Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

No matter what anyone said, it wasn’t weird. Nothing about this was weird. They were in the cafeteria, and he had food, and he was allowed to sit there chewing absently on his Twizzler while staring across the large room and pretending to listen to what was going on at the table around him. 

Nothing strange about that. Just a dude chilling in his chair, straddling it because that was the expected thing to do for someone ‘cool,’ and trying to make like he wasn’t only there because he wanted to spend some quality time watching the way a small smile teased the corners of the other teen’s lips while he read his book. 

Light eyes narrowed slightly, trying to determine from across the loud room if the other teen had just let out a slow, relieved breath, or a shaky exhale at whatever had transpired on the pages of his book. His teeth dug harder into the chewy plasticity of his overly sweet treat, fingers drumming absently on the table in front of him and upper arms a little tender from leaning all his weight against the back of the chair like he was. 

Really, he’d much rather be sitting in the chair properly, but that wouldn’t do for someone like him. No, he had a reputation to uphold, and one Stiles Stilinski did not sit in chairs unless they were backwards. Except in class, because fuck that, he could hardly concentrate as it was, let alone if he had to sit straddling a chair the whole time.

He’d rather be straddling something else, anyway.

Or someone else, at any rate. 

“What do you think, Stiles? Stiles?” 

Said individual started horribly when the Twizzler he’d been chewing on absently was suddenly wrenched from between his teeth. It kind of hurt, if he was honest, since his head had jerked forward at the action before he automatically loosened his grip on the sugary treat between his teeth. 

“Stop eating sugar, you’re hyper enough as it is.” 

Stiles let out a distressed noise when his snack was tossed onto the table, because while the five second rule was a thing, it wasn’t so much a thing in a high school cafeteria and no way was he putting that back in his mouth. 

“That was supposed to last me until practice,” Stiles whined, punching hard at the traitor sitting beside him. 

“You ate the rest of the bag, you’ll be fine,” Jackson Whittemore insisted, punching him back much harder than necessary. To be fair, Jackson had very little understanding of what constituted ‘hard’ anymore, what with the whole lycanthropy condition thing he had going on. 

Still, Stiles didn’t have it in him to forgive such a heinous crime as robbing him of his afternoon snack, so he just punched him again and ignored the fact that he was probably only injuring himself rather than causing Jackson any immediate discomfort. 

Shaking out his hand while Jackson popped another fry into his mouth, Stiles’ eyes strayed back across the cafeteria towards the object of his affection, who was sitting alone in the back corner with his mostly uneaten lunch in front of him and a book in his hands. 

It wasn’t that he didn’t have any friends to sit with, it was more that he liked to spend lunchtime reading. Stiles had learned that long ago, considering he’d been crushing on the guy since the first day of high school. He knew his entire routine by heart, and while Jackson always called him a stalker, it wasn’t like that. 

Stiles just knew him. It was hard not to want to keep an eye on someone like him. He was the perfect guy, the literal whole package. He’d grow into his ears and bunny teeth eventually, Stiles was sure. After all, he already looked ten times more attractive now than he did their first day of freshman year. 

It was going to be weird when they graduated and went their separate ways. Not that he thought he was going to be missed, but really, Stiles blamed his behaviour towards him entirely on him.

Because Derek Hale was fucking infuriating! Ever since day one, Stiles had tried so hard to get him to pay attention to him. He was funny, okay! He was extremely entertaining! People liked him. He was charismatic and outgoing, and he was the captain of the track team and had been since sophomore year. Nobody could outrun him on the track, not without some help from various Supernatural enhancements, and those were forbidden in official meets. 

He was also particularly good at lacrosse, missing out on captain by literally one vote, though he wasn’t too sore about it since Jackson ended up being captain. And he was basically in charge of the team anyway because Jackson sucked at peopling. He was just a really good player. 

And Stiles got good grades. Like, he was smart, okay. Maybe not Lydia Martin—Goddess of knowledge and beauty—smart, but he was a solid A student, which was saying a lot since he had the worst trouble focussing. His attention span was the length of a goldfish’s memory. 

Except if Derek Hale was what he was focussing on. Because Derek could hold his attention for literal hours. 

Feeling wasn’t mutual, apparently. Because, again, no matter what Stiles did, he couldn’t get the guy to notice him. Stiles was popular. A jock, by some standards, sure, but he was still smart enough to get teased for not failing every class he took. He tended to be head-to-head with Derek grade-wise in almost all their classes, so he’d have thought the other guy would’ve noticed him.

But no. Derek Hale was very in his own little world. Always busy, always distracted. He read, and played chess, and did math for fun—seriously, Stiles didn’t know what was wrong with him, he liked a fucking nerd!—and was in debate and just... He did a lot. So much. 

Too much.

He never had time to notice Stiles, and that was frustrating, because there was only so much Stiles could take. 

Which was why he’d stopped playing nice by the time the year started. They were running out of time, and he needed Derek to fucking—at least just acknowledge him or something! So while he was sure his mother would be horrendously disappointed in him, he couldn’t help it. He acted like a dick to Derek, because it was the only way to get his fucking attention. 

“Would you stop looking at Hale for two seconds and pay attention?” Jackson snapped his fingers in Stiles’ face, making him jump and turn to the table at large. A few of his friends were smirking knowingly at him while others seemed wholly uninterested in his desire to tap that before graduation. 

“I heard you, I can multi-task,” Stiles insisted, eyes skirting back over to Derek. He still hadn’t touched much of his lunch, just like every other day. Too wrapped up in his book. He was going to end up eating in class again, sneaking bites of his sandwich behind Mr. Harris’ back whenever the man turned to write on the board. 

Stiles wished Derek got detention every now and again so that he could get one too. Maybe they’d even bond over like... what even happened in detention nowadays? Did people still clean erasers or whatever? Stiles hadn’t gotten detention in years.

Well, no, he’d gotten many detentions, but his coaches always got him out of them because they interfered with various practices. The perks of being the top athlete in the school. 

Jackson didn’t count, he was a Werewolf, it was why Stiles was the favourite. He’d earned his spot as top athlete. Not that Jackson didn’t work hard but, well, Stiles wasn’t going to complain. It got him out of detention. 

When the bell rang to signal the end of lunch, Stiles sat there with his chin on his arms, waiting for Derek to notice lunch was over. It usually took him a few seconds, because he was so engrossed in his various books, but the cacophony of noise that slowly began to die out tended to be his cue. 

Stiles felt Jackson slap at the brim of his baseball cap, having the edge actually hit the top of his spine, but he ignored him and just reached up to pull it back into place with one hand. He knew it was a douche thing to wear it backwards, but again: he had a reputation. 

Besides, he turned it right-way ‘round when he needed to, he just didn’t see the point in worrying about it while sitting inside. 

He heard his friends’ chatter slowly begin to dissipate while they headed off with their trays and bags, but he didn’t move, waiting for Derek. It took him a little longer than usual today, so it was probably a good book. Eventually though, he glanced up and seemed to jerk slightly, as if startled, then shut his book and began gathering up his things. 

Stiles tried not to smile too endearingly when Derek shoved half his sandwich into his mouth, chewing quickly while gathering all of his things. It was kind of adorable that after four years, the guy still couldn’t get through his lunch during the break. 

Derek, clearly, was not a multi-tasker. Not like Stiles was. He could eat and stare adoringly across the cafeteria without any problems. Derek apparently couldn’t eat and read at the same time. It was adorable. He probably couldn’t walk and chew gum at the same time, either. 

Stiles’ eyes tracked him while he walked to the exit, heading out of the cafeteria and back into the hallway. Sighing and sitting up properly, Stiles finally stood with a stretch and flipped the chair back around, pushing it in before straightening the rest of the chairs at his table—seriously, he was friends with savages. Satisfied everything was in order, he grabbed his bag from the floor and hoisted the strap over his shoulder while heading for the exit. 

There were still a few people milling about here and there in the cafeteria, but most of them were the ones who were planning on skipping their next class. Stiles had a study period next, so he could dawdle all he wanted. He had nowhere to be. 

“You’re pathetic, you know,” Jackson informed him as Stiles stepped through the double doors, falling into step beside him. “Can’t you be less of a loser while pining for the guy?” 

