Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

STILES

Stiles was bored. Like hella bored, and he couldn’t even call up Scott to hang out. Even though it was Saturday, Scott was out with Isaac. After Allison broke up with Scott he started spending a lot more time with Stiles and Isaac again, and thus a relationship was born.

So Stiles sat on his bed with nothing to do, no one to talk to—not that he didn’t have friends, because he did--, until his phone rang.

On the first ring he picks up and answers, “Yello?”

“This isn’t Laura,” A rough voice that Stiles doesn’t recognize states. It’s nice though, rough and edgy Stiles thinks and for reasons he can’t fathom.

“Nope,” Stiles agrees perkily. “This is Stiles. Who is this?”

There’s slight hesitation and then the voice says, “Derek.”

Stiles smiles at the name because it sounds like something he’d like to scream during climax. He really needs to get out more. “Well pleasure to meet you, Derek.”

There’s some noise in the background that sounds like shuffling before Derek’s voice sounds again. “Listen, I’ve obviously got the wrong number so I’ll just—,”

For some reason Stiles didn’t want to let this guy go, something about his voice—velvet smooth, canyon deep, and sexy as hell—urged Stiles to keep Derek on the phone for as long as he could. Said urges probably inspired Stiles to interrupt Derek and say, “Well, hold on.” There’s a pause. “I just, um, well we could figure out where you went wrong.”

Stiles takes the silence as a cue for Derek thinking it over. After all, if it were a no, wouldn’t Derek have hung up by now like any normal person would? But Derek’s not any normal person apparently because he speaks again. “I think I’m supposed to dial a four instead of a nine,” Derek admits, and he sounds like he’s smiling.

Stiles can’t help it, he giggles because how does someone mix up a four and a nine, seriously? They don’t even look the same. “It’s okay,” Stiles says anyways. “It happens all the time.”

There’s a pause, neither of them talking for reasons unknown, basking in the silence. Stiles lies back on his bed, imagining what the man behind the voice looks like. Stiles bets its some high-end billionaire with lots of money and fake conversations trying to get in touch with his secretary whom he’s cheating on his wife to be with. It’s probably not true, but Stiles has a very active imagination regardless.

Derek breaks the silence first. “Stiles, are you still there?”

There’s movement and shuffling and Stiles feels as though Derek is checking his phone. Before the other man can hang up, Stiles recovers. “What? Yeah, I’m still here. Um this is 781 2279, try changing that nine into a four and see what you get.”

Derek goes quiet again and Stiles can only assume that he’s thinking about it. Only when the sound of things being shuffled and a pen scratching hastily across paper does Derek respond with “Yeah, okay, I’ll try that. Thank you,” and moves to hang up the phone

“If it doesn’t work,” Stiles continues, unaware that Derek was about to end the conversation. And for some reason Derek doesn’t just hang up, he listens, “you can call me back. We’ll figure this thing out together.”

“Okay,” Derek agrees. He writes down the number, careful to make it perfect. He wanted to save this number. “Talk to you later, Stiles.”

For some reason hearing that made Stiles much more nervous than he should be. “Yeah,” Stiles squeaks in agreement and the call ends.

 

 

DEREK

Derek growls in frustration when he ends another call. That’s nearly the tenth call that he’s made so far. Why did he have to be so stupid and loose his sister’s number, the one person he still has after his family...

He tried to remember it, he really, really did but it kept slipping though his fingers right when he thinks he’s got it. The first few numbers are correct so he sighs and decides to give it one last try. If it’s not the number he meant to call well then he’d just talk to his sister in the next couple of years or so.

He sighs and picks up his phone once more; punching in the numbers he prays to belong to his sister. He doesn’t wait long until someone picks up, but the voice that picks up is distinctly not his sister’s voice.

“Yello,” the voice answers cheerily.

There’s something about the voice that he instantly dislikes. Perhaps it’s the way the voice sounds, like it’s usually dripping with sarcasm and is only holding back because Derek is an unknown. Or perhaps Derek is putting too much thought into his sensitive hearing. He’s probably not though because he’s that awesome.

“You’re not Laura,” Derek states, the shock in his tone making it sound almost accusatory. The other guy didn’t seem to mind though, perky as he was.

“Nope,” the guy agreed cheerily. “This is Stiles,” he introduced himself. “Who’s this?”

At first Derek wasn’t going to answer because really, was it any of that guy’s business who he was? He wasn’t the person that Derek was looking for and one of them should obviously end this conversation before it gets awkward. Even though he disliked the voice, he didn’t want to hang up. Worse than that, he sort of wanted to keep talking to the other guy, but he needed to find his sister and that comes before all else.

“Derek,” he finds himself replying.

“Pleasure to meet you, Derek,” Stiles says. Derek can hear the smile in his voice and it should be totally weird that those words from a complete stranger kind of make Derek want to smile. Kind of. In reality, though, it’s just kind of weird and Derek is freaked out by it. He needs an exit.

The thought of just hanging up the phone never even occurred to him as he shuffled around his apartment looking for things to busy his hands with. “Listen, I’ve obviously got the wrong number so I’ll just--,”

“Well hold on,” Stiles interrupts.

Derek holds.

Speaking as if he is unsure if Derek is listening, Stiles says, “We could figure out where you went wrong.”

Derek arched a brow, pulling his phone away from his ear to just stare at it. Who was this guy, seriously? Normal people don’t just offer to help you find the number you’re looking for, they hang up and you don’t dial that number again or ever in your life talk to that person again, that’s just how it’s supposed to work. Except for the fact that Derek isn’t normal and that makes him want to laugh, but he doesn’t. Instead he smiles.

“I think I was supposed to dial a four instead of a nine,” he finds himself admitting, unintentionally making Stiles giggle. The sound was delightful and made Derek nervous for some reason, anxious even.

“It’s okay,” Stiles says. “It happens all the time.”

Derek is silent as he waits for Stiles to give him some type of instruction on how one is supposed to help someone else over the phone look for a number that they have no clue what it is. Eventually it becomes too silent and though Derek can hear Stiles’ breathing perfectly fine, he asks, “Stiles, you still there?” to prompt some type of communication. He doesn’t want to hang up yet.

“What? Yeah, I’m still here,” Stiles says as though his mind were somewhere else. “Um this is 781 2279, try changing that nine into a four and see what you get.”

Derek didn’t exactly remember what number he dialed to reach this phone but he is glad that Stiles repeated his number. Derek briskly grabbed a pen and paper and hastily scratched down Stiles’ number. “Yeah, okay, I’ll try that,” Derek says when Stiles finishes talking. “Thank you,” he says for some reason and moves to hang up the phone.

Just as he was about to press the end button he hears: “If it doesn’t work you can call me back. We’ll figure this thing out together.”

Derek was pretty sure that Stiles wasn’t hitting on him, but whatever, he needed to call his sister anyways. “Talk to you later, Stiles,” Derek says. Only once the words are out of his mouth does he realize how they sound. He just made a promise to call Stiles back. Fuck, he’s doomed.

