Chapter Text
Stiles doesn’t know what he’s doing wrong.
Every Tuesday and Friday, like clockwork, tall, dark and brooding makes an appearance, he comes to the circulation desk for the key to the research lab, Stiles flirts with him and in turn gets no more than a raised eyebrow for his troubles.
Lather, rinse, repeat.
You’d think that after a few failed attempts, six to be exact, not that Stiles is counting or anything, his pride would kick in, but he’s starting to realize that he never had much of that to begin with.
Lack of self preservation aside, Stiles just can’t understand why this guy, Derek, as his library card handily supplies, keeps fending off his advances (meaning: lots of smiling and awkward Portlandia refrences), he’s either completely obtuse or you know, not interested.
And, okay, ouch, hello rejection, its been a while.
Oh God what if Lumberjack Derek is straight? He can’t be, Stiles is sure he saw him check him out once. Or maybe he just had something in his eye?
God help him.
A this point the only viable option would be locking himself in the research room with Derek; naked.
Three days later, it hits him.
Literally.
Isaac, his good friend and personal tormentor, comes up from behind and smacks Stiles right on the ass, hard.
“Fucking hell, Lahey, do you spank Scott like that?”
There’s a brief pause and Stiles gags when a wicked grin lights up the blonde’s face.
“Ugh, Jesus, forget I asked.”
Isaac shrugs, choosing to wrap an arm around the brunette’s shoulders. Stiles leans into the touch gratefully, knowing Isaac, this is the closest thing to an apology he’s going to get.
“How’s my favorite bio major?”
Stiles snorts, poking his friend in the ribs, “I’m the only bio major you know, saying I’m your favorite isn't really flattering.” Isaac looks offended for about a millisecond before his expression shifts into a wicked grin.
Stiles has an ‘oh hell’ moment and then he’s clutching his own ribs, body twisting to avoid the onslaught of Isaac’s tickling.
The clearing of a throat startles the pair and Stiles comes face to face with Mr. No-stubble-should-be-that-sexy himself.
As always, Derek looks less than amused.
Perfect.
Stiles does some aggressive throat clearing of his own, twisting out of Isaac’s grip and straightening his now rumpled cardigan.
“Hey-y, Derek, Friday already, huh?”
The older of the two just nods in response, there’s a tick in his jaw and he looks as though he’s pleading for patience.
Or constipated. Severely.
The librarian sucks in a shaky breath before grabbing Derek’s library card and scanning him in.
He’s about to grab the lab key when Isaac’s phone goes off, there’s a trill of heavy bass and electronica before Katy Perry’s wailing begins disrupting the quiet nature of the atmosphere,
“Hey, babe…”
Stiles gags, receiving a one fingered salute for his troubles. He shoos Isaac away, preferring to be as far away from that love-fest as possible.
Also this is a library asshole, respect his authority.
Stiles turns to regard Derek once more, lab key now firmly in hand,
“You’d think that after two years I’d be used to him dating my best friend, but no, they’re still gross.”
Derek smirks and Stiles swears it’s the closest thing to joy he’s ever seen on the other man’s face.
A bright flush overtakes Stiles’ face and he quickly shoves the key in Derek’s hands.
Things were much easier when his crush was stoic and uninterested.
Derek’s smirk widens, it’s reaching grinning levels at this point and for a moment Stiles feels his brain short circuit.
He doesn't have time to dwell because now Derek’s lips are moving and that eyebrow quirk is back but this time it seems almost…amused?
What the fuck is going on?
"Huh?"
Stiles Stilinski: a pillar of cool, a god among men.
He nearly slams his head into the computer out of embarrassment, he’s interning for NASA this summer and all he can come up with is, ‘huh’, he can almost hear Lydia laughing at him from her dorm room at MIT.
Derek, bless his heart, seems to be patient and repeats his question, "I said, would you like to go out some time?"
It’s official, Stiles has walked into the twilight zone, at any moment a vortex is going to open beneath his feet and transport him back to his reality.
Not trusting himself to speak, he nods, vigorously, Derek must think he’s having a stroke.
"I’d love that." He manages to croak out once he regains control of his bodily functions.
Derek beams once more and tugs on Stiles hand (holy shit), a sharpie seems to have appeared from thin air (Stiles’ desk) and Derek scrawls his phone number along Stiles’ forearm; he caps the marker with a wink and then saunters away followed by an "I’ll be expecting your call" tossed over his shoulder.
If Isaac comes back to find Stiles beaming down at his arm , he doesn't mention it, meaning he restricts himself to making no more than three jokes about Stiles and his ever present relationship with his right hand.
Stiles is fucked and not in the fun way.
No, he's screwed, doomed, destined to die alone. Why? Because Derek’s on his way and he still has no idea what to wear. Derek’s never seen him outside of the dorkdom that is his library cardigan, glasses, and button down combo.
He needs to impress, okay?
