Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The static of your arms, it is the catalyst / Oh the chemical it burns, there is nothing but this / It's the purest element, but it's so volatile / An equation heaven sent, a drug for angels

Sometimes, he still had nightmares about it. He’d think he was in a good a place and that he was finally moving on until the whole ordeal would float back to him in his dreams. His mother thought he should seek professional help. That it was unhealthy to still be dealing with this after so many years. But it wasn’t some easy, quick fix. The facts were that Derek would never be able to get over the day that Stiles Stilinski obliterated him in the fifth grade spelling bee.

It’d been raining that day. Derek had stepped in a puddle getting off the bus, soaking his pant leg and loafers. That should’ve been his first sign that the day would go horribly wrong, but he chucked on anyway, drying himself off in the boy’s bathroom and rushing to Ms. Morell’s classroom before he got marked absent.

His classmates were already lining up to head for the auditorium, and Derek got behind them, holding his head high despite all the other kids towering over him. He was the shortest kid in his class. The shortest kid in his whole grade in general. Everyone commented on it and made fun of him, but Derek knew his intellect surpassed his peers. After all, his mommy said so.

The entire fifth grade was up on the big stage, seated in rows of metal folding chairs. Everyone seemed eager to duke it out. There would be a pizza party for the entire classroom of the winning student. Derek loved pizza so he was super excited. He’d prepared a lot for this. It felt like every word in the English Dictionary was deeply lodged in his brain.

The first round of the Spelling Bee began and mean old Mr. Harris read off the words while students did their best to spell them. With every round, the rows emptied, making Derek grateful to still be on the stage. He’d almost fumbled over the words inviscate, percolate, and ephemeral, but he managed in the end. It was getting to the final rounds now and kids were running from the stage, bursting into tears once they reached their parent’s in the audience after being eliminated. His mom could never come to these things because she was always working and couldn’t really be a part of the PTA, but it would’ve been comforting to have had her here.

“Resilience,” Mr. Harris boomed into the podium microphone.

It was the final rounds and only two people remained in the competition with Derek. He knew them both but not very well. There was Stiles Stilinski from Mr. Yukimura’s class, the kid that always getting in trouble at recess and Kali from Ms. Blake’s, the nasty mean girl.

Kali stepped forward, flipping her hair over her shoulder, and confidently spelled her word, “R-E-S-I-A-L-L-A-N-C-E.”

“Incorrect,” Harris said, and she was shooed from the stage.

It was just Derek and Stiles in the final round, and every single letter was crucial. If he got the word wrong and Stiles spelled it correctly, it would be completely over for him. For life! The rounds blurred as they continued to spell all their words correctly. Stiles was the new kid at school, having just moved to Beacon Hills, but it was rumored that he was a genius. Derek didn’t believe that because Einstein was a genius and Stiles sure as heck wasn’t as smart as him. Neither was Derek but Laura told him that his eyebrows looked like Einstein’s mustache and that must mean something.

Now that it was Derek’s turn to spell again, he suddenly got really nervous. The stakes were really high and he wanted that pizza party. This couldn’t go on for much longer. Derek was only eleven. He hadn’t lived long enough to know that much vocabulary.

When Harris gave him his word, Derek’s heart sank to his stomach. He’d never heard the word before and Harris actually looked pleased with the fear on Derek’s face.

Derek stood on his tippy toes, too short to reach the microphone, and asked, “Can I have the definition?”

“A super heavy, synthetic, radioactive element with very short half-life,” Harris said.

That didn’t give Derek any clues so he asked, “Language of origin?”

“Named after a Danish physicist.”

Derek swallowed, sweaty and nauseous. Tentatively, he spelled, “B-O-R-E-I-U-M

“Incorrect!” Harris said with a wide smile and Derek’s world stopped. “This means that Mr. Stilinski will be given the same word and if spelled correctly, he will move on for the championship.”

Derek shuffled to one of the seats on the stage, shrinking in on himself and trying not to cry. How could he have messed up on something so important? How could he not get his class the pizza party?

Stiles was up at the microphone, tall enough to reach, and of course, he knew exactly how to spell the word. “B-O-H-R-I-U-M.”

Derek wanted the Earth to open up and swallow him whole. The game-winning word for Stiles was sacrilegious, but at least Harris looked just as sour that it was Stiles who’d won. That made him feel a little better. The audience was cheering and hooting loudly, and there was a woman in the aisle doing karate kicks and she had to be Stiles’ mom. Stiles grinned brightly as he accepted his gold medal and shook all the teachers’ hands.

Then he looked over at Derek with a smile and waved, and ugh, Stiles already had braces! Meanwhile, Derek still hadn’t lost all his baby teeth and had a severe overbite with buck teeth. It was clear in that moment that Stiles had everything and Derek had nothing. He flipped a chair on his way off the stage. It wasn’t his finest moments. But then and there, Derek had made a vow, and that vow was to hate Stiles Stilinski’s guts for the rest of his life.

“I take it everyone’s weekend went well.”

The bell rang as student shuffled into Mr. Deaton’s Honors Chemistry class. It was Monday and almost everybody looked like zombies, except for Derek who was one of those few kids who liked being at school more than he liked being at home.

“Good,” Mr. Deaton smiled when everyone settled at their desks. “Then I guess I don’t feel bad about giving out this pop quiz.”