“Yeah,” Stiles squeaks. “Um... Bye.”

“See you.”

The phone goes dead and Derek stares at it for a long moment. He shakes his head finding it ridiculous that he wrote Stiles' number down when he had it already keyed into his phone. Shaking his head at his sillyness, he dials the same number replacing the nine with a four.

A feminine voice picks up, "Hello?"

"Laura," Derek says when his sister answers the phone. "It's Derek."

Chapter Text

Days have passed since the last time he talked to Derek, but he wants to again, so very badly. His leg won’t stop bouncing. It feels like his blood wants to rush right out of his skin! He’s also sweating and wipes a hand at his forehead to get rid of the moisture. Ever since the call ended, he’d gone back to doing absolutely nothing. Wasn’t that pathetic?

“Screw this.” Stiles gets up and grabs the keys to his jeep, bounding down the stairs and calling out a quick goodbye to his father. “Be back in a bit!” In all honesty, he has no idea where he’s going. He just wants to move. One of the lovely perks of having ADHD and all that.

“Be in before one,” his dad calls out as a goodbye from his position at the kitchen table with a cup of coffee and some cases.

“No promises!” And then Stiles is out of the door and into his jeep, his seatbelt on and the music blaring. He drives around aimlessly like that, windows down, music so loud that he gets a few offensive gestures for it—some lady flipped him the bird. Whatever screw her too!

Eventually Stiles decided to park somewhere before burning up all of his gas, especially since his jeep wasn’t really the best on gas anyways. He finds a nice little coffee shop and stops there, hopping out of the jeep and going into the place.

The inside smells like several flavors of coffee: delicious. As he stands in line, he keeps taking deep inhales through his nose to try and guess if he could get all of the scents. There’s hazelnut and mocha and French Vanilla and it’s all very intoxicating. So much so that Stiles doesn’t even know what to choose when it is his turn to get to the register.

The fact that he’s kind of indecisive about his coffee annoys the cashier at the coffee house and with barley contained attitude, the cashier—a depressing-looking blonde female—tells Stiles to take all the time he needs. So he does. Not like there is anyone else behind him anyways.

About ten minutes and four customers later, Stiles finally decides on something simple and goes to Starbucks for a Vanilla Bean. ‘So much for gas,’ he thinks as he makes the drive over there. The fact that Beacon Hills even has a Starbucks now—it was newly built about a few weeks ago—was the kind of miracle that Stiles decided he wanted to take advantage of.

The line at Starbucks is ridiculously long. It’s sort of crazy how many people love/need their caffeine, but so very worth it that Stiles stays. When he gets closer to the register, being the second in line now, he tries to do what he did in the other place, tries to guess the flavors in the air after taking a deep inhale through his nose. When he finally makes it up to the cash register, he looks up at the menu to find what he wants even though he already knows. He likes to make sure he doesn’t see something else he might want instead, okay? Gosh!

Though before he can open his mouth and place his order, a deep, sexy voice says, “Bet you can’t name them all.”

Stiles turns towards the sound of the familiar voice but the face that he’s greeted with has him drawing a blank. This boy—no, this man is freaking built, ridiculously built with his wide, strong shoulders, raven hair, sharp but beautiful cheek bones and stubble that sits just perfectly on his face.

Besides the fact that Stiles sort of wants to molest the stranger, he doesn’t back down from the challenge. “Alright,” Stiles glances at the name tag. It reads: Dylan. “Dylan,” Stiles says as if testing the name on his tongue. It’s lovely. “Let’s see,” he says before closing his eyes and taking another deep inhale. “Cinnamon,” he announces decisively.

The guy nods an affirmative. “That one was easy,” he says dismissively while trying to fight a smile.

Stiles tries again; inhales the scents of the coffee house. “Mint chocolate chip,” he announces with a smile. That one was hard for him to detect, buried underneath the spicier scents of pumpkin and cinnamon and other things.

“Eh,” the guy shrugs. “That one was easy too.”

Stiles gives him an exasperated sigh, ignoring the familiar tingling at the back of his mind, as if he could place the voice if he were elsewhere. He knows he likes it, knows he’s heard it before. “Fine,” he tells the asshole. “If it’s so easy, let’s see you do it.”

The cashier gives Stiles a look that has Stiles instantly regret challenging him.

Dylan takes a deep breath through his nose as Stiles did, closing his eyes as well. When he opens his eyes, they are alight with humor. In rapid succession, Dylan lists, “Hazelnut, ground beans, green tea, cinnamon, mocha, chocolate, strawberry, vanilla bean, caramel, lemon and way, way too much axe from the guy in the corner.”

Stiles turns to where Dylan is pointing and arches a brow. “That guy is all the way across the room—how would you know what he smells like?”

Dylan shrugs without a care and instead asks, “What can I get for you?”

“Grande Vanilla Bean with caramel and whipped cream,” Stiles answers immediately. Dylan gives him a strange look and Stiles shrugs, slightly defensive. “Meanwhile, my family has no history of diabetes”

“Yet,” Dylan answers as he punches in the order. “4.75.”

Stiles takes out his wallet and hands over the money. As he does so, his and Dylan’s fingers brush; lingering two seconds longer than necessary before Dylan takes the money and puts it in the cash register. Stiles watches him pull off a cup, scribble on it, and then begin making his drink.

“So,” Dylan begins, making the drink while hardly looking at what he was doing. “Are you always so perky, or is it the diabetes in a cup?”

Stiles gapes at him, mock offended. “Dude, you work here!”

“Yeah,” Dylan agrees. “But I wouldn’t be caught dead drinking this.  Are you here alone?”

Stiles shakes his head, attempting to lean casually on the counter. Oddly enough, no one was behind him in line. “Nah, I travel with Casper.”

Dylan can’t help but smile. “That is so... lame.” He caps the drink and hands it to Stiles, just as he realized he never asked the man his name as is required for working at Starbucks.

“Like you could’ve done any better,” Stiles challenges as he takes his drink. He takes a sip and moans as the sugary, milky liquid saturates his tongue and sends his taste buds into overdrive.

“I most definitely could have.” Dylan checks the time via the clock on the wall and turns to Stiles. “My break starts now. Mind if I join the two of you?”

Stiles nearly chokes on his drink. Was Dylan actually flirting with him, he wonders? Attempting to keep his voice cool and not give away how much he’d like that idea, he takes a sip of his drink and then nods. “Sure, whatever,” as if unfazed.

“Alright,” Dylan says as he begins pulling off his apron. “Let me grab a drink.” He then disappears into the back room.

Stiles is all smile when he turns around to look for a table. Despite the fact that he was scanning the restaurant, he missed two very important details.

“Is that Stiles?”

At the sound of his name being called, Stiles turns and his eyes widen. “Scott? Isaac? What’re you guys doing here?”

