We are all a little strange...

“His intense, pale eyes scrutinize every aspect of Stiles.

Stiles has never been the sole target of Derek Hale’s gaze before. They’ve glared at each other in passing, or whenever they make barbs at each other, but Derek has never full-on stared at Stiles. The weight of Derek’s gaze makes him tense and fidget. Stiles is the one who has to break eye contact by turning his head and clearing his throat. “Okay, let’s just start over,” Stiles says, shaking the tension out of his hands. “Fresh start,” He grabs his backpack and turns in a circle until he’s facing Derek again.

“Hey, I’m here to tutor you, dickhead,” Stiles says, a fake smile plastered on his face.”

A Sterek High School AU, enemies to friends to lovers, with all the fluff and angst you could ever want.

I hope you give this a chance! There’s two chapters already and another one coming soon! So please give it a read and maybe even comment!

“Do you want to be on the bed?” Derek breaks away to ask. He’s such a fucking gentleman. He’s always stopping and asking Stiles what he’s comfortable with. He nods and presses in close, kissing Derek again. “What-” Derek pulls back again, stilling Stiles. “What do you want to do? How far do you want to go?” he asks, sitting down on Stiles’ bed, pulling him down to sit next to him.

How far does Stiles want to go? They’ve been making out a lot. And ever since that day in the clearing on the picnic table, they’ve also introduced over the clothes touching down south and under the clothes touching up north.

It’s been both agonizing and amazing all at the same time.

Today though, they’re alone in Stiles’ bedroom. They’re not on top of a picnic table or crowded up in a storage closet at school, or sneaking around in one of their cars in the parking lot.

He’s ready. Stiles is ready for more.

“I want… I want to jerk you off,” Stiles says and he places his hand on top of Derek’s crotch and feels that it’s already getting firm under his trousers. “And I want you to jerk me off if you’re okay with that.”

Derek leans in, kissing Stiles’ jaw. “I am more than okay with that,” He says, his voice all husky and deep in Stiles’ ear, his teeth grazing lightly at his skin. “Can I finger you too?” He asks, pulling back to look Stiles in the eyes and there’s no pressure there. If Stiles says no, Derek will just nod and kiss him and tell him he’s okay going as slow as Stiles needs to.

“You’ve done that before? Like,” Stiles swallows. “With a guy?” He asks. Derek said he and Danny made out a few times. Did they ever do more?

Derek shakes his head. “No, you would be the first,” He says honestly, and that fucking makes Stiles’ chest flutter in the best fucking way.

That Stiles could be the first Derek does something with makes him so fucking excited. “Yeah. Yes, I… That would be really good,” Stiles answers and Derek kisses him and pulls to loosen Stiles’ tie, slipping it over his head before he unbuttons Stiles’ shirt and pushes it off along with his jacket.

“Wait, let me-” Stiles says, stopping Derek’s hands so he can do the same to him and get his shirt, tie, and jacket off. “School uniforms are so fucking dumb,” Stiles mutters, struggling with undoing Derek’s tie.

He chuckles. “Here, let me help,” Derek says, making quick work of the tie and then his shirt buttons.

And then they’re both shirtless on Stiles’ twin bed, their ties and shirts and jackets in piles on the floor. They take off their shoes and socks as well.

“Sorry there’s not much room,” Stiles mutters, gesturing to the narrow mattress. It’s not even half the size of the ed Derek’s got in his room at home.

“Just means I can be closer to you,” Derek says, nibbling Stiles’ ear, moving him gently to lay back against his pillows. He pushes Stiles’ legs apart and kneels between them and holy shit. They’re going to do this. They’re going to fucking third base or something. Whatever the bases are, they’re running them.

Derek looks down at his naked chest. He’s seen it before, but Derek always takes a moment to just look at Stiles like he’s some beautiful visage put on this earth just for him.

It’s going to ruin Stiles for all future partners because who else will look at Stiles with such revelry ever again? He needs to enjoy it while it lasts.

Except now there’s kissing involved.

A lot of kissing.

They have a whole routine for their kissing because, of course, Stiles would make a routine around kissing.

Before school, Stiles slips into Derek’s fancy car, with the fancy leather and heated seats, where Derek is waiting for him with an iced coffee and a homemade pastry from Greta. They manage a quick exchange of ‘good mornings’ before Stiles practically lurches his upper body over the center console, his grabby hands gripping Derek’s muscular shoulders, or his buff arms, or on one brave occasion, on Derek’s pecs, and Stiles’ eager lips press against his.

Derek’s big, warm hand always cups Stiles’ cheek, while the other cards through his hair, or finds a firm place against Stiles’ waist or back.

His lips push back and move with Stiles’, relaxed and calm and practiced, a stark contrast to Stiles’ uncoordinated eagerness. Derek doesn’t seem to mind his inexperience. He’s patient and slow, and Stiles can tell he’s holding back.

