man of his recent fits and attacks, and he could not help but feel guilty whenever he sees the relaxed and comprehending expression the man gave him when he refuses to give an explanation. He was open, sure, but Scott never thought nor expected him to go towards that extent.
They were in the laboratory and Scott was standing behind the small group mentored by Deaton. He was breathing and sighing in boredom and pensively, clearly inattentive to the lesson before him. He was giving a blank expression throughout the lesson and his mind seemed to have this natural ability to negate and tune himself out of any noises and dissonance. He was staring but it was as if he was void of any vessel. Just a body that was empty of any soul.
He was clearly deep in his realm of thoughts until he felt his side being nudged by Isaac repeatedly and Scott shook himself of his reverie. He did not realize that Dr. Deaton was standing, bending his knees to meet his eye level and Scott could not help but feel embarrassed of the numerous stares of concern placed on him. Certainly not the attention he was asking for. In fact, it was more that what he had bargained for.
"Scott," says Deaton, "I think it's best you go back to your dorm and rest. I heard from Mahealani a few days ago that your asthma attacks have returned, and it's best rest is your utmost priority," he advised. Before Scott could refute and deny his mental state, "I'll make sure to email you today's notes, alright?" bringing the discussion to a halt. He escorted Scott to the exit and assured him with a firm grip on his shoulder, "If you need to talk to me, Scott, you know where to find me, alright?" he asked with a sincere look on his face. Scott nodded in silence before leaving the room with an apologetic smile at his mentor.
He walked back to his dormitory, and Danny was not inside, whom Scott cannot help but feel relieved at the absence of his roommate. Sighing, he dropped his bag without care, and laid on his bed flat on his stomach, clearly disinterested with the outcome of the afternoon. He needed a break and needed one real bad.
He needed a drink. So, he took a nap and waited for the night to turn up, hoping that drinking will ironically, sober his thoughts.
~RETURN~
The night came and it was a busy one. Friday, and it was the auspicious moment to get wasted, as Scott would think. He could care less if it were a Friday or not, he just needed to get wasted. He was alone, which was a plus, otherwise, people would hear the sobbing story of his unrequited love with someone who was clearly in a relationship with a woman. He drank shot by shot, which garnered the attention of a worried bartender. He contemplated on restricting his intake of the alcohol, but with Scott's intoxicated state leaving him grumbling and antsy whenever confronted, he reconsidered his actions, but kept a close eye on him lest he starts an outcry, which so far has not ensued, much to the bartender's relief.
It was pathetic, as Scott's mind whirled in. He was hopelessly in love with someone who is out of his league. At times, he selfishly wished that homosexuality was an infection, where he can turn any straight men into gay without having a conscious thought. Like Rogue in X-Men, who was forced to wear a glove to avoid contact, only in Scott's situation, he wished for that with a few tweaks that include infection of homosexuality and the lack of usage on gloves. He wondered whether the hardships of being gay was either coming out or the fact that someone, whom god had decided, "Let's make this one irresistible to the eyes, and since I'm in a good mood today, I'll make him a good looking one," appear in the form of a brown curly hair, blue eyed heart throb, made it harder to have feelings being openly expressed to without the shame and fearful rejection. The drinking did little to mollify his misery and he began to regret his impulsive decision.
He placed some bills on the bar before leaving the table, to which he managed to fall down before taking his first step. The inebriety that fogged his mind completely disable him of any control towards his abilities. He stood up, with much effort and walked off the bar, which he managed to stumble towards the stools and some people, who looked at him with annoyance, and sympathy. At least most of the people were empathetic enough to look at him and immediately think, "Wow, that guy must have had a shitty day,". He really was not in the mood for a fight, and in his current state, there was no room for denial.
He was well on his way to his block, when he stumbled across Isaac's room. He squinted his eyes in confusion, wondering why in the world would he choose to end up somewhere like here. It was grotesque, knowing that the activity occurring behind them would cause only more heartbreak.
Still and all, he knocked on the door, much to Scott's wince.
The door opened and in front of him was Isaac Lahey, dressed in casual clothing and with a weird look towards the young man, "Scott?" he asked. Without much words, he plunged towards the man, smashing his lips with his. To the surprise of Scott, the man reciprocated his kiss and swiped his tongue tentatively, giving his best attempt to dominate his attempt to control him. It was languid, but every tongue dance they made was met with effort and Scott could not help but feel blissful of the reciprocation. He would like to give his thanks to the scotch that he consumed tonight. It was not the best way to initiate and incite a kiss from someone, let alone an unplanned one and with a breath that had alcohol completely imbued in his saliva. He placed his hands and wrapped them around his neck, like lovers do when they kissed and felt hands placed on his hips, intimate about it.
But Scott could not help but feel the need to the vomit, at his actions specifically.
He pulled back, realizing that his move was a sick one and a one way ticket to jerk land. He was with Allison, for crying sake and here he was, obsessed with someone who was evidently in a relationship and ruining it with a kiss. One fucked up move.
He pulled back and glanced down at his feet, his mind chanting how wrong it all was. With a muttered sorry, he walked out of the Isaac's room, ignoring the calls that were behind him. He needed to get out. Fast. Sickening, was all his mind could process.
He tried to return back to his dormitory, but was met with countless knocks against the wall and standing beside pillars to keep his balance. His mind was still intoxicated and his rationale was all jumbled up. He was pretty sure that the way he was using was the one that led back to his room, and with labour, did he move his feet with much awareness laced inside his nerves. He did not really get far, though, when he finally reached a door. A door with the familiar door number pinned and he praised himself for being able to arrive at his room without much trouble, aside from his drunken state. Rummaging through his pockets filled with loose change, he found his key and unlocked the door and was met with Danny, dressed in his tank top and a pair of boxers.