“Isaac is like, in love with the strawberry lemonade here,” Scott says as he greets his best friend with a hug.

“I am not “in love” with it,” Isaac denies as he too greets Stiles, but with a hand gesture. They were close, but not up to that level yet.

After that it’s kind of awkward as the three of them just stand there. Stiles’ senses something, something intangible and invisible but at the same time it was right there in front of him. Suddenly it hits him like a wrecking ball.

“You guys are on a date!”

Scott’s face heats up and he scratches his neck nervously, “Uh, yeah we are.”

Isaac is in no better condition. “I’m... gonna...” While backing away, Isaac turns his attention to Scott, gesturing a thumb over his shoulder in a wordless question to which Scott shakes his head at.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” Scott asks, grabbing Stiles’ arm and leading him across the room, away from Isaac and Stiles’ cashier.

Stiles starts to tell Scott that he was busy now, but then he reasoned that Scott wasn’t ignoring him, he was figuring things out with Isaac and Stiles’ really couldn’t fault him for it. So Stiles’ says nothing as Scott drags him towards the exit.

“Okay, this is totally a date,” Scott blurts as soon as they are where he wants them to be. “I’m freaking out, Stiles. I like Isaac. I like him, like him and I don’t know how to act around him. It’s stupid because at first we were, like, total enemies and now...” Scott sniffs his shirt. “He hugged me earlier and all I can smell is him. And I mean over the cologne that I’m wearing. It’s kind of—,”

“Scott?” Stiles interrupts, causing Scott to cut off mid-sentence and stare at him pointedly.

“Yes?” Scott asks eventually, tone slightly annoyed at having been cut off.

Stiles doesn’t get upset at the tone, because that would be stupid. He hardly ever cuts Scott off on his ranting and feels that he deserves a few interruptions every now and again. Anyways, “I just thought you might like to know: Isaac’s a werewolf.”

Scott gives Stiles a look that Scott’s words couldn’t have said any better. He still says anyway, “Yeah, Stiles, for a while now. Welcome back to reality.”

Stiles just keeps looking at Scott. It got to the point where Scott is about two seconds from slapping him.

“Can I continue?” Scott asks, annoyed.

“Werewolves have super hearing,” Stiles says instead and takes a sip of his vanilla bean.

It doesn’t click immediately but then Scott’s eyes widen and he turns towards Isaac who tries for the entire world to pretend that he wasn’t just listening to their conversation. The pink tint to his cheeks that even Stiles could see gives him away, though.

“Shit,” Scott breathes, running a hand through his hair. Panicking, Scott asks, “What do I do?”

Now it’s Stiles’ turn to be surprised. “What?” he asks incredulously. “Are you seriously going to ask the guy who got rejected for three years for relationship advice?”

Scott fidgets. “Sort of,” he says, wringing his hands in nervousness. “Just help me!” Scott demands.

Stiles thinks long and hard about what he could do for his friend. A few seconds later, he smacks his forehead. “Why didn’t I think of this before?”

“What?” Scott eagerly asks.

Stiles calls, “Yo, Isaac!” Isaac looks around and then points to himself, arching a brow. At Stiles’ nod, Isaac ventures over and looks confusedly. Before he could speak Stiles rushes out, “Scott likes you and he’s worried that he’s  made a bad impression on the date but he told me that you guys kissed and that you’re an awesome kisser which, Kudos, by the way.”

Scott’s eyes widen and he glares at his best friend, his jaw nearly connecting with the floor. He turns to Isaac to gouge his reaction.

Isaac seems frozen, his jaw working but nothing coming out. He looks between both of his friends—or is one of them his boyfriend now?—and still has no idea what to say.

“So,” Stiles picks up as he begins walking away. “You two, you know, figure that out and then give me a shout, ‘kay? ‘Kay, great!” He gives Scott a thumbs up and goes to the table Dylan currently occupied.

“Sorry about that,” Stiles says when he takes the seat across from Dylan.

“No worries,” Dylan says. He’s drinking something out of a thermal cup.

The conversation starts off slow but then rapidly picks up with Stiles’ endless amount of chatter. He asks Dylan about his school, which he surprises Stiles’ by answering, “Beacon Hills.”

“You’re from around here?” Stiles’ asks in awe. “You... don’t look like it.”

Dylan shrugs, smiling just a little. “How do I look, then?”

Stiles must’ve been imagining the slightly flirtatious tone that Dylan took on. He had to be. There was no way a guy that looked like... that wanted anything to do with a guy like Stiles. Stiles knew he wasn’t ugly, in fact he was averagely attractive, but Dylan is... so much more.

“Oh, you know,” Stiles says and swirls his drink around in his cup with his straw.

From there the conversation goes on to very different things like Dylan’s childhood in Beacon Hills or that time that Stiles and Scott got drunk and Melissa found out and threatened to call the sheriff. In the end she didn’t, but boy did Stiles and Scott never set a hand on another bottle of liquor after that for two weeks.

Eventually though, as all good things do, Dylan’s break was coming to an end.

“It was nice talking to you,” Stiles says as he sees the time.

“You too,” Dylan agrees as he stands up and prepares to go back to work. “I don’t usually do this... but maybe you can call me some time.”

Stiles’ heart rate jumped but he kept calm. “Cool,” he answered and pulled out his cell to switch with Dylan.

When Stiles got his phone back, he picked up his drink and headed for the exit. He looked for Scott and Isaac, but they were already gone. Outside, Stiles checks his phone, looking for the name “Dylan” to pop up.

Stiles stops scrolling his phone when a name that has no business in his phone is highlighted. The name reads: Derek.

Chapter Text

DEREK

“Derek,” Laura gasps. “I didn’t think you’d call,” she said. It sounded a little bit like she was smiling.

“I didn’t think so either,” Derek admits to which he gets a laugh.

“So,” Laura says slowly, like she’s searching for something to fill the silence. They loved one another but once Laura moved away, they lost contact. “What took you so long to call me?”

“Miss dial,” Derek admits. “Actually, I probably would’ve never had your number if it wasn’t for Stiles.”

Laura instantly catches on to the fact that her brother addressed a miss dial by their first name. “So how was this “Stiles” of which you speak?” she asks.

Derek rolls his eyes, already knowing where this was going. “Laura, no,” Derek says, cutting off that train of thought early. “There is nothing I see interesting about a guy on the phone.”

“I heard that,” Laura tells him in a singsong voice. She’s referring to the fact that Derek’s heart rhythm just faulted for a second, indicating that he is lying. “So what was it?” Laura fishes. “Did he have an accent? Is he American? What does he do for a living?”

Derek rolls his eyes, finding no point in arguing with his sister. He did like Stiles’ voice and his kindheartedness. “No, probably, and I don’t know,” Derek answers in order. “Seriously, I barely even know the guy.”

Laura sighs. “That’s a shame. You need to get laid—,”

Derek pulls the phone away from his ear and stares at it for a moment though he could still clearly hear his sister.