They only break for air or when Stiles’ phone chirps an alarm, signaling that there are only five minutes before they need to be in their homerooms.

Stiles started setting the alarm when they got so carried away they were over ten minutes late and got tardy slips.

They don’t make out in school. It’s still new, whatever this is that’s happening between them, and Stiles isn’t really sure how he feels about PDA yet. They’re not keeping it a secret either though.

Stiles couldn’t do that to Derek, not when he knows about the two painful relationships Derek has endured in secret all this time.

Scott, Allison, and Lydia all know. After the “mouth touch” debacle, Stiles called Scott and told him all about it.

There was a lot of “I told you so” and maybe even some squealing and giggling involved on both of their ends. Allison also happened to be with Scott when he took Stiles’ call, so she participated in the excited giggling as well.

Allison then told Lydia, who immediately then texted Stiles to gloat and congratulate him.

As for Derek, the two of them agreed that they didn't want to make any public declarations of whatever they were, but if anyone asked, both of them were free to answer truthfully, and tell anyone they thought should know.

As far as Stiles knows, the only person Derek has told so far is Laura.

The point is, there are no tacky, public make-out sessions in the hallway at school.

But there is some kissing.

It’s the second part of their routine.

After their last class before lunch, Derek takes Stiles’ hand and takes him down the west hall to a storage closet used by the basketball team. Derek just so happens to have a key to it since he’s the team captain.

It’s not ideal. It’s cramped and smells a bit like jock sweat and rubber, but it’s private and no one can walk in on them.

Plus it’s easy to ignore the sweat stink when Derek has him pressed against the back of the door and the scent of his musky cologne pervades Stiles’ senses.

They only stay for a few minutes. They don’t want to miss all of lunch. But it’s just nice to be close.

Derek’s hands stay firmly on Stiles’ hips and never travel lower. An ugly thought in the back of Stiles’ mind makes him question if it’s because Derek doesn’t want anything more than this.

Stiles ignores it in favor of holding onto Derek’s huge forearms and mussing his dark hair.

It always ends with Derek pulling back, pecking Stiles’ nose, and whispering “Thanks for the mouth touch.”

He glares in response every time, which only makes Derek laugh.

There’s no time at the end of the day to sneak away. Derek has basketball and Stiles has his own barrage of extracurriculars. But Derek always makes a point of walking Stiles to his locker and he squeezes Stiles’ hand tight before he’s summoned by his basketball goons.

Have they asked Derek about Stiles?

He can imagine it.

“Hale, you didn’t lower your standard to hook up with that did you?”

“No one’s that desperate to get their dick sucked to have to resort to Stiles Stilinski.”

“Are you pity fucking him?”

“Is he blackmailing you?”

No. He can’t let himself go down that route. Derek’s not a shallow jerk who would use Stiles, and even if Derek’s teammates were cruel enough to say shit like that, Derek wouldn’t tolerate it.

So he pushes those thoughts away. Or tries to at least.

Derek unknowingly reassures him in part three of their daily kissing routine.

He’s always waiting for Stiles, freshly showered from practice and he walks Stiles to the jeep and they talk until the coast is clear and then Derek crowds him up against the door and kisses him so deep and slow.

And Stiles melts and lets out an embarrassing, longing moan that must encourage Derek to kiss him deeper.

Derek smiles when he sees Stiles coming over to him. He stands up straight from where he’d been leaning and holds his arm out. It's then that Stiles can see Derek had been holding to-go coffee cups.

“I got you a hot chocolate,” Derek says, offering Stiles the hot cup. “With oat milk. I only know your iced coffee order and today felt like a hot drink kind of day.”

Stiles takes the cup and holds it in both of his hands. The cup is nice and hot and his hands are cold and wet. “Definitely not a day for iced coffee,” He agrees and tentatively takes a sip. It’s so good, the perfect temperature, and just what he needs on a rainy day like this. “Thank you,” he smiles and feels a little ridiculous. All giddy and hopeful, as if Derek is his boyfriend and this is what they do every morning. “Where did you get this?”

Over the break, Stiles and Derek went on a mission to find the perfect alternative to The Roast. Stiles never wanted to risk running into Elliot, especially after Derek convinced Stiles to block the man’s number.

Stiles doesn't want to deal with the repercussions of his attempt to date an older man. And Derek was more than happy to help Stiles find a new coffee spot.

“Over on Pine. The cutesy grandma place,” Derek tells him. Stiles remembers. They went to it on Monday. It was very floral and there were doilies everywhere, and it had an older clientele. The coffee was decent, but not as good as The Roast. But this hot chocolate was superior.

It had some cutesy name that Stiles can’t remember right now.

“Grannies make good cocoa,” Stiles says, taking another sip and humming lowly in delight. It was so rich. Derek is looking at him, all intense and focused and it makes Stiles go red. What are you staring at?” He asks, paranoid and nervous he somehow grew a large and grotesque facial deformity overnight.