The classroom filled with groans as Deaton picked up a pile of papers, handing copies to the first person in every aisle to pass back. While his classmates all loathed tests and pop quizzes, Derek was elated by them. He liked being kept on his toes and was always well prepared for anything that was thrown his way. He’d spent his whole weekend doing what he loved most; studying. This pop quiz couldn’t have come at a better time.

Derek thanked the girl in front of him for passing back the quizzes then turned to hand the last sheet to the person behind him with a loud sigh. Figures, Stiles would already be asleep even when the bell had only rung a minute ago.

Stiles was possibly the best and worst student currently attending Beacon Hills High. While Lydia Martin had the highest ranking GPA in their class with a 5.0, Derek and Stiles weren’t too far behind, tied for second with respective 4.8’s. The only difference was that Derek worked like hell for all his achievements when it came to school while Stiles made a joke out of the American education system. If he wasn’t sleep-drooling all over his desk, Stiles was playing video games or texting on his phone, reading comic books instead of the course material, and had once snuck in an entire bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken into gym class.

It irritated him that Stiles didn’t even have to try to get the grades that he did. Half-assing his way through school, Stiles managed to keep up with Derek every single year since middle school. Which meant that if Stiles actually applied himself, he could have scored way about Lydia.

Derek reached out to shake one of Stiles’ shoulders, not bothering to be gentle but it was no use. Stiles was dead. He didn’t look like he was alive or breathing at all. Which meant it was possible that the universe had finally answered his prayers, ridding him of Stiles forever.

“What’s wrong with him?” Derek twisted around to ask Lydia, gesturing at the cadaver behind him

“He procrastinated on his fifteen-page Euro paper again. And he’s been awake for the last forty-eight hours. That was bound to be a disaster.”

It was Stiles’ own fault if he failed Deaton’s quiz because he’d been taking a nap. But Derek didn’t feel right letting Stiles snore away while everyone else took their quizzes

He shoved the textbook sitting on the edge of his desk onto the ground with a loud bang, pleased to discover its effectiveness.

Stiles jolted, sucking in a loud gasping breath as his hand went to his heart. His wild bleary eyes met Derek’s, glaring at him with fierce accusations. Derek didn’t think Stiles knew how ridiculous he looked scowling at people with his hair all mashed on one side of his head like that.

“Pop Quiz,” Derek told him.

Stiles smacked his forehead down onto his desk It seems like Stiles’ day was getting worse and worse. “Oh, Deaton, you hard ass.”

“It’s not Deaton’s fault you procrastinated on your paper. It’s like you never learn from all the other times.”

Stiles shrugged. “Pressure makes diamonds.”

“It can’t be quality work that you’re turning in.” Derek pushed his glasses up his nose with a finger; he hadn’t worn his contacts today and his reading glasses annoyed him. “You should be thoroughly researching the topic at hand.”

“Haven’t got anything less than an A- yet this quarter, so I think I’m doing okay if you ask me.”

It was a lost cause trying to lecture Stiles, Derek had learned, so he turned to his quiz, looking over the first multiple choice question. He was just about to circle his answer when he heard, “Psst!”

“No,” Derek said and hunched forward, realigning his focus.

Stiles whined, “I need a pencil for my scantron.”

“You can use pen.”

“Oh,” Stiles said then paused. “Psst!  Can I borrow a pen?”

Derek gritted his teeth and reached into his backpack to grab Stiles an appropriate writing utensil. “Why don’t you ever come prepared?” he asked.

“Because I have you, and you’re a pushover.”

“Just make sure you return my pen at the end of the period.” Derek scowled.

“Yeah sure no problem,” Stiles waved, already circling answers on the quiz without taking the time to read over them.

Derek looked down at the t-shirt Stiles was wearing today, which said, “Never trust an atom. They make up everything.” He grimaced. How could shirts that awful even sell?

The pop quiz was a whirlwind today. Deaton had outdone himself. By the time he called pens down, Derek’s right hand was experiencing a massive cramp from all the detailed short-answer questions. But he was extremely satisfied with how it went and felt good about turning it in. He looked over his shoulder, not at all surprised to see that Stiles was asleep again. Only, Derek needed to pass his quiz up to the front of the room and Stiles had it pinned underneath him and drenching it with his drool.

Once again, Derek grabbed his textbook and slammed it down onto the floor so hard that people in the other rows jumped and woke Stiles as well.

“Fuck! Stop doing that!” Stiles handed his quiz over and Derek held it carefully by a corner so he wouldn’t get any germs from the drool. “Here’s your pen back too.”

Derek’s face fell when he saw that the pen he’d given Stiles twenty minutes ago gnawed up like every other pen he’d ever let Stiles ‘borrow.’ Stiles had a perverse oral fixation, and Derek hoped that one day a pen would break in Stiles’ mouth and he would choke on ink. “…Keep it.”

“Thanks, man!”

“Alright everyone, let’s start today’s lesson.” Deaton clapped his hands together and pulled up the power point presentation.

“Psst! Hey, Derek! Can I borrow some paper?”

He was already pulling out loose-leaf from his binder and tossing them over his shoulder, letting it scatter everywhere so that Stiles would have to scramble. He never did tell his mother why he had to buy so many school supplies.

Stiles was pretty sure that if it wasn’t for Derek Hale, he would’ve already dropped out of school and became a stripper by now. Honestly, who would he be without a Derek to bother? He strongly believed that school wasn’t for everyone. School had always come naturally to Stiles and he was good at it, but people didn’t need degrees and textbooks to be successful in life. Not when they had the whole wide world to learn from. But if raising his hand and beating Derek to answering a question in class just to see his panties get in a twist meant that he’d have to go to all his classes, then he guessed school was for him. At least for now.