“—and who better but this Stiles’ person, right?” Laura continues. “And it’s practically destiny because you already have his number.”

“He used to go to Beacon Hills High,” Derek says for no reason he can fathom.

“So he lives close by?” Laura asks, instantly on the train. “Did you ask where?”

Derek shakes his head but stops when he realizes Laura can’t see him.”Uh, no I didn’t.”

“Ugh,” Laura groans. “You totally need me there,” she jokes.

“Come stay with me,” Derek blurts. He winces once the words are out of his mouth as that was not exactly how he wanted to say it. But it was out there now and he couldn’t take it back.

He can practically hear the gears working in his sister’s head. In all the time that his sister has been gone, Derek hadn’t really put much of an effort to call her, but the call with Stiles made him realize that he was alone. Desperately alone in a familiar town but with no family or pack, it was sort of depressing to think about.

“Um, jeez,” Laura says. It sounds like she’s ruffling things, lots of fabric rubbing against each other and the unmistakable sound of a zipper being closed. “Yeah, of course I’ll stay with you. It’ll be great.”

Derek had never been so grateful to anyone for anything at that moment right there. “Great,” Derek says, trying to contain the smile that was fighting his lips. And winning, it seems. “Can you be out here tomorrow?”

Laura’s eyes pop out of her head, Derek imagines as she says, “Don’t you think that’s a little late notice?”

“That’s not a “no”,” Derek points out.

Laura nods, “That isn’t a “no,” she concedes. “Fine, I’ll be there tomorrow but I expect you to have a job waiting for me. I do not take hand outs.” She pauses as if rethinking her words. “Except for the job, I’ll take the job.”

Instantly, the “For Hire” sign outside of the Starbucks window popped into Derek’s mind. “You like coffee, right?”

---

The next day, Derek sat around waiting for his sister to knock at the door. He tidied up everything, making the place seem more inhabited and even took some time to fix up her old bedroom. Though Laura gifted the house’s deed to Derek, Derek still left everyone’s room as it was.

Around noon that same day, the doorbell rings and Derek hops of the couch to answer it. When he opens the door, his sister jumps on him with a hug.

“I’ve missed you,” Laura says as she attempts to crush Derek with a hug.

Derek hugs her back, inhaling the scent of family so warm and familiar that he almost doesn’t want to let her go. But he does. “Welcome back,” he says as he grabs her bags and heads deeper into the house.

Laura follows, looking around and raising her brows in astonishment. “It’s exactly the same,” she states, looking to Derek questioningly.

Even with his back turned he can still feel his sister’s eyes on him. He goes into her room, sets her bags on her bed and walks back out to see that his sister is still waiting for the same explanation. “I haven’t had time to fix it,” he says.

Derek was pretty sure that the squirrels outside heard his heart jump and if they heard it then Laura definitely did. If she did—he knows she did—she says nothing about it. “Oh,” she says instead, her voice cracking a little bit and her eyes gloss over as if she’s not even present mentally.

“No,” Derek says quickly, trying to pull his sister from going down that path. “It’s not that. I just... I wanted your help.”

“You’re lying,” she says with a small smile.

“Yeah,” Derek admits. “I don’t want your help. You have terrible taste.”

Laura gasps and her eyes widen, a shocked bout of laughter escaping her. “Excuse me, you jerk!” She playfully picks up a pillow off the couch and launches it at Derek, to which the alpha easily catches before it hits his face.

Derek lowers the pillow to reveal a smile before throwing it back on the couch. He didn’t like to see his sister upset, definitely not over their parents. “So I got you a job,” Derek says as he goes over to the couch and plops down opposite of her.

In surprise Laura asks, “Really?” After dabbing at her eyes to catch tears that have yet to fall, she then questions, “Where at?”

“Starbucks,” Derek answers, his face straight and blank but his eyes dance with amusement.

Laura’s head lifts to meet Derek’s eyes like she’s searching them for the truth. “Starbucks,” she says after a moment as if to confirm herself.

Derek keeps his eyes from meeting his sister’s as he imagines she begins to picture her time at work. There would be so many smells a day, the sound of what seems like nails in a blender every time they go off. Suddenly Derek bursts into laughter, soon joined by his sister.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?” Laura asks when her giggles finally subside. She dabs at her tears again but this time for a different reason.

Derek nods and tries to keep from chuckling. “Completely,” he tells her.

“Great,” Laura says cheerfully, not at all the response he was expecting. “This should be fun.”

---

Three days later Derek finds his sister pacing outside in the back of the Starbucks in the alley way during her lunch break. Derek stops his camaro--efficiently blocking the alley--, puts it in park and turns off the ignition before he hops out with a bag of McDonalds that Laura devours the second he hands it to her.

“I love you so much,” she says when she’s finished chewing a bite of her quarter pounder with cheese. “I cannot believe I forgot my lunch today.” She reaches for her drink and takes a few swallows through the straw. “What do I owe you? Like $7.60?”

Derek shrugs, backing away from his sister and out of the spittle zone. “Don’t worry about it,” he says, wiping a piece of lettuce off his shirt.

“Hey, Derek,” a voice calls in a pleasantly surprised kind of way.

“Dylan,” Derek greets and shares a brief hug with his former coworker. Derek looks Dylan up and down, noticing small changes. Dylan’s hair is still the same, brown and gelled up but still soft. A little stubble much like Derek has that makes Dylan look a little bit rugged. Dylan’s eyes haven’t changed much either, if anything they are a little lighter green than the last time Derek had last seen him, almost glowing even.“Isn’t today your day off?”

Dylan laughs, “Yeah, it was supposed to be. But I got called in.”

Derek thinks for a moment before he holds out his hand. “Give me your apron,” Derek commands.

Dylan’s confusion shows clearly on his face as he looks at Derek. “Huh?”

“I’m going to take your shift,” Derek says, still holding out his hand for the apron but seeming impatient about it.

Dylan spares Laura a glance and then Derek before he shrugs. “Alright,” he says as he hands Derek his apron. “Manager taking my shift,” he murmurs. “Do I still get paid?”

“Not if you’re not gone in the next ten seconds,” Derek says as he puts the apron on.

“Thank you, sir,” Dylan says as he turns and runs off, hopping onto a motor cycle and speeding away as soon as the engine is started.

“Why’d you do that?” Laura asks curiously.

Derek shrugs it off but he still feels Laura’s stare. “Okay,” Derek sighs, “Dylan has a daughter and she happens to have a play today... It just happened to be the same day you “forgot” your lunch at home.”

Laura gasps and grabs Derek’s wrist. “So you took my lunch so you’d have an excuse to come here and be here to cover him? You planned this, didn’t you?”

Derek says nothing; he walks away and clocks in for Dylan.

---

STILES

“No fucking way,” Stiles breathes. He continues to stare at the phone, reading the name printed there in bold letters over and over again. It all makes perfect sense now. The voice that seems so familiar actually is familiar. It’s Derek! Stiles groans in irritation. “Fate’s such a bitch,” he whines.

