“Hale!” Finstock tosses his play book on the floor and waves his arms manically at Derek. “I’m sorry, is training for the Championship cutting into your daydreams? Ask Stilinski to the dance later, get your act together!
Based on this fic, by Amy Rose. but with Lydia instead of Allison
Happy birthday to the wonderful and amazing @dylanlovesthemets!! Hope you have a good one, pal.
♥
Have a bit of highschool!Sterek with jock!Stiles and nerd!Derek.
Stiles slumped heavily against the metal lockers
with a tired sigh and said, “If classes started an hour later, I’d
be so much more willing to go.” He tilted his head back until the
back of it rested against the lockers, and he momentarily closed his
eyes, his right hand reaching up to grab the strap of his bag before
it slid down his shoulder.
“No, you wouldn’t,” Scott said with a snort and
opened his locker, narrowly catching the lacrosse ball that rolled
out between the books messily shoved into it. “If classes started
an hour later, you’d say the exact same thing.”
Stiles hummed quietly and noncommittally, staring up
at the ceiling for a minute, before he tilted his head back down and
turned it to look at Scott. “Hey, remember how there were nap times
in kindergarten?” he asked, smiling crookedly. “Why didn’t that
make it into high school, too? That would make this hell so
much more enjoyable.”
Scott scoffed softly at him and grabbed a few books,
giving him a raised brow. He started talking, but whatever he said
went right through Stiles’ one ear and out the other, Stiles not
hearing a single word of what he said. Because his attention had been
grabbed by a certain someone hurrying past them and toward their own
locker.
Cheerleader Stiles and basketball captain Derek. Stiles makes up ridiculous chants especially for his boyfriend and gives him plenty of encouraging PDA to show his support at games.
Stiles thought getting a job in his school library would be perfect – he’s constantly surrounded by books and he’s allowed to study while he mans the front desk. That is unless he’s helping a student find a book or restocking shelves – two things that become annoyingly common when starting quarterback Derek Hale starts frequenting his shifts. The guy is obviously mocking him because there’s no way he’s actually as into literature as he acts.
Derek secretly loves books and not-so-secretly likes Stiles, the nerdy-but-cute guy who works at the library. His idea of flirting might be creepy unorthodox and it takes a more than a little while to convince Stiles he’s being sincere – and even longer to convince his best friend Scott.
If what happens after is a little cliché, well, it isn’t like the books have any room to judge. (click images to enlarge)
Ugh so there was a post going around that I’ve now long since misplaced but it was like “I just saw you go upstairs with someone else and I know we’re only fuck buddies but I’m gonna go punch them in the face” and I was HERE FOR IT. If somebody remembers the post, link me. In the meantime, have some Sterek getting together fluff.
“Just tell Derek you want to date him,” Scott says, as if it’s the simplest thing in the world.
Stiles bugs his eyes and flails his hands in wordless frustration, because the correct response to this patently ludicrous advice eludes him. He had come for sympathy, not pie-in-the-sky delusions. “Scott. Bro,” he finally gasps. “How could you even suggest that in good faith? No way! Bad plan!” He slashes his arms in a demonstrative X. “The only reason we’re even hooking up is that I made it super clear I was down to fuck, no strings attached! I’m not ruining a good thing by announcing to Derek Hale that I’m 85% in love with him.”
“Why?” Scott genuinely seems confused, the sweet summer child. After falling into a happy triad with Allison and Isaac after their first semester at UCLA, he doesn’t really understand the definition of “unrequited.”
Stiles turns his attention to a hanging thread on his t-shirt, sourly tugging it loose. “He’s out of my league. I mean, with the baseball, and the smarts, and the sarcasm, and those eyes…” he breaks off with a sigh. The last thing he needs to do is remind himself of how gone he is on Derek. “Just, he’s popular. Dictionary definition of too cool for school. And the three people he actually deigns to hang out with here are all just as cool and good looking as he is. Do I need to remind you I’m not? I’m a gawky, nerdy Sophomore. I’m lucky to even be his fuck-buddy.”
Scott makes a face, incredulous. “I dunno, he must like you well enough if he’s still sleeping with you after all this time. What’s it been, six months? And you guys hang out, too, you’re always telling me about how easy it is to chat with him after you bone. So it’s not just sex.”
Stiles grimaces. “Yeah, but it’s not…”
“… a real relationship,” Derek says into the phone, hearing full well the heavy dejection in his voice. So sue him; the admission is more than a little depressing. “He just wants to be fuck buddies.”
“How do you know?” Laura asks reasonably. “Maybe this Stiles person would be interested in dating you, too. No offence, but you’re not great at reading people. I mean, he’s interested in chilling with you even after you hook up, and clearly he enjoys the physical aspect. Did he actually ever say he wasn’t looking for more?”
Derek heaves a sigh, rolling his eyes even though she can’t see over the phone. “Yep. About two minutes after the first time we slept together he said, ‘no strings attached, obviously.’ So, you know, pretty safe bet that it’s no strings attached.”
“Oh,” Laura says. For once she doesn’t have a snappy comeback.
“Oh,” Derek agrees. Dejectedly.
She gives him a sympathetic little hum, and then asks, “and he’ll definitely be at the sorority barbecue?”
“Yeah.” Stiles and his broad shoulders and his long fingers are definitely going to be at the party.
“Maybe you shouldn’t go,” his sister says softly. “If you really like him, and he’s just looking to get laid…”
Derek groans. Not go, and give up a chance to hook up with Stiles? Smart, maybe, but not something he’s capable of doing.