Stiles doesn't have to turn around to know that Isaac is laughing at his expense. The bastard.
"You won't be laughing when I put your balls through a meat grinder, Lahey."
Is it hot in here? Stiles is sure he’s about to pass out.
Maybe Derek won't notice?
Isaac could just slap some sunglasses over his eyes and lift him into the car, Stiles would probably regain consciousness halfway through the date, make some joke about staying up late to study for his midterms and Derek would quirk a brow, maybe even smirk and offer up a way to keep him awake. A sexy way-
"Stiles!"
And yep, uncontrollable limbs meet immovable object.
Its his bookshelf this time.
Panicked and nearly incapacitated, Stiles rounds on the source of his pain, the cotton of his bath towel twirls dramatically around him from the sudden movement.
"Fuck, Isaac, if you kill me who's gonna pay the other half of the rent? Fuck, I think its broken."
The blonde smirks, looking more amused than concerned for his friend's well-being. Rude.
"Suck it up, you hit your foot on the desk because you're a spazz, that's not my fault, besides why would I kill you after I found the perfect outfit? Seems like a waste of my time, no?"
Oh, well, now that he thinks about it his foot really doesn’t hurt that much, its more of a dull throb.
"And just where is this perfect outfit, limp-dick?"
Isaac's face shrivels at the nick-name and for a moment Stiles allows himself to bask in his victory, relishing in his roommate's dissatisfied grumbling.
"Towards the back of the closet, denim shirt with the red trousers, you can wear sneakers but I'd go with your oxfords for a first date."
The brunette forms a mental image of the outfit and hums in satisfaction, leaning down to press a sloppy kiss to Isaac's cheek.
"By god, Lahey, there's hope for you yet!"
Isaac rolls his eyes in response, a fond smile tugging at his lips, he rises from his perch on Stiles' bed, glancing down at his watch,
"You have about fifteen minutes 'till grumpy cat gets here, I'll be staying at Scott's tonight, please try to resist before you inevitably put out, it shows character."
The blonde pinches Stiles' cheek (the one on his face this time) and flounces out the door before his friend can tell him off for the 'grumpy cat' comment.
Shaking his head, Stiles sets out to retrieve the outfit from his closet, opting to heed Isaac's suggestion and go with the oxfords.
A quick glance at his phone has him rushing to the bathroom, Derek's text said he was about five minutes away and Stiles hadn't even fixed his hair yet.
He allows himself to mourn the loss of his infamous buzz-cut, the days when he could roll out of bed without a care were long gone.
Minutes later, the doorbell sounds and Stiles quickly does a full body check, straightening out his shirt and spraying on cologne. He slips on his oxfords, being sure to grab his wallet and keys, and heads toward the front door.
Jesus.
His heart was pounding in his chest and he hadn't even opened the door yet. Get a grip, Stilinski.
With one last deep breath he unlocks the door, willing his nerves to just calm the fuck down.
Damn.
He feels as though the wind has been knocked out of him, Derek looks good. The word sinful comes to mind.
If Stiles thought he was sex on legs at the library then he really doesn’t know what to make of him now.
Derek’s normally clean shaven face is sprouting an impressive amount of stubble, his blue-green eyes are shining; no longer impeded by the glare of his glasses and oh god his body.
Stiles is in dire need of a bib or maybe a bucket, he’s sure he’s drooling.
Derek is dressed in a dark shoulder hugging blazer, a white v-neck (holy shit is that chest hair?), and tight dark wash jeans.
Stiles has a sneaking suspicion that if Derek turns around the sight of his ass will bring him to tears.
How is he supposed to survive this date? He’s not even sure he’ll make it out the front door.
“Hi, Stiles.”
Suddenly it’s all sharp white teeth (teeth fetishes are thing, right?), crinkling eyes, and the soft timber of Derek’s voice.
D.O.A. Do not pass go, do not collect $200.
He’s talking to you, idiot. Say something.
“Uh...”
Stiles should write romance novels, he’s great at this.
Sputtering, he shakes his head to clear his thoughts before running his hands through his hair nervously.
“I mean, Hi, Derek, you look, great, like, amazing actually.”
Stiles hasn’t blushed this much since the ‘safe sex’ talk with his dad.
Derek quirks a brow, smirking before reaching forward to secure his fingers in Stiles’ empty belt-loops.
The action brings the pair closer together and for a second Stiles thinks he may have died and gone to heaven. Sexy, stubble-y, kaleidoscope eyed heaven.
Please don’t stop touching me. Ever. At all. Let’s just get married, have lots of sex, adopt a couple ki-
Derek’s voice breaks him from his thoughts, “Amazing, hmm? I could get used to that.”
Oh my god???
This is too much, Stiles is not equipped for this.
Derek must sense his internal struggle because his smirk stretches wider, wicked almost, and then he’s pulling back, breathing out a litany of compliments against Stiles’ skin before they fully part.
“Oh wow, thank you, um, you ready to head out?”