Quickly, Stiles turns around and makes his way back into the Starbucks and looks around. Derek is nowhere to be found. Stiles doesn’t give up yet and makes his way to the cash register.

“Excuse me,” Stiles says to get the guy’s attention. When she looks up, Stiles is taken aback by how familiar she looks. “Um, I’m looking for a man,” he explains.

“So am I,” Laura says with a smile of relief. “I thought I was the only one but thank God I’m not.”

Stiles shakes his head, Laura’s words confusing him slightly. “What? No, I’m not—,”

“I’m thinking 5’ 9”,” Laura barrels on anyways, “with an average build and a devilish smile. Colored eyes wouldn’t hurt either. What about you?”

Stiles stares blankly at Laura for a moment before launching into a description of Derek, “About six feet tall, dark hair, a muscular build, amazing jaw line, perfect stubble, and an inability to smile.”

To his surprise, Laura bursts into laughter. “That sounds like my brother,” she says when she calms down. “I wish I could introduce you, he just left.”

Stiles highly doubts that he’d be interested in Laura’s brother with Derek on his mind, but it’s apparent that fate doesn’t want them together. An idea suddenly strikes him and he could kick himself for not thinking of it first. “Laura?”

Laura turns back around from cleaning up something or other on the machines and walks back over to Stiles, “Yeah?”

“Um,” Stiles scratches the back of his neck, his face flaming with embarrassment. “You work with Derek, right?”

Laura gives him a puzzled look before slowly shaking her head. “No, Derek doesn’t work here.”

Stiles ponders on what to say next. Which name was the real name? Perhaps he gave Stiles’ a fake name because he didn’t really want to talk? Perhaps it was all just a joke and those digits aren’t even real. Stiles feels himself slipping into a downward spiral and he forces his attention elsewhere to stop it.

With nothing else to lose, Stiles asks, “Do you work with, ah, Dylan?”

Laura’s eyes light up and she nods, “Yeah, totally! Dylan’s a great guy! I mean, I only started here a few days ago with my brother, but I mean the tips are cool and Dylan’s cute so I guess I’m okay.”

Stiles’ shoulders slump with defeat. There was no way Dylan—Derek? Whatever his name was, he wasn’t interested in Stiles or else why the mind games and the name change? “Oh. I’m sure you’re perfect for him,” Stiles says and begins walking away, pulling out his phone and scrolling down to delete the number.

The entire time, Stiles is unaware of Laura’s gaze on his back.

“Great,” Stiles mutters to himself when he puts his phone away after deleting the number. “Now that asshat has my cell number.”

“Hey, guy,” Laura calls out.

“Stiles,” Stiles supplies when he turns around.

“Stiles, right.” Laura takes a deep breath before making eye contact. “There’s this party tomorrow tonight,” she says.

Stiles’ eyebrows rocket to his hairline. “Are you... inviting me to go to a party?”

Laura shrugs, “I guess I am. So are you coming or not?”

Stiles thinks about it a beat before he asks, “Can I bring friends?”

Laura looks like she wants to protest but in the end says, “Not too many people. I mean, it’s not a huge party or anything.”

Stiles nods and stands there as Laura grabs a receipt and writes an address on the back of it before handing it to Stiles. “Thank you,” Stiles says as he pockets the address.

“You’re welcome,” Laura says with a smile. “I really hope you can make it.”

“Yeah me, too,” Stiles says before they say their goodbyes. When he’s out the door, his phone is in his hand immediately. It rings a couple times but then a voice answers.

“Hello?” the voice answers, still laughing. “Isaac, wait, Stiles is on the phone.”

On one hand, that’s gross, Stiles thinks. On the other, he kind of needs to know what makes his friend laugh like that. He could use it for revenge some time. “Scott, want to go to a party with me tomorrow night? Before you say no, Isaac can come too.”

“We’re in,” Scott’s static-y voice answers.

“Great,” Stiles says. “See you tomorrow night at eight.”

Chapter Text

Stiles

The next day, Stiles was a wreck. He didn’t know what to wear for the party later that night. He’d called Scott so many damn times and Scott wasn’t really being helpful, the asshole.

“Just relax, Stiles,” Scott had said when he finally answered. “Isaac and I will be there later tonight--” Scott breaks off into a fit of hysterical laughter. “Isaac, stop,” Scott gasps.

There’s a lot of movement on the other end of the phone causing Stiles pulls the phone away to glare at it. He puts it back to his ear just in time to hear Scott pick up where he left off.

“—and we’ll look like crap so you look even better. Don’t even worry, Bro, okay?”

Stiles takes a deep breath, his eyes gliding over to the pile of clothes on the floor that was once organized—more or less—in his closet. “Alright,” Stiles agrees, attempting to pump himself up.

“Good,” Scott’s breathless voice answered. “We’ll see you later, ‘kay?”

“‘Kay,” Stiles agreed. Not to his surprise, he felt better after he talked to Scott. It was probably just years of Scott having his back and vise versa that brought Scott and Stiles to a point where they just knew how to make one another feel better without even trying.

Feeling better and more confident since his conversation with Scott, Stiles picks something simple to wear—a white long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans with his new pair of white Nikes. Checking himself out in the mirror, Stiles finally accepts that he looks like shit and takes the clothes back off, laying them down again to put back on later that night.

~

It was 7:30 and Scott and Isaac had just arrived.

“Where have you been?” Stiles demanded the second he opened the door. “You were supposed to be here by seven!”

Scott just grins and walks in, Isaac trailing behind him.

“Evening, Sherriff,” Scott says and shakes the Sherriff’s hand.

“Evening, Scott,” Sherriff replies looking a little amused.

“Are you high?” Stiles accuses as he approaches Scott and eyes his friend suspiciously, checking the eyes for dilated pupils.

“On life,” Scott agrees. His eyes slip to Isaac and the younger wolf blushes.

The Sherriff arches an amused brow and lets out a chuckle. “Where are you headed tonight anyways?”

Stiles speaks up first. “Study group,” he lies.

“Uh huh,” the Sherriff agrees skeptically. “Where is this study group?”

“Scott’s house,” Stiles continues to lie.

Scott and Isaac just go along with it, smiling and nodding to back Stiles up.

The Sherriff asks, a slight challenge to his voice, “What time are you coming home?”

“I’m sleeping over,” Stiles lies coolly, unfazed.

“You have no bags.”

“It’s upstairs.”

“Why upstairs?”

“Because Scott was a dick earlier and now he has to go get my bag to make up for it.”

Scott’s eyes widen as suddenly three pairs of eyes are on him. “What do you mean I was a dick?” Belatedly, Scott looks to the Sherriff and gives a nervous grin, “Sorry.”

