Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When the door opens, Derek sort of wants to slam it immediately. He wasn’t prepared to see Stiles standing on the other side of the door. “Stiles?”

“Derek?” Stiles questions back and Derek is sure Stiles is surprised as well. Just what the hell is Laura playing at?

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks and the irritation at Laura bleeds through to his words giving them a slightly accusatory edge. Internally Derek winces, externally his expression doesn’t change.

“I was invited,” Stiles stammers and Derek sort of thinks it’s cute but at the same time, why is Stiles nervous? Derek believes he already knows the answer. He asks anyway. “By whom?”

As if summoned, Laura appears over his shoulder, excited and waving at Stiles and his two friends that Derek suddenly noticed. He gives them a look like he’s sizing them up and wondering how they all became friends, but trying not to be too obvious about it.

By this point Laura takes over. She introduces the three of them to the house whilst Derek stands on and learns all the information he can. It appears Stiles arrived with Scott and Isaac whom, by the noted hand holding, are in some type of relationship. Derek glances at his own hand and then Stiles’ discretely, wondering if they’d fit together.

Something in the air shifts and Derek feels it like the ghost of a touch on the back of his neck. It makes his hair rise. The tension in the room he’s getting from Isaac and Scott, and the hurt, confused looks Stiles keeps throwing him puts Derek somewhat on the defensive; he’s snappish.

Laura feels Derek’s reaction and she racks her brain for a way to calm him. As she looks for something inside her mind to defuse the situation, the doorbell rings and they all jump then freeze. Laura, not one to cancel a party, unthaws first and is the very definition of inviting by the time she gets to the door. After a quick breath, she lets everyone in.

The noise the soon accompanies that is not appreciated and Derek knows that this was a bad idea. He sees two couples dash for upstairs and he moves to follow but Laura somehow beats him to it. Derek turns back to Stiles with nothing to do, unsure of how to start a conversation that is very sure to be awkward. Luckily, Derek doesn’t have to do anything as Stiles’ friends drag him away.

Derek watches them leave. When he can no longer see Stiles through the sea of bodies, he turns and disappears into the crowd, blending in like midnight. But that doesn’t last long. He’s bored after five minutes.

~

Derek spends most of the party watching Stiles. He wants to talk to him and figure out where it went wrong. Last time Derek checked, everything was going fine. The werewolf wonders, in the private crevices of his mind, why Stiles believes that Derek’s name is actually Dylan.

“So,” Isaac begins, startling Derek slightly by appearing out of nowhere as if he’d been there the entire time. “I noticed Stiles is finally alone.” He sips his drink, his face the perfect picture of innocence.

“Is that so?” Derek replies, mentally patting himself on the back for keeping his voice calm and indifferent. Even though Derek already knew that, had been working up the courage to go over and speak for himself, explain everything.

“That is so.” Isaac sips his drink, his gaze flickering from Stiles to Derek. He’s not speaking or moving from his spot, he’s just swaying with the music and waiting.

After about two minutes, Derek cracks and demands, in an unpleasant manner, “What do you want?”

“What’s your name?”

That was not the question that Derek was prepared for. He was sure that after the awkward scene at the beginning of the party that Stiles surely told his friends who he was, but he could be wrong. It’s not like he was listening... the whole time.

“My name is Derek,” the werewolf responds anyway, no heat in his voice this time.

“Is that so?” Isaac asks, mocking Derek’s earlier cool and just like that Derek is irritated again.

“Stiles is a great guy.” Isaac’s not looking at Derek and Derek couldn’t be sure that the curly-haired one was even talking to him. The statement, though obviously meant to draw Derek’s attention, is said offhandedly.

When he speaks, his voice is carefully neutral. Derek asks, “Is he?” From the small amount of time that Derek got to know Stiles, he pretty much knew that Stiles was—is a great guy. But he will not be intimidated by a child.

“He is,” Isaac answers coolly. Curly attempts to drink out of his cup but finds it empty. He frowns and then tosses it into the trashcan with amazing accuracy. “And Scott would be devastated if anything happened to his best friend.”

“Where are you going with this?” Derek asks. His impatience is not helped by Curly beating around the bush. But Derek isn’t daft, he knows what this is. Isaac is issuing a threat to protect his friend and boyfriend. Cute.

Isaac turns around this, his brows pulled together in what appears to be confusion. “You need to make him happy,” Isaac says, carefully choosing his words as he speaks them. With more determination, Isaac continues, “After he spoke with you, he was happy. After he met you, he was happy. Suddenly, he’s moping and you are the only reason I can think of that’d be the cause of it. He doesn’t talk to me, won’t talk to Scott.”

Turning to look Derek directly in the eyes, Isaac says, “Think back to where you fucked up, and fix it. Stiles is a forgiving person and I’m sure if you did something completely unredeemable, he wouldn’t be here, right?” With that, Isaac walks away.