He still never asked what he’d done to Derek when they were kids to make Derek hate him so much. Stiles had moved to town in fifth grade when his dad got a job as a deputy for the Sheriff’s station—He was the Sheriff now. Back then Stiles had been an impulsive kid with ADHD trying to adjust to a new school environment and somehow had become Derek’s mortal enemy. Which had never been his intention, by the way.

After all the fun they had at the Fifth Grade Spelling Bee going back and forth in the final round, Stiles had wanted them to be friends. It was rare for him to find another kid that knew way too much stuff like he did. Derek had known so many words and Stiles thought he was so cool and smart and that they’d make awesome friends. He’d begged his mom to call and schedule a playdate, but Talia Hale had told her that her son was allergic to everything and so a playdate could never happen because it would risk Derek’s life. Either way, it turned out they made awesome frenemies too.

Lunchtime was Stiles’ favorite class of the day. He was an A+ eater. Also, watching Derek attempt to eat and read at the same time was truly the highlight of his day. It was like watching a car accident that you couldn’t look away from. Yesterday, Derek dropped his entire sandwich all over his shirt because he’d missed his mouth, too caught up in whatever was going on in The Crucible.

His favorites were the days where Derek realized he had an audience. He would scowl and fidget and try to hide, unnerved by Stiles’ unyielding gaze. Derek pulled his book up to cover his face now as he ate some baby carrots. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh, remembering how self-conscious Derek had been about his buck teeth in middle school and what a grumpy little squirt he was before he’d finally hit his growth spurt. Derek peeked over the edge of his book again and scowled murderously at Stiles who glared back.

“Could you maybe not have eye-sex with Derek across the cafeteria for just one day.”

Stiles jumped and turned to Scott who was sitting next to him at their usual lunch table.

“People are trying to eat and your crazy infatuation with him is upsetting my sensitive stomach,” Scott said.

Stiles rolled his eyes. A lot of people thought he and Derek were together, even his own mother. They thought that they were secretly dating and only acted like they hated each other because one or both of them were in the closet. Except that, neither of them were in the closet. Stiles had been openly bisexual since the womb, and Derek made a formal announcement that he was gay in the 8th-grade school paper. There was a photoshoot with a fluffy turtleneck sweater and a dog and everything. Stiles still had copies.

“I’m not infatuated with anyone, Scott,” Stiles said. “I hate Derek. Hate. I mean, look at him. He’s just so hate-able.”

Just then Derek tried to turn a page, push his glasses up, and take a bite of his sandwich simultaneously and ended up with his glasses slipping off his nose, mayo smeared across his cheek and his book in a heap on the floor.

He looked back to Scott who was watching him knowingly and said it again in case he didn’t say it enough, “Hate!”

“Stiles, you’ve switched your classes every single year so you can take the same exact ones as him. And you torture him with pop culture references when you know he doesn’t watch TV. And I’ve been meaning to talk to you about how you purposely spoil the end of all the books he’s reading. That’s just inhumane!”

“I’m a victim here too, best friend!” Stiles couldn’t believe Scott was defending Derek. “You’re supposed to be on my side.”

“I am on your side,” Scott stressed. “Which is why the two of you need to stop this. It’s junior year and you’ve been at this since the fifth grade. It’s exhausting to watch this pulling pigtails routine go on. You’re a big boy now, Stiles. Go ask out your man.”

“I don't want to date Derek!” Stiles shuddered. “That would be the worst thing to ever happen in life.”

“So, you’re telling me that you hate Derek so much that you wouldn’t leap at the chance to jump his bones?”

“That’s different!” Stiles cried.

“How exactly?”

“Because unfortunately for me, Derek’s hotter than the Earth’s mantle. All we need is one rough hate-fuck— Preferably in the chem lab, role-playing sexy chemist while he bends me over one of the tables—and I’ll get him out of my system. That’s as far as our relationship will ever go.”

Stiles glanced across the cafeteria to where Derek was still fail-eating his lunch and sighed so put out.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go make fun of Derek eating organic baby carrots.”

“That’s bullying!” Scott chastised.

“Nope! That’s foreplay!” Stiles called back as he walked away.

When you took as many honors classes as Derek did, there were just some nights that you couldn’t possibly get all the work that you needed to be done. Which was why Derek always got up super early to head to the school library and get everything organized.

He had some reading for Modern Literature and a two-hundred-word response to report his opinions of the piece. For Derek, two hundred words on the topic of literature would never be enough, and it was a shame that so many teachers limited their pupils’ insight with strict word count rules and no room for flexibility. Regardless, Derek was no rule breaker. He’d do the assignment exactly how his teacher wanted then unleash a fifteen-minute rant of his precise thoughts on McCarthyism later in the discussion.

Early mornings in the library were his bliss since no one was around, save for Marge, the librarian. In the tranquil peace and quiet, Derek was always able to fly through his reading and was just starting on his response essay when some other early riser entered the library. Derek’s eyes parted from his work for a moment then did a double-take, then regretted ever looking up.

The chair across from him scraped loudly against the floor as Stiles fell into it, all limbs. His hair still looked wet and gelled from his morning shower, bringing along with him a pleasant soap scent. He was wearing another stupid t-shirt, this one saying, “I’m out of chemistry jokes, I should ‘Zinc’ of a new one.”

