Sour Miguel

hi anon!! thank you for the prompt. i know it’s been a while but here’s 10k words! you can tell i had a lot of fun with it.

thank you to @troubleiwant for reading over this and helping me make it a lot better ♡♡♡

warnings: teacher/student relationship. it’s discussed in the text that this is an inappropriate relationship and the characters don’t do all they can to keep things professional. it’s more an emotional relationship than a physical one and there’s no age difference between the characters.

sterek | college au, professor!derek, student!stiles, author!stiles | T | 10k

[On AO3]

“Let me know if you have any questions,” Derek calls out to the class, but no one is listening as they pack up their things. Derek sighs and puts his own notes away, running his thumb over the pages of his well-loved paperback before placing the novel in his bag.

He isn’t looking forward to teaching an entry level literature course at the local community college but someone has to do it. He wishes he knew how to keep the students engaged, but their eyes are always tired and absent as Derek teaches. The only good part about the course this year is that he got to choose the curriculum.

Derek knows he’s lucky to have this job – no matter how much he dislikes it – but he misses the tenure track position he used to hold Amherst College. He lost everything when his family died in a house fire and Derek struggled enough that he had to leave his job. The only thing that offered him any sort of comfort over the past few years was a novel.

“Um, hi,” says a voice, and Derek looks up. He sees brown hair, brown eyes, and a white smile. The man’s shoulders are broad and his fingers are long where they clutch at his back pack. He looks only a few years younger than Derek.

Derek frowns. “Are you teaching next? I’ll be out of your way – I just need to clear up the rest of my things.”

The man flushes for some reason and turns away, biting his lip. He turns back and tries to speak again. “No. Um. I’m actually one of your students. My name is Stiles.”

“What?”

“I’m taking this class. Contemporary Fiction 101?”

“Oh,” Derek says dumbly. He didn’t expect anyone to come forward and actually ask him questions about the course – he normally only gets bored students who take the course to fill a requirement and who don’t want to study Shakespeare.

“Yeah,” Stiles says. He runs a hand through his hair and then shoves his hands into his pockets. He lets out a small chuckle. “I guess I’m kind of old to be doing a freshman level course.”

Derek glances back at him and then shrugs. “There are quite a few people at this college who are older.”

“Right. Um.” Stiles hesitates for a long moment. “Are – are we really going to be studying Magic Bullet?” he asks.

“Yes?”

Stiles sighs. “I guess it’s a good book. But. Is it possible for me to study something else?”

they don’t get why it bothers him. This goes on until Cora brings Stiles home one day. Stiles has been crushing on Cora’s hot older brother for ages but Derek always avoids him (Derek is avoiding him because he KNOWS his sisters will give him shit in front of the cute guy and he’d rather not thanks). Cora invites Stiles to stay for dinner and at first it’s all good but the teasing starts and it’s fine but Stiles notices how Derek sort of shuts down after something Laura says (2/3)

and Stiles mouths off and knocks Laura down a few pegs in Derek’s defense. He is more than willing to use his sarcastic nature in defense of the hot marshmallow sitting across from him. Stiles likes it when Derek’s eyes light up not when they go guarded. And that’s the story of how Derek pretty much falls in love with him on the spot. It’s also the story of how Stiles appoints himself Derek’s emotional protector and you do not want to get on his bad side about that. (3/3)

*wipes tear* stiles being protective of derek is one of my absolute favorite things, bless this entire thing.

i can totally see laura and cora taking it a step or two too far with teasing derek (i’ve got four siblings, it does happen a lot during the sibling bantering and apologies don’t always happen, just more teasing that ends up being unintentionally hurtful) and derek being quiet about it, not fighting it and just waiting for it to stop instead of asking for it to.

and stiles appointing himself derek’s emotional protector, i’m !!!!!! sign me the fuck up, pal. i need stiles ripping people who are mean to derek a new asshole and derek blushing and smiling while it happens cause no one has done that for him before.

It’s almost midnight when Derek finally shoulders on his coat, locks his office door, and steps out, only to spot Stiles crouched in front of the vending machine at the end of the hall, whacking the glass with the heel of his palm and muttering darkly.

Derek can’t just ignore him; he never can. (It’s a bit of a problem, and everyone in the hospital seems to know it, except for Stiles.) Before he knows it, he’s changed tracks and walked right over. “What are you still doing here?”

Stiles sits back on his heels to look up at him. “Bob ate my dollar and I’m feeling petty so I’m trying to get it back.”