Derek just smiles and shakes his head. “Nothing, just,” He reaches forwards, his hand getting so fucking close to Stiles’ face. What is he doing? Why is Derek reaching for Stiles’ face? Was Scott right? Does Derek like him back? Is he about to seal his affection with a kiss?

Stiles just waits. Aside from everyone at school seeing, he wants this. He wants Derek to kiss him. He’s going to let Derek kiss him.

Derek doesn’t kiss him. But his calloused fingers do wipe away a droplet of water that had been dripping down Stiles’ temple. “Just some water,” Derek says. “You need a better umbrella,” He teases.

“Oh,” Stiles says. Like a dumbass. He chastises himself. Jesus Christ, he’s dumb. “I forgot mine, actually,” He busies himself by opening his locker. He can’t believe he let himself believe Derek would kiss him! What the hell is wrong with him? Scott’s hopeless romanticism is rubbing off on him.

“No. It was all my fault anyway,” Stiles says, feeling defensive and pathetic. He looks around and spies his shoes and goes to put them on. “Elliot did nothing wrong.”

“He threw your keys into the woods,” Derek says, voice flat and factual.

“Besides that. He was drunk, it was a bad joke,” He clarifies. He knows Derek’s going to think Stiles is just making excuses for Elliot’s behavior. He already hates Elliot. He made that clear to Stiles on Thursday.

“Stiles, you had a panic attack,” Derek says like Stiles had somehow forgotten.

“Because I was drunk and anxious and I freak out for no reason,” Like duh. Derek should know this by now. Derek has seen Stiles have panic attacks before.

“You said he pressured you to drink.”

Again, Derek sounds like he’s stating facts. Maybe Stiles did say that last night, but he was drunk so he was being overdramatic.

“He was trying to get me to relax and have fun. It was a party,” Stiles avoids Derek’s intense gaze and focuses on putting his shoes on and tying his laces.

“Why are you defending him, Stiles? You said he was trying to get you to do stuff with him! He got you drunk. He threw your keys in the woods and left you there. He called you crazy.”

Stiles can hear the desperate frustration in Derek’s voice. He’s upset Derek. Made him angry. Stiles is a ruiner. He ruins things. He made Derek worry for no reason. Stiles overreacted last night, that’s all.

“He didn’t call me crazy,” Stiles scoffs. “And he only did that stuff because he was drunk too and I-... I led him on,” Stiles forces out, holding his breath as he tightly ties his shoes. He spots his keys lying on his red beanie on Derek’s desk and goes to grab them.

Derek stops him, putting his hand on top of Stiles’ keys and beanie before he can grab them and run.

“He told me you were crazy. He was off laughing and drinking with his friends while you were panicking and looking for your keys in the woods alone. He is a bad guy, Stiles. Stop defending him!” Derek all but pleads.

This heavy and gnawing sensation starts clawing inside Stiles’ chest. Elliot isn’t bad. Elliot didn’t do anything bad.

Because if Elliot were bad and had done something bad last night, then that would mean he did the bad things to Stiles and Stiles is not so gullible and innocent that he would let a bad guy do bad things to him. He’s not the fucking victim here because there are no victims.

“He’s a 25-year-old man who got a 17-year-old drunk and tried to make a move and fucking threw your keys in the woods when you said no,” Derek says. “That’s what happened, isn’t it? Because I’m praying that’s all that happened, Stiles. Because the thought of anything worse than that happening to you… It… It makes me…” Derek is struggling to find the words. He’s glaring, all intense and serious, but Stiles knows the glare isn’t for him. Or he hopes it’s not. Stiles stands there, feeling helpless and angry.

“What? It makes you what?” Stiles asks. “Feel sorry for me? Pity me? I’m not helpless. I’m not pathetic.”

Stiles reaches forwards and tries to pull his beanie and keys out from under Derek’s large hand. But he’s nowhere near as strong as Derek, so his efforts are fruitless.

“No,” Derek says, quick and serious. “It makes me angry. So fucking angry. I wanted to strangle Elliot last night. I wanted to fucking hit him, over and over for even looking at you. You can never see him again. He’s dangerous.”

Stiles shakes his head. No. No, Derek doesn’t get to say shit like that. Derek doesn’t get to act like this. He turns away and goes to grab his phone and unplug it. It’s charged enough to survive the drive home. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. This is my life and he’s the guy I like and from where I’m standing you’re the dangerous one,” He regrets it the moment he says it, but Stiles clenches his hands and charges full steam ahead, unable to stop himself.

“Elliot’s not the one threatening violence or getting angry at me!”

“I’m not angry with you, Stiles,” Derek says, but he sounds frustrated. He sounds angry to Stiles. “I’m angry at this situation.”

“Well get over it then. Stop worrying about me,” Stiles orders. He demands it. Derek can’t worry about him. Derek can’t spend his time being concerned with Stiles when Derek is the one with real problems and real fucking issues. “I’m not worth your time, Derek. So stop. Please.”