And so Derek concentrates on his memories, going back a few days ago to that first miss dial when he and Stiles first technically met. And as far as Derek can tell, it went better than most miss dials do. There was awkwardness, granted, but there was no instant hang up like there should have been. Does that mean something or is he just thinking too much, Derek wonders.

His next memory is of the day that Stiles first appeared at his job, all spastic energy, towering confidence and a blaze behind his warm, inviting brown eyes when he is challenged. Not to mention one of the most beautiful-meets-geeky-meets-charming smiles Derek has ever seen.

Then he remembers the name tag. Fuck.

Derek now understands why Stiles thought he was a liar. See, this is why no one does the right thing, because nothing good ever comes of helping anyone else. Even remotely, it seems. Derek braces himself with a bit of liquid courage. He isn’t even sure what’s in his cup except that it’s mixed with Vodka.

Just a few feet before reaching Stiles, Derek is blindsided by Laura. Out of seemingly nowhere she steps into his face and blocks him from walking. Derek, to his credit, tries to look interested in what Laura is saying—“and I shouldn’t have done”-- except for how he is trying to look through and/or around Laura to see Stiles. Soon, though, it doesn’t matter as Stiles’ attention is captured by his friend Scott. Irritated, Derek gives up and gives Laura his attention.

Laura takes a deep breath and smiles as though she hadn’t noticed Derek wasn’t paying attention. Seconds later—because Derek is a little slow right now with his attention divided so unevenly—he smells alcohol wafting off of Laura as though she’d bathed in it.

“And I just want to say once again,” she continues, not seeming to notice that she only just had Derek’s attention. “That I am sorry for throwing this party.” Laura giggles and then shakes her head, attempting a serious face but failing.

 Derek covers his nose and takes a step back. “Jesus Christ, Laura! What, did you swallow the entire keg?!”

Laura nods and smiles, unfazed by Derek’s accusatory words or death glares. “So do you forgive me?”

Looking at his sister now, all drunk and pathetic looking, Derek sighs and places a hand on his shoulder. Meeting his sister’s eyes, Derek calmly and clearly tells her, “Hell no. Nice try, but you’re still cleaning this up.”

Laura—surprise, surprise! She’s suddenly sober now!—growls in irritation and stomps her foot. “Oh come on! Do you know how much beer I had to consume to get this kind of buzz?”

Derek opens his mouth with a witty retort practically about to dive from his tongue, but then he happened to glance over to Stiles and see that finally he was alone. Derek closes his mouth and just stares, not being able to help himself.

“Oh,” Laura says and she’s eyeing Stiles too, intently. Perhaps too intently, Derek thinks. “I can see the appeal. Is this Stiles?”

“No.”

“I heard your heart stutter.”

“Fuck off.”

Laura laughs. “Well go on, Derek. Don’t be a pussy.”

Derek fixes Laura with a glare. “I’m not a pussy.”

Laura points out with a smug smirk, “Meanwhile, you’re still here.”

Point taken, Derek swiftly and easily maneuvers through the crowd until he “accidentally” bumps into Stiles. The flash of heat he got from Stiles was enough to bring a heat to his cheeks. But Derek is a master at poker and he schools his features from nervousness to the picture of calm before Stiles lifts his head. “Can we talk?”

“What kind of game are you playing at, Dylan?”

The sharp reply stings but Derek doesn’t let that show. In a manner that he’d use to correct anyone, he says quickly, “It’s Derek.”

“For now.”

Derek frowns. He doesn’t like this side of Stiles, not one bit. An upset Stiles makes Derek want to cradle the other man in his arms and protect him forever, impossible though that may be. “Talk to me, please? It’ll just be for a second and if you’re still upset with me, you can leave and I’ll never bug you again. I promise.”

Stiles appears to be considering it for a moment before he finally says, “Fine.”

Derek’s smile of relief is quickly schooled from his features, gone almost the instant he let it show. Turning and heading up the stairs, Derek leads Stiles to his bedroom.

~

Derek sits on the bed next to Stiles after shutting the door.

“Nice room,” Stiles says as he looks around. The hardwood floors look like some type of expensive wood, mahogany, Stiles thinks. Not like he knows much about wood anyways. The bed is a large, king sized bed with so many layers of soft material it’s like sinking onto a cloud. The dark drapes—

“Thanks,” Derek says pulling Stiles out of the inspection of his room. “Listen, about that day at Starbucks I—“

Stiles raises a hand, cutting Derek off. “Don’t worry about it, I’ve forgotten all about it.”

Damnit all if that didn’t sting, but like the trooper he is, Derek continued anyway, “I didn’t want to lie to you or deceive you in anyway. I told you my name is Derek and that’s it. Dylan is a worker of mine who had other matters to attend to and I filled in for him.”