“Bob?” Derek asks, a split second before he remembers that Stiles named the vending machine. It’s just this kind of thing that makes Derek feel guilty for sometimes looking at Stiles’ mouth a little too long, or pausing to let his eyes follow Stiles’ progress down the hall. Stiles isn’t a kid or anything, but he’s still only 26 to Derek’s 32, and he’s still got a year of residency to go. A lot of times, like when he’s jamming out to his iPod while he looks over lab work or doing stupid stuff like naming the vending machines, he seems to Derek more like a college kid than a grown man with a medical license and a house and a girlfriend.

Stiles goes back to hitting the vending machine, and Derek remembers why he originally came over here. “Didn’t your shift end at 7?”

Stiles smirks up at him, and Derek tries very, very hard not to imagine him making that same face in certain… other contexts. “What, you got my schedule memorized now, Dr. Hale? I’m flattered.”

It would make Derek’s life a lot easier if so much of what Stiles said didn’t come out sounding so flirtatious. Derek crosses his arms over his chest. “You’re deflecting.”

And Stiles is crazy about the dog, he always wanted one, and tries to take care of him but it becomes clear that the dog is in charge. Stiles emails Derek for advice because the guarding behavior is endearing but also kind of a problem. Derek answers and the epistolary romance beings. They start talking about the dog and then end up talking about everything complete with subtle and not so subtle digging for “are you into guys” and “are you seeing anyone” of a asking for a friend variety. (2/3)

Stiles makes self-deprecating remarks about his looks and Derek calls himself boring and a nerd so they both have an image of what the other looks like but they never see each other by unspoken agreement. Derek arrives home safe and OF COURSE goes to get his dog (and meet the guy he’s in love with) and Stiles is hoping to share custody (and date Derek forever) and when they meet they kind of can’t believe their luck.

omg this is the absolute cutest thing holy shit ;;

i need a 40k fic of this so badly, you don’t even understand. this sounds like it would be the absolute cutest and fluffiest and i have a mighty need !!!

A while back @benaya-trash drew this wonderful art for my long!fic: To Build a Home (Of Sorts). I absolutely love it so thank you so much!!!

“You’re back,” he said in more of a question.

“Yeah, I am,” Stiles answered.

“For how long?”

That is when the silence kicked in for real, and Stiles went rigid and nervous, “uh…well, Derek, that depends on you.”

“On me?”

“I’m not doing the map anymore, I sorta ripped it up. Self-righteous I know,” Stiles babbled, “and, I kind of ran out on you and I just couldn’t stop thinking about how I never let you explain the whole Skype thing. Then again, I can totally understand if I overstepped, I was only half kidding about Christmas. Anyways…um I just, you have this big house all to yourself and I don’t really feel like going back to Beacon Hills for a while and I just thought….I just figured if–ya know if it was cool with you maybe I could stay?”

Derek opened his mouth, a response half baked in his throat, but Stiles kept on going.  

“Of course I’d help and stuff, this time I promise not to nail my shirt to anything. I mean I assume you’re going to be putting furniture in soon. If it’s from Ikea I can totally help with that, I am the master of those things, Scott assembled his desk the wrong way after two hours but I fixed it in about thirty minutes. Like I said, master of Ikea stuff. Also despite what you may have seen at my dad’s house I promise not to leave a huge mess. Okay…maybe my habit of leaving towels on the floor will take a while to kick, but I’ll try and remember not to do that and–”

“Stiles,” Derek interjected, setting the glass down with a loud thunk, “I leave towels on the floor too.”

That was the last thing Stiles expected him to say. His jaw fell to the ground in shock, eyes nearly bulging out of his head. Stiles let out a small laugh and Derek let himself get lost in it. The laugh went on for a few more seconds before dissipating, the joy replaced with a newfound seriousness.

“Wait–was that a yes?”

Derek looked up from his hands, the easy answer heavy on his tongue.

“Yes.”

Stiles let out a long sounding sigh, his shoulders falling and face relaxing from its pinched state. The house would no longer be silent for days on end, Cora would no longer be the only person he talked to, the house would no longer just be a house.

Suddenly, with Stiles here, it had the potential to be a home.

Derek doesn’t treat himself often. The store had been one of Laura’s favorites, and for the longest time he could never walk past it without the scents of the vanilla and cinnamon making him think of her. She’d enjoyed using the bath bombs a lot, and Derek remembers as a teenager he’d complain all the time about the colorful streaks left in the tub. 

He’s looking in the shop window, and for the first time in a long while, the feeling is different– time has eased the pain and the guilt, and now it’s just the fond memories of his sister. 

