Archive of Our Own ^beta

Stiles can’t help the smile that stretches uncontrollably across his face. He reads his latest note over and over until Scott appears at his side and tries to look at it.

“Is that from your stalker?” He knows exactly who he’s talking about, he wishes he wouldn’t call him that, it’s petty. Stiles rolls his eyes and quickly grabs his algebra book, slipping the note in with the rest he has collected and then holds it to his chest so Scott can’t get it.

“I guess,” he shrugs, trying not to act bothered. “Who cares man? They’re just notes.”

Scott raises an eyebrow at him and then gestures at the closed book in Stiles’ hands, trying to challenge him. He isn’t going to rise to the bait, they’ve had this conversation many times, and Scott is wrong.

“Shut up,” Stiles snaps, trying to fight away the blush starting to burn his cheeks.

“Why do you act like you don’t care? You’re obviously into this weird mating ritual you guys are playing with,” Scott scowls, looking less than impressed.

“One: I’m not a fucking animal you dick! And two: I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Stiles denies.

He tries with all his might not to let his eyes drift over to Derek Hale, if he looks then he’ll give the game away. The guy is stood slightly down the corridor to the left of Stiles, and is dividing books into his locker and bag. He makes it look effortless; balancing the tall pile flat on his hand gracefully as he thoughtfully chooses a place for them as if they don’t weigh a ton. Stiles stares at the bulge of his bicep and tries not to drool.

“Stiles!”

Scott thwacks him on the shoulder with a book, and Stiles tears his eyes away from Derek to glare at his best friend.

“Ouch! What was that for?!” he yells, and hits Scott back repeatedly with the algebra book, happy it’s AP algebra because it’s so freaking heavy.

 Fuck, he had been staring. Again. Busted.

“You’re not fooling anyone, we’re all drowning in the sexual tension and it’s stupid.”

“Scott, you seriously need to start making sense, I have no idea-“

“This is Derek Hale we’re talking about,” Scott interrupts. “Stay away from him, his family is crazy.” Stiles is disheartened and looks at Scott betrayed, he knows it’s only because he cares but Derek is harmless! It’s not like the notes are from him anyway.

Unrequited feelings are a bitch.

“I hate you sometimes,” Stiles replies.

 Just at that moment the basketball team walk past Derek and smacks the pile of books out of his hand, laughing as his they slide across the floor. Stiles bites his tongue, trying his best not to yell down the corridor at them and interfere.

He’s had detention three times this week and it’s only Wednesday.

Derek sighs and pulls an epic bitch face, but he doesn’t say anything, too used to the shit they deal out every day. He steps out the way of the team, pressing back against the lockers and looks at the floor until they pass, quickly bored because he doesn’t react the way they want him to. Once they’re gone he starts to pick up his things.

“Yeah, he’s really dangerous,” Stiles says sarcastically, before slamming his locker and walking to his next class.

And if he looks at Derek’s ass on the way past as he’s bent over collecting books, then that is no-one business but his own.

Scott can suck it.

Stiles started receiving the notes around 3 weeks ago, and they hadn’t stopped yet. At first he had no idea who it was, but now he has his suspicions, (though a lot of it is wishful thinking).

Derek Hale.

He didn’t know Derek before senior year, he’s the quiet type, books are his only friends and he’s happy that way. Actually, he’s kind of a loner and Stiles has always been the only person Derek actually acknowledges, he knows it’s because he can keep up with him intellectually but he likes to think otherwise.

They’ve been steadily flirting on facebook and in study sessions for months, but Derek has never given any indication that it’s anything more than a bit of harmless flirting. Derek is shy, and he’s a very private person, so Stiles doesn’t want to push him. At one point he did think about making a move- kissing him or something, but then Derek’s Uncle went crazy and tried to burn down a building and suddenly the guy is famous.

Everyone knows who Derek Hale is, and everyone hates him.