“What’s wrong, jealous?” Stiles waggled his eyebrows at Jackson.

That just earned him the middle finger and Jackson sped up, like he was regretting waiting behind for him. Stiles jogged to catch up. 

“Whitty. Whitty, Whitty, wait, I’m sorry.” Stiles threw one arm around his friend’s shoulders and yanked him closer. “You know you’re the only one for me. Nobody does me like you do.” He licked a stripe up his friend’s face from chin to temple and then laughed and bounced away when Jackson let out a sound of disgust and swiped at him, claws beginning to peek through. “Hey, hey, put those away. That ain’t right, Whitty.” 

“Lick my face again, and I’ll eviscerate you,” Jackson informed him, eyes flashing threateningly. He knew he’d flashed them because of the shift in hue, so he was definitely not pleased. 

Stiles grinned at him, but held up both hands in surrender. He knew it was bad form to tease his friend, but Jackson was just such an easy target. They’d known one another since basically diapers, and as soon as Jackson came out as being gay, everyone was adamant that it was Stiles’ fault. 

He had no boundaries—case and point, Jackson currently wiping saliva off his face—and he and his friend had always had a very open and honest friendship. Stiles didn’t care that Jackson was into guys, and as time passed, turned out he was also into guys.

And girls.

And non-binary. 

Really, he was into everyone, they were all attractive and wonderful. But no one was near as amazing as Derek Hale. It was a wonder Jackson could stand being in his presence, Stiles knew he always smelled like arousal, because he was always staring at Derek.

It was easy to do given the nerd sat at the front of the class all the time, allowing Stiles to sit and stare longingly at the back of his head. 

“What are you doing about prom?” Stiles asked Jackson while they headed through the bustling corridor. He nodded a greeting to one of his friends in another class, clapping hands with him as they passed each other, but didn’t slow in his stride beside Jackson. 

“Might ask Danny,” Jackson admitted. “His boyfriend got early admittance, so he was gonna bail. I figured we could go together, just have a good time.” Jackson turned to him, giving him a brief once-over. “What about you? Gonna ask the nerd?” 

Stiles scoffed, shoving at his friend, but he couldn’t deny the thought hadn’t occurred to him. He’d love to ask Derek to prom, but he somehow felt like that would go over poorly. He’d probably think it was a joke. 

Or worse, he’d ask Stiles who he was and if he even went to this fucking school. 

God he hated how much he loved that fucking guy. 

Jackson could obviously tell he was distracted, because he let out a low whistle to get his attention back and Stiles turned to him. Jackson wasn’t looking at him though, so when he followed his line of sight, he caught Derek standing in front of his closed locker, back to the metal door and book open. He still had his sandwich in one hand, and seemed to be completely transfixed with what was happening on the page in front of him. 

He was going to be late to class if he didn’t get moving. 

Stiles let out a small sigh, because he hated having to be a dick, but it was the only way to get some kind of reaction out of the guy. Also, he wanted to know what book it was so he could read it. He loved reading the books that Derek was so engrossed in. 

As they approached him, Stiles slowed slightly so Jackson could move ahead, and then switched spots with him so he would be on the same side as Derek. As soon as they were right beside him, Stiles’ hand whipped out and he smacked the book upwards. Derek had only been holding it loosely with one hand, so it jerked out of his grip easily and hit the floor pages down, giving him a clear view of the title. 

“‘Sup nerd?” Stiles said with a grin at Derek, eyes shooting down to check what he was reading. 

It was something called Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston. He’d never heard of it, he’d have to look it up in a minute. 

“You’re so fucking immature,” Derek muttered while bending down to pick up his book, Stiles walking backwards so he could keep watching him. 

“Get to class before your GPA drops,” Stiles called back to him. 

Derek didn’t even look at him, scowling down at his book while attempting to straighten the bent pages from the book’s unfortunate meeting with the floor. Stiles wondered if maybe it was borrowed, and felt bad for Derek having to explain why the pages were creased. 

After all, Derek always took really good care of his books. 

Stiles stumbled when Jackson grabbed at his strap and wrenched him back around forcefully, likely because he was acting like a lovesick idiot. 

Not that Derek had fucking noticed or anything. 

“The fact that he still hasn’t noticed you want into his pants makes me question his intelligence,” Jackson informed him, nose wrinkled. “You smell like a porno.” 

“And how, exactly, would you know what a porno smells like?” Stiles asked him with a devious smirk. “You really been going to those extra lessons on Saturdays to get your grades up, or are you actually secretly a porn star?” 

“One day, I’m going to claim I got dosed with a hallucinogenic strain of wolfsbane and claw your face off,” Jackson informed him.

Stiles winked at him. “Love you too, Whitty.” 

Jackson punched him, extremely hard—ow, fucking Werewolf versus human!—and turned to head off towards his next class. Stiles stood at the break in the corridor, scowling after him and rubbing at his arm. Tough love. He knew it was all tough love, but Jackson really forgot that he was a Supernatural creature with super-strength and Stiles was a puny human who got so good at running by running away from Supernatural creatures. 

True story, his dad still couldn’t get through it without laughing hard enough he started crying. Stiles didn’t think it was that funny, but hey, at least it made his dad happy. 

Turning to head off towards the library, he glanced over and saw Derek still fussing with his book, a scowl on his face. He was really adorable when he was all huffy and disgruntled. 

Stiles fucking hated him. Why did he have to be so God damn adorable?

Shaking his head and continuing on his way, forcing Derek Hale from his mind, he made it to the library before the bell rang. He knew he should be in study hall, but he preferred the library to the stuffy classroom in the back of the school with no A/C. Besides, he could get away with it as long as he was actually working. The teacher always tended to hunt him down and leave him be when he saw he was doing homework. 

“Dolores,” Stiles greeted warmly while walking up to the checkout, where the lovely librarian was stationed reading a book. “You look lovely as ever today. Did you do something to your hair? Is it different? It looks terrific.” 

“What do you want, Stiles?” she asked with the air of someone who knew when she was being sucked up to. Stiles loved Dolores. She was somewhere between sixty and eighty—a true gentleman never asked a woman her age—but was probably more familiar with memes and various phrases-of-the-age than Stiles was, and he was a teenager. 

She definitely had a Tumblr. He kept trying to get her to slip up and tell him what her name was, but after four years, he figured he’d probably never find her. 

“I’m looking for a book,” he informed her with another winning smile. “A specific book,” he added hastily, before she could give him a sassy comeback about the books at his back. 

“Every time you come in asking for a book, I’m convinced you’re sticking to your four-year plan to trick me into thinking you can read.” 

“Ouch,” Stiles insisted, slapping one hand dramatically to his chest. “Dolores. My feelings.”

“As JT would say, cry me a river,” she said with a spark in her eye. 

Stiles just laughed, shaking his head and leaning forward on the counter, crossing his arms on it and resting his chin down on his forearms. “Dolores. Love of my life. I need a specific book. Please tell me we have it.” 

She sighed, like his presence was a nuisance, but he knew she was fond of him. She wouldn’t put up with him otherwise, and that was a fact, because she’d banned Jackson from the library in sophomore year. The fact that Stiles had yet to be banned proved she had a soft spot for him. 

“What’s it called, then?” 

“Red, White & Royal Blue. It’s by someone named Casey... shit, I forgot the last name.” He winced when she smacked at his arm, giving him a look for cussing. “Sorry.” 

“Damn straight,” she muttered, turning back to her screen, and Stiles just smiled to himself again. 

She ended up finding the book, but they didn’t carry it. Unsurprising, when Stiles looked it up on his phone, because it wasn’t exactly something a high school library would have. Dolores had friends in high places though, that being the town library, and she called one of her friends to see if they had it. When they confirmed they did, she asked for it to be put aside for him, and Stiles promised he’d grab it on his way home. 

He’d only just gotten his books out and begun working when his teacher hunted him down, making sure he was doing what he was supposed to be. Stiles just smiled sarcastically at him and waved. He knew it was a bit of a dick move, but after all these months, he’d kind of hoped the jackass would just trust him and leave him be. 

