0.9

Classes had started for Stiles. It had be three weeks – 20, to be exact – since their last date, and in honesty, Stiles doesn't know what his next move should be. Or when even. Should he initiate the next date? Should he be the one making the next move? Is there a round robin kind of style going on that's an unwritten rule for all people in a relationship. Were the even in a relationship?

Stiles had no answer to them.

The only answer he does have was that the lube and condoms that he bought from the last date was rotting in his room, and Stiles felt as if it was expiring or something. Waste of money, Stiles thought to himself. He figured Derek was loaded, but asking money from someone he barely knew wasn't his custom.

Most of his classes topics were familiar to him, due to his wide curiosity so big that he will read almost anything to throw grief off. Grief from the moment his mother had passed away, not that it matters anyways, since now he has his time solely dedicated to have sybaritic moments with Derek and have grades to impress people with – which he thinks no one would give a shit on. Derek and Stiles' conversation still remain the same, as if both of their lives have not gone through a drastic change. Laura had left New York, to return to Beacon Hills. She squealed in excitement when Stiles retold the tale of their date, and the shit eating grin never became a main sight during her stay that it annoyed the heck out of Derek. Stiles never minded the smile and teasing, but it did nothing to prevent the creeping blush that came on his cheeks when their sex lives became a main topic to Laura.

Stiles nearly choked on his food when Laura asked that. To make matters worse, she sipped her drink casually, like how comedians do when they ask a ridiculous question without breaking character.

That lady needs medical insurance.

He was both relieved and sad that Laura had to leave for Beacon Hills. He very much enjoyed her presence, even if she took her room the entire time. Some of the topics that they talked about were not the same when talked about with Derek, because of his stiffness to open up. Stiles too felt stifled, mostly because he wanted a reply during their talking. It was almost as if their one night at dating didn't affect them greatly, and he wondered if things were going okay or just down south.

Laura had provided nothing to alleviate his panic.

Stiles hardly talked to Scott, mostly because Scott was an oblivious person, which Stiles would never say out loud, for the deadly puppy eyes will make its debut, then encore for him to feel guilty to take back his words. He never got affected to it, but if done repeatedly or at a lengthy duration will may crack his indifferent armour.

Stiles contemplated on taking online courses, since being in a room waiting for his professor to come in is both time consuming and at the same time, nerve wracking. With only a couple hours spare and having everything laid out on a computer screen and his ability to comprehend things quickly, online courses should be apposite for him. Waiting 15 minutes a period for his lecturer/professor to arrive would be frittering a part of his life. He believed that every action will lead to different consequences and sadly, his professor had done a jolly great job for wasting his time and ruining an impression that might cajole him to leave his house and then attend class in the flesh.

He applied for online courses, and the university gladly allowed him to, with their warning that his assignments were to be done on time and grades consistent. Stiles snorted once he left the office. Like he didn't need to be reminded of that the entire time. What he can be reminded was to focus on the pathway set for him and Derek.

He walked home by bus, with taxi fares not tracked by metre and cab drivers beginning awkward – that was almost material – conversations writ out of Stiles' choices in life. He enjoyed the bus. Gave him time to stare at the outside, ponder, like one of those film noir that allowed him to try to see things in the grey area between the black and white. He could lean his head on the window, with earplugs plugged in and cost way inexpensive than the taxi.

He returned home and he knew Derek's not at home. Working at the library every weekday made things slightly difficult to get a sentence straight since Derek came home by the time Stiles was asleep, exhausted with the lexicons and books that he had buried his nose in. His avidity in reading got the best of his intentions.

But this time, it was gonna be different. Changes have been made and he hoped that the alterations that he made will change some things, like having Derek by his side instead of the weekends. Every time Stiles wakes up, Derek leaves him with breakfast cooked, without a kiss or note to tell him that it was for him like couples – at least Stiles thought they were – do.

He showered, with the time in the hourglass full from the top, allowing him to shower, and get a change of clothes for him to ask Derek out, and possibly ask him to go steady with him. He couldn't help but feel stupid for asking the questions, but a cleared conscience with embarrassment is far better than having a tumultuous relationship filled with accusations and blatant framing on the side. Stiles doesn't think arguments would solve anything. Not by a long shot, anyway. Derek was born stubborn and nothing about his personality would change should he bring unnecessary – more like unwanted – debates over trivial things.

