Awesome Sterek Rec of Awesome

I certainly can! Here, have a college professor AU with oblivious, socially awkward Derek being wooed by Stiles with baked goods and bad puns!

Derek doesn’t know why the new professor annoys him so much– they’ve never so much as had a conversation with each other, but somehow that doesn’t matter. He’s seen him around campus a few times now and even that’s enough for Derek to know that there’s something about him.

He never seems to shut up, for one thing. And it isn’t just talking, no. It’s the way he talks. This guy treats conversation like it’s a whole body activity. Hands gesticulating wildly, shoulders shaking with laughter, shifting from foot to foot, that wide, mobile mouth open in amazement or stretching wide into a grin. It’s so unnecessary. Such a waste of energy. Derek gets exhausted watching him, but he can’t stop staring. It’s infuriating.

Two weeks into the semester he’s standing in the quad with Isaac, a fellow Chem professor, and the person Derek’s shared an office with for the last two years, when he spots the new guy coming towards them. He has a couple of binders tucked under one arm, a cup of coffee in the other, and he’s talking animatedly to Lydia Martin, math genius and all round terrifying human being. The fact the guy’s hands are full isn’t preventing his usual conversational flailing, and as Derek watches him he manages to slop coffee all down his own shirt.

“Who is that guy?” Derek mumbles, shaking his head.

Isaac follows his gaze. “The new Physics professor. Something Stilinski, don’t know his first name, but everyone calls him Stiles. He was some kind of child prodigy apparently. Super smart. A real innovator in his field. The dean loves him. He got Chris Argent’s old office.”

“Argent’s office? With the view of– but–how is that fair? I’ve been here ten years and he just turns up and bags Argent’s old office” Derek sputters. He glares in Stiles’ direction. The guy is standing under a tree a ways off, still chatting animatedly with Professor Martin, while she dabs at his ruined shirt with a tissue, a begrudging smile on her face. Something twists in Derek’s gut. “He’s basically a fetus.”

“He’s thirty, apparently,” Isaac says, “He just looks young. And I told you. The dean loves him. Says he’s gonna bring in a lot of money with his exciting new research on–” He waves a hand airily. “Something or other.”

Well that’s just great. That’s just fucking aces. It’s another thing to add to the growing list Derek’s compiling of reasons he hates this guy. This Stiles. Stiles, Derek sneers to himself, that’s not even a name, and he walks in and takes the best office? And gets the dean to love him. And somehow makes Lydia Martin, a woman so innately terrifying that Derek has spent five years avoiding her at all costs, smile?

Ugh. Who the hell does this guy think he is? With his stupid hands. And that mouth. And–As Derek glares intently, Stiles looks up, catches his eye. He looks around in confusion and then, when he decides that no, Derek is actually looking at him, he flushes and tentatively lifts a hand and waves.

Derek’s jaw clenches. He blinks twice. Then he turns back to Isaac who’s watching him, one eyebrow raised.

“What?” Derek asks.

“Nothing.” Isaac smirks. Then says, “Thirsty, huh?”

“Yeah,” Derek mutters. “Let’s go get a drink.”

“That’s not– never mind.” Isaac trails after him to their favorite campus coffee shop.

-

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale, Laura Hale, Talia Hale, Sheriff Stilinski (mentioned), Scott McCall (mentioned), Peter Hale (mentioned) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - College/University, Graduate Student Derek Hale, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Cora Hale & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Misunderstandings, Oblivious Derek Hale, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Alpha Talia Hale, Derek Hale is a Christmas Baby, Peter Hale is a Bad Uncle, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale (mentioned), Past Jennifer Blake/Derek Hale (mentioned), Pining Derek, Bisexual Stiles Stilinski, Demisexual Derek Hale, Derek POV, Getting to Know Each Other, Mild Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Christmas Fluff Summary:

As far as Derek could tell, Cora hadn’t asked if she could bring someone home for the holidays. She’d barely even bothered to give a heads up: she’d texted from the rest stop that was almost exactly halfway between campus and home, by which point it was much too late to tell her to leave this unwelcome intruder—some guy named Stiles—behind.