Derek pushes the door open, and the bell tinkles merrily. The employees are friendly– perhaps a bit too friendly and knowledgeable, and Derek doesn’t know how he finds himself talking, but talk he does. He doesn’t know what quite he wants, but he likes this scent, and he like relaxing after a long day, and … ends up purchasing an entire bag’s worth of bath bombs, hand creams, and a soap bar shaped like a spaceship for Stiles. 

He gets home and puts dinner in the oven, puts away the laundry, and sits on the couch, wondering what to do next. Stiles won’t be home for awhile; Derek could take this opportunity to work on his next book, but he’s still waiting for feedback from his editor from the last one, and he doesn’t want to switch mindsets on his projects just yet. 

The little brown bag is still sitting invitingly on the table; Derek takes out the tissue-wrapped one for Stiles and puts it in the bedroom, then takes the rest of it to the bathroom. He fills the tub, wondering when the last time he took an actual bath. He must have been a kid. 

The purple-and-pink bath bomb has a touch of glitter in it, and when dropped in the water it starts fizzing immediately, exploding in a cascade of color and gentle lavender scent. Derek undresses and gets in the tub, closing his eyes.

It is calming. The warm water and bubbles are foaming gently around him, and the scent lulls him into a soft peace. 

“There you are,” Stiles says, his voice a little awed. 

Derek opens his eyes. Stiles is standing in the bathroom doorway, still in his deputy uniform, smiling fondly at him. 

“You’re home early,” Derek says.

Stiles walks over to the tub, bending down to kiss Derek on the forehead. “Yeah, I finished everything. Plus, I wanted to see you. Dinner smells amazing, by the way. How was your day? Got yourself some bubble bath, I see.” Stiles dips his fingers in the water, flicking a bubble at Derek.

“I like it.”

“It’s a good look on you,” Stiles says.

“What is?”

“Happy.” 

This makes Derek smile, and he tugs Stiles closer by the shirt, pulling him in for a deep kiss. “You’re getting me all wet,” Stiles says, laughing. 

“Good, now you can join me.”

So I was rereading this Captive Prince tumblr fic I love where Damen and Laurent are art majors, and it made me crave something similar for Sterek. Thought I’d write it while AO3 is down for maintenance… I mean, what else am I supposed to do on my day off, haha? So here’s the drabble~ 

(I’ll probably also write a part 2 at some point.)

Stiles Stilinski has been shooting him increasingly unsubtle looks for weeks now, so it’s not exactly a surprise when he makes his way over at the end of class one day near the end of the semester. He seems to be trying to make it look like he just happened to wander over and end up near Derek’s table by accident, but Derek’s not fooled, or interested in pretending to be. He stops packing up his art supplies and sits back on his stool to hear what he has to say. 

This is the fourth time Derek’s been asked out just this semester, and there are only twenty-two people in the class to start with. It still makes him as nervous as the first time it happened, but he thinks (hopes) he’s getting better at hiding it. 

People always take one look at him and assume he’s some kind of player, that he’s used to this, and he’s not. He was home-schooled all through high school (it was a werewolf thing). Then, bam, he showed up to college orientation and three cheerleader-looking girls flocked to him within the first fifteen minutes. 

He’s been asked out more times than he can count since then, but it’s usually by girls. Not plaid-wearing, messenger-bag-toting, comic-book-quoting hipster guys with warm brown eyes and leanly muscled forearms.

Stiles drifts to a stop in front of him, and Derek thinks, Here we go. 

He’s going to tell Stiles never mind about the mutual nudity thing, he is, except… Well.

He shows up almost fifteen minutes early at Stiles’ dorm because he’s nervous, and then he just stands there in the hallway, fretting, because it feels like the moment of no return, and was he supposed to wear anything special? He spent about half an hour this morning digging through his closet to find his best jeans and the black muscle tee he usually only wears if he’s going to the gym.

(Erica laughed at him for it. “Why are you even bothering? It’s not like he asked you over so he could see you in your clothes.”)

She’s probably right, but still. He has no idea what to expect. Did Stiles actually mean nude nude, or just, like, bare-chest-in-a-toga nude? Is Derek going to have to stand there wearing a laurel wreath and holding a bunch of grapes in front of his junk? Or wearing one of those dorky red-mohawk Roman soldier helmets? Is he going to have to pretend to play a lyre while butt naked? Or what if it’s like something straight out of Titanic? Is Derek going to have to lounge seductively on a divan like he’s Kate Winslet?