But this issue needed to be rectified, Stiles consciously thought.

~RETURN~

Derek wringed his fingers at work. 20 days since their first date and he wondered when will be the next opportune moment to ask him out again. He would ask Laura, but knowing her, she will probably get the third degree from her and Derek wished there'd be another way. Kira would help, if only their relationship were a bit more relaxed. So far, both of them have only exchanged hellos and nods at each other and nothing more. Kira usually leaves him alone out of respect, seeing that every time they meet, the only thing he did whenever they encounter was reading and Derek could not help but feel guilty for not fostering proper relationships with people. Boyd would too, but Derek didn't want to disturb him on his solitude. They talk, but their conversations have so far gone on the minimal. Derek would ask Stiles out once more, but his shyness towards the young man stifled his advances. He felt even worse whenever Stiles talked to him, and wondered if he had done it out of compassion or because he felt Derek's apparent awkward silent response. Either way, Derek felt stupid. So stupid that he couldn't help but smack his forehead in the library with his hand while the other was gripping the book. The loud smack attracted the attention of others, with shushes and chuckles being the obvious response. Derek cringed at his action and lowered his head into the book, hoping for some black hole to appear between the pages. His cheeks heated embarrassingly. At least my words didn't come out of my mouth, that's for sure.

His phone rang – vibrated, actually – and Derek's thought was interrupted by the buzzing of the table. He picked it up, thumbed the screen unlock, and hears nothing but silence. He whispered hello, knowing that he didn't want to disturb the other people. He heard nothing, and before he could repeat his hello, he heard the line clicked and moved his phone away from his ear, inspecting the phone with surprise. He was hung up and for no particularly reason. No oops, wrong number, no is this Derek Hale, no anything, not even a hello. Huh. Rude, thought Derek, and didn't bother to call back, so he set the phone down, not wanting to call back someone with little manners in their stride. But Stiles has little to no manners, he pondered, and he felt like a hypocrite for that sentiment.

~RETURN~

"Isaac!" Scott yelled, running after him. Class resumed as normal, and Dr. Deaton was pleased of his return. Dr. Deaton had great hopes for him, and Scott blushed at the compliment. He was describe the boy next door, and he was never mad at people. The most laid backand friendliest, as the class dubbed.

But with all great things comes a stumbling block.

He woke up, with adrenaline coursing through his body and ready to be in class after a few days of not attending class. He was more excited on seeing Isaac, ever since their little intimate moment. Danny was perplexed by his ability to wake up early. It was usually him that dragged him out of his bed, and Scott reassured him with, "I'm fine, Danny-o," only to bring more confusion towards his friend. He hopped into the shower, and because of his excitement bubbling like an opened champagne bottle, he felt like a bird in their bathhouse, taking quick cursory rinses of their bodies. It was like lightning. Scott basically grabbed the shampoo, lathered his hair quickly, then washed his body, as if Isaac and him made some official date and he didn't want to be late. His stupidity, as he liked to call it, was being overwhelmed by his excitement and he couldn't help but manage to convince himself that it was going to be alright. It was just simple to think that way.

He left the bathroom, with his smiling face in the mirror being the only reason why he didn't need to do much for his face. Danny stood at the kitchen, with his footsteps approaching to see his behaviour, only bringing his eyes to widen when he sees how his unbeknownst resolve driving him to his max. He didn't say anything, though. His confused expression was enough to tell him his opinion.

Scott left the place, bidding his goodbye to Danny. He could hear Danny saying, "…Yeah... See you," before the door clicked shut. Scott ran to his class, his pace unchanging when he went through the block.

He reached the block, and the class was just filling in. Would have been a bit awkward if he came too early. He walked in, and met Dr. Deaton's smiling face, thrilled with his presence. He began the lesson without stalling, and thank god Scott read his downloaded files from his email, for he would cringe at his lack of depth towards the topic.