Stiles tssked. “Wow. I never thought I’d see this day. Derek Hale comes to school without finishing his homework? This could lose you student of the month, you know. No longer are you the perfect paragon of a model student! Now, everyone will see the truth. That you too are a mere mortal like everyone else and were unable to finish hundreds of pages of reading in one night.”

Stile shook his head disapprovingly. “How can you live with yourself?”

Derek looked up from his keyboard and blinked then looked around at the many empty tables that graced the library at five in the morning and asked, “Why are you sitting here?”

“Because of that overtly friendly welcome,” Stiles quipped, eyes sparkling. “How can I resist such a polite invite?

No time would be spared in dealing with Stiles this morning. Early morning library sessions were Derek’s thing. This was where he got the most in his zone and if Stiles did anything, Derek would just have to be the bigger person and not let himself engage no matter how much Stiles tried to provoke him. From the corner of his eye, he saw Stiles rustling through his backpack and pulling out a textbook. Derek raised a brow. He didn’t think Stiles carried anything in there besides Hot Cheetos®.

“Crap, wrong book.” Stiles huffed, stuffing the textbook back into the bag and pulling out a comic.

Yeah, that was more like it.

Derek went back to work, typing furiously and feeling he deserved a Nobel Peace Prize when he’d finished. Stiles never stopped moving and never stopped making noise. But Derek, true to his word, had let it all roll off his back even when Stiles started whistling marching band tunes loudly, which had Marge looking at Derek like he was the one to bring this hell upon them.

This was Derek’s place first. He always came at this time to work and eat his breakfast. He doubted Stiles would come to school every morning at five a.m to sit in an empty library watching Derek attempt do work and doing everything he could to get in the middle of that. But it was dangerous to underestimate Stiles on anything.

Every once in a while, he wondered what it’d be like if he and Stiles were actually friends. While Derek had his best friends Erica, Isaac, and Boyd, schoolwork and extra-curricular activities made it difficult for them to hang out all the time. And then there was Stiles who he saw all day every day and while Stiles was definitely a thorn in the ass, it’d be weird if he suddenly exited Derek’s life

And yes, Derek had been the one to hate Stiles first, but he would also be the first to admit that they were getting a little too old for this. Derek would never forgive Stiles for some things, but they were juniors in high school now and maybe it was time they retired this bitter academic rivalry.

Spending every waking hour of school fighting with Stiles had caused them both to miss out on stuff, like dating. He’d been into Danny Mahealani last year but it ended before it could even start because Danny thought he was with Stiles. And no one ever believed him when he said that he wasn’t attracted to Stiles in any way, shape, or form. Which meant that Derek would probably have to transfer schools if he ever wanted to get laid. And even then, he was pretty sure Stiles would follow him.

Since Stiles clearly wasn’t letting him do his homework, Derek got out the breakfast he’d packed for today. He ignored all of Stiles’ judgmental looks about his healthy food selections. Food selections Stiles should think about implementing in his own diet.

Stiles rocked back on his chair legs, smirking at Derek as he opened his mouth to say something rude. “Oh my god is that a—AH!”

Derek kicked his chair out, sending Stiles sprawling across the library floor groaning in pain. So, maybe they weren’t too old for some things just yet.

There was one thing that Stiles knew he’d been put on his Earth to do. A very important mission that bettered unfortunate lives and pushed humanity forward. Neil Armstrong had it easy. Going to the moon was a cakewalk compared to this. Which was why it had been Stiles who was hand-picked by Fate herself to do this most difficult task. And what was his true calling, you might ask? Well, it was beating Derek at the science fair.

As soon as Deaton announced in class that morning that he’d be posting the sign-up sheet after school, Stiles’ mind immediately went to strategy. The first step in annihilating his competition was to psych him out before any events actually took place. As soon as he saw Derek by the bulletin board, just about to scribble his name, Stiles rushed forward and grabbed the pen out of his hand signing his name first.

“Stiles, what the fuck!” Derek snatched his pen back. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“Sorry, dude. Totally didn’t see you.” Although, he applauded himself for having so easily struck fear into the heart of his greatest adversary. “It’s better that you sign your name after mine anyway since we already know how this is gonna go down.”

“You shouldn’t even be allowed to sign up after what happened last year! You’re not responsible enough to be a part of the science fair.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “So a few minor civilian casualties and a man is banned from the wonders of science forever?! Bill Nye would never approve! And despite my entry’s… mishaps… I still placed before you.”

“Because the judges weren’t in their right mind from all the fumes you released in the air!” Derek stepped forward into Stiles’ space, way too close for comfort, and yet not close enough. “I will beat you this year.”

Clearly, Stiles’ tactics had worked since Derek’s green eyes were thunderous and a tense vein was visible on the side of his neck. A very kissable vein. Stiles wondered how many times a day Derek fantasized about murdering him. Probably a lot. He wouldn't mind if Derek ever wanted to manhandle him a little bit, press him up against the wall, wrap his hands around Stiles' wrist, teeth biting into—

“Ugh, not today, you two,” Lydia’s voice broke through their little moment. “Tear into each other’s assholes later! We all know I’m winning this, but you two have fun waving your cocks in the air.”

They both stepped aside awkwardly so Lydia could sign her name in perfect cursive on the sheet. From her classy signature, you would never think that she could swear like the best of sailors. Derek’s whole being was turning red, and it was very ill done of Lydia to curse in front of a prude.