And there it is again, that mega-watt smile.
Stiles can’t decide if he wants to pinch Derek’s cheeks or suck his brains out through his dick.
He’ll take both for 200, Alex.
“Sure thing, I was thinking I’d take you to this great Thai place I know and then maybe we could see a movie or go to the park after?”
Stiles offers Derek a grin of his own, nodding as he turns around to lock up the apartment.
“That sounds perfect, how about we go to the park? There’s something I want to show you.”
“So besides being a complete and utter tease at the library, what else do you do?” Derek briefly spares Stiles a glance, mouth quirked at the corners, before returning his attention to the road.
His eyes are shining with mirth, tone suggesting that he was only half-joking.
Derek thought he was a tease? Derek thought about him, period?
Stiles willed away his nervousness, before Derek asked him out Stiles thought he couldn’t stand him and now here they were in Derek’s Camaro with Stiles fidgeting nervously in the passenger seat.
It felt like a bit of a whirlwind.
Sensing his discomfort, Derek seemed to deflate a bit, tightening his grip on the wheel and staring straight ahead.
“Shit, Stiles, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable, sorry if I came across as too forward.”
“Oh, no, Derek, there’s no need to apologize, honestly, I just always thought that you hated me. Now we’re here in your car, on a date and it’s a little hard to wrap my head around things, that’s all.”
The elder’s posture visibly relaxed and he smiled softly before reaching over and taking one of Stiles’ hands in his own, “I never hated you, Stiles, quite the opposite, I intend on proving that to you tonight.”
The remainder of the ride was spent getting to know each-other, Stiles talked about his dad and Scott, his hobbies and what grad schools he was applying to and in turn Derek told Stiles about his massive family, his obsession with baseball and how it felt to finally finish his dissertation.
Before he’s even realized it, the car is coming to a stop and Derek’s walking around to open his door.
Stiles had never felt more relaxed in his life; once he got over his initial nervousness he found that Derek was profoundly easy to talk to.
He didn’t push when Stiles glossed over his mother’s death and he actually listened to Stiles ramble on about biology.
If Stiles wasn’t careful he could easily see himself falling for Derek.
Would that really be so bad? When was the last time you had someone to wake up to, to kiss, to lov-
Derek’s hand on the small of his back pulls him from his thoughts and he allows himself to be guided toward the restaurant.
“I don’t know about you but I’m starving.”
Stiles does his best to offer a smile in return, any thoughts of the ‘L word’ have no place on his date with Derek.
He’ll save those for when he’s alone with only one of Isaac’s boxed wines to keep him company.
When Derek mentioned a “great Thai place” Stiles figured they’d go to a small family owned restaurant where they knew everyone by name; they’d greet Derek and Stiles with a smile and usher them over to a table far off in the corner, something intimate and cozy where they could focus on just each-other.
But this? This was posh.
“Right this way, gentlemen.”
Derek takes Stiles hand in his own, following the hostess with an ease and familiarity that suggests he’s been here before.
Probably on other dates, I wouldn’t get your hopes up with this one.
Leave it to Stiles be his own worst enemy, growing up as “the kid with the dead mom and workaholic father” tended to have that effect.
“So what do you think?” Stiles blinked owlishly, he’d been so caught up in his thoughts that he hadn’t even noticed when they sat down, let alone that Derek had started speaking.
If he didn’t know any better he’d say Derek looked nervous.
“It’s beautiful, not what I was expecting but definitely quite the scene, I can’t wait to try the food.”
“You’ll love it, trust me, I know the atmosphere is a bit much for a first date but Laura and I come here all the time and we’ve never been disappointed."
At that Stiles couldn’t help but grin, this was where Derek came with his sister; the fact that he even thought to bring Stiles here was flattering within itself.
“Go on without me! I’ll have them U-haul me to the park!”
A striking laugh bubbles up out of Derek’s mouth and Stiles is sure he’s preening.
Derek’s laughing at something he said, he made that glorious sound fall from those lips.
It’s something that makes Stiles stomach flutter, that sound, he wants to bottle it up and keep it with him; that little piece of Derek that he gets to claim.
“I told you not to have that last bowl of Tom Yum Gung but no,”Stilinski men never back down from a challenge” Oh how the mighty have fallen.”
Derek crosses his arms and fixes him with a haughty look, smirking lips twitching at the corners.
Stiles presses a hand over his eyes dramatically, peeking out between his fingers,
“Et tu. Brute?”
Derek snorts in response, shaking his head in disbelief.
They managed to make it outside of the restaurant before Stiles decided to resort to theatrics, claiming that he was unable to make it back to the Camaro on his own.
I’m stuffed. You’re gonna have to roll me back home Derek.
“Alright, Caesar, climb aboard.”
Derek bends his knees, grinning when Stiles’ latches onto his back, limbs wrapped around him like an octopus.
“Go slow, this is precious cargo!”