The door opened with Isaac coming in late, with his apology running from his mouth. Dr. Deaton nodded, with his words comforting Isaac that he hasn't missed the big part of the lesson, and Isaac nodded back, with him heaving a sigh of relief. He placed his bag down, and joined the rest of the colloquium, with his gaze avoiding Scott's. His happy face was neutralized at the avoidance, and he turned back, with his confidence and composure cracking and crashing, but Scott heaved a deep, audible breath, with his mind attempting to pick his crushed confidence that went into a void with a size resembling a canyon. The lesson was becoming slightly incoherent as time passed, but little was lost from the lesson.

"Isaac!" he yelled. Isaac was still walking as if Scott was some sort of ghost, unmoved by his call. Scott persisted to get through with him, and walked through the crowds, who showed nothing but bewilderment, annoyance and startled looks as he passed them.

"Isaac," he called for the umpteenth time, and finally with his resolution to get him wasn't going to fade away anytime soon, Isaac stopped walking, in the courtyard, devoid of people. He sighed, annoyed and turned to meet Scott's inchoate sweaty body. "Come on, Isaac. Sweating, and all that isn't the best thing that couples do to meet, especially when there aren't people around," he heaved. He took his inhaler out of his bag, shook it and uncapped it before he pumped the contraption twice, and relaxed at the chemical filling his lungs. His chest lowered substantially, and he capped the inhaler back and pocketed it back in his bag.

"We're not couples, Scott," Isaac replied nonchalantly.

"I know, but I mea-,"

"No, Scott," Isaac cut in, not giving room for the wavy hair man, "We're not together. That day was a mistake. I mean, you were drunk and me holding on to you was just all kinds of wrong,. What I said that day. I didn't mean any of it." he said. Scott's face fell at the confession, "I mean. This is Allison, you know what I mean? She's real good for me," Scott winced like a kicked puppy upon hearing that, "And yoou and I are just friends. Nothing more. No friends with benefits. Nothing. Just friends,"

Scott stared at him, his voice failing him to rebut the curly haired man's confession, "So, what? I'm like, some cheap whore to you?" he asked. Isaac didn't answer, with Scott's ire growing rapidly. He comported himself to feign control in his voice, before heaving a deep breath. The heaving made his eyes prickle and he didn't need a mirror to know that his hooded eyes were becoming red around the iris, "Know what. I don't need this. It's okay," he said, his smile forced painfully, "I'm fine. I'm fine. Yeah, I'm real good," he repeated loudly, "Okay," he breathed out finally, with his voice at the last word cracking halfway.

"Scott. We can-,"

"Still be friend," interjected Scott, "Oh, yeah. Sure. I don't mind. I mean. My first kiss meant nothing to me anyway, but it's okay, my second-first kiss with someone's gonna be better," he rambled. He was becoming like Stiles, thought Scott. Whenever something doesn't go his way or he faces a form of rejection, it's either him doing the puppy eyes or ramble. When he rambles, it usually meant him panicking and feeling his senses going haywire. Isaac frowned at the statement, "You have Allison and I don't want cheating to be part of you know… this," He could feel the sanity dripping incessantly, and the more it dripped, the more his act of denial turned to anger. Slinging his bag tightly with a sweaty grip, he said, "I gotta go," and walked off from Isaac. I'm fine. Yeah, I'm fine.

He left the man dressed in grey stripes and jeans alone, his mind too tired and used to care about his feelings, or his own. He needed a break from all the drama that ensued. Just as he felt like he was released from his room made rehab, he felt like he was relapsing back to another figure 8, nothing but depression and unrequited love in it. Isaac was right, he thought. He has Allison. Who want him? Someone who is just as innocent and naive to believe that he was worthy of a crush's love. The confession only left him more resolute to not have Allison walking in on two men – one being in a committed relationship – kissing with another.

I'm okay. Yeah. I'm okay.

And he could nothing but feel friction from his fingers as he said that. His fingers were rubbing among each other, like as if his skin was burning and he thought that maybe rubbing them would erase things, like an eraser against an ink printed paper. You can erase it, but never completely remove it. The words were still written on the book, but with the words uselessly faded.