The Sherriff gives Scott a stern stare but knows nothing more needs to be said. Turning his attention back to his son, the Sherriff says, “I’m sure you can grab your own bag, Stiles.”

Stiles smacks his lips, arms flailing in a ‘what the hell?’ manner. “Fine,” Stiles grumbles seconds later. “But Scott will pay for earlier.” After that, Stiles bounds up the stairs.

Scott frowns and turns to look at the Sherriff, “But I didn’t do anything.”

The Sherriff frowns in sympathy, “I know.”

“Stiles sucks,” Scott complains.

Isaac and the Sherriff share a chuckle.

“He’s your friend,” the Sherriff says with a smile full of amusement, eyes full of pride.

“He’s your son,” Scott retorts while laughing.

The Sherriff shrugs, unfazed but still smiling. “I’m not going to be the one dealing with him tonight, am I?”

Scott stops laughing at that realization and Isaac starts.

Before Scott can remind Isaac that he will be there as well, Stiles is bounding down the stairs with a large gray sports bag that pro athletes usually carry, the black strap clutching his shoulder. Stiles goes straight to Scott and plops the bags into his arms and then keeps walking towards the door.

Scott grunts with the impact of the bag. The weight of it isn’t that heavy to him but he has to put on a show for the Sherriff.

“See you later, Dad,” Stiles calls over his shoulder. One foot is already out of the door.

“Have a good time,” the Sherriff calls back.

“Bye, Sherriff,” Scott and Isaac call, walking out of the door behind Stiles. Isaac made sure to close it after the Sherriff said his goodbyes.

Out in the car, Scott “struggles” with the weight of the bag into the back of the jeep. When he finally gets the bag into the back of the car, Scott stomps over to Stiles’ side of the car. “You’re a dick.”

“Noted,” Stiles replies with not a care in the world. “Now hurry up. We’ve got to drop this crap off at your house.”

Scott frowns. “What is that, anyways?”

“Junk food mostly,” Stiles answers easily. “I figured I could borrow some of your clothes.”

Scott shrugs. Stiles borrowing his clothes and vise versa is nothing new to either of them, hasn’t been for a while, actually. “‘Kay,” Scott agrees just as easily. The beta wolf then makes his way over to his mom’s minivan where Isaac was resting, waiting for Scott, gets in the car, and then takes off on the road.

Stiles—the ass—is right on his bumper the entire time.

~

Dropping the stuff off at Scott’s was hella simple: Scott fetches the bag and takes it upstairs to his room and Stiles waits in the car. Seriously, it wasn’t that complicated.

After a few minutes of Scott’s and Stiles’ arguing, Isaac gets out of the minivan, stomps over to the jeep and pulls the bag from the car. Stiles starts to thank him, but then Isaac’s eyes flash an unnatural color and Stiles stays quiet.

When Isaac disappears inside, Scott and Stiles get to arguing about whose car they take to the party. Scott votes for his because it’s better on gas, sits people more comfortably, and has a mini TV that Stiles’ short attention span can enjoy for five minutes of the ten minute trip. Stiles votes for his jeep because it’s not a minivan.

When Isaac comes back out, after having heard the conversation from inside with his enhanced wolf hearing, Isaac agrees with Stiles.

“Dude, it’s a minivan.” Isaac argued.

Stiles sticks out his tongue and Scott parks the minivan in the driveway.

Scott sits in the back, allowing Isaac the front because of his longer legs. When Isaac rests his head back on the seat, Scott begins playing with Isaac’s hair to which elicits a content smile from the younger wolf.

Stiles keeps his eyes specifically on the road.

~

When they pull up to the house, it was so unexpectedly empty. The house was nice. White and big like a miniature version of the White House made modern. Stiles could easily see himself living in one of those homes in the future. He just needed someone to share it with...and a way to afford it. But still, he could dream!

“This is a party?” Scott skeptically asks as they pulled to a stop outside of the house. He was leaning in between Stiles and Isaac to get a good look at the house.

“Looks more like that house you go to after a funeral,” Isaac comments.

Stiles put the car in park, killing the engine and the lights soon after. His eyes never left the house. “Come on,” Stiles says in a way that Scott has noted is used to try and find an excuse for something. “It probably has a pool outback and plenty of spare rooms for you and Isaac to sniff one another.”

Scott’s eyes widen as he looks to Stiles. “Werewolves don’t sniff one another,” Scott denies incredulously, though his cheeks do flame a little bit.

Stiles arched a brow and turned to Isaac for an answer instead.

“Well when you’re in a pack,” Isaac begins and Stiles bursts into laughter and Scott groans.

“Thanks for the help.” Scott tried sounding anything but amused. And failed. The corners of his lips pulled up just a little bit as he got out of the car, Stiles and Isaac soon following.

“Think we’re early?” Isaac suggests, grabbing Scott’s hand after he shuts his door.

Scott weaves their fingers together easily, his attention not taken off the house. “What time is it?”

“7:45,” Stiles says after checking his watch. With no one to hold his hand or nothing occupying them, he puts them in his pockets. “We’re early,” Stiles says, sounding happy. He was going to be disappointed if he had to show up at a party that was really a date.

They arrive at the door and stop, neither of them wanting to be the one to knock. It was stupid, really, that the three teens, two of which are supernatural creatures by the way, can’t knock on a door. Stiles just think it proves that werewolves are kind of pussies.

Stiles rolls his eyes, muttering something about them being ridiculous and then steps forward to knock on the door. By the glares his friends send him, they tell him that he’s being ridiculous too because he was the reason they were invited to the damn party anyways.

Before Stiles can knock on the door, it swings open.

Over the threshold, revealed is a gorgeous man with addictively good looking stubble laying fine over a strong jaw. He’s wearing a leather jacket over a white shirt and dark jeans with black shoes. It was a simple look, but damn if it weren’t modeling for him.

Shock is the first thing to register. The man eyes Scott and Isaac, probably wondering who they were, but his eyes land back on, “Stiles?”

“Derek?” Stiles questions in shock, his eyes as wide as saucers.

Isaac turns to share a look with Scott that says something like ‘who the hell is this guy and how do they know one another?’ to which Scott shrugs and goes back to listening intently.

Stiles asks, with a slightly bitter tone to his voice, “What are you doing here?”

“What are you doing here?” Derek asks, obviously caught off guard.

“I was invited,” Stiles stammers, wondering if he imagined the slightly accusatory tone in Derek’s voice.

Against his better judgment, Derek asks, “By whom?”

As if on cue, the door opens wide and reveals Laura with a bright, welcoming, sun shine-y smile that seems to be immune to the awkward tension lacing the air. Her hair hung around her face in a controlled type of chaos that screamed party time.

“Stiles,” Laura enthusiastically cheers. “You made it!” Like they were old friends, Laura reaches out a crushes Stiles into a hug.

Eyes wide and just a little bit frightened, Stiles hesitantly wraps his arms back around Laura. “Hey,” Stiles says with much less enthusiasm, but he tries.