As soon as the teacher left, Stiles pulled his phone back out to look up some reviews on the book he was going to get after school. He smiled a little while remembering how engrossed Derek had been, and hoped he liked it, too. 

Then again, he knew he would. Every time he read a book Derek was really into, he ended up loving it. They had really similar taste. 

In everything except men, apparently. 

Sighing, Stiles turned his screen off and shoved his phone back into his pocket, knuckling down to try and get some work done before something shiny came in to distract him. 

Derek Hale hated everything there was to hate about high school, and then some. He hated the teachers, he hated the ridiculous ways in which the lessons were taught, he hated the way some people were better than others despite trying just as hard and being made fun of for it. 

He hated the number of people he had to be around on a daily basis, he hated the smells that assaulted him every time he stepped foot outside his house, he hated that all of his close friends barring one had already graduated or attended other schools. 

He hated never being able to beat out Lydia Martin in any class, he hated that PE was still a required course for him despite being a senior and a Werewolf, he hated having to attend classes with the children of known Hunters in the area. 

But most of all, he hated, absolutely loathed, Mieczyslaw ‘Stiles’ Stilinski. 

Derek liked to think his ‘hate’ of things was only ever of things, because no one was worth the amount of energy hating them would take. He had enough things to hate in his life so hating a person seemed exhausting. 

He made an exception for Stiles Stilinski though. 

He fucking loathed that stupid fucking human jock. He hated the way his entire face lit up when he laughed, head thrown back and throat bared for all the world to see. He hated how he could shift his smiles from sarcastic to sincere to soft to genuine at his leisure. He hated how soft his hair looked, and how he’d looked adorable with the buzzcut and downright hot with the new longer hairstyle. He hated his fucking hands, and how his fingers were all long and slender, and how he always gesticulated wildly whenever he spoke. He hated his lips, that he always worried when he was working on something particularly complicated, or writing an exam, or concentrating really hard. 

He hated his bright eyes, and his inquisitive nature, and his smooth voice, and his strong thighs, and his fucking everything. Derek hated everything about Stiles Stilinski.

But he only hated everything about him because he kept trying to stop wanting him so much. 

Stiles was not someone Derek could ever have. From the first time he’d seen him in middle school, racing around the track and outrunning literally everyone with ease, he’d known this was someone who was going to go far in life. He was bright, and funny, and cheerful, and just—sunshine. 

He was literal sunshine. His mother had passed away, and Stiles still found the strength to get out of bed every morning. He’d come to school the day after it had happened. He’d been heartbroken, devastated, mourning, and he’d shown up anyway. Sure, he’d been flanked on either side by his two closest childhood friends Scott McCall and Jackson Whittemore for emotional support, but he’d still managed to make it through the day like it was any other day. 

Stiles was a one of a kind person. Amazing, talented, just—so genuinely kind to everyone. 

Except Derek. 

He didn’t know what he’d done in his life to earn Stiles’ ire, but all he could assume was that it was because he got better grades than him. Stiles was never going to be Valedictorian—neither was Derek, not with Lydia Martin in their grade. The only option for him was Salutatorian, but he always scored just barely below Derek did in all their classes. He was always third place, never having been able to inch his way up above Derek.

Sure, every now and then he’d get a slightly better grade than Derek did on an exam or a paper, but at the end of the year, Derek was always ahead of him. That constant inability to move up past Derek into second place was the only thing he could think of as to why Stiles hated him so much. 

He was nice to everyone else, so Derek knew he was a genuinely nice person, but he just seemed to have a massive hate-on for him. And that was the only piece that made sense. 

He’d seen Stiles absolutely destroy a bunch of sophomores who’d been cornering a poor freshman girl and pressuring her into something she clearly didn’t want to do. He’d walked her all the way to her next class, even though it had made him late for his own. 

He’d heard Stiles talking kindly to the librarian on multiple occasions, bringing her presents on her birthday and on ‘international librarian day,’ and basically making an old woman feel like she was still someone worth getting to know. 

Stiles was always the first to volunteer for any of the fundraisers the school put on, and he always, always agreed to take on the worst jobs. Someone had to do clean-up after a huge party? Stiles would do it. Someone had to sit out of an amazingly fun event to sell tickets at a booth for the whole day? Stiles would do it. Someone had to take the fall for that massive prank a few seniors had pulled a few weeks back? Stiles took it, even though Derek knew he hadn’t been involved since he’d been out of town that day. Derek only knew that because he and Jackson weren’t quiet when they talked about their plans in class, so he knew for a fact Stiles hadn’t been involved. The only reason he’d taken the fall was because his academic standing, his popularity and his athleticism were all things that had most teachers feel like he walked on water. 

He was just—a genuinely kind individual. Which was why the only thing Derek could think of was their academic battle for why he was always such a dick to him. 

Sometimes, Derek almost wanted to just... let Stiles win. Give him the chance to be better, even just once. The problem was, Stiles was guaranteed a free ride wherever he wanted to go for university. 

Derek wasn’t. 

Stiles had all of his sports, which meant he could get in on various sports scholarships. That, coupled with his good grades, guaranteed him a free ride for his entire university career. Derek didn’t have that. For one thing, Werewolves were still heavily disliked and finding a university willing to take him even with his good grades was already slim. For another thing, all Derek had was his grades. If he didn’t make Salutatorian, he wasn’t going to make it into university at all. 

His older sister hadn’t managed, and she’d been fourth in her class. A few had agreed to take her, but they were too far, and it wasn’t like his family could afford it. If Derek wanted to go to university, he needed at least a partial scholarship, and he needed it to be one of the closer ones.

He’d only been conditionally accepted to two in the surrounding five States, and that was provided he graduated with certain grades. One was offering a very small scholarship, and the other was offering a partial one. But if he didn’t make those grades, he wasn’t going. 

Being a Werewolf wasn’t as fun as everyone seemed to think it was. 

So Derek couldn’t let Stiles win. Even if he wanted to, just so the guy would fucking stop acting like Derek was the worst thing to happen to him. And he knew it wasn’t the Werewolf thing, considering he was friends with both Scott and Jackson. One was a Werewolf, and the other was a Werewolf hybrid called a Kanima. Both Supernatural. Both his friends. 

He hated Stiles Stilinski. Because he so wished Stiles Stilinski didn’t hate him. 

Derek started when the bell rang, his mind having wandered the past few minutes. Not that it mattered, since their teacher had spent a majority of the class bitching about the school’s archaic curriculum and how the books she wanted them reading weren’t considered appropriate, but somehow reading all of Shakespeare’s works was meant to enrich their lives. He kind of loved how much he agreed with her, because school could be super dumb. 

She didn’t bother trying to speak over the din when everyone started packing up. They’d already been assigned homework, and she hadn’t been teaching them anything today anyway, so she just sat back down at her desk and looked weary. Like she was getting too old for all this. 

He felt kind of bad for her, but not enough to stop and talk to her. He was getting a ride home today, so he couldn’t dawdle. 

Packing away his stuff, he slung his bag over his shoulder and followed the rest of the class out the door. People chatted and joked around, making plans for the upcoming weekend while others spoke about prom, which was fast approaching. Derek didn’t have any desire to go to prom, but he knew it was expected of him. His mother wanted him to experience all the things worthwhile in life, and apparently prom was one of them. 

He didn’t want to go. The only person he’d want to go with would never in a million years agree to it. He could imagine Stiles just outright laughing in his face, maybe make a big deal of it so that everyone would know that Derek Hale, nerd extraordinaire, had asked him, him, popular and amazing Stiles Stilinski to prom. 

Stiles probably already had a date, anyway. The girls in this school threw themselves at him at every opportunity. Some of the guys, too. It wasn’t a secret he was bisexual, so really, anyone who was interested in him had a shot. 

Except Derek, obviously.

Bypassing his locker, Derek jumped a few steps down from the front entrance to the sidewalk and made his way towards the parking lot. He could see Stiles’ Jeep a few spots down from where his ride was, and hoped that he made it out of there before the jock showed up. 

No dice, because he was only a few steps away from his ride when a voice called out behind him. 

“Big sis still picking you up from school, nerd? What’s the matter, too scared to drive after your reckless behaviour? Probably never gonna drive again, at the rate you’re going.”