He could feel his watering, and he blinked rapidly, to fight off the impending salty tears and future worried, concerned looks. His incident only led him to become more taciturn, refusing any kind of interaction, be it casual or not.

I'm fine. I'm fine.

~RETURN~

Stiles walked in the library, searching for Derek. The cacophony of the city faded as he walked through the library doors, with the cabs beeping at regular intervals going soft, like a car radio being lowered of its volume. He knew where Derek was. At the counter, with his legs laid onto the table, burying his nose in books like he always does in the library. The atmosphere was quiet, and he felt that it wouldn't be an apt place to even talk to him. Lunch has just past, and he was quickening his pace to make sure that he wasn't late or something, that is if Derek even goes for lunches at the hour. For someone with a built body like his, considerable amount of food was needed to be taken everyday.

He approached Derek, who was still not aware by his presence until Stiles neared him, surprising him to the point Derek fell of his seat, with a loud crash.

SSSHHH!

"Stiles," Derek whispered harshly, "What the hell?" Stiles went beet red, contrite of the commotion that had ensured because of his ambush. Derek stood up, clearing the dusts that glued on his black shirt and narrowed his bespectacled eyes at Derek.

"Let's go out. Lunch or something," said Stiles. Derek huffed before leaving his duty spot, with the door flapping back and forth as he passed through it. Stiles could hear him grumbling softly, and Stiles glanced at the other readers, who were shaking their head and scowling at them. Stiles bowed apologetically at them, some changed their faces to annoyance, some to forgiveness. They walked out of the library, where the strong breeze welcome them, along with the hustle and bustle of the city. Cabs honking incessantly and Derek winced at the sounds.

"So, what do you want?" Derek asked, his tone still showing hints of annoyance.

"Sorry, alright. Gosh, don't be such a sourwolf, alright?" Derek squinted his eyes at the nickname, "I just think we need to go out more, you know? It's been 20 days since the last one, so I thought a lunch would be a nice way of asking for a second date?" Stiles asked, his cheeks growing pink at the offer.

Derek was no different.

His cheeks were growing red at the question. Stiles had basically took his words out of his mouth. Courage was something Derek wished Stiles always had, even though it's not the most obvious trait, but to build it up for a while to ask, was something endearing.

"Your classes?" he asked.

"Online courses. Just registered," Stiles huffed, "Can't stand with turtle like professors," groused Stiles annoyingly, "So come on, we're like boyfriends, right?" he asked, "We're gonna do this or what? Or do I need to do this?" Stiles leaned towards Derek's personal space, bridging the gap between their lips and Derek relaxed when their lips made contact, heat elevating by a notch. The people passing by hasten their paces, probably disgusted while some were undeterred by the public display of affection. Derek held Stiles' neck, gripping it hard enough to make sure Stiles doesn't lose his balance, seeing as Derek being the taller one. Stiles propped his hands at Derek's waist, with Stiles' chest pressed onto his. He parted his lips when he felt the swipe of Stiles' tongue, welcoming the slick organ to meet with his. They parted, respecting their locations and the public and Derek was breathless, as if his time in the gym couldn't beat the seconds that spanned when they kissed. It would take more than a few seconds of gym to leave Derek in the same state of hebetude. Stiles backed by an inch, the expectancy of Derek's response being his main goal there.

"Yeah," breathed Derek, "Lunch it is," Stiles breathed out slowly, before smiling softly at Derek, and walked first. Derek joined almost a second later, his face looking down a bit to avoid the public's reaction. They walked away from the library, with hands hesitantly touching each other.

"Hey," Stiles began, "You don't mind me holding your hand, right?" Derek shook his head, allowing his hand to interdigitate with his. Stiles tightened his grip for a second, relaxing Derek from his awkwardness. It was working until Stiles asked the next question without any hints of shame at all.

"When are we going to use the lube and condoms that I bought three weeks ago?"

Needless to say, pink was dotting on Derek's cheeks.

A/N: Slow updates, I know, but I have some school stuff to do. I have to write scripts for my school and it's really taking my creativity away. But hopefully when all that's cleared off, I will get my act straight (no pun intended).

This is just a filler before the real drama.