***

Derek loved Christmas. Family-only Christmases, that is, which Cora had thrown a wrench into this year by bringing home a guy who turned out to be handsome, funny, brilliant, and…of course…completely unavailable.

Creator: strictly-chaotic Type of Work: graphic Title: Elpha, Baker, Oh My Gah Summary: Derek loves cooking, cooking is his thing, but baking…that’s more of Stiles’ specialty. Derek wanted to surprise his boyfriend, hopefully soon to be fiance so long as he doesn’t accidentally poison him with this last batch, by making him some of his favorite Christmas cookies before he got home from work.

But as fate would have it, Stiles returns much earlier than Derek had anticipated. He takes one look at Derek and spirals into a fit of hysterics. 

“You look like you not only lost the battle, but the whole damn war against flour,” Stiles says, ineffectively wiping flour from Derek’s beard.

Derek half-heartedly glares before a sly grin graces his lips as he wraps Stiles up in his arms, rubbing his face against his neck effectively sharing his powdery wealth to the tune of Stiles’ indignant squeals.

“Welcome to the battle, Stilinski,” Derek smirks, smacking his ass and leaving a perfect floury handprint in its wake.

“Oooh you play dirty, Hale. Now step aside and let the master show you how it’s done. Cleanly!” Stiles peels off his hoodie, tossing it towards to the laundry room and gets to work.

True to his word, Stiles helps finish off the last few batches without adding to the pre-existing mess; however, decorating the cookies brings a fresh wave of kitchen nightmares when the pastry bag explodes and Stiles ends up covered in frosting.

Derek levels an unimpressed eyebrow at him, snarky comment on the tip of his tongue -

“Don’t.” Stiles huffs, covering Derek’s mouth with a frosting coated hand.

Derek’s eyes go wide and innocent, “I wasn’t going to say anything, oh great master baker.”

They both devolve into a fit of giggles, exhausted from the day. Stiles grabs a rag to wipe some of the frosting off his face, but it mostly just smears.

Stiles assesses the damage done to himself and Derek, whose eyebrows seem to snow whenever he moves them and snorts, “We’re a hot mess.”

Derek tiredly chuckles, licking a smattering of green frosting off of Stiles’ cheek. “I don’t know, I’d say we’d make a pretty delicious pair.” 

And so the tradition of baking Christmas cookies together began. The messes are always included whether they’re accidental or, more often than not, intentional, especially when Stiles sees fit to decorate Derek instead of the cookies. 

Destiny, science – Derek doesn’t really care about the reason, he just wants the fucking music to stop.

“He’s singing Taylor Swift.” He groans, thumping his head against the table he’s supposed to be paiting. Boyd looks up from where he’s sketching their new project and snorts. “Again.”

“At least it’s not Mariah Carey!” Erica yells from the front room and Derek takes a deep breath.

“Small mercies.” He mutters under his breath and goes back to work.

He doesn’t know much about his soulmate, only woke up one morning and knew it’s a guy around his age with brown hair and brown eyes. If only he could have a name to work with, he sighs, reaching out for his bottle of water.

It’s not always annoying, Derek concedes. Mostly, he enjoys having someone in the back of his mind, always there, always with him. Sometimes he can feel a happiness that’s not his when he’s feeling particularly down and other times he’s the one that tries to send some comfort through their connection, when the sadness invades his mind.

They share their dreams sometimes too, Derek had some vivid nightmares about an unknown woman dying in a hospital bed and others where he kisses a red-haired girl he never even met.

“You’ll find him.” Boyd says, suddenly, and Derek startles, looking up at his best friend. Sometimes he forgets how observant Boyd is.

“Yeah.” Derek sighs when his friend touches his shoulder. “I know.” He says, but he’s not entirely sure that’s true.

–

He dreams about him that night. They are holding hands and watching the sunset at his family’s old cabin – Derek’s favorite place in the world. They stay quiet, only enjoying each others company, and Derek feels the love so real and strong that when he wakes up his chest is aching.

“Oh, baby.” His mom says when Derek shows up unannounced for breakfast and immediately drops his head on her shoulder. “You’ll find him.” She says.