The problem is, he’s liked Stiles forever. Or at least since he first saw him, laughing uproariously and running around with his friends with an actually broom between his legs, playing “Quidditch.” Derek would have been way too embarrassed to do something like that on the front lawn, but Stiles made it seem like the most effortlessly awesome thing a person could get up to.
No, compared to Stiles, Derek is practically a social recluse, an awkward jock with only about three people who he gets along with at all. Stiles definitely doesn’t want to get saddled with a boyfriend like him. He’s lucky they’re even hooking up after all this time.
“Derek, I mean it,” Laura says. “Look out for yourself for once.”
“I know, I know,” Derek grumbles. “But it’s not my fault he’s…”
“What do I have to do to get you to shut up?” Derek yells, throwing the chemistry notes they are supposed to be studying across the room.
“Hate to break it to you dude, but you’re the one failing Harris’ class, not me.”
“I am not failing,” Derek glares. “I just forgot to hand in a few assignments.”
Stiles rolls his eyes in that distracting- wait, no, annoying– way of his and snorts. Actually fucking snorts.
“And yet, here I am, tutoring your failure of an ass.”
There is a smug smile toying at Stiles’ lips then and Derek wants nothing more than to- than to do something.
“I have other things I could be doing, you know,” Stiles says, bending down to pick up the notes only to throw them away again. “I don’t like you. I have never liked you, you should be fucking grateful I am even here!”
Derek doesn’t know why the words make something funny twist in his gut, but he ignores it. He’s not about to let Stiles-smart mouth-Stilinski of all people get to him like this.
“Where are you going?” Derek spits when Stiles picks up his bag, taking a couple of steps towards the door.
“What does it look like ass face? I’m leaving. Good luck passing without me.” He winks then, haughty and derisive and Derek hates the way it sends something hot coursing through him, how it makes his body shiver and lurch forward before he even knows what he is doing, pressing Stiles up against the door.
imagine, if you will, young awkward derek going to house parties with his teammates bc that’s just what you do when you’re on a team, it’s expected or some shit.
But he’s so bad at people skills, guys. Just. The worst.
So he always ends up disappearing off alone somewhere. (after the way too public Kate fiasco of freshman year everyone just assumes he’s found someone to hook up with so they let him do his thing, which is fine for him)
Enter Stiles Stilinski, who goes to most of the same parties more despite his teammates’ wishes than bc of them, hopelessly pining after Beacon Hills’ most sought after bad boy, desperately wishing he were one of the people Derek leads to dark corners of various houses.
He’s especially morose one night when he loses sight of Derek at a party after 30 minutes, jesus christ, and Scott’s off trying to chat up the new transfer student and Stiles is just not feeling it so he nicks a bottle of whiskey, ducks under the “off limits” rope, and out into the garage, where he sees Derek inside an open cage, white rabbit in his lap.
And Stiles is speechless for the first time in memory and Derek freezes, caught in the adorable act, mouth hanging slightly open in surprise, so that his two front teeth are peeking out and Stiles does the first thing that comes to mind, which is to say:
“Found your twin, I see.”
“What.” and it’s not a question, the blunt way he delivers it, but it’s a better reaction than he was expecting so he soldiers on.
“Your bunny teeth, dude,” he says, gesturing vaguely in the direction of Derek’s face. “They’re cute.” (cute? Christ, what is wrong with him?)
And Derek flushes, mutters “right, yeah,” gently pushes the rabbit off his lap, makes to go.
And Derek, shock on his face as if he can’t believe what he’s saying either, says quietly, “no. You can stay. It’s fine.”
And Stiles is not about to reject that offer, drops to his knees just outside the cage, scratches the bun lightly behind the ears.
“Why are you out here? Isn’t there someone you would rather be uh. Hanging out with?”
Derek shrugs, eyes fixed on the rabbit. “Not really. I’m not great at parties. I like pets a lot better.”
Stiles hums his agreement, nodding along before something occurs to him.
“Wait. Pets? As in, more than one?”
Derek’s ears go red.
“Do you do this at every party?”
Derek scratches the back of his neck. “At every party where there are pets,” he admits. “Sometimes I hang out with Boyd or Erica.”
Which. Oh. Oh.
“So you don’t hook up at parties?”
“What? No, I– what? Why would you say that?” And Derek looks a little shocked, a lot angry, and Stiles immediately regrets opening his big, dumb mouth.
“Sorry, shit. It’s just some dumb rumor. I wasn’t thinking. Sorry.”
Derek’s silent and hunched over, letting the rabbit nibble on his shoe laces. His hands are balled at his sides.
“Is that what you think of me?” he asks eventually, so quietly that Stiles almost doesn’t catch it.
“I– fuck, yeah, I guess?” Stiles admits. “But I don’t really know you.” Which kinda sucks a lot to admit. “I’m sorry. For assuming.”
“What if you got to know me?” derek asks– snaps, really– the annoyance still coloring his tone.
“I– yeah! I’d like that,” Stiles says.
“Okay, then.”
A little after 2am Scott and Boyd stumble into the garage in search of their missing friends. Scott nearly trips over a forgotten whiskey bottle, startling a rabbit from sleep.
Around a corner, oblivious to the new arrivals, Stiles is leaning over Derek’s shoulder and providing running commentary on his game of fruit ninja while Derek glares and snaps, shut up, Stiles! Let me concentrate!
They end up ducking out of a lot more parties after that.
shealwaysreads 