Derek just grit his teeth and avoided turning around. He didn’t want to look at Stiles, because he still felt shame curling in the pit of his stomach over what had happened. 

Namely, he’d almost killed someone. 

Derek was a Werewolf, he knew he could do a lot of things without any risk to his person. He sometimes forgot not everyone was like that. He’d been driving his beat-up piece of shit clunker at breakneck speed down the road leading to his house. He’d been close to curfew, so he’d been driving a lot faster than necessary. 

He’d caught up to a car in front of him and had been stuck impatiently behind it for a while, meaning he’d definitely be late getting home. Even though it was an unsafe place to try and pass, what with a blind corner and all, he’d tried anyway.

It was a mistake, because another car rounded the bend coming from the other direction and Derek had slammed into the car beside him in an attempt to avoid a head-on collision. The other car had ended up in a ditch, and he’d been devastated to find out it was a man and woman, the latter of which being seven months pregnant. Thankfully both were relatively unharmed, but the idea that he could’ve caused a bigger crash and fucking killed someone’s unborn child still freaked him out. 

His parents had taken away his car after that event, and even though it had been almost two years ago, he was secretly glad he still wasn’t allowed to drive. He didn’t trust himself behind the wheel of a car anymore. 

Though Stiles’ comment kind of rang true. He knew that the longer he stayed out from behind the wheel of a car, the less likely he was to ever get behind one again. It was one of those psychosomatic things where the longer he stayed away, the more afraid he was to drive. He should probably talk to his parents about that, but he was still too nervous to.

A problem for another day. Not something to focus on while Stiles Stilinski was coming up behind him and snarking comments at his back.
 
Pulling open the passenger side door, he slid into the seat and slammed it loudly, keeping his head down so he didn’t have to watch a laughing Stiles pass in front of the Camaro. He just busied himself with buckling in, ignoring the way his sister stared at him. 

“I see things are still going well with you and Stilinski.” 

“He’s a real treat to be around,” Derek shot back. 

He ignored the way Laura’s lips quirked up at the corners while she started the car and eased them out of the spot she was in, following the small line of cars out of the lot and onto the road. 

He appreciated that she didn’t mention anything else while they were still within Jackson’s hearing range, given he’d definitely have heard her. 

“You should try talking to him,” Laura said, for what felt like the millionth time. “It makes no sense that he treats you how he does. Just pull him aside and have a conversation with him.”

“Why bother? We’re graduating in a month, and then I’ll never see him again.” 

“Gee Der, I don’t know,” Laura rolled her eyes. “Maybe so that you stop hating going to school all the time?” 

“It’s not him that makes me hate school, it’s everything else.” He turned to glare at her. “You’re my driver, not my therapist. Shut up and get me home.” 

“Careful, or I won’t be your driver either,” she insisted, turning to flash him a smile that was all teeth. 

He ignored her threat and turned to stare out his window, resting his chin in his hand and watching the scenery pass them by. He tried not to think about Stiles while they drove home, but that was always a moot point. He had no self-control, and the guy always inevitably consumed his every waking moment. It was kind of sad, when he really thought about it.

He instead tried to force himself to shift his focus back to the book he’d been reading during lunch, but that didn’t help much, either. He just ended up replacing the two main characters with himself and Stiles, and that just proved how fucking gone for the guy he was. 

Really, if he didn’t know better, he’d think they were mates. But he knew that couldn’t be it, because his mother always made mates sound like absolute certainties. Her meeting his father was literally like a fucking romance movie, and he and Stiles didn’t have that at all. They were all passive aggressive comments, insults and occasional books being slapped out of Derek’s hands.

Stiles always knocked books out of his hands. Usually in the corridors before classes, but sometimes in the cafeteria after the first bell rang, and a few times after homeroom. It was like the idea of Derek finding comfort in his books was his challenge to try and make him lose said comfort. 

Fuck, he just hated him. Why couldn’t Stiles be ugly and rude to everyone? It would make Derek’s life so much easier! 

When they turned onto the road leading up to their house, Derek perked up slightly when he caught sight of an old Honda civic parked haphazardly by the front of the house. She never had been good at parking, it was a good thing his mother didn’t care about her lawn. 

“Welcome home, sir,” Laura said sarcastically while easing the car to a stop. 

Derek just laughed sarcastically while unbuckling himself and opening his door, but he noticed Laura made no move to follow. “Where are you headed?” 

“To see Peter,” she informed him, checking her rearview mirror and fixing it a bit, like it was off-centre.

“You two still trying to get that dumb idea of yours off the ground?” 

“It’s not a dumb idea,” she insisted curtly, turning to level him with a sharp look. “Careful, or when we make it big, I won’t let you join us and you’ll die poor and alone.” 

“Oh no,” he said sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “You won’t let me join your super lame company for which you barely have a tangible business plan to develop. I’m crushed.” 

“I’ll have you know, we’re seeing a lawyer today,” she said haughtily. “About trying to incorporate. If we can get it up and running in the next year, we’ll have a good idea of how to move forward.” 

“And you’ll be stuck with our uncle for a business partner for the rest of time.” Derek smirked. “Good luck with that.” 

Laura shoved him in the shoulder, hard. “Bitch.”

“Slut,” he retorted immediately. 

“Get out of my car.” 

“Thanks for the ride,” he said sincerely, stepping out and shutting the door. He stood for a moment watching her turn around and drive off, but didn’t linger too long. He had someone waiting for him inside, and after the day he’d had, he wanted to catch up. 

Not that they didn’t talk daily and see one another regularly, but it was always nice having her around. 

Entering the house, he kicked off his shoes before heading down the corridor, dropping his bag by the stairs. He could hear laughter and voices in the kitchen, so he moved in that direction and smiled when he caught sight of his visitor. 

“Hey mum,” he said, kissing her cheek while passing her. “Kira. Surprised you aren’t still trapped in exam review hell.” 

“Ugh.” Kira Yukimura made an overly exaggerated sound of distress and draped her entire upper body dramatically across the table. “I swear, if I have to hear one more lecture on historical inaccuracies of the second World War, I’m going to murder someone.” 

“It’s all going to pay off for you,” Talia insisted, rubbing her back soothingly while smiling at Derek. Kira always got over-dramatic when she was stressed. Derek knew she was just worrying about her finals, since she went to an extremely well-respected private school, and was slated to graduate top of her class. She’d held the title for four years, so the pressure was on to keep it all the way to the end. 

Derek still hated her parents a little bit for not letting her come to the public high school with him. All of his closest childhood friends went off to different schools barring one, which meant he’d ended up having to make new ones. Sure, the ones he had were great, but he spent more time outside school with his old friends than his new ones. 

“Come on,” Derek nudged her shoulder once. “Let’s go finish up watching the last season of Supernatural.” 

Kira let out an over-dramatic groan, but obediently sat up, pushing her long hair from her face and smiling at him. Getting to her feet, Talia promised dinner would be ready in the next hour or so, and the two teens left the kitchen to head upstairs. 

Derek snatched his bag up on his way past it, leading the way to his room, and tossed it down by his desk when he entered it. He fell heavily into his desk chair while Kira made a beeline for his bed, falling face first on it and snuggling into his pillow.

He just smiled, finding it endearing. He loved it when she hung out on his bed. The scent of pack was always fresh in the house, considering his family was pack, but having the other members come and go was a comfort to him. He knew it would be hard if they all managed to snag spots in various universities, because they’d head off in different directions and he honestly didn’t know what he would do. 

Kira’s parents had their eyes set on Oxford, and with her grades and non-Werewolf status, on top of the money her family had, she was likely to get in. That would mean she would be across the fucking world from him, and he got anxiety whenever he thought about it too much. 

“You hear from Oxford yet?” he asked, since he wanted to know sooner rather than later. Apparently the overseas universities took longer to send out their acceptance letters, so while Kira had heard back from a lot of American and Canadian universities, Oxford still hadn’t responded. 

Kira didn’t move for a long while, then with her face still buried in his pillow, she reached into the back pocket of her jeans and pulled out a folded envelope, holding it out to him. He felt his stomach drop but reached out for it anyway. Unfolding it, he pulled the letter out from inside, straightened it out, and began to read.