“Stiles-”

“Give me my keys.”

“Stiles, please-”

“I need to go home. Are you going to be like Elliot or are you going to give me my fucking keys?”

It’s a mean thing to say. It’s so fucking mean to compare Derek to the guy he just ranted about being dangerous and creepy. Stiles hasn’t been mean to Derek since they tentatively became friends, but maybe old habits die hard.

“Who are you texting?” Laura asks, eating the last bit of her sandwich. “Cora is waiting on us, little shit.”

“It’s no one.”

“Bullshit. Is it a girl?” She teases.

“No.”

“Is it a boy?”

Derek stays silent.

“It is a boy! Who is it? Tell me!” Laura demands. She goes as far as to try to take his phone, but Derek is the athlete of the family. He’s got quick reflexes and keeps it out of her reach.

“Yes. It’s a boy. Happy, Nancy Drew?”

“Not until you tell me who it is!” Laura all but shrieks. She’s so excited, Derek can’t help but laugh.

Before he can say anything, Cora is popping her head around the corner, she must’ve gotten tired of waiting for them. “It’s Stiles Stilinski, the Sheriff’s son,” She says with a shit-eating grin. “He’s really cute too. Derek loves him!”

“Cora,” Derek warns as if he has any power over her.

“Derek wants to kiss him and take him on dates and hold his hand,” Cora taunts.

“Oh I’m sure Derek wants to do more than that,” Laura adds on, her tone suggestive and Cora screams in amusement.

He forgot how loud sisters could be when they teamed up.

They spend the rest of the day together and have dinner with Greta. It’s all nice and normal, it’s almost like their house is a real home.

Laura volunteers to drive Cora to her friend’s Halloween party and chaperone her for the night, which Cora absolutely loves. It gives Greta the evening off, which she also loves.

Derek meanwhile, decides to check out Lydia’s party.

The party is going strong when Derek gets there at 10. He didn’t prepare any costume this year, so he’s just wearing jeans and a henley. Everyone else is in costume though.

The basketball team finds him first. They’re all psyched Derek showed because they all figured Derek was going to do his own thing this year. They start recalling the insane story of last year, when Derek got so drunk he lost his shoes, shirt and went missing.

Derek excuses himself for that. He doesn’t need to relive that particular night. He’s on a mission.

He looks everywhere. Each room, every corner. Outside, upstairs, by the pool. Everywhere. He’s constantly shaking off his classmates too. They all want his attention. They want to take a shot with him, or get him in their group picture, or to play their dumb drinking game. Derek does ask them if they’ve seen Stiles. They all say no.

Maybe he’s not here yet. Or maybe he came and already left.

He’s already been here over an hour and there’s no sign of him. He even texts Stiles, asking where he is, but he gets no response.

Derek should just give up. He should go home. He’s on his way out when he bumps into Jackson and Lydia.

They’re dressed up as Fred and Daphne. It’s very fitting.

Jackson tenses and turns away from him immediately, telling Lydia he’s gonna get them drinks. Derek doesn’t hold it against him. It’s never not going to be weird between them.

“Hey. Sorry about him,” Lydia says, sighing sadly. Derek wonders if she’s thinking about middle school when the three of them would hang out because Jackson had a huge crush on Lydia but was too nervous to be alone with her so he’d drag Derek along.

“It is what it is,” Derek says defeatedly. No one is at fault. It’s just a shitty situation. “Did Stiles leave?”

Lydia cocks a brow. “Stiles? He never even came.”

“But he said he was coming.”

“I invited him, but he never came. Or if he did, he didn’t bother to say hi,” Lydia says, annoyed and put off. “That would be just like him. I swear, he acts like we’re not even friends half the time,” She tosses her hair over her shoulder.

“He’s an odd one, that’s for sure,” Derek says sighing.

“Don’t let him break your heart. Or break his heart, got it?”

“Got it,” He agrees, putting his hands up in surrender.

She goes off in search of Jackson, leaving Derek standing there. He checks his phone. No texts. He texts Stiles again.

No response.

What a waste of a night. What a waste of a Halloween. Derek’s right back where he was Freshman year, sulking at a party because the person he likes decided not to show up.

They do say history repeats itself.

He’s sitting on Lydia’s front porch, debating whether to go home or if he should try to have some fun when his phone buzzes.

It’s Stiles. He’s calling again.

Derek picks up fast again. “Hey, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles sobs on the other end. He’s crying. Fuck. Why is Stiles crying?

“It’s okay, I’m here. I’m here, just tell me where you are. I’ll come find you,” Derek says. He’s up and running towards his car, hurrying to get there.

“My keys. I can’t find my keys,” Stiles cries and he’s breathing heavily and shaky.

“Stiles, it’s alright. I’ll help. Are you at home?”

“No. A party.”

Derek stops. Maybe somehow he missed Stiles completely and he’s freaking out somewhere inside Lydia’s house. “Lydia’s party?”