“When?” Derek sobs. It’s hard to feel so complete and then have it taken away from him every day when he wakes up.

“It will happen, baby.” His mom keeps saying, rocking him back and forth. Soon his dad joins them and Derek only sobs harder. “I promise.”

Derek wishes he could believe her.

Person B, sighing and holding out an earbud: Here.

Person A, cackling and immediately taking the opportunity to lay on B’s shoulder: My savior

(in the back)

“No.”

Stiles’ mouth dropped open, indignation written all over his face. “All I said was ‘hey’!”

“No,” Derek said, returning to his book, “you said ‘heeeey, Derek’, all drawn out and stupid like when you want something. Whatever it is, the answer is no.”

Dropping back into his seat beside Derek with a huff, arms crossed over his chest and his knee bouncing, Stiles scowled. “Fine,” he said petulantly. “That’s fine. I mean, this pack holiday was supposed to be about bonding, and togetherness, but I guess that’s all shot to shit if even the alpha won’t support his favourite packmate.”

“Boyd’s my favourite,” Derek said, inflectionless, and without looking reached across the aisle of the plane to high-five the grinning beta as Erica laughed from beside him.

“You wound me, Derek; I am wounded,” Stiles moaned, aggrieved.

“I’ll ask the flight attendant for a bandaid when he comes by next,” Derek said, faux-soothingly.

Stiles sighed and stared out the window. Sighed again. Drummed his fingers on the shared armrest. Sighed a third time.

“I wonder what would happen if the door malfunctioned and you were sucked out of the plane at thirty thousand feet,” Derek mused, but missed casual by a mile with the way his teeth were clenched. “What, Stiles?”

“It’s a four hour flight and I forgot my pillow so I can’t sleep and I also forgot my headphones so I mean I could play my music, but then everyone would have to hear it and I’m not sure if the whole plane wants to listen to four hours of classic rock even though it is, unarguably, the best genre–”

“Here,” Derek said with a sigh of his own, pulling out one of his earbuds and handing it to Stiles. “But this is only because I don’t want to have to wolf out to save you when the rest of the passengers revolt.”

Grabbing the earbud gleefully, Stiles just shoved up the armrest, dislodging Derek’s elbow and snuggled in close to rest his head on Derek’s shoulder. “My saviour,” he sighed happily.

“Yeah yeah,” Derek mumbled, but the way he shifted to slip his arm around Stiles’ back belied his irritation.

“Stilinski, I can literally see your headphones hanging out of the overhead compartment,” Jackson announced rudely from behind them.

I don’t know why you feel I’ve spoiled you, but here you go! Bodyswap AU with plenty of  feels (BECAUSE WHY NOT, AM I RIGHT?) :D

When Stiles wakes up that morning, he isn’t in his own room. It takes him a while to realize it, but before he’s opened his eyes he knows something isn’t right. It’s too quiet for one thing, he can’t hear his dad puttering around getting ready for work, or the noise of Mrs. Gutiérrez loading her three screaming kids in the car. Instead there’s a preternatural stillness. The sheets smell different too and the mattress is harder than he’s used to, not the soft, slightly sunken-in-the-middle familiarity of his own bed. Stiles opens his eyes. Blinks.

He’s in Derek’s loft.

He’s in Derek’s bed.

Shit.

He sits up in bed blearily trying to focus, blinking as he looks about himself, brain still working it’s way online. Because this is— weird. His sheets are navy and dark gray, because of course they are. There’s a chrome lamp on the bedside table, a glass of water, and a book with a garish cover that provides the only spot of bright color in the room.

Genuinely, he has no idea how he got here, not one clue, the last thing he remembers he was in his own room revising calculus for his midterm tomorrow, and freaking out because, well—- Math, man. Lydia Martin he ain’t.