Of course, he knew Derek’s ears turned pink when he was embarrassed, but he’d never seen them this vibrant. They were like full neon. Maybe Stiles should do his science fair project on Derek’s ears! That was bound to impress the judges.

The dreaded Science Fair season had once again returned. Derek didn’t even have words for how much he hated the science fair. As if he didn’t have enough on his plate already. PSAT’s were coming up and he was about to start taking prep classes after school. He was getting tons of college brochures in the mail every day and realized he needed to bulk up his resume even more with extracurricular. On top of it all, he’d started getting facial hair and had no idea what to do with the stubble that was growing like moss all over his face!

It was a proven fact that the science fair ate up all of his time. He struggled when it came to all things creative and coming up with a good project idea took ages. It was agonizing! Last year, he hadn’t even placed and that feeling of failure was still very much nestled in his gut. Ever since that fifth-grade spelling bee, which was still too sensitive and traumatic for him to talk about in lengths, he no longer had the heart to fully invest himself in these sorts of competitions. Not when the only outcome was failure.

And yet, for the past two years, Derek was forced to sign up because of Stiles. Derek thought Stiles was insufferable every other day of the year, but he grew marginally worse during competition seasons. Stiles was hands down the most competitive person Derek had ever met in his life, and if Derek didn’t sign up, it would look like he was a coward. But the real problem with signing up for the science fair was Stiles tormenting his life every day.

For the past few days, all Stiles did was badger him about what he was doing for the fair. Avoiding him didn’t work. Tuning him out was impossible. Even when they weren’t in school and Derek was enjoying the comforts of his own home, Stiles would text him to pester him about experiments. It. Was. Hell.

Not even Deaton’s class was sacred. The constant line of questions and the guessing of what Derek was going to do didn’t stop. Maybe if he knocked out all of Stiles’ teeth, they would. But he never had a clear shot when Stiles was always moving.

Stiles’ competitive nature was especially awful today. Derek could barely keep up with his notes and even Deaton was getting irritated. Thanks to Stiles, Derek’s notes wouldn’t be as detailed as they should and should his grade suffer because of this, Stiles would pay.

“Oh, I think I know!” Stiles hissed but barely attempted to keep his voice low. “A nuclear explosive dildo!”

Deaton cleared his throat. “Mr. Hale. Mr. Stilinski. If you haven’t noticed, I’m trying to teach a class up here and it’d be easier without your vulgar side conversation.”

“Yes, Deaton. You tell everyone about Derek’s potty mouth!” Stiles cheered.

Deaton gave him a flat look. “Keep it up and I’ll give you both detention.”

Derek has never had a detention a day in his life. He never even been in time out. And now his freedom was in jeopardy and it was all Stiles’ fault! It wasn’t fair! Why did he have to be dragged down with him? He looked over his shoulder and glared at Stiles, hands ready to strangle him if he opened his mouth one more time. Stiles seemed to get the memo and piped down… for five minutes.

“Is it zero gravity butt plugs?!”

“Detention!” Deaton raised his voiced. “For the both of you, this afternoon.”

Derek must’ve done some fucked up things in his past life to deserve Stiles.

Stiles felt so awful. Like really really bad. It was one thing for him to get detention. He got detention all the time and his parents didn’t even bat a lash. He wasn’t worried about his permanent record either, because he wasn’t all the way sure he even wanted to go to college. His primary career goal as of this moment was to own a medicinal marijuana dispensary.

So yeah, he felt like an asshat for getting Derek in trouble too. He talked to Deaton after class, but Mr. Cryptic as always just said it wasn’t going to affect Derek’s record and was more of a lesson for Stiles than anything else. Still, it couldn’t stop him from feeling like the biggest dick ever with Derek standing in front of the detention room door, pale as a white sheet and frozen in place.

“It’s really not that scary,” Stiles promised. “No one’s going to bite you. It’s just sitting in a chair for an hour and a half thinking about your lack of morals.”

“I have morals! You’re the one that did this to me!”

That made Stiles feel even worse. He couldn’t believe it, but he kind of wished he could give Derek a hug. He was so scared of the big bad detention room, and Stiles wasn’t going to let anything happen to him in there.

“My mom is gonna—”

“I told you Deaton said he wasn’t going to call your mom! This is just punishment for me because I dragged someone else into my mess or something. Now come on dude, they make you stay later if you aren’t on time.”

“That’s archaic!”

“No. It’s not.” Stiles couldn’t take more of this. “Seriously dude. There are ways to occupy your time in there. You can sleep if you want. They say you can’t eat or use your phone but no one cares.”

Derek still wouldn’t budge, so Stiles thought about things Derek liked to do. “You can study…”

“Oh, okay.” Derek nodded and walked right into the room like he hadn’t just been shaking in his boots.

Stiles took the seat directly next to Derek in case he’d need his support, but it was the usual crowd today, and there were no beef-head jocks like Jackson there to mess with anyone. He watched Derek carefully unpack his homework, half-joking when he’d told him he could study but remembering the massive boner Derek had for academics and how he’d almost had a panic attack that he might get a detention on his record.

Stiles squirmed because he could only stay quiet for so long. “So…”

“Could you not talk about the science fair,” Derek snapped.

Stiles gasped, offended. “I wasn’t going to talk about the fair. I was so gonna ask you what’s your dream vacation spot. But since you did bring it up, someone really needs to do a project on wet dreams and I feel like you’re that guy.”