He only had to read the first three words to know what the answer was. 

We are pleased...

“Congrats,” he said, voice somewhat mellow while he folded the letter back up and tucked it into the envelope once more. “Guess that’s that, then.” 

“Why do they think being so far away from pack is a good thing?” she asked, voice muffled from her face smooshed into his pillow. “I don’t want to go to England.” 

“It’s a good university,” he insisted, standing up so he could shove the envelope back into her pocket. “They just want you to have all the opportunities you can.” 

She snorted into his pillow at that, then sighed explosively and sat up, brushing her long hair out of her face with one hand again. 

“If you don’t email me once a day, I’m going to make your life hell when I visit in the summers.” 

“As if I can stand not talking to you once a day,” Derek insisted back, nudging her lightly with his socked foot. He tried for another smile, but kind of fell short. It was going to be hard being away from her. High school had been bad enough, but this? This would be torture. 

She wouldn’t be just across town anymore. She’d be an entire ocean away from him. 

“How about you?” Kira asked. “Still doing okay?” 

“So far,” he agreed with a small nod. “Might actually make it through and get to go to university. Just need to stay above water and not let Stiles usurp me and I’m golden.” 

A soft smile formed on Kira’s face and she nudged him back with her own foot. He noticed she was still wearing her combat boots and frowned, because one of those booted feet was on his bedspread. 

“He still pulling your pigtails, then?” 

Derek frowned. “What?” 

“You know, your pigtails.” She pulled lightly at some of her own hair, still smiling. “You always talk about how he treats you, and it’s pretty clear to me he has a crush on you.” 

Derek didn’t mean to laugh quite so loudly, but hearing those words escape Kira’s mouth was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard in his life. 

“Are you insane? Stiles doesn’t have a crush on me, he fucking hates me!” 

“Oh please.” Kira rolled her eyes, shifting so she was sitting cross-legged on his bed now, both booted feet on his blankets. She was lucky she was his best friend, he’d have kicked Vernon Boyd out of his room if he’d tried that, and they were almost as close. “The way you describe this little shit, he sounds like a typical douche boy who has a crush on someone and sucks at expressing it. So he pulls pigtails.” 

“I don’t have pigtails,” Derek dead-panned. 

“Metaphorical pigtails, jackass.” She threw his pillow at him. He just caught it and set it on his lap while she continued. “Look at the facts, Derek. If he’s nice to everyone except you, it’s because he has a huge boner for you and doesn’t know how to handle it.” 

“And being an asshole is the right way to handle it?” Derek asked dryly. 

“It gets your attention, doesn’t it?” She grinned. “You never shut up about him.” 

“You brought him up!”

“Actually, you did.” She winked. “Nice try, but no cigar.” 

“I hate you.”

“You adore me, and you won’t know how to live without me when I’m gone.” 

If that wasn’t the truth, he didn’t know what was. But not something he wanted to focus on and be depressed about. They still had a month of school left, plus summer, so they had time. Granted, not much of it, but enough. He was sure they’d do something over the summer before they headed off. 

Him, Kira and Boyd. They’d probably go out to Kira’s lakehouse or something. Or if they could afford a longer roadtrip, maybe out of State for a weekend. Just something for the three of them to do together before they split. 

“So hey, your mom said Laura and Peter are still working on that business thing,” Kira said when the silence stretched too long, evidently realizing Derek was starting to think about life without her within driving distance. “How’s that going?”

“Who knows?” Derek snorted, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. His pillow almost slid off his lap so he put his socked feet up on the edge of his bed. Kira made a face at him, likely because she could smell them, but didn’t push them off. 

Their friendship was truly one of a kind. 

“Laura’s still smarting over not being admitted to university, and Peter’s just Peter. I don’t know why they think this is going to work.” 

“I don’t think it’s a bad idea,” she insisted with a shrug. “I mean, Supernatural-geared specialized baked goods are always in high demand, and your mom has the best apple puffs I’ve ever tasted, so it could work.” 

“Don’t encourage them,” he insisted with a sigh, raking a hand through his hair. He stood then, throwing his pillow back onto his bed, and moved towards the TV he had in the corner of his room, powering up his PS3 so they could access Netflix. After all, they were almost done the season and the next one was coming out soon. They needed to make sure they weren’t behind or they’d get spoilered. 

It was while he was getting their plans for the evening loaded that a thought occurred to him and he turned back to Kira. “Hey, your school doesn’t have prom, right?” 

She let out a mirthless laugh. “Are you kidding? If it’s fun, my school doesn’t do it. Why?”

“Mom wants me to go to prom,” he grumbled, turning back to the TV and moving the selector over to Netflix. “Says I need to experience all the fun things in life, or whatever.” 

“Why don’t you ask Stiles?” she asked, voice teasing. 

He thought back to what he’d imagined happening in the car, about Stiles making a huge deal of it and making fun of him for all to see. Hell, maybe he’d stand on the table in the cafeteria and scream it out at the top of his lungs: Derek Hale had dared ask him to prom. 

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” He turned back to her when Netflix started loading, moving to the bed and climbing up onto it beside her. “Besides, if you don’t get a prom, why are you trying to talk me out of asking you.” 

She arched a perfectly manicured eyebrow at him. “Me? You want to take me to prom?” 

“Why not?” He shrugged. “You’re my best friend. Mom wants me to go, so going with you will make it more tolerable for me. And if you come, it means you actually get a prom.” 

“Hm,” was all she said in response, turning to the television, but he could tell she was thinking. She was probably weighing the pros and cons of it, because going to prom at a school where she knew literally no one but Derek—and Boyd, who’d already confirmed he wasn’t going—probably wasn’t her idea of a good time. But on the other hand, she wouldn’t even get a prom if she decided not to go with him. 

Derek didn’t push, knowing she’d make the decision on her own. Besides, Kira wasn’t one of those girly girls who liked to dress up in a flowing gown and wear copious amounts of makeup just to go to some shindig. Even if she agreed, he’d tell her she could show up in sweats if she wanted to. 

He just hoped she did, he didn’t want to spend the whole night staring longingly—and jealously—in Stiles’ direction. He really couldn’t help but wonder who Stiles was going to be taking to prom. 

“Okay,” Kira finally said, almost an hour later. 

Derek turned to her, confused for a second, and then realized she was agreeing to be his prom date. He smiled and elbowed her lightly. “You don’t have to wear a dress.” 

“Oh, I wasn’t going to even if you asked,” she insisted, grinning at him. “I’m sure I can find a nice suit before prom. When it is?” 

“Last Friday of May.” 

“Hm.” She tilted her head. “I’ll think on it, see what I can find. Maybe go out shopping with some of the girls.” 

“Should bring Cora, she’d kill to go shopping with you.” 

Kira grunted in acknowledgement, having a soft spot for the youngest Hale, even though she was a nightmare to shop with. She was likely still out with her friends, since she spent more time outside the house than in it, so he knew Kira’d likely not see her before the night was through. 

“Don’t make me regret this,” Kira warned. 

“Never.” Derek wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into his side, squeezing once before loosening his grip. He smiled at the thought of having his best friend at his side for prom, and hoped she could keep his mind off Stiles and his unworthy date for the whole evening. 

Stiles knew he was chewing his gum obnoxiously loud, but he couldn’t help it. He was kind of nervous, and the action of chomping down repeatedly on the gum in his mouth was making him feel a little better, for some inexplicable reason. 

He was lurking outside one of the classrooms, watching Derek play chess against someone. He knew there was some kind of tournament coming up soon, so they were probably trying to practice before the big day. Not for the first time, Stiles really wanted to support him, but that would mean finding out where it was being held and going to it. If he showed up to a chess match, he was fairly certain he’d stick out like a sore thumb, and he didn’t want Derek to notice him.

Well, yes, he did, but not if it was going to fuck up Derek’s game. It was safer to just linger like a creeper outside the classroom he was practising in. 

Also, he was kind of thinking about maybe, possibly, sort of, kind of asking him to prom. Maybe. He hadn’t decided yet. Every time he got a burst of confidence, his brain began to panic over Derek asking him who he was and his soul would literally be crushed. Which he recognized was stupid, but the brain was like that sometimes.