People try to make life hard for him and it isn’t fair. The girls steer away from him, and the guys wind him up, they’re convinced that he’s going to snap one day like his uncle. It’s ignorant and frustrating and Derek doesn’t want to make it any worse by hitting back. Derek is the target for pretty much 90% of the bullshit that goes on at Beacon Hills High School.

And Stiles wants to stand up for him, really he does! Except…

It makes things so complicated.

Nobody knows him and Derek are friends, because for someone like Stiles – the captain of the lacrosse team, talking to Derek is social suicide.

*

Stiles watches Derek in the desk across from him, he’s chewing his pen as he concentrates, brows furrowed.

“Stilinski!” Stiles jumps and cringes as everyone turns to stare at him. “What are you doing? Is there something more interesting than what I’m trying to teach you?!” Coach Finstock shouts across the classroom from where he’s sat on his desk.

“I was just admiring the view.” He grins and winks in Derek’s direction, hoping that he realises it’s for him and not Erica Reyes who is sat close by. Derek looks confused for a second, and then fights a smile, he turns back to his book but Stiles can see his ears blushing. Success.

“Well that’s really touching, Stiliniski. But you can keep your failed attempts of teenage romance out of my classroom. I’m choking on the smell of desperation and hormones.”

“You wound me, Couch, that hurts.” Stiles smirks at him and holds a hand over his heart.

“Just pay attention or you’ll be running suicide laps at practise.”

*

Stiles can’t lie; Derek is his high school teenage dream.

He wears his jeans tight enough that he thinks it might actually be illegal in a few states. And he has these dorky glasses but they look adorable on him. His fingers are always stained with ink because he prefers writing than typing, and sometimes he has pen on his face. He never shaves so he’s always scruffy but it’s a rough and rugged and it makes Stiles weak at the knees. Derek never has his head out of a book, never mumbles more than a handful of sentences and likes books better than people.

But Stiles doesn’t want to change any of it.

All these odd little things all add up and give Stiles butterflies in his stomach every time he sees him.

One thing his friends don’t know about Stiles is that he’s virgin. Yes, that’s right; the star of the school hasn’t done the horizontal tango. It isn’t the lack of opportunity, its more about the lack of people he’s been interested in. And it’s never really bothered him before. He’s happy with his left hand, and he has never really been sexually frustrated over a person. So really, it has never bothered him.

Except now.

Now it bothers him like hell.

Because he has gym with Derek and the guy’s stood there in a freaking towel and dripping wet, oblivious to the inappropriate boner that Stiles is popping for him.

He sits on a bench and prays that no-one will notice. It’s a freaking good job it’s lunch next so no-one is interested in hanging around and trying to eat into their next period.

He stares at the floor, willing himself not to think about Derek’s abs. How the hell does he have abs like that? Yeah, he does Yoga with his sister, and he jogs past Stiles house every morning, (no he doesn’t eat breakfast on the porch for that reason, he just likes the fresh air okay?!) but that doesn’t justify why he is so sculpted.

“Hi.”

Stiles jumps and sees Derek smiling down at him.

“Hi, Derek.” Stiles smiles.

“Do you by chance have time to look over my English project with me; I’d love to get your input about something.”

As bad timing goes, this is the worst.

“Erm… Not right now…” His brains jumps around looking for an excuse. “I have this thing I need to sort out…” in my pants.

Derek looks disappointed.

“Oh,” he replies, and suddenly looks withdrawn and awkward standing there. He fiddles with his bag.

“Next time!” Stiles practically yells at him in desperation.

Derek looks startled but nods anyway. “Okay,” he agrees, and then walks away looking at Stiles like he thinks he’s a weirdo.

“I hate you,” Stiles mutters, looking down at his crotch.

 

Stiles knows it’s not funny, but he laughs anyway because to him it’s the best thing that he’s heard all day.

Stiles opens his locker and finds a new note has been posted inside. This one really gets to him. The others had all been flirty, or corny, but this gives him butterflies. He looks around and hopes to see Derek again while Scott isn’t around to judge him, but he’s not there.