“No, no… I don’t know who. I came with Elliot and my keys…”

Fuck. That fucking bastard. That fucking predatory asshole.

“Stiles, just drop me a pin with your location. I’ll be there as fast as possible, okay? Just breathe.”

He hears Stiles suck in a breath and then blow one out. He listens as Stiles does it again. “Okay. I’m sending my location,” He says, his voice a little calmer now.

Derek’s phone pings with an alert. It’s Stiles’ location. It’s thankfully not that far. “Stiles, I’ll be there in 15 minutes okay?”

He hears Stiles breathing and then he hears Stiles’ name being called in the background. There’s some muffled conversation and then the call drops. God damn it.

He tries calling as he drives, but it goes directly to Stiles’ voicemail. Stiles’ phone must’ve died. Great. Just great.

“You look nauseous,” Derek says, interrupting Stiles’ imploding thoughts.

“I’m not, just stressed,” Stiles says. It’s Thursday and they just finished their last period. Scott left early for his trip to Palm Springs, so it’s just him and Derek at his locker.

“Isn’t the stress supposed to hit before midterms, not after them?” Derek teases and Stiles huffs.

“I can get stressed anywhere, anytime. It’s my superpower” Stiles grumbles, entering his locker combination. He gets it wrong the first time and shakes the lock in frustration.

Derek’s hand rests on his shoulder and squeezes. “Hey, take a breath,” He says evenly. “You can talk to me.”

No. No, he can’t. Because the idea of talking to Derek about Elliot makes him want to vomit and scream and rip his own face off.

“It’s that guy,” Derek guesses. “The one you like.”

There’s this clipped tone in Derek’s voice as he says it. Stiles doesn’t have the mental wherewithal to analyze it right now.

“Yeah,” Stiles says, sounding defeated as he manages to get his locker open. “I uh… I finally texted him Monday night and it’s been great, but it’s also been shitty because I… I can’t talk to anyone about it.”

Derek stares, this pinched look on his face as he watches Stiles get his things ready to go home. Or rather go to The Roast, now that school is over.

“What?” Stiles asks, paranoid that Derek is just staring.

Finally, something clicks in Derek’s eyes, and his eyebrows furrow. “He’s eight years older than you,” Is all Derek says.

“Huh?”

“Monday night, you asked me if eight years was a big deal for an age gap. This guy you like is… twenty-five ?”

Why does Stiles feel ashamed all of a sudden? He thought he had come to terms with Elliot’s age. He’s 25. Who cares? Stiles doesn’t and that’s all that should matter.

“Yeah and I’m almost 18 and in college. It's not that big of a deal. I mean, no one bats an eye at a 30-year-old being with someone who’s 38.”

“But you’re not 30, you’re 17,” Derek says and he looks like he’s working through something in his own mind as he says it. “He’s older than Ms. Blake.”

“You haven’t even met him, you don’t get to judge,” Stiles says, shutting his locker with more force than normal and crossing his arms.

“Okay. Then let me meet him. Let’s go to The Roast. He works there, right?”

Stiles scoffs. “You have practice.”

“No, I don’t. We never have practice the Thursday before fall break,” Derek says, a big fat smirk on his face.

“You’re lying.”

“Why would I lie?”

Ugh, it turns out Derek Hale can still be infuriating.

“I don’t know,” Stiles snaps. “Fine. We’ll go.”

“Great,” Derek says. “All I need is my shit.”

They stop by Derek’s locker, ignoring all the looks along the way. People still aren’t used to them being friends, but at least no one is gonna bother to interfere. Derek Hale is untouchable and can do what he wants, and if he wants to be Stiles’ friend, everyone has to just begrudgingly accept it and move on.

Derek insists on them driving there together. The Roast is in the opposite direction of Derek’s house, so according to him, it makes more sense for them to drive together because Derek can just drop Stiles back off at the high school since it will be on the way home for him.

Great. So now Stiles is going to be in Derek’s shiny black car, with a touch screen on the console and vegan leather seats, and it all looks like it could be in a James Bond movie.

It also just feels like something people dating would do. Derek even opens the door for Stiles and it’s all too much and it’s all wayyy too confusing.

Here’s Derek Hale, the straight guy Stiles could never have, opening doors and driving Stiles to the coffee shop where the guy he actually can have is going to be working.

“Derek, let’s just hang out at your place, we don’t have to-”

“We’re going in. We don’t have to stay long,” Derek says. They’re parked on the street outside Roast. Stiles feels petrified. He’s afraid of what Derek will think and what Derek will do. Maybe he’ll think Stiles is gross and awful like the pervy guys at school who say salacious things about Ms. Blake.

“Just-” Stiles has no other arguments. He’s here, Derek’s determined to at least go inside. He might as well get it over with. “Fine.”

“I’m fine,” Derek insists. “Today was just more draining than I expected it to be. I’m just wiped out and I’m not ready to be back at practice.”