Laura pulls back and throws out a hand for Scott and then Isaac, each of them shaking in turn and introducing themselves.

“How do you know Stiles?” Scott couldn’t help but asking. He glanced at his friend but kept most of his attention on Laura.

“I met him yesterday,” Laura said as if that’s just what everyone did. Meet someone new? Hey, come to my party at the place I live!

Scott nods slowly, turning a what-the-hell-did-you-get-me-into-Stiles look on his best friend.

Stiles pretends not to notice and then smiles at Laura. “It’s nice to see you again,” he says, drawing Laura’s attention away from Derek. The two of them shared a look that Stiles couldn’t decipher.

“Yeah,” Laura agrees as she steps back into the house, pulling her brother along with her. “Come on in!”

As one, Scott, Isaac, and Stiles move into the house, Derek following and shutting the door behind them once everyone was inside.

Scott lets out an appreciative whistle when he gets a good look of the house. “Nice place,” he comments, mostly under his breath.

Stiles agrees instantly. One look at anything in the house and he feels as though he has to be sterilized before he can touch anything. He feels so out of place.

Isaac looks around, looking closely at objects but not touching anything. “You guys are loaded?”

Laura opens her mouth to respond, but Derek beats her to it. “Our parents left us an inheritance.”

Stiles turns lightning fast and his eyes zero in on Laura. “Your parents?” he questions. He tries to hold the acid out of his voice, but it’d be just his luck to be into someone already taken.

“Um...” Laura sighed, looking down and she had the audacity to seem upset. “I may or may not have lied about Derek being my brother,” she says when she raises her head to meet Stiles’ eyes.

Stiles gapes, glancing from Derek to Laura and then to Isaac and Scott to gouge their reactions because Stiles isn’t quite sure what he should be feeling at the very moment. Betrayed? Lied to, perhaps? Stupid, Stiles decides, for believing that anyone like Derek was doing anything other than toying with him.

Scott looks between the three of them trying to figure out exactly what was going on there. Isaac looked to be having similar trouble but, channeling Scott, Isaac subtly moved towards Stiles, taking his side. Scott’s a heartbeat behind, moving so that he’s standing on Stiles’ other side.

Derek lifts his chin in defiance, sensing the rising tension in the room and preparing to face it head on.

Surprising everyone and stilling them in the same breath, the doorbell rings. The chime is one that goes on for a while—the one all the rich people have for some unknown reason. For a breath or two no one moves whilst the chime continues to sound. Laura is the first to unthaw and she walks over to the door and opens it.

As soon as the door is open, a chorus of voices thunder, “PARTY!!!”

Soon the house is filled with a bunch of teenagers ranging from sixteen to nineteen with substances that they probably shouldn’t be carrying as none of them looked to be over twenty-one. That doesn’t seem to matter to Laura; she invites them all in with a smile and a warning: “You break it and that’s your ass.”

Minutes later and it was like a scene straight out of a movie. A bunch of horny teenagers with weed, ecstasy, and a large variety of alcohol swarmed the house, taking spots on the couch and even a few daring to disappear upstairs.

Laura followed, marking the two guest bedrooms that were pretty much stripped of anything that an actual guest would use and given cheap hotel quality sheets. Not bad, but Laura would be damned if she let these people screw up Derek’s good sheets.

Stiles finds himself being dragged back towards the alcohol and away from Derek and the awkwardness that had yet to subside despite the arrival of others. When Stiles could no longer see Derek, he turned around and willingly followed Scott and Isaac to the booze.

“So that was Derek?” Scott asks, but he doesn’t make eye contact. Instead he focuses—perhaps too intently—on mixing Malibu and Pepsi in equal amounts into three red cups.

Stiles nods and accepts his cup as he stares at Scott, trying to figure out where he’s going with that statement. Scott doesn’t make it easy, doesn’t look at Stiles but turns to Isaac instead and hands his cup with a small smile. “Yeah,” Stiles finally says and sips his cup. He is surprised to find that it sort of tastes like a slushy from 7-11. “Is... that a problem?”

Scott shrugs his shoulders, takes a sip of his own and then adds more of the alcohol. “He’s a bit old for you, don’t you think?”

Isaac’s eyes widen and he looks to Scott and then back to Stiles. Before Stiles can retort and probably start an argument, Isaac speaks up and says, “I’m sure Stiles knows what he’s getting into. His father is the Sherriff.”

Stiles turns to Isaac, surprise coloring his face at the statement. He and Isaac were becoming friends, granted, but he didn’t think that Isaac would stand up for him. Besides, he was completely responsible and almost eighteen!

“Yeah,” Stiles says once he recovers, turning back to Scott. “I can be careful. Besides, how many people have a best friend as awesome as him and his boyfriend?”

Scott’s freezes for a moment at the word “boyfriend” and Isaac seems to do so as well. The two of them share a look, as if--

Stiles’ eyes widen. “Oh my God,” he breathes. “Have you guys not...?”

The twin expressions of embarrassment give Stiles all the answer he needs and he sighs. After downing the content of his cup, he refills it and then just...

“So this is kind of awkward,” Stiles says.

Isaac and Scott nod their agreement. After downing their cups in unison, Scott refills the both of them.

“So I’m just gonna...” Stiles points a thumb over his shoulder towards the crowd of gyrating hormones—err, teens.

Stiles turns away from Scott and Isaac, putting his attention back on the party. Getting away sounded good right then. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but there was some emotion churning negatively inside of him, making his stomach churn.

When Stiles gets onto the dance floor, he politely rejects several offers to dance from both boys and girls. It was silly because he liked dancing, and he was never shy about who he danced with at a party. But with his drink in hand and Rihanna feat. David Guetta blasting through his ears, Stiles is carried away to a place of his mind’s creation.

“May I have this dance?”

It couldn’t have been no more than a minute or two later when the voice sounded and caused Stiles to open his eyes—when had they closed?—and blink away his disorientation. When his eyes land on Scott, he arches a brow. “I thought you didn’t like to dance?”

“Sure I do.” Scott smiles and begins dancing with all the grace of a gorilla wearing high heels on a marble staircase.

Stiles stops dancing and just stares, his eyes alight with humor and barely contained laughter.

Scott stops when he realizes Stiles is staring at him and he raises his eyebrows as if to say ‘like you could do better?’ “Is there a problem?” he says with a smile and a slightly mocking tone to his voice.

Stiles shakes his head. “Nope, no problem,” Stiles says and takes a sip of his drink, not saying anymore than that even though it is completely obvious that he kind of wants to. Then Scott hits him and Stiles laughs.

“Making fun of my dancing skills?” Scott asks, arms crossed going for a stern look but failing miserably.

Stiles nods. “Yeah, because that’s not how you really dance.”

“And how would you know how I dance?”

“Because I’ve danced with you before.”

“Fine,” Scott says with a roll of his eyes and begins jumping and swerving with the rest of the crowd.