Stiles finally meets Derek’s eyes, searching for something—the truth, probably—and seems to find whatever he was looking for because his posture suddenly relaxes. “You’re telling the truth,” Stiles says, confused.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”

Stiles gets up from the bed, shaking his head in disbelief. He looks from the floor to Derek and back again, trying to make sense of something. The alcohol in his system slowing his mind slightly.

“Stiles? What’re you--?”

And then Stiles starts laughing. Not chortling, chuckling, or even laughing, but laughing. He throws his head back and howls with laughter, dropping to the floor and gasping for air with his face as red as a tomato.

Derek’s concerned now, torn between getting one of Stiles’ friends or joining him on the floor. Against his will, a smile slowly starts up Derek’s face at seeing Stiles so carefree again, no tension or disdain in his eyes. “Stiles, are you okay?”

Stiles tries to stop his laughter, heaving in gulps of air in his efforts. When his breathing is finally under control and his laughter has subsided into giggles, he gets back on the bed still chuckling every now and then.

“I’m fine,” Stiles tells him. He’s still breathing kind of hard while wiping underneath his eyes to chase and erase those tears of joy. “Just give me a minute.”

When it appears as though Stiles is done laughing up his gut, Derek finds it’s safe to venture into the territory of speaking once again. “Did I miss the joke?” Derek starts out to lighten the mood.

Stiles shrugs. “It wasn’t that funny anyway,” though a smile is still playing at his lips. “I am so sorry,” Stiles says suddenly. “I’m such a stubborn asshole sometimes and I just... If you could’ve just—if I would have let you just...” Stiles sighs, trailing off, his eyes meeting Derek’s. “I’m sorry,” Stiles says again, his voice full of sincerity.

Derek swallows around the lump in his throat, warring with himself between touching Stiles and kissing him. “It’s okay,” Derek says and he finds the words are kind of forced. Clearing his throat, Derek tries again to make his voice cooperate. ”I forgive you.”

Stiles nods, not meeting Derek’s eyes anymore. The silence that settles over the room is heavy and not awkward exactly, but not comfortable either.  Just as Stiles opens his mouth to say something, Isaac appears in the doorway without having knocked.

Stiles gets up quickly, going over to Isaac. “Isaac, what’s wrong?”

Isaac looks amused but tired, aggravated and fond at the same time and it’s kind of silly. It makes Scott smile because he has a feeling he already knows. “What has Scott done this time?”

Isaac opens his mouth to say something, and then just shakes his head and laughs. “Can we just take him home?”

Stiles arches a brow but then nods, turning back to Derek and giving Isaac a pointed look. Point taken, Isaac heads back downstairs.

Derek watches the exchange curiously, but doesn’t move from his spot on the bed.

“So,” Stiles says as he makes his way over to Derek, still smiling a little bit. “I guess this is good night?”

“I guess so,” Derek agrees. He looks as though he wants to do something, but then doesn’t.

“Okay. So I’ll see you around,” Stiles says. He begins walking backwards towards the door.

“Stiles wait,” Derek calls before he has a chance to talk or think himself out of it.

Stiles turns around quickly, almost as if he’d been waiting to hear Derek call for him. “Yeah?”

“Are you busy next Friday night?”

Stiles bites his lip as he thinks over the question. Derek can tell it’s just for show if the way Stiles is fighting his smile is any indication. “Umm... Nope. Not that I can think of.”

“Do you want to, I don’t know; go to the movies or something?” Derek scratches the back of his neck, his cheeks flaming with his embarrassment. Why he’s embarrassed to be asking out Stiles he has no idea, but the grin he gets in response makes it all worth the while.

“Uh, yeah,” Stiles beams. “Sure. That’d be great.”

Derek nods, releasing a breath he was unaware he’d been holding. “Good. That’s—that’s good. I’ll pick you up at seven?”

“Eight,” Stiles corrects with a grin.

“Eight o’clock Friday night,” Derek confirms.

Stiles nods and then seems to be at war with himself for a moment. Before Derek can react, Stiles is in his arms, pressing their lips together in a quick, chaste kiss. Just as Derek realizes what’s going on and begins kissing back, Stiles pulls away and grins before all but running to the exit.

“This should be interesting.”

“Damnit, Laura!” Derek snarls, appearing angry now where his good mood had just been. “Don’t do that!”

Laura raises her eyebrows, startled. She gives Derek a calculating look. “You really like him, don’t you?”

Derek doesn’t even try to deny it. “I really do.”

Laura nods, accepting that. “Better not screw it up.”

Derek doesn’t even bother acknowledging Laura; too busy tracing his lips with his tongue where he can still feel the tingle Stiles’ kiss left.