Stiles doesn’t know why Derek is lying, but he doesn’t call him on it. At least for now, he won’t.

“Don’t tell me you feel out of shape,” Stiles laughs. Derek may be the most physically fit person he’s ever met.

“No, not that,” Derek says, and he laughs, and Stiles is happy he made Derek laugh. They reach Stiles’ locker and Derek hesitates. He ducks his head.

“I’m just worried about…” He holds up a hand and rolls his wrist, and Stiles immediately gets what he means.

Which reminds him…

“I actually brought you something. For that,” Stiles says and he pulls his backpack off to root through it. He can’t believe he forgot! He had packed them this morning with the intention of giving them to Derek. He pulls out a pair of yellow wrist sweatbands and holds them out to Derek.

He takes them from Stiles and even chuckles a little as he looks them over for a moment and then something clicks in his eyes. “I remember these,” He says, which Stiles hadn’t expected.

“You do?” Stiles thought when he dug those old sweatbands out that Derek would just take it as a nice gesture. Stiles has only ever worn them once and it was so long ago.

“Yeah, freshman year at Braeden’s Halloween party. You were Paulie Bleeker from Juno,” Derek says and Stiles is floored. So many people just didn’t get Stiles’ costume and thought he had come to the party straight from track practice. He had to explain it so many times, only for people to say, “oh yeah, I kinda remember that move. With Elliot Page, right?”

But Derek remembered! And knows the character!

This checks out given that Stiles and Derek like a lot of the same movies.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. That was also the party where he got labeled as a narc because it got busted by the deputies. Someone had called 911 at the party and everyone assumed it was Stiles, the sheriff’s son. “How do you remember that?”

Derek shrugs. “I just liked the costume. And that was before you hated me, so it made me want to be your friend.”

“Am I an asshole if I say I don’t remember you at this party?” Stiles asks nervously because he honestly had no idea if Derek was there or not, or what costume he was wearing.

“No, because I didn’t approach you. I was… uh... preoccupied with other things,” Derek admits and he seems bashful.

“Other things? Like what?” Stiles asks, anticipating something good if it’s making Derek act like this.

“It’s really embarrassing. I’ll tell you sometime when we’re alone. Maybe,” Derek says reluctantly.

“Oh, you’re telling me. You can’t promise a juicy, embarrassing story and then take it back!” Stiles says.

Derek smiles and rolls his eyes. “Fine. I’ll tell you. When we’re alone ,” He stresses. He then holds up the yellow sweatbands. “Thanks for these, by the way.”

“Of course,” Stiles says and then they’re staring. Lingering by Stiles’ locker. Derek needs to get to basketball practice.

“Right,” Stiles breaks eye contact and starts entering his locker combination. “Uh, well, the debate team and mathletes are both starting next week and we meet after school. They get out at the same time as basketball practice, so… we could hang out after sometimes. If you want,” Stiles shrugs and starts grabbing his things to give himself something to do.

Derek grins. “Yeah. I do want. I’ll text you later,” he says and then he’s off. He’s probably running late now because he’ll need to get to his locker before running over to the gym and changing in the locker room.

Stiles watches him go and when he turns back to his locker and closes it, he sees Scott there.

“Okay, so when did tutoring become that,” Scott says, his eyes wide and amused.

Stiles scoffs. “What’s that supposed to mean? We’re friends,” he says and pulls his backpack back on. “Better friends than I originally led on. We’re good friends. That’s it.”

“That seemed more than friendly,” Scott says, and Stiles wants to know exactly how much of that Scott observed. “That was like Allison and me before we became official.”

Stiles guffaws. That’s- No. Just no. He and Derek are not like Scott and Allison, all cute and flustered and blushing all the time. Scott is reading into things, the same way Lydia read into things at lunch.

“Derek is straight, ” Stiles says. “Why am I the only one who remembers that?”

Is everyone else crazy or is it Stiles?

“Is he though?” Scott asks and he seems really doubtful of Derek’s heterosexuality and Stiles doesn’t get why. “Don’t you remember the rumors from last year about him being bi?”

Bi? As in bisexual? Derek Hale was rumored to be bisexual?

“Uh, no? Why would I have heard that? Even if I did, I hated him at the time and probably ignored it,” Stiles says. He tries to think back to last year, tries to remember all the gossip that went around, any conversations he might’ve had about Derek, but he can’t remember anything about this apparent rumor of Derek being bi.

“He never, like, posted about it or formally came out, so maybe the rumor is fake,” Scott shrugs. “But… He also never denied it. So it could also be true. Derek’s not the kind of person to publicly post about his personal life, so… He could be bi.”

Stiles’ brain is just full-on short-circuiting. He’s trying to formulate words or even a coherent thought, but it’s all garbled nonsense.

Derek is bi. Derek Hale could be bi.

Derek might be bisexual.

What?

WHAT?

Hi!! Omg thank you! I’m very happy with how the story is panning out so far.

“Damn. How’d you get this?” He asks, watching the liquid slosh around.