"Scott?" he asked with concern, and Scott landed his head on his firm chest. He wrapped his arms around his torso, sobbing at his pathetic and crappy day of his life. Danny wrapped his arms around him and held him tightly, ensuring that his balance will not give way to the floor. He hushed the young man, like a mother who would placate her young child, and whispered to him that it is all okay. He was okay and Scott could not stop the relief that washed over him when he was under the ephemeral protection of Danny's. He was safe, for now, from the nightmares and terrors that were literal and tangible at the outdoors. Danny brought the man to his bed and let the man sleep, his clothes still intact to his body. He did not care enough to remove his clothes. All he wanted was to forget that it ever happened.
Maybe it was an, if not the, opportuned moment to be Rogue. To kill and leave all the evidence and reasons to a cold case.
~RETURN~
Derek awaited the arrival of Stiles. It was already six in the evening and Stiles was taking quite a while with grocery shopping. Derek could not help but feel the panic slowly diffusing in his cogitation. Laura had long left to meet her friend and it was becoming alarming as Laura was sending him messages regarding his arrival. Derek repeatedly sent the same text, implanting worry in the tone of her text. However, unlike Derek, she was slightly more optimistic of Stiles' arrival sending texts with the lines, "He's gonna be alright," to "It's okay, Derek,", abating the nervousness that was in Derek's heart.
Half and hour has passed and still no signs of Stiles returning. He was about to text his resignation of the idea to ask Stiles' out until he hears the unlocking of the door, and in pours multitudes of paper bags dropping on the floor. Derek's eyes widened, but scrambled to help the young man. The amount of items that flowed out of their respective bags was enough to feed a family of six, if estimation counts. Stiles groaned in pain when he felt his body hitting the ground with a resounding thud and crunch of the bags. The wrinkling and crinkling of the bag all manifest in their hearing senses. Despite everything, Stiles could not help but laugh at the situation. Legitimately, he was chortling at his predicament, seeing how absurd the situation was. Derek did nothing but stare at the younger man, and was amused of how relaxed he was becoming as he laughed. It was euphonious to his ears, and he stared at the man, only this time, he was scrutinizing his complexion. The moles that were laid sprayed across his face and how his eyelids flutter were little things that only a handful would and could appreciate.
The groceries were laid strewn and glancing with cursory at the sight of the mess, only made Stiles laugh hysterically. It was infectious and Derek could not help but grin amidst the confusion and disarray. He could hear the laughter and uproar of his joy abating and Stiles took a deep breath to collect himself, staring at the floor before looking at the man with stubble, with a relieved and relaxed smile painted on his face.
Derek stared at him with interest and could not avert his eyes away from the lips that are innocently attracting his attention. Without having the judgment and reticence that he usually evokes, he leaned closer with eyes closed and bridged the gap between the two individuals that were towering over the mess.
Stiles did not react with immediacy and could feel the intimacy and lips that were pushing against his coaxing him to respond, and he could feel his body reacting effectively to the kiss, degree by degree. He could soon feel his eyes closing, and his hand holding the nape of Derek's neck with gentleness, giving as much as he can to earn to feel the same passion that Derek was providing him with. He was really feeling it, and could feel his reciprocation becoming more raw and genuine.
Derek was not holding back, swiping his tongue slyly on Stiles' lips and Stiles returned his efforts with a miniscule gap that was all enough for him to have their tongues tango. His mind was having a sensory overload. He could not believe that Stiles was not running away, his fears mitigating almost to none and the body heat that was dormant became communal only to the two of them. It was sensual and passionate all the same. The air around them was ebbing, as if their kiss had transported them to a planet where air is a rarity, but none out of the two were feeling panicked.
Derek pulled back, his hand leaning the right cheek of Stiles, forehead leaned against his. He was inhaling light and quick puffs of air, trying to muster his sanity that was nearly lost in the span of a minute that seemed to be forever. Stiles was heaving and he stared at the man, whose lips were merely centimetres away from his, feeling the warm air that exhaled out of his mouth and brushed his chin and uncovered cheek with tangible force.
"Go dinner with me," he said in a breathless whisper. Stiles' eyes widened as the words rang endlessly in his head, trying to process his mind of the request that was pleaded with sincerity. He held Derek's hand and stood up, leaving the man without his intended answer. He could feel the dejection coming in as Stiles continued to pick the strewn groceries of the floor and bringing them to the kitchen. He placed the items in the fridge and pantry, while Derek sat there motionlessly, frowning and perplexed at his apparent fruitless effort. Was I being too forward, he asked himself. Did I go too far? All the questions that blitzed his mind made him more regretful, and pathetic at best. Stiles was mulling over his request. Should he go, he asked himself. He did kiss back with similar feelings, so it was proof enough for him to say yes, right? Yet, he feels hesitant. For someone who was moody as hell, he was opening up, Bit by bit and he wondered whether venturing to that kind of side was a prudent decision. Once he cleaned the entire living room away did he pick Derek up. He stared at the floor without giving a look at Stiles, feeling worse than a kicked puppy would feel. Stiles bent his knees by a few notch and looked at the dejected look planted on Derek's face. Canting his head, he kissed Derek with enough ardent and made sure that the older man returned the kiss. He did, albeit reluctantly, but it was more than enough for Stiles to give his finality of his conscious decision.
"Alright,"