Honestly, the worst option was Derek thinking he was joking. Stiles liked to think he was a nice person. Sure, he knew he handled himself badly around Derek and couldn’t be nice to him if he tried, but this was the most they’d spoken all year. Stiles knew Derek was going to be someone great one day. They’d part ways when high school ended, and he’d never see him again. 

He wished things had been different between them. Maybe if he’d been less into sports and more into things like chess and—ugh!—math, then he and Derek would’ve become friends. Maybe their close grades would’ve been a fun rivalry between buddies instead of something Derek seemed to resent him for. 

Maybe Stiles wouldn’t have spent the whole year treating Derek like shit just to get the guy to fucking look at him! And he couldn’t even manage that! Whenever Derek spoke to him, he never made eye contact. He just grumbled something under his breath and walked off. Stiles hated that he couldn’t get the guy to even look at him.

But no, today was the day. It was after hours, nobody else was around, and Stiles could just pull him aside when he and his friend were done and earnestly ask him to prom. Pour his entire soul into the question, promise him he’d make sure he had a good time, and just hope for the best. If Derek said no, well... 

Well, then he said no. And Stiles could just go wallow at home and call in sick for the rest of the month. 

It wasn’t like he even knew if Derek wanted to go to prom. Would he even go if someone other than Stiles asked him? It wasn’t really his scene, it was just one of those traditional high school things to do. Hell, Stiles was only going because he didn’t want to miss out, but he wasn’t planning on bringing a date if it wasn’t Derek. Not that he hadn’t been asked. 

Repeatedly.

Just—so many times. 

Almost every person in their grade who was single had dropped hints that they were interested. Some had been more subtle, but a lot had been pretty bold. Some had outright asked him to prom themselves. He’d felt bad having to turn them all down, but he wasn’t willing to take someone he wasn’t going to have fun with. And the only person he wanted to take was someone he’d been crushing on for four years. 

Really, his backup had been Jackson, but given he was taking their mutual friend Danny Mahealani—who’d accepted the bro-ship date to prom—he was now sans-wingman. Scott was taking his longtime girlfriend Allison Argent, and Lydia’s boyfriend was coming home for the weekend from college to take her to prom. He literally couldn’t take one of his closest friends because all of them were already going with someone else. 

So it was Derek, or no one. 

Most likely no one. 

Stiles jumped when his phone vibrated in his pocket and he ducked out of sight, shushing it loudly while pulling it free and hurrying down the corridor. He didn’t want Derek to know he’d been standing there watching him, so he had to make sure he was out of the Werewolf’s earshot. 

“Dammit, Whitty,” he muttered when he answered the call. “You trying to get me caught?” 

“You still haven’t asked him? What’s the hold up?”

“He’s still practising,” Stiles insisted quietly, crouching by the lockers, as if being lower to the ground would make it harder to hear him from the other end of the corridor. “I don’t want to bother him while he’s focussing.” 

“Coward.”

“Fuck you,” Stiles muttered, rubbing at his forehead with his free hand. “This is a bad idea. He’s gonna say no.”

“Then don’t ask him.”

“You’re the least helpful person I know,” Stiles informed him dryly. 

“You want someone to wax poetic with, call McCall.”

Stiles didn’t point out Jackson was the one to call him for an update. He knew his friend was just as anxious as him to know if Derek was going to accept his invitation to prom. Jackson was weird that way, he’d make fun of Stiles and call him a loser, but he’d be the first to throw down if he found out Derek said no. 

Not that Stiles would let him throw down. Derek had every right to say no, especially considering how Stiles treated him. God dammit all though, he just couldn’t help it! He just wanted Derek to look at him and actually have a conversation with him for once in his life. He wasn’t asking for much, just a little bit of recognition so he hadn’t wasted his entire high school life pining after someone who was never going to give him the time of day. 

He kind of found it funny when he considered that movies had it backwards. It was always the nerd in love with the jock who knew they never stood a chance—until the obligatory bullshit, “Oh my god, she let her hair down and took off her glasses and she’s suddenly hot, what?” transformation. But real life wasn’t like that. 

It was messy, and complicated, and there was the possibility for a jock to be in love with a nerd who wouldn’t spit on him if he was literally on fire. Nerds could be just as vicious, and Stiles was honestly scared that he was about to fuck up his entire high school life with just one question. 

“Hurry up and rip the bandaid off,” Jackson insisted. “At least you won’t graduate on a ‘what if.’”

That was true, and Stiles said as much, though grudgingly. He hung up with Jackson, took a breath, then stood up again. He turned back down the corridor and headed for the classroom Derek and his friend were in, trying to subtly peek into it in case one of them was looking. 

His heart sank when he found the room empty, the two of them evidently having finished up and left while he’d been on the phone. 

“Shit,” he hissed, pushing away from the wall and jogging towards the exit. Derek still wasn’t allowed to drive, as far as he knew, so he was probably going to be waiting on someone to pick him up. Stiles could catch him in the parking lot. 

Honestly, he felt like Derek needed to hurry up and argue with his parents to get back behind the wheel. The longer he waited, the more anxious he’d be when he tried driving again. Stiles had gotten into a few small accidents himself, and his dad always forced him to get right back on the road. It was like falling off a horse. Once someone fell off a horse, of course they’d be scared to get back on it. But the reason the saying went to get back on the horse was because the longer fear was left to fester and grow, the harder it would be to get back on the damn horse. 

Derek had already spent close to two years without driving. At this point, he was liable to never drive again. Stiles just wanted to make sure he didn’t end up too afraid to drive. 

Reaching the exit, he pushed through them just in time to see a car pull out. It looked like Derek’s chess buddy was giving him a ride home and Stiles cursed, rubbing at his mouth in a way that reminded him of his father. He’d been hoping to catch him when there was no one else around. He supposed he could try during lunch, but there would be an audience if people saw him walking to Derek’s table. 

And it wasn’t like he could write him a note, he’d never believe it came from Stiles even if he signed it. 

Sighing and figuring he’d just... sort it out later, he turned back to head inside to grab his bag from his locker. That was an entire evening wasted. Well, sort of, considering he’d gotten to watch Derek focus intently for a few hours. He always looked so fucking good when he was focussing hard like that. 

Once he’d gathered his things, he spat his gum out into the closest trashcan and started for the door when he paused. He couldn’t go to the chess match, but he always wanted to support Derek. He wouldn’t be able to openly show said support, but he still did support him. He always left him unsigned notes in his locker before any nerdy events he went to. Something that Derek would read and believe. He usually waited until closer to the day, but he was there and no one else was around, so he may as well do it now and avoid staying late another random day. 

Turning back towards the lockers for their grade, he stopped in front of Derek’s and grabbed a notebook from his bag, along with a pen. Uncapping it, he scrawled a short message, then folded the page up and stuffed it into Derek’s locker through the slots at the top. 

Good luck in your chess match!
You’re one of the best, I know you’ll do well.
I’ll be cheering for you.

Satisfied with himself, he shoved his items back where they belonged and started for the exit again, feeling particularly proud of himself. He still had time before prom, he was sure he’d get around to asking Derek before then.

He was sure of it. 

“I can’t believe you’re making me sit through this entire thing with you,” Cora muttered from beside him, arms crossed and slouched in her seat. “This is boring.”

“It’d look weird if I showed up on my own, you have friends on the Lacrosse team,” he argued while clapping obediently at a nice play from the other team. They clacked their sticks together while laughing and Derek saw Jackson throw his own aside furiously. Stiles went to retrieve it for him. 

“Why are you even bothering to come to the game anyway?” Cora demanded. “You’re only here to ogle your crush, and you can’t even see his face.” 

“I’m just trying to support him,” Derek argued, eyes tracking Stiles while he jogged back to his own position on the field. He made sure not to stare at his ass when Stiles bent down slightly, readying himself for another play. 

“You’re such a loser,” Cora muttered, but there was no heat in her voice. And Derek knew if she truly didn’t want to be there with him, she’d have left. She was trying to be a good sister, and he appreciated that. 