He’s pretty sure he stumbled into his own bed at 2AM, praying to any god that cared to listen that his math midterm would be suddenly and inexplicably cancelled. Which doesn’t explain how he ended up here in Derek freakin’ Hale’s bed. There’s no sign of the resident sourwolf. No hint of anyone at all actually—

Stiles scrubs a hand over his face and stills, eyes going wide.“What the hell?” Stiles jolts as he hears his voice. Clutches at his throat. That isn’t the way he’s supposed to sound, but then— oh god. He stares down at hands that are definitely, definitely not his own, the palms are broader, the fingers shorter but thicker. With a yelp he scrambles out of the bed, still tangled in the sheets, falls to the floor with a thud, picks himself up and races to the bathroom, where he knows there’s a mirror. “Shit.”

Derek Hale stares back at him.

“Shit!” Stiles hisses clutching wildly at Derek’s face. “Motherfucker. What the fucking fuck is going on?”

He hesitates eyes catching on the way Derek’s mouth forms the word fuck. The way it sounds. Mama Hale must have been strict about language because in two years they’ve known each other, he’s never heard Derek swear. “Fuck,” he says again experimentally, peering at himself under the harsh light of the bathroom. Then just because he can— “Shitballs. Dickface. Spunkbagel. I’m the sourwolf.” He poses a little hands on his hips, gives it the ol’ Blue Steel. “I AM the sourwolf alpha,” he intones, as dramatically possible. “Lick my balls.” He grins at himself. Derek’s face smiles back at him and Stiles flinches back a little.

God. Smiling Derek. That’s— a little too weird, even for him. And he shouldn’t get distracted. If he’s in Derek’s body then that probably means that Derek is—

A cell phone starts to ring. Stiles winces. It sounds shrill, and soooo loud. In the quiet and stillness of Derek’s apartment it almost hurts his ears. Werewolf senses,  Stiles thinks to himself, shit.

He hurries out of the bathroom and locates Derek’s cell quick enough, swipes to answer the call.

“Hello?” he says.

“Stiles?” His own voice answers, but he knows immediately who it must be.

“Derek?”

“What did you do?” Stiles almost drops the phone at the injustice of the assumption.

“Me,” he squawks, gesturing imploringly at an imaginary audience. “Why is this my fault?”

“Well it isn’t mine,” Derek grits out.

“Hey, don’t grind my teeth, man,” Stiles says immediately. “It isn’t good for them.”

“I’m not grind–ugh—” Derek sighs. “Fix this.”

“I’m pretty sure I would have to know what happened in order to do that,” Stiles points out. “And I don’t.”

“Well I don’t either,” Derek points out. “And your dad just came in to ‘remind’ me that he’s giving you a lift to school this morning because your Jeep is still in the garage.”

“You need to get my body there on time, dude. I have a math midterm today. I can’t miss it.”

“Stiles—”

“You didn’t try and explain things to him?”

“What try and explain that his teenage son just swapped bodies with the guy he once arrested on suspicion of attempted murder?”

“Hey dude, you were exonerated.”

“Not the point! How are you not freaking out more about this?” Derek groans.

“I don’t know. Last night I was just worried about my math midterm. Now I don’t have to take it. I think Zeus answered my prayers, dude. Or maybe Thor. It’s a toss up. Anyway, it’s kind of a load off, not gonna lie.”

“Stiles!”

“You go to school, Der-Bear. I’ll look into this and have us swapped back lickety split.”

“Der-Bear?” Derek growls. “Lickety split?”

“I like listening to your voice say stuff it wouldn’t normally say. It amuses me.” He can hear Derek grinding his teeth again. “Dude, seriously, my teeth.”

“I am going to rip your teeth out and jam them up your—”

“Catch you later, bud,” Stiles says cheerfully, and ends the call.

Then after a moment’s thought, he texts Derek:

Send me a list of every place you went yesterday

I told you. This isn’t on me

Maybe but we need to cover all our bases

You won’t find anything

You want this fixed??? send me the goddamn list

Derek doesn’t reply immediately, and after about ten minutes Stiles texts again:

Derek. I’m the alpha now. Send me the list!!!!!!!!!

Five minutes later Derek texts back:I was eating breakfast with your dad jackass

But he sends the goddamn list.

Stiles spends fifteen minutes trying, and failing, to master his beta shift in the bathroom mirror. Then gives it up as a lost cause and gets to work.