pale-silver-comb:

For @emmmna who asked me for something to cheer them up. I went through my blog looking at fluffy otp
prompts and found this: “‘Be nice to your seat partner.
They might just be your future spouse!’ the teacher says, and you turn to me
and wink. Are you even real??” au. I wrote it rather quickly but I hope it makes you smile, sweetheart! ❤

Derek is a popular kid, and by law (according to
every teen movie ever made) his brand of popular is not supposed to get this dumbstruck
when the guy who once sneezed on his apple the first day of pre-school winks at
him in the middle of Biology.

Derek doesn’t know what it is about Stiles Stilinski
but he drives him insane– standing by
his locker, talking to that McCall kid in class, sitting on the bench, fidgeting at lacrosse games. One moment
Derek is a perfectly normal teenage boy with a perfectly functioning teenage
brain and the next he’s that guy in a romantic comedy; all the lights dim and it’s
just him, Stiles and whatever bizarre thing Stiles is doing. It’s horribly,
wonderfully unsettling and Derek is 95% sure he’s in some kind of love. (He is
still a little disturbed Erica had to physically drag him away last week when his
eyes refused to stop looking as Stiles tried and failed to lick some kind of
sauce – meat, Derek thinks it was – from his elbow.)

“What?” he asks, blinking, trying to look up at
Stiles’ face. Unfortunately, his brain has other plans and he continues to
remain fixated on the way Stiles is holding his pencil, twirling it between his
fingers. He wonders, briefly, what they would feel like laced between his
fingers or running through his hair before immediately stopping because no. Stiles also makes him want to bash
his head against the wall 75% of the time. He’s a lethal combination.

Lethal.

“I said I’d like a fall wedding. They seem to be
quite popular for some reason. Maybe it’s all the pretty leaves.”

Derek blinks again, suddenly struck by the image of
Stiles in a suit surrounded by crisp, golden leaves to match his eyes. It’s a
strangely lovely image and turning away a
little, he scowls at the way his stomach flutters. He’s seventeen for Christ’s sake. He’s only kissed one person: Paige Krasikeva during a
game of truth or dare. “You know Miss
Byrne was kidding when she said we’d all get married, right? We’re not going to
fall in love just because we got seated together in one class together.”

Derek hopes it will be just one class, anyway. He doesn’t
think he’ll survive the year otherwise. At least, his grades won’t.

“That’s what you
think.” Derek feels his scowl deepen and Stiles throws his head back,
sighing. “Yes, buzz kill, I do actually know what a joke is, thank
you very much.” He blushes a little, ducking his head, and Derek instantly
feels bad.

“I, uh…”

“Dude, look. It’s fine. Sorry.  I didn’t mean to, like, offend you or whatever.”

“You didn’t offend me.”

Stiles snorts. “Uh-huh. You moved your chair the
moment you sat down next to me. I get it, it’s fine. I’ll shut up, I promise.”
He mimes zipping his lips, blush deepening, and his eyes zero in on his
textbook but Derek can tell he’s not taking in a word of it, even as he turns
the page.

Opening his note book, Derek cringes, writing down
the date. He looks to the clock. He’s got another thirty minutes of sitting
here with Stiles.

Twenty-nine, he swallows.

Twenty-eight, sneaking a glance at him.

Twenty-seven: “I’m sure you’d make a beautiful
bridegroom.”

Stiles’ head snaps up and he drops his pencil. They
both watch it roll away. “What?”

Derek wants to slap himself. Of all the things he
could have said, of all the fucking things, who the fuck says…that?

“I, erm-”

“You don’t have to mock me, you know,” Stiles hisses,
defensive, embarrassed. “I get it. You’re basketball captain and I’m on the
bleachers. You don’t belong with me, whatever.”

Derek bites his lip, supressing a smirk. “Did you…did
you just paraphrase Taylor Swift to me?”

Stiles’ cheeks colour again and Derek’s breath
hitches. Fuck, he’s never going to tire of that.

“You knew I
was paraphrasing Taylor Swift?”

They both burst out laughing at the same time,
earning them a scowl from Miss Byrne and a guffaw
from the back of the room. Turning, Derek catches Lydia Martin roll her
eyes at them before shooting Stiles a knowing look. When he turns back around,
Stiles is an even brighter shade of red, if that’s even possible, mouthing
something to her. It’s utterly, utterly endearing and Derek kind of wants to do
something stupid, like hold Stiles’ hand or draw hearts all over his notebook.

“You know,” he whispers, after a moment, feeling
brave, “I’ve still never forgiven you for sneezing on my apple. Maybe you could
buy me a new one, after school.”

Stiles’ mouth drops open. “That one is on you, buddy.
Who actually brings an apple to give
to their teacher on the first day of school anyway?”

It’s Derek’s turn to blush. Dammit. “Oh, I don’t
know. People with manners?”

Stiles’ eyes widen. “That’s…the most adorable thing I’ve
ever heard, dude.”

“Shut up.”

“Oh my god, but it is.”

“Are you going to buy me another one or not?” Derek
asks, rolling his eyes, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around himself.
God, what is wrong with him.

Grinning, Stiles reaches into his bag, presenting him
with a –

“I don’t know what kind of apples you eat but that is an orange.”

Stiles curses, scratching the back of his neck, and
Derek just about falls out of his seat with how tingly he feels looking at him.

He desperately hopes he’s not giving him heart eyes.

“Points for trying?” Stiles grins, hopeful.

Derek pretends to consider him before taking the
orange and beginning to peel it. “Depends.”

“On?”

“If marrying me includes a date after school today.”

In the end, it’s Stiles who falls out of his seat,
and Derek can’t stop grinning for the rest of the day thinking about it.

Pick you up at 6? comes a text the moment he sits
down in History. Erica peeks over his shoulder, trying to pry as usual, but
Derek hides his phone, heart pounding as he replies, I help coach the pee wee basketball team until seven. Pick me up then?

So. Darn. Cute, Stiles texts back.

“Derek…are you – are you blushing? Oh my god, you never
blush. Who was that? Was that Stilinski?”

“Shut up, Erica.”

~

Stiles ends up taking him to an apple orchard and
buys him exactly one hundred and one apples. 

“One hundred apples for forever and a day?” he asks,
winking. Derek’s stomach flips.

“Sure,” Derek says, shaking his head fondly, biting
into one and then, because Stiles bought him several different kinds, another.

~

“Forever and a day?” Stiles asks, fourteen years
later, holding out an apple. It’s cut in half and getting down on one knee he
opens it carefully, like a box. Inside is a ring.

“Sure,” Derek whispers, grinning so hard it hurts,
falling to his knees and burying his face in Stiles’ neck to hide his blush.

“Dork.”

“Nerd.”

Stiles laughs. “Fair enough.”