He pins it on the inside of his locker door instead of hiding it.

*

“So, Derek, do you know anything about poetry?” Stiles asks cautiously as sits opposite him at the back of the library.

Dereks shrugs but smiles knowingly.

“Maybe. I know a little, I’m not a huge fan or anything but I know enough to write something if I wanted to. Do you need some help with something?”

“Erm…” This is the problem Stiles has as soon as he’s around Derek. Everyone knows he’s got a big mouth and no filter, but around Derek he loses his words, which happens, like, never.  “Just curious,” he says in the end, losing his nerve.

“Do you like poetry?” Derek asks, and Stiles can hear the double meaning behind the question. Stiles’ palms begin to sweat.

“Yeah, I do, I love poetry.”

“Good.” Derek is blushing again and Stiles knows that this is his chance. The note from this morning is burning a hole in his pocket. His thoughts are interrupted as Derek’s phone starts to vibrate across the desk. Derek pockets it and grabs his books.

“I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go! I’ll text you later!” he says, before looking at him apologetically at him and then disappearing.

 

Stiles is still kind of in denial about the whole having feelings for Derek thing. But then Derek starts gradually showing up at his lacrosse practises, and then at the games. Derek doesn’t even like lacrosse! But there he is in the stands, wrapped up in his coat with a scarf wrapped around him. He’s by himself and he doesn’t even care!

Stiles is ecstatic when he manages to score: Derek is kind of distracting! As soon as the ball hits the net, he scans the crowd to find Derek again, and the guy is smiling right at him. It makes him feel like the most important player on the field.

Stiles is floored to realise this is no longer just a physical thing, right before he is physically floored, air knocked out of him as he is tackled by Jackson.

That dick ruins everything.

*

As Stiles drops the algebra textbook, he feels like he’s suddenly in slow motion as he tries to catch it, but it’s too late, little round notes are skidding across the floor.

“You are so whipped,” Scott laughs as he sees how many Stiles has kept.

“Hey, what are these? Pretty…” Lydia Martain asks as one of the notes gets stuck to the bottom of her pump. She unsticks it and reads it, eyes going wide. “…stuff you and mount you…”

Stiles cringes and takes it back.

“You know, like bass, it’s a joke, because it sounds like-”

“Romantic,” she deadpans.

“They’re from his secret admirer,” Scott tells her. Well, that’s better than stalker. Stiles still punches him in the arm, it was a secret.

“Nice.” Lydia grins.

“So who is it?” she asks, looking around interested.

“No-one.” Stiles says, slapping his hand over Scott’s mouth.

“Well, whoever it is, they must really like you, she’s lucky, who ever she is.”

“It’s a guy, and Stiles wants to climb him like a tree-“

“Seriously, Scott! Shut  up! People can hear!”

Stiles watches Derek eating lunch in the canteen. He has a book in one hand and a sandwich in the other. Though he looks a lot more interested in the book than his lunch. He reads the note he is hiding under the table again.

Right, he can do this. He just needs to walk over there and speak to him.

Fuck everyone, come on, Stiles just do it.

He clutches the note in his hand and stands, he standing meters in front of Derek when Greenburg appears, walking into his personal space and making him uncomfortable.

“Erm, hey… Greenburg…” he says, trying to look over his shoulder at Derek.

“I see you got my note.” He grins, looking at the creased coloured paper in Stiles’ hand.

Stiles looks at the note in horror and is flooded with disappointment.

“This was you?” he asks, pushing the note into Greenburg’s smug face.

“Well, yeah, who else would it be from?”

Stiles unintentionally glances behind the other guy, looking at Derek again. He’s now holding his book with both hands, sandwich forgotten on the table, effectively hiding behind the text. Stiles isn’t sure if it’s deliberate or not.