Derek slumped his shoulders and went back to hitting the books, but Stiles felt like this wasn’t their usual teasing. Derek looked kind of dejected. Like Stiles had actually hit a soft spot or something. But was it about the wet dreams or was it about something else?

“Dude, what’s up?” Stiles nudged him. It was no fun bothering Derek if he looked all forlorn like that.

“It’s nothing,” Derek mumbled. “What do you care, anyway?”

“Well, part of our archnemesis balance requires that I give a shit in some aspects of your life and you look super bummed.”

“Maybe it’s because I’m in detention!” Derek snapped.

“I don’t really think that's it,” Stiles dismissed.

“Just cool it with the science fair talk for a while, okay. You’re driving me crazy.”

Stiles furrowed his brows. “But that’s my job. To drive you up a wall.”

Derek snorted. “Do you get paid hourly?”

“Yup and I’ve got great benefits too.” Stiles pursed his lips. “If you want me to stop bothering you about the science fair, you know you’re going to have to tell me why.”

Derek took a deep inhale in and let out a shaky breath. “Remember when you beat me in the spelling bee?”

“Sure do,” Stiles grinned. “Sacrilegious.”

Derek winced. “Well, it was kind of a traumatizing experience for the puny over-sensitive eleven-year-old me. No one enjoys feeling like a failure and having someone like you to remind me how much I suck on a daily basis gets a little much sometimes. You don’t have to rub some things in.”

Stiles gaped. “Woahh. When have I ever said you sucked? You don’t suck. I’m being super mature by not turning that into an innuendo right now. I’ve always been in awe of your brilliance, dude. Your crazy organized flashcard system is one of my favorite things in the world.”

Derek scowled. “Then how come you keep messing with it!”

“Because it’s my job!” Stiles grinned. “You should already know not to take anything that comes out of my mouth seriously.”

“You do spew a lot of crap,” Derek agreed.

Stiles beamed, sniffling a little and patting Derek’s hand. “I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

There was no putting it off any longer. The science fair was in two weeks and Derek had to come up with something soon. Anything at all would be nice. Unlike the previous years, he wasn’t going to work himself into a frenzy. Would he still produce superb top-quality work that met his standards of perfection? Absolutely. He wasn’t an animal.

He’d tried to bounce some ideas off his family members, but as usual, once he started talking about science or math, they’d look at him like he was speaking in a foreign language. At least Peter straight up told him he didn’t care and walked out of the room instead of letting him rant and saying that’s nice like his mom and Cora. Eventually, he just started trying out multiple ideas at once to figure out which direction to go in. He couldn’t lie, he was starting to look like a mad scientist.

“Does Mom know you’re cooking meth in the kitchen?” Laura asked on her way to the fridge.

“It’s for the science fair,” Derek told her as he frowned at his materials.

“That time of year again, huh?” She grabbed a bottle of coke from the fridge and leaned against the table, causing Derek’s project to tilt dangerously before settling back in place. “I take it Stiles is competing as well?”

“I’m going to beat him this year,” Derek said confidently. He was trying this new thing called positive thinking.

“Atta kid.” Laura ruffled his hair, snickering when he whacked her hand away. “I believe in you. Now, you stay in this kitchen and you don’t come out until you’ve got something good enough to ram Stiles’ ass with this year.”

Derek sputtered, “Laura!”

“What? That wasn’t really meant to be sexual. It’s your mind that took it there. Now get back to it, Heisenberg.”

Derek flopped down into a chair after she left, rubbing his eyes and desperately needing some sleep. The damn science fair was messing with the strict bedtime schedule he liked to keep for himself. Lately, in his classes, he’d catch himself drifting off, very much like a certain someone he knew. It was an eye-opening experience. Maybe Stiles really wasn’t that big of a slacker as he thought.

Since his first time in detention, he and Stiles had miraculously gotten to be on better terms. It was nice knowing that Stiles wasn’t really going for blood when he said hurtful things. It was great what one afternoon in the slammer could do. But even on the friendliest of terms, they still wanted to beat each other at the fair.

Derek’s phone buzzed in his pocket and he picked up with a loud sigh, already knowing who it was.

“Hello?”

“Yes. Hi. Is this Chippendales? I’d like to hire an exotic dancer.”

“What do you want, Stiles?”

“It just so happens that I didn’t have my day planner with me today to catch what the English assignments were for tomorrow, so I thought I’d phone a classmate.”

“Just continuing the reading to page ninety-two,” Derek drawled. “What happened to your so-called photographic memory?”

“It’s still here because you forgot to mention the three-page self-refection essay that we have to hand in as well.”

“Oh crap,” Derek groaned, slapping a palm over his face. He must’ve deliberately removed it from his mind because he hated when he had to write about himself. “I’ll have to do it tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll keep you company in the library.”

“Really, please, don’t.”

“Seriously, bud. You don’t have to beg,” Stiles said compassionately. “This is what pals are for.”

Derek was about to give a quick retort when he heard someone shout, “Suck on that motherfuckers! Eat ass!”

“Um…” Derek said slowly.

“Oh, that’s just my mom. She’s watching the Mets." Derek knew how wild Stiles’ mom could get in the audience at a school event. It made sense that she was where Stiles got his competitive side from. “She said I’d better make you drop to your knees at the science fair this year.”

“Laura said my project better be good enough to ram your ass.” Derek snorted then his face caught on fire when he realized what he’d just said. He tried to play it cool. “You started working on your entry, right?”