Time was ticking down fast. This was the last game of the season, and then it would be exams, prom and graduation. He only had a small window of time left to stare longingly at Stiles before everything was over and he never saw him again. 

Stiles was going to do great things. He was going to go to a great university, get an amazing job, probably marry someone rich and beautiful, and live the perfect life. Derek hated him more for that, but mostly because he would never be the one in Stiles’ life. 

In a way, it would be a blessing to finally have him gone. Derek could move on with his life, and try and find a way to live without Stiles in his orbit. He felt like he needed that before he messed up his senses too badly and missed out on finding his mate because he was too obsessed with Stiles. 

Not like Stiles was going to be his mate, what with him being human and all. 

Even if he magically somehow was his mate, Derek knew Stiles would never agree to be with him. He had options, he could have anyone he wanted. 

Trying not to let the dark thoughts roll in, he focussed back on the game and stood up with a cheer with everyone else in his section when Stiles scored a point. He was laughing while walking backwards, Scott appearing at his side and throwing an arm around his shoulders. 

Derek tried not to get jealous about that, because he knew Scott and Jackson were Stiles’ friends. He just hated how often the two of them touched him. Their scents were always all over him, and it was annoying. 

Then again, Derek felt like the stress of the past two weeks had broken him somewhat, because he’d found a note in his locker a week back that had smelled like Stiles, but couldn’t have possibly been from him. As with others he’d received over the years, it had been kind, and encouraging, and had actually made him really happy when he’d read it. He hadn’t won the tournament, but he’d placed, so that was what mattered the most to him. 

And someone was supporting him from afar, so that was nice. He always found notes in his locker around his various tournaments or events, and despite none of them owning up to it, he knew it had to be one of his friends trying to be nice to him. This last time, maybe they’d wanted to give him an extra morale boost for his last ever chess tournament and had stolen a piece of paper from Stiles’ notebook to write the note on so that he’d have some of Stiles’ scent around. Then again, this particular one could also possibly have been a dick move from someone who knew he liked the guy and was trying to make him dumb enough to thank Stiles for something he’d never done. Unlikely, since the note was the same as all the previous ones he’d gotten but still. The Stiles scent thing had thrown him off. 

Derek wasn’t an idiot, he wasn’t going to walk up to Stiles and thank him for his support just for Stiles to laugh in his face and ask him what the fuck he was talking about. And then make a huge deal about it with his friends. Yeah, Derek had survived a total lack of utter humiliation for four years, he wasn’t about to risk that in the last three weeks of school. 

His eyes skirted up to the score and he couldn’t help but wince. They were trailing by a few points and the game was almost over. They probably wouldn’t win, but coming in second place was still a good achievement considering it was basically four players holding the entire team up. 

Not to say the other players weren’t good, but really it was all Jackson, Scott, Stiles and Danny keeping them afloat. The new guy wasn’t doing too bad either, but he still wasn’t at their level. And really, Derek was always supremely impressed with Stiles and Danny because half the time they faced off against Supernaturals on the other teams and they always held their own. Sure, powers weren’t allowed in sports, but it wasn’t like Werewolves could always help it when they were in the heat of the moment. They sometimes shoved people too hard, or ran a bit too fast, or shoulder-checked someone roughly. 

Stiles’ collarbone had been broken last year by an overly enthusiastic Werewolf player, and he’d been totally chill about it. The guy was supposed to get booted off the field, but he’d been so upset and distressed at hurting a human that Stiles had insisted it was just an accident and to leave him be. He hadn’t been able to play himself anymore, but he’d let the other guy continue on like he hadn’t just broken one of Stiles’ bones. 

That was one of the main reasons Derek just... couldn’t let Stiles go. The guy had hurt him, and Stiles insisted it was an accident and to not punish him for it. And Derek had been able to tell the Werewolf felt awful, but most people didn’t care about that. The human ref had just insisted he get thrown off the field, and only Stiles’ insistence that it was an accident had allowed him to remain on it. 

Stiles was just so nice. He was amazing, and kind, and wonderful and just... everything Derek wanted and could never have. Ever. 

But God, he wanted. So badly. He wanted Stiles so much he could hardly stand it. So again, having some distance from him would be beneficial once school was over. Stiles would leave town, disappear into the depths of the upper class world, and Derek would be stuck here trying to make a life for himself like his sister was. 

Though to be fair, her and Peter’s idea seemed to be going remarkably well so far. They’d incorporated as she’d said, and had already managed to get a loan from the bank on a place to open up shop. So really, she was doing well for herself. If this bakery took off, then she’d have something to do with her time, and he felt like that’d be a good thing for her. 

He was still thinking about Laura while watching the game unfold when someone slammed into Stiles hard enough to have him sail off his feet and crash down a good few feet away. Derek wolfed out instinctively, starting to get to his feet when Cora grabbed at his arm with both hands and wrenched him back down. 

“What are you doing? Chill,” she hissed, looking around to make sure no one had noticed. Probably more for his own benefit than anything else. Some of Stiles’ friends were in the stands, and they’d definitely have mentioned seeing Derek there acting all protective to him later. Derek didn’t need that in his life. 

He managed to get himself seated once more, but he was still mostly wolfed out, staring intently at Stiles while he struggled back to his feet. The ref was berating the guy who’d knocked into him, who was being a bit of a dick about it. He didn’t seem to be a Werewolf, but he was definitely something to have sent Stiles flying like he did. 

Scott was helping Stiles back to his feet while Jackson got up in the other player’s face. It was obvious a fight was about to break out, but the coaches intervened quickly, Finstock shoving Jackson back while the other team’s coach got between his own player and the ref in an attempt to get him to calm down. 

“That was uncalled for,” Derek growled, voice low and guttural. “Stiles didn’t even have the ball.” 

“Yeah, people are dicks, this surprises no one,” Cora insisted, keeping hold of his arm for a moment longer before seeming to deem it safe to let him go. “Stiles is a big boy, Derek. He’s gonna be okay.” 

Derek knew that. Stiles was tough, and he’d gotten tossed around more than once playing Lacrosse, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. He was still human, after all. A resilient one, maybe, but still. 

Scott was helping Stiles off the field, one arm around his shoulders while Stiles favoured his ribs. Jackson was at his side instantly, having abandoned Finstock and his angry yelling in favour of checking on his friend. 

When he sat on the bench and Finstock came over to speak to him, Derek tuned in to the conversation, forcing himself to block out all the jeering and booing around him for the unsportsmanlike attack. 

“How you doin’, Stilinski? Need to take a breather? Think you can head back into the game?” 

Derek felt his heart sink when Stiles shook his head in response to the question. Jackson looked furious. Scott looked pissed, shooting an angry glance towards the other team. Danny just looked worried, sitting beside Stiles and asking him in low tones where it hurt and if he needed to get him some ice. 

Stiles wasn’t a weakling by any means, which meant the hit he’d gotten was a means to get him out of the game. The other team seemed entirely too pleased at this turn of events, barring their livid coach since one of his guys was now on the bench for the unprovoked blow. They’d been aiming to get rid of Stiles because without him on the field, Beacon Hills stood less of a chance of catching up on the score. 

Derek wanted to storm down there and start ripping people’s heads off. He felt the urge so strongly that he was digging his claws into his legs in an attempt to keep himself in his seat. He knew he was overreacting because Stiles was his crush, but he just felt wronged. Like, personally wronged. As if someone going after his crush was a personal sleight, and he hated it. 

That, and he wanted to help Stiles feel better. He wanted to run down there and steal some of his pain, which he knew was stupid considering he had two Werewolves with him right this second, but still. He didn’t like knowing the blow had been so hard that Stiles physically felt like he couldn’t continue to play. He’d taken worse hits and kept going, which meant the player had made sure to get him somewhere painful. 

Maybe he’d managed to catch him under his ribs, at just the right spot. It was where boxers aimed when they were trying to take someone out of a fight, so it wouldn’t surprise him if that was where Stiles had been hit given the way he was favouring his left side. 

The game resumed a few minutes later, but Derek didn’t take his eyes off Stiles. He seemed to be getting more and more frustrated as the clock ticked down, unable to do anything from his spot on the bench, but it was inevitable they would lose. They’d already been trailing behind and with one of their best out of the game, it ended in a four point loss on Beacon Hills’ side. Better than anticipated, but still disappointing for the last game of the seniors’ high school Lacrosse careers. 