“You thought it was him? You know he’s crazy right?” Greenburg laughs, shaking his head like Stiles feelings are a joke, like judging Derek- saying that about him, is nothing but a laugh.

Stiles screws the note up and throws it at him, beyond pissed off.

“Mental health is not a joke,” he spits at Greenburg. “And I’m not fucking interested, get out of my face,” he hisses before grabbing his things and running off.

He can’t believe how fucking stupid he’s been. Of course Derek isn’t interested in him. Of course he would only ever be good enough for a jerk like Greenburg.

Stiles storms outside, needing some air. He finds himself slumping under a tree. He doesn’t realise he’s crying until Scott drops to the floor in front of him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Do I look okay, Scott?!” he yells and Scott shrugs awkwardly. “Why do you care, you hate him anyway. You should be pleased it wasn’t him!”

“If it’s any consolation, I think Greenburg’s a liar. Derek looked devastated when you dropped that note; he picked it up and was straightening it out on the table. He glared daggers at Greenburg after you left.”

Stiles sniffled, feeling hopeful.

“He did?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think you should talk to him, he obviously likes you… and maybe he’s not as bad as everything thinks.” Scott reluctantly admits.

“Thanks, man.”

Stiles is out of breath, bent over slightly as he leans on his knees, having just ran around the field a stupid amount of times. Coach is trying to kill him.

“Hey, don’t look now,” Scott says. “But your stalker is checking you out.” Stiles is happy to hear that the nickname is a lot more affectionate, rather than malicious like before.

Stiles turns around and looks at the windows in the nearest building. He looks just in time to see Derek falling backwards off his chair, arms flailing madly to try and catch himself. He can’t help but laugh. Scott winces sympathetically.

When Derek appears again he looks mortified.

Stiles grins wide and doesn’t give a damn what his teammates think as he waves at him.

Stiles thinks about it… a lot.

He’s now convinced the notes are Derek. And somehow Scott is rooting for the two of them to get together. There’s nothing to lose. And really, Stiles knows he’s being a massive dick.

He takes Derek’s advice.

*

He’s had enough, he can’t not know any more. He storms to the library knowing that Derek will be right at the back where he usually is.

He’s right of course, he’s buried behind a mountain of books.

Stiles slams the algebra book on the desk, directly on top of Derek’s work so he has no choice but to look at it.

“What?” Derek frowns, and then picks it up, flicking through it. It falls to the back where the notes are hidden. Derek doesn’t say anything but takes a pink note out of his pocket and put it with the rest, it’s the one he dropped in the canteen.

So Scott had been telling the truth.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Stiles asks, trying to get Derek to look at him. The guy shrugs and looks embarrassed.

“You’re just really cool, everyone likes you. I didn’t think you’d be interested in someone like me. You’re the most popular guy in school, it’s kinda hard to miss.”

“Yeah, I am,” Stiles says, before he realises how it sounds.

“What?” Derek says, frowning, but finally looking up at him.

“Interested, I mean. I am interested,” he elaborates.

“What about your friends?”

“Fuck ‘em,” Stiles replies.

“Oh,” Derek replies. “Okay.”

“Okay?” Stiles is baffled. “So after months of sexual tension and explicit messages, all you can say is okay? That’s it? I don’t understand.”

Derek shrugs again. “I meant, okay I’ll be your boyfriend, if you want…”

“But I didn’t-“ Stiles snaps his mouth shut. Shut the hell up, Stiles! Too many words! Stop talking! “That sounds great.”

“So do you wanna come to mine, or am I allowed over tonight?”

“To study?” Stiles minding is all over the place. This seriously can’t be happening right now.

“Well, if you wanna call it that.” Derek grins and laughs to himself, looking at him pointedly until Stiles clicks on.

“Study… right… either places are good. Or we could go study… now?” he says, stumbling over a few of his words. Derek smiles and stands up. He nods and then leans in and kissing him hesitantly.

It isn’t perfect, but Stiles doesn’t want it to be. He grips Derek and he never wants to let go.