“Nah. I’ll get to it when I get to it. I’ve got plenty of time, and I want to be original you know. It would suck to enter and see that everyone did the same boring Iodine Clock Reaction.”

Derek stayed eerily quiet.

“That’s what you’re working on isn’t it?” Stiles burst out laughing.

“Goodbye, Stiles.” Derek hung up gritting his teeth. It looked like he was back to square one.

It was a real-life math problem that Stiles had on his hands. One that should be easy to solve, but Stiles wasn’t sure where to start and how he should proceed. Obviously, the problem was about Derek. Stiles liked Derek. Liked. Every time Stiles looked at Derek, he realized just how likable he was. Stiles wanted to act on his feelings. He’d even sat down and wrote a whole three page pros and cons list to determine what was the right move. It’d felt like homework. Stiles didn’t do homework for just anyone.

He’d consulted with Scott, of course, even though he had to sit through a fucking Macy’s Day Parade of “I Told You So's.” It was just that before, Stiles had never pictured them getting along enough to have pleasant exchanges, and now…they still really didn’t get along. At all. But it worked in its own weird way. The math made sense to Stiles even if it didn’t make sense to anyone else.

“God, you’re still not finished,” Stiles whined. “You’re so slow.”

They were in the library at five o’clock in the morning doing homework. It should be stated again that Stiles did not do homework for just anybody. These assignments were things he usually scribbled down five minutes before class. That was one of the pros on Stiles’ list. That Derek could rub off on him as a good influence or just rub off on him, period.

“I don’t like rushing,” Derek muttered. “Sorry, if I’m too meticulous for you.”

“No, that’s not a bad thing,” Stiles hummed. “Meticulous can be good in a lot of places.”

Horizontal places like Stiles’ bed; Derek pouring over him, his pace slow as his careful attention to detail made every inch of Stiles’ body sing. And— Yeah, there went another pro. If they got together, Stiles could stop being so horny all the time.

Derek seemed to be stuck on the very last problem in his calculus workbook. Stiles just wanted him to hurry up and start paying attention to him already, so he sighed and grabbed the book from his hand, showing him an easy shortcut that would cut through all the mumbo-jumbo he'd been jotting all over the page. And with that, Derek’s math homework was done and Stiles got to annoy him with his shenanigans now.

Except, Derek was pulling out another book from his never-ending backpack of tricks.

“What are you doing?”

“I’ve got Spanish homework too.”

“No!” Stiles lamented. This was definitely a con and a pro at the same time. He thought it was adorable that Derek was a complete nerd, but Derek needed to lighten up a little.

“You have Spanish homework too, Stiles.”

“Yeah, but just because you’re doing homework doesn’t mean that I have to do homework,” Stiles grumbled but got out his books anyway, glancing up to ask Derek for a pen, only to find one already extended out to him. He took it, ignoring the butterflies in his stomach.

“What are you gonna do in college when you can’t sleep through every class and actually have to focus and work hard?” Derek asked him

Stiles simpered. “Look back on the way you’re going to cry this weekend when I take first place.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I’m being serious.”

“I'm not planning to go to college,” Stiles said. “I don’t need lectures and professors when I’ve taught myself everything I know since I was three. And I thought about becoming a cop like my dad but I’m not really a model citizen. I guess I'm not good at a lot of things.”

Derek snorted. “You’re good at a lot, Stiles. I’ve hated you for a really long time, but there’s one thing I’ve never denied, and that’s your potential.”

“You think I have a lot of potential?” Stiles did his best to hide the dopey grin stretching across his face then paused, “You said hated. Past tense?”

“Well, yeah.” Derek’s ears were like mood rings to key emotions. “I mean unless you’re—”

“Nope. Past tense for me too.” Stiles smiled.

On the day of the science fair, Derek walked in already prepared to lose. He’d done his best and he was happy with the work that he’d put forth. His project idea had been simple and boring at first to test the water quality at Beacon Hills Lake. But he’d found a lot of bizarre not-so-good things in the waters and with his findings, he was able to propose a number of creative and cost-efficient ways to improve the water quality as well as prevent future pollutions.

Still, he wasn't getting his hopes up. Stiles hadn’t been able to do his project on wet dreams like he’d so desperately wanted, but his study of circadian rhythm in sunflowers was just as good. And of course, there was Lydia’s thoroughly detailed study of the healing properties of different tree extracts. This was going to be just as embarrassing as last year. Derek wasn’t even in their league.

“We want to thank all of our participants for making this year’s Science Fair so great,” Derek recognized the announcer, Danielle, from student council. “You all did amazing.”

There was mumbling amongst the audience as she got the results. Derek looked over and saw his family in the first row, smiling and giving him cheesy thumbs up. It made him feel better that they’d been there to support him even though they had no idea what the hell his project had even been about.

Danielle began reading the results for the notable mentions and smaller awards, and Derek let out a small sigh of relief when she got through the list and he hadn’t heard his name. Finally, his torment was nearing its end as she moved on to announcing the top scores.

There was an echoed silence in the auditorium when Danielle named Lydia as third place. The people in the crowd whispered amongst themselves, everyone positive that it was a mistake. Lydia stepped forward and received her certificate but hissed in a hushed tone so the microphone wouldn’t pick up, “Is there some sort of mistake?”

“No. there’s not,” Danielle said.