Together, Stiles and Scott dance in a companionable silence. They’d been friends for a long, long time and learned how to just be around one another without conversation, just enjoying the nearness of one another.

But being best friends with Stiles means silence doesn’t last very long.

“Don’t you have a boyfriend wanting to dance with you?” Stiles continues moving, not really dancing due to fact that he could feel the effects of the alcohol starting. Since he is already a little buzzed, he passes off his drink to the first passerby he sees and the person takes it and finishes it without batting an eye.

Scott’s answering grin is positively blinding. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he says smugly and turns around doing a happy dance. “But he agreed to let me dance with another man for five minutes.”

Stiles pulls out his phone and shows Scott the time. “You’ve been here for five minutes. I guess that means your time is up?”

Scott shrugs. “I’m sure Isaac won’t mi—”

Scott is cut short when a pair of arms encircle his waist and snag him back quickly, forcing his breath out in a huff instead of words. Only dark, curly hair can be seen as the figure behind Scott leans down to tuck their head in between Scott’s neck and shoulder.

Scott giggles. He actually freaking giggles and Stiles has a hard time controlling the smile that takes his face, evil and sadistic. Scott giggling? Yeah, Stiles was going to use that one for a while.

“Hey, Isaac,” Stiles greets with a bemused-turns-evil expression.

“Hey, Stiles,” Isaac greets back. He leans down and whispers something into Scott’s ear that makes him shiver.

“So we’ll see you later,” Scott says suddenly, grinning and eager.

Stiles makes a bunch of gagging noises at the happy new couple and gets a very rude finger in return. He sighs, alone on the dance floor now, standing stock still in an ocean of movement. He wishes now that he hadn’t gotten rid of his drink as he could’ve used the company. Turning around, planning to get himself off the dance floor and into one of the corners, he stops when he bumps into a wall in the shape of a body.

Stiles gasps and stumbles back, fixing himself even though he hadn’t really messed anything up. “Um, hey, Derek.”

Derek frowns at Stiles. “Can we talk?”

Stiles’ eyes widen and he looks around for some escape, for Scott and Isaac to burst out of nowhere and save them as they usually did. They didn’t. But that’s okay because suddenly Stiles is angry. He’s pissed, actually.

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

“It’s Derek.”

“For now.”

Derek frowns. “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 thinks about it for a moment before finally he says, “Fine.”

Derek smiles softly in relief before it’s quickly wiped from his features. He opens his mouth to say something but thinks better of it (wise of him) and instead just leads Stiles up the stairs.

Derek

“No.”

“Please?”

“Nope.”

“Oh come on, Derek! Please? It’ll be fun, I promise!”

Derek sighs and stops trying to escape his sister. If he wasn’t leaving the house then she was with him. He couldn’t even go to the bathroom without Laura standing outside the door and continuously asking—begging to throw a party.

“Why do you need to throw a party?”

Laura rolls her eyes. “Really, Derek? Do I need a reason to throw a party?”

Derek just continues to give his sister the ‘no bullshit’ stare and then she sighs.

“Fine,” Laura says with a roll of her eyes. “When I got back into town I may or may not have told some friends where I’m staying and may or may not have kind of accidentally invited them over to hang out.” “Laura!”

“I’m sorry!”

“How do you even do that?”

Laura looks away, biting her lip and trying not to smile. “I may or may not have been lying about that “accident” part.” She looks back up to her brother and offers an ‘I’m cute and we’re family and you can’t stay mad at me for long’ grin.

And Derek caves. Always caves to his sister because he loves her. With a sigh he gives a curt nod and then he’s attacked by a flail of arms and pulled into a death grip that is supposed to be a hug or something. It kind of hurts, though. Not that Derek would admit that as he mans up and hugs her back.

“Thank you,” Laura says when she pulls back. “You’ll have fun too, I promise.”

Derek sighs, stroking a hand through his hair. “I probably won’t.”

Laura smiles knowingly. “You will,” she assures. “As a matter of fact, you will be thanking me after the end of the night, just you watch.”

And now Derek is sort of on instant alert. That smile was way to knowing, not hinting so much as screaming that she knew something that Derek did not.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Laura says easily, already on her phone and dialing numbers.

“Laura!”

Derek tries again but Laura just gives him a grin and slips outside. The sound of her car starting and taking off down the dirt road is all Derek needs to know that his night is going to be hell. Thank you, Laura. He rolls his eyes and goes about tidying up the place.

At 7:30 the party is once again a bad idea. Derek sees things moved from where they are supposed to be to avoid getting broken. His house—his home is remodeled so people could come and trash it and Derek would have to clean up because Laura would fake a migraine and go lay down even though it was her idea in the first place.

“Cancel it.”

“Derek, no! There are already too many people coming!”

Derek stops in his tracks where he was heading up the stairs to his room. He turns, one hand held onto the rail, the other pinching the bridge of his nose.

After a calming breath that sounded more like a hiss, Derek asks in a voice barely containing his anger, “What do you mean “too many” people are coming?”

And Laura shrinks back down a few steps, leaning away from the towering figure that is her brother. The fact that her brother was an alpha probably had something to do with the fact that her body tried to fold in on itself as she lowered herself a few steps.

Derek’s eyes widen as he realizes what voice he used. His demeanor changes and he’s no longer angry, but concerned. Derek is by her side in an instant, reaching to place a comforting arm on her shoulder.

Laura flinches slightly but doesn’t move. Now that the force of an alpha is now longer bearing down on her, she looks up and smiles at her brother. “It’s fine.”

“Shit. Laura, I’m sorry.” Derek runs a hand through his hair, looking everywhere but his sister’s eyes.

“I said its fine, Derek. It used to happen to me all the time. It effects mortals in a funny way, though.” Laura shakes herself out, standing back to her full height and offering a sweet smile. “I promise you’ll have lots of fun at this party.”

Derek gives her a bland look in return.

In a sing-song voice, Laura tells him, “Someone special is coming.”

Derek arches a brow. Who in Beacon Hills beside his sister did he even care for, let alone consider special. Derek shrugs the thought away, sure that his sister must be messing with him. “You’re cleaning,” Derek tells her suddenly. “You’re cleaning the entire house by yourself because I did not want any part of this.”

Laura grins. “Okay.”

“I mean it, Laura,” Derek says.

“Okay,” Laura agrees but not really.

“Laur—“

“They’re here!”

Laura takes off for the door, stopping only to check her reflection and fix her hair. She looks at her face and frowns. “My eyeliner,” she gasps and bounds up the stairs. Right before reaching the landing she calls over her shoulder, “Get the door!”

Despite the fact that he didn’t want anything to do with the party and despite the fact that he knows his sister just wants to make an entrance, Derek walks over to the door.

“I mean the entire fucking house,” he murmurs as he reaches the door. He knows Laura heard it because in return to his comment, he hears a muffled snort from upstairs.

Derek sighs and pulls the door open.

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.