“With a fake ID,” Derek says.

“You have a fake ID? Why am I so lame?”

Derek laughs. “You’re not lame. Just a little sheltered. Which makes sense considering who your dad is.”

Yeah. Stiles’ dad is way overprotective. He’s the sheriff too, so even if Stiles tried to be bad, he’s got every single deputy keeping their eye out for Stiles.

But there aren’t any deputies here and it’s not like Stiles is at some crazy party where he feels anxious and nervous. So….

“We don’t have to drink any of it if you don’t want to. You just asked to see the stash so… here it is,” Derek says and Stiles knows he means it. There’s no pressure at all coming from Derek. He would’ve been content to eat pizza and play video games all night if that’s what Stiles wanted to do.

Stiles opens the vodka bottle and sniffs. He doesn’t smell anything. It might as well be a bottle of water. Without any more thought, Stiles decides to be bold and just goes for it and takes a huge sip.

“Whoa, Stiles wait-” Derek tries to warn him, but Stiles is going for it and ignores him.

And big mistake. HUGE.

Fuck. FUCK. That is maybe the worst sensation he’s ever felt. It fucking burns. Stiles knew alcohol could burn, but he had no idea it was like this.

He forces his gulp of vodka down and coughs, his eyes watering and face pinched together.

“Jesus Christ,” Stiles says, sucking in a breath and Derek is laughing. Stiles just had the worst first sip of alcohol ever and Derek is fucking laughing.

“I’m sorry. I tried to stop you,” Derek says, taking the vodka out of Stiles’ hand to put the cap back on. “But you just went for it. I’m just glad it wasn’t the whiskey, you would’ve died.”

“Ha ha. Laugh it up,” Stiles says, shaking off the shot he just took. His body already feels a little warm. “Jeeze and people like that?”

“Normally people have chasers for shots or they mix it with something else. But you party hard, Stilinski.”

“Hey, you’re the expert here. You have to teach me,” Stiles says, a wide grin on his face as he sits down on the floor where Derek is still kneeling.

“Oh, so I’m teaching you now?” Derek asks, highly amused as he sets the bottle down on the floor. “I’m happy to share my drinking expertise, but I gotta warn you, I’m not the raging party animal you think I am.”

“You have a secret stash of alcohol and a fake ID. That’s pretty hardcore,” Stiles points out.

Derek shakes his head, chuckling. “At least you think I’m pretty,” He teases.

Stiles laughs. “The prettiest,” He says and honestly it's true. Derek is pretty. He’s got pretty eyes and his silky dark hair is pretty and his face is-

Okay. That’s enough of that.

“Do you actually want to drink?” Derek asks, and he’s not being judgemental. Stiles can tell. He wants to make sure Stiles is completely comfortable with it, which makes Stiles feel safer, so he nods.

“I don’t want to go crazy and get drunk or anything, but yeah, I’d like to try,” He says.

Derek smiles and gets up. “Alright. But no more shots. I’m going to make you a drink you’ll actually like. Wait here,” He says and then he’s out the door, leaving Stiles in Laura’s bedroom.

“Uh, no?” Stiles looks at Derek for clarification.

“Good. We can hang out. Tomorrow night after dinner?”

Derek is changing the subject. Okay. Fair enough. It probably is stressful to talk about going back to school and having his mom around.

Stiles smiles. “Yeah. Tomorrow night, let’s do it. A final hoorah,” Because after Friday, they won’t need to hang out anymore. Derek will have his life back.

Still. It feels good to know Derek still wants him to be around him for at least a little while longer. Stiles is going to enjoy it while it lasts. Before Derek goes back to being Derek Hale, king of the school, and won’t need Stiles Stilinski, official loser and accused narc to be his only social outlet.

“And for the record, I don’t go to parties. Last week was a fluke. An awful fluke.”

“What even happened that was so bad? You never said,” Derek is watching him closely, Stiles can tell he’s very interested in the answer. He’s asked before, on Monday, but Stiles skirted the topic and gave a blow-off answer. Stiles kind of figured the subject was dropped forever, but apparently, it’s been on Derek’s mind.

“It just wasn’t fun,” Stiles says, shrugging. “I ran into my old friend, Erica. I mentioned her already,” again, Derek doesn’t react to Erica’s name at all. “Erica Reyes?”

Derek nods. “Yeah, I remember her name,” He says.

He sighs. “Okay, well it was cool to see her and well… I guess she knew the guy I like who invited me and she doesn’t think he’s a good guy and that sucked because I think she’s right,” Stiles bites his lip. He feels defeated admitting all this. It just sucks to know the huge crush he’s had since the ninth grade is an asshole. “I didn’t want to talk about it before, it was just too embarrassing.”

“Embarrassing? What happened?” Derek is the one to look confused now. His arms are crossed and his left eyebrow is raised.