“It’s just everything about my entry was perfect, and I won the last two years in a row. But now—” She took a deep breath and struggled to say the words, “Third place?”

“There’s always next year,” Danielle said then addressed the audience, “Please everyone. A round of applause for Lydia.”

Lydia curtsied as the crowd cheered but Derek knew a silent storm was brewing inside her. With Lydia placing third, this meant that Derek’s hopes were also dashed. For some reason, it didn’t hurt as much as last year. These things should never really be about the prestige, to begin with.

Danielle moved on to the next award. “Our second place prize winner, who will receive a $200 Applebee's gift card, is…Stiles Stilinski!”

In their usual fashion, the Sheriff and Claudia went wild for their son. The audience looked on with amusement having gotten used to their racket throughout the years. Stiles bowed as he accepted his certificate and gift card, waving it out to the audience. Derek was happy for Stiles. His project was great and he deserved it, and Derek knew he would use the hell out of that Applebee’s gift card, probably spending it all in one sitting. It would be disgusting but Derek kind of hoped he could be there to see it.

Basically, he worried that with this win their relations would revert back to the obnoxious gloating and mean jabs. He liked the way things had been going lately. Didn’t mind now when Stiles came to sit with him in the library in the morning, even though he talked too much and did everything he could to distract Derek from his work. He didn’t want them to go back. He wanted to move forward. Really forward. He didn't even realize how much.

He wished they would announce first place already so that he could get off the stage and wallow. He hadn’t placed and he was possibly going to lose Stiles. It was like the spelling bee all over again except less severe—the spelling bee left lifelong scars that would never heal and there was no reversing that kind of damage to his childhood—but this hurt too. It hurt a lot. It—

“OW!”

“Dude!!” Stiles was beaming and jumping up and down as he gripped onto Derek’s arm. However, he'd yet to make an apology for punching Derek in the arm, hard enough to leave a bruise.

“What the—”

He saw his mom next, literally in tears at the bottom of the stage crying out about her baby boy like Derek had just died. In fact, his whole family looked like fucking lunatics. Stiles too. What had everyone losing their goddamn minds?

Then Danielle walked over to him, smiling and holding out the certificate as she repeated herself, “First place, Derek Hale!”

Derek gaped, taking the certificate from her without really realizing he’d done so. It was an indescribable feeling knowing that his hard work had brought him this moment, so he soaked every second of it in. He flushed as the cheering grew louder—really his family getting even more embarrassing. And when he eventually stepped down from the stage, still stuck in an ecstatic stupor, he was immediately met with boobs all up in his face.

“Mom! You’re smothering me!”

“We have got to celebrate!” his mom shouted, releasing him only to put him through another form of torture. Making him smile and take pictures with every present member of his family. They were acting like he'd just been elected president. “It's too late to rent a catering hall but we’ll find a nice place and you can get anything you want!”

More pictures came, but this time with flash and Derek was blinded and seeing white dots as she ran off shouting, “I have to go call Grandma!”

Derek chuckled after his family but slipped away, looking around for Stiles. He saw the Sheriff and Claudia but Stiles wasn’t with them and he was searching the rest of the room when ultimately, he heard, “I’m right behind you, dude.”

“Christ!” He jumped and swung around on Stiles. “How long have you been back there!”

“Um, your mom took pictures of us together holding up our certificates.” Stiles laughed.

Derek scowled, vaguely remembering that now that he was coming back to himself. “Shut up.” He rubbed at his arm where Stiles had punched him on stage.

Stiles shifted from foot to foot awkwardly. “Hey, congratulations. Seriously, there’s no one more deserving of this award than you. I’m sure Lydia is so going to make you pay for this. Probably for the rest of the year. But we’ll deal with that later.”

Derek swallowed, liking the way Stiles had said ‘we’. Stiles seemed more excited about Derek’s win than even his own. Derek had never had that level of sportsmanship when Stiles won over him, always a little bitter and nasty. He was ashamed of how he’d acted in the past but also happy that Stiles was right there with him.

“This was a long time coming,” Stiles said, picking a piece of lint off Derek’s shirt. “I’m really proud of you.”

He drew Stiles’ body snug against his before he thought too much about it and chickened out. He wrapped an arm around Stiles' slim waist, mustering up every ounce of courage he had. It was only when he was tilting Stiles’ chin up that he realized it was probably rude to kiss people without asking for their permission.

“I…You…Er…Do you wanna…Um?” He stuttered.

Stiles rolled his eyes and grabbed the back of Derek’s neck, yanking him forward. Derek grinned against his mouth, happily diving into the deep, breath-stealing kiss

“Enjoy this now, bucko,” Stiles said, dropping a peck on the corner of his mouth before snagging Derek's bottom lip with his teeth. “Because next year, you are so going down!”

FIN

Chapter Text

Poem by thinminthale (ao3: Drapetomania)

Let’s do what we do best
Let’s talk chemistry

It’s like H20
As I watch you go
Like a stream
That passes me by
And never slows

NaCl
Is for the angle
In which I turn my head
So you won’t see
The tears that sparkle

C6H8O7
Since we were eleven
We’ve fought for position
Using potions and we
Never learn our lesson

There’s CH4
Between us or
Do we do it on purpose
Do we provoke each other to achieve more?

NaNO3
Cause There’s a lot we could be
Do you see it
Like I do?
I think there’s a future for you and me

We need some CO2
Don’t you think so too?
To dampen the heat a bit
Just enough for me to
Say
I think I love you.