reminder that you should be writing virgin!derek fic right now
JEEZ QUIT YOUR NAGGING HERE HAVE A COLLEGE AU:
“Okay, now you look like you’re ready for sex!” Stiles declares, fingers warm against Derek’s neck as he fiddles with his shirt collar
And god, Derek’s had so many fantasies that start exactly like this—the two of them alone in their dorm room; Stiles crowding in close, smelling like sugar and Red Bull and the sandalwood shampoo he always steals out of Derek’s shower caddy; Stiles touching him, saying ‘sex’ to him in that silly, exaggeratedly-lascivious way he always does that makes Derek’s stupid heart go all syncopated.
Except this isn’t one of Derek’s fantasies. Because Stiles is talking about sex with somebody else.
“I need you to get a little bit more excited about this party, Hale,” Stiles is saying, moving his hands up to adjust Derek’s hair. His palms brush the edges of Derek’s ears on the way, and Derek shudders and clenches his teeth. “Wow, okay, interesting approach. You can try glowering at people until they sleep with you, but I’ve never had much success with it, personally. It might work for you. You’ve got a killer jawline for scowling, dude.”
“I shouldn’t go,” Derek says, not for the first time.
“I went out on so many limbs to score us invites, Derek! Hot sorority girls. Everywhere. More sorority girls than you can shake a stick at! Which, in this case, is a strikingly appropriate if inelegant idiom.”
“You’re the worst,” Derek reminds him, fondly, “and I’m requesting a new roommate.”
Tag: halffizzbin
WHERE IS THE FIC WHERE STILES CALLS TECH SUPPORT ON HIS FIRST DAY BUT GETS THE MAINLINE FOR JUNIOR VP DEREK HALE AND DEREK JUST IS HELPFUL
AND STILES JUST CALLS BACK
WHENEVER
HE CAN’T PRINT OR WHATEVS. SO DEREK IS LOADING PAPER DOWN ON THE 28TH FLOOR WHEN HE SHOULD BE ON 49TH IN A MEETING WITH HIS SISTERS
“Anyway, you can just tell this company is being grossly mismanaged,” Stiles tells Derek around the Twizzler he just shoved into his mouth.
“I agree,” Derek says, head buried in the side panel of the malfunctioning copier.
“Resources are clearly available,” Stiles continues, sounding like he’s pacing back and forth near Derek’s feet; “but they aren’t being utilized fully!”
“Mmhmm.” Derek smiles to himself. “I hear the Vice President never even went to business school. He even skips out on the budget meetings, most days.”
“What a hack,” Stiles sighs. “Hey, do you want some candy? What am I saying, look at you. Of course you don’t eat candy.”
Derek is grateful that there’s a plastic panel hiding his overheating face. “I prefer the grape ones, actually, but sure.”
"Eugh, gross.” Stiles has to crouch down next to him to give him the candy, pressing right into his side. “Like, for example: okay, you’re clearly really smart, I can tell. Despite your seriously gross taste in Twizzlers. They’re wasting you in this position.”
Derek coughs, trying to focus on locating the paper jam. It’s been so long since someone said anything like that to him that he can’t actually tell if Stiles is being sarcastic or not.
"Thank you?” he tries, after a too-long pause.
“Anytime,” Stiles says, palm warm between Derek’s shoulder blades. “Although, in a strictly literal sense, I have to admit that this position really works for you.”
Derek hits his head on the paper tray.
Derek isn’t sure why he let this charade go on for over three weeks, it’s just that whenever Stiles ends up calling his line he can’t help but talk to him; it isn’t actually too difficult to Google whatever problem Stiles is having with his computer or whatever, and it actually usually is something really lame, like "how do I take a screenshot” and “I got disconnected to the main server again,” which honestly happens to everyone, you just have to kick your router a little bit. And it’s more entertaining than budget meetings, that’s for sure.
It’s just that he really likes his conversations with Stiles. A lot. Okay, maybe he just likes Stiles.
So Derek is surprised one morning when he’s finally decided he should just go ahead and ask Stiles out one of these days when he doesn’t get a call. Stiles usually calls in once or twice by noon at least, even if it’s just to complain about the coffee in the breakroom.
When Derek walks by Stiles’ desk and finds it empty, not just of Stiles, but in fact all his personal belongings have been swept into a cardboard box. Horrified, Derek raps on the cubicle next to him. “Hey, do you know where Stiles is?"
The guy, A. Greenberg by his nameplate, just shrugs. "Stiles came into work as usual and then he was flipping through the company phonelist, started freaking out about something and just packed everything up. He said he was going to HR."
Derek dashes towards the elevator, making it to the ninth floor where Human Resources is just in time. He barges in office after office, making quick apologies, and finally finds Stiles with an exasperated and bored looking Erica Reyes.
"You can’t file a sexual harassment claim against yourself, Mr. Stilinski,” she’s saying. “Ah, hello, Mr. Hale,” she says when she sees Derek at the door.
Stiles turns, face flushing red. “Ah– I am so sorry Der– I mean, Mr. Hale, I really didn’t know, I mean, this morning all my phone presets were gone so I had to reprogram everything, and then when I called IT and asked for Derek’s line, they said they didn’t have a Derek, and then when I looked through the phonelist, I realized the only Derek was–"
"It’s fine,” Derek says. “Erica, can you just forget this–"
"Sure,” she says, grinning at him.
“Stiles–” Derek pulls him into the hallway. “Were you seriously trying to fire yourself for flirting with me?"
shealwaysreads 