Stiles can feel his heartbeat pick up in his chest. It starts to pound loudly in his chest as he remembers the awful stench of beer on Elliot and how close he got, how his hands were touching parts of Stiles he wasn’t ready for yet.

“Stiles,” Derek’s hand is on his. “Are you okay?”

Stiles’ head jerks forward to nod. “No-yeah. Yeah, I’m fine, it was dumb. I don’t want to talk about it,” He digs his keys out of his pocket. “I’ll see you tomorrow. I should get home,” He pulls his hand away from Derek’s, and climbs inside his jeep. Derek moves and waves him off, but Stiles can see the worry plain as day on Derek’s face.

Stiles is fine. It just felt weird to think about Elliot and what happened Saturday night. He’s been avoiding thinking about it, so it just caught him off guard to have it brought up, that’s all.

That’s all.

Chapter 5: Red

Large hands wrap around Stiles’ wrists and pull them away from his face. His pen falls out of Stiles’ death grip, dropping onto the floor, and it’s only now that Stiles realizes he had started crying and was struggling to breathe. His heart is beating fast, and he feels outside of his body. It’s a panic attack. Stiles hasn’t had a panic attack in years.

Derek is there, right in front of him, keeping his wrists in a firm but gentle grip. “Stiles, just breathe,” He says slowly, his thumbs rubbing over the back of Stiles’ hands, trying to soothe him.

This is just another thing that’s wrong with Stiles. He should be the one offering comfort to Derek. He should be the calm, patient presence in the room, listening to Derek’s problems. Instead, Stiles is just trauma dumping and word vomiting all over Derek’s room, forcing Derek to take on the emotional burden of Stiles’ psyche, when Derek is already burdened with his own issues.

“Hey, breathe,” Derek repeats, because Stiles is still heaving out short, erratic breaths. “With me, in… one… two… three… four,” Derek counts, demonstrating with a long slow inhale. “And hold it,” He counts to four once more and Stiles holds his breath and waits. “Exhale, one… two… three… four, and hold,” Again he counts to four and Derek repeats this process several times more until Stiles’ heartbeat slows down and his breathing is regulated again.

Stiles takes one last slow and big breath and exhales it slowly. He looks down and sees that Derek’s hands are still holding his wrists, but Stiles doesn’t try to pull them away right then. He sits there, staring at Derek’s hands enveloping his wrists, and it feels warm and comfortable. “Thank you,” Stiles says after a long moment of silence. “I’m sorry. I suck.”

“I can’t keep watching this, it’s painful,” Derek says, looking over at Stiles. Stiles laughs.

“I am not that bad,” He says defensively. “Don’t be a video game snob.”

“I’m not. I just can’t believe you’re this bad.”

Stiles scoffs. “Hey, I never claimed to be a pro gamer. I’m simply a man who enjoys video games. Whether I’m good or bad at them.”

“Just, hold on,” Derek is watching his fingers closely, he shifts over and places his hand over Stiles. “You’re constantly pushing the wrong buttons.”

He laughs again. “You’re delusional.”

“You’re blind . You have that whole Timotheé Chalamet vibe going on. You’re cute. Accept it.”

Derek Hale. Derek fucking Hale just called Stiles cute? What?

WHAT????

“Come on,” Derek grabs an umbrella from a rack by the door. It’s still raining. “You don’t want to get wet, right?”

Stiles watches as Derek goes through the front door, opening the umbrella as he goes out and he stands there, waiting for Stiles to come with him so he can help Stiles to his jeep.

“Uh…” Stiles doesn’t know what to say. His brain is currently short-circuiting. He’s full-on malfunctioning. Derek gestures for him to come out with his hand, and so Stiles slowly walks out, with tentative steps until he’s right next to Derek, under the same umbrella.

They have to stand close to both be under it. Way too close in Stiles’ opinion. He can feel Derek’s body heat radiating off him in waves. It’s all he can focus on as they start walking to his jeep, the sides of their arms and shoulders brushing against each other.

Chapters: 2/8 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Rape/Non-Con Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Kate Argent, The Hales (Teen Wolf), Scott McCall (Teen Wolf) Additional Tags: Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Warning: Kate Argent, Teacher-Student Relationship, not between Stiles and Derek, noncon not between Derek and Stiles, Slow Burn, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Derek Hale & Stiles Stilinski are the Same Age, Alternate Universe - High School, Suicide Attempt, No Major Character Death, Fluff and Angst, First Time, First Kiss, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - No Werewolves Summary:

His intense, pale eyes scrutinize every aspect of Stiles.

Stiles has never been the sole target of Derek Hale’s gaze before. They’ve glared at each other in passing, or whenever they make barbs at each other, but Derek has never full-on stared at Stiles. The weight of Derek’s gaze makes him tense and fidget. Stiles is the one who has to break eye contact by turning his head and clearing his throat. “Okay, let’s just start over,” Stiles says, shaking the tension out of his hands. “Fresh start,” He grabs his backpack and turns in a circle until he’s facing Derek again.