Derek obediently clapped along with everyone else, and then waited while the stands cleared out, Cora shifting impatiently beside him. He just wasn’t ready to go yet. Stiles and his team were still on the field, talking to one another and making comments about who’d played well and who was MVP. 

Scott started giving a sort of speech to the younger players about carrying on the legacy and whatnot, but Stiles interrupted him and turned it into something more upbeat. After all, it wasn’t the end for everyone, and Scott was bringing down an already low mood with his talks of the seniors being gone by their next game in the fall. 

“Can we go, or are we gonna sit here all night?” Cora asked impatiently. 

Derek figured they should head out. The stands were clearing rapidly and he didn’t want Stiles to catch sight of him. He’d probably make fun of him for coming out to watch the game when Derek didn’t have any friends on the team. Sure, that was why he’d brought Cora, but still. Stiles was an asshole to him, he’d find a way to make him feel two inches tall. 

They made their way down the aisle towards the stairs, Derek occasionally glancing over at Stiles. He’d taken his helmet off while on the bench, and his hair was sticking up every which way from raking his hand through the sweat-soaked strands. He looked so fucking good, Derek hated him. 

“Kira’s outfit looks amazing, by the way,” Cora said while they headed down the stairs. 

“For prom?” Derek asked. “Did she get a suit?” 

“She did, and she looked so hot in it, it made me question my sexuality.” Cora turned to grin at him and he rolled his eyes. 

“I should probably talk to mom about going out to get my own suit. I told her she could show up in sweats, but I’m pretty sure she expects me to be in a suit.” 

Cora just laughed and then asked if she could come, to which he vehemently said no. He would rather have Stiles find out he had a crush on him than go shopping with Cora, that was how horrible it was. 

They made it back to the lot relatively quickly, Derek’s eyes straying to Stiles’ Jeep and trying not to sigh like the movie version of a lovesick teenage girl. He instead just got in the passenger seat of Cora’s clunker and buckled in while she started the car.

Cora wasn’t looking forward to being a senior in the fall, because she’d already had the pleasure of seeing both her older sister and brother work hard to get into university and not even succeeding. Well, Laura hadn’t, but Derek’s was still hanging in the balance until exams were over. 

He understood where she was coming from, but tried to lighten the mood for her a little bit. She was on a few sports teams herself, and she got decent grades. With any luck, she’d get a good scholarship and make it to university. It was a lot of pressure for her, he knew, but he just hoped she remembered to enjoy her last year of high school. 

Derek had kind of wasted his.

Well, at least he still had prom, and while he wasn’t looking forward to seeing who Stiles had chosen for his date, he was excited to see how hot he looked in a suit. 

Prom was a bit overrated, in Stiles’ opinion. It was all just about tradition. Some kind of old-time rite of passage and whatnot. No one actually cared about prom itself, they just wanted an excuse to dress up, dance, get drunk or get laid. Or all four, depending on who was asked. 

Stiles himself liked dancing, so he was fine on the dancing front. He also didn’t mind his suit so much, because Jackson had bought it for him a year or so back when they’d been invited to a family friend’s wedding. Jackson was loaded and hadn’t wanted Stiles to look like a hobo, so he’d gifted him a very nice suit that Stiles actually really liked. 

Getting drunk, well, he wasn’t exactly into that. And getting laid? Only if it was Derek, which he doubted. The guy hadn’t shown, not that Stiles had expected him to. 

He was hanging out by the drinks with Jackson and Danny, the three of them talking about the weights lifted off their shoulders now that exams were over. Well, Danny and Stiles were. Jackson didn’t seem to care either way, which made sense since, again, loaded. 

Stiles still kind of found it adorable Jackson had only applied to the same schools as him, and had only accepted the one Stiles had. He was ridiculous, and Stiles had insisted he should go wherever he wanted. Jackson had argued that if Stiles didn’t have him around to keep his fat ass out of trouble, who would? 

He knew that was Jackson speak for not being able to let him go. It made sense, they’d been friends for an eternity, and were honestly pretty co-dependent. His dad talked about how worried it made him sometimes, because they’d have to split off eventually, right? 

Well, not yet. And not something to think about at prom. So Stiles just focussed back on what Danny was saying while smirking to himself at the fact that Jackson had made the mistake of trying the punch. It was made by Mrs. Martin, so of course it was going to be disgusting. They’d spent enough time at the Martins to know that, so he was dumb for even trying it. 

“Yo,” Joel called loudly over the music, throwing one arm around Stiles’ shoulders and the other around Danny’s. “We’re almost there, you guys! We’re actually gonna graduate!” 

“It’s still a week away, don’t get ahead of yourself. Still tons of time to get expelled between now and then,” Stiles insisted with a small smirk. 

Joel just made a noise and batted one hand, still around Danny’s shoulders. “Whatever, we’re graduating. Hey, did you guys see Megan tonight? She is looking fine. Might actually try and score with her.” 

“Aren’t you dating Beth?” Danny asked, confused. 

“You didn’t hear?” Jackson was smirking now. “She dumped him yesterday. Caught him cheating with a random hookup.” 

Joel flipped Jackson off with the hand around Stiles’ shoulders as Kevin joined them. He was acting very suspicious, looking around and curling in on himself slightly. Stiles frowned when he approached and as soon as he was huddled within their circle, he grinned and pulled a full bottle of vodka from inside his jacket. 

“Check it out. Stole it from my dad’s liquor cabinet.” 

“Nice!” Joel released his friends so he could grab at it, unscrewing the cap and ducking down a bit so he could take a swig without any of the teachers or parent chaperones noticing. They were by one of the many tables on the outskirts, so it was easy to hide. “Oh, that burns. I love it.” 

Kevin smirked, taking it back, and ducked himself to take a swig. When he offered it to Jackson, he got an annoyed look.

“I’m a Werewolf, jackass. The fuck am I gonna drink that garbage for?” 

“More for me,” Joel insisted with a laugh as Kevin held it out to Stiles. 

He shook his head. “No thanks, don’t need my dad finding out and grounding me for eternity.” 

“Come on, live a little,” Kevin whined, holding it out to Danny, who also declined. 

“We’re underage,” Danny argued when Kevin made a bit more of a fuss about it, like he’d expected the other cool kids to do what he did because it was the cool thing to do. 

“We’re eighteen,” Joel argued, grabbing the bottle and taking another large swallow. “You know that’s like, basically an adult in Canada, right? They can drink at eighteen.” 

“Yeah, and live in fucking igloos, your point?” Jackson snapped. 

“My point,” Joel said while Kevin took the bottle back for another drink, “is you guys are all wet fucking blankets.” 

Stiles just laughed while the conversation continued, because the more Joel and Kevin drank, the more ridiculous their arguments became. None of them had really eaten before showing up since the team had plans to go out and eat after they were done with the whole prom thing, so the two of them were getting really drunk really fast because of their empty stomachs and straight vodka. 

He’d admit to being curious, since all Stiles had ever gotten sips of from his dad were whiskey and beer, but not enough to risk getting caught by a teacher. He really didn’t want to get expelled a mere week before graduation, thank you very much. 

They were still arguing about the pros and cons of electric cars—Stiles had no idea how they’d gotten onto that topic, but he loved that they had—when Jackson cut himself off mid-sentence, eyes on something behind Stiles. Kevin had been taking a sip of his vodka and promptly spat it out, coughing roughly and trying to wipe at his mouth with the sleeve of his suit jacket. 

“What?” Danny demanded, turning. He froze instantly and Stiles whipped around, wondering what the hell everyone was looking at when his heart hit his feet. 

Derek had just walked in.

Derek fucking Hale was at prom. Even though Stiles hadn’t gotten up the balls to ask him, Derek had still shown up to prom. And God, he looked amazing. His hair was styled, his suit looked brand new, he had a tie and polished shoes and a killer smile and God, he just looked so good. 

He looked so fucking good, Stiles wanted to run over and tear his clothes off.

But that wasn’t what he was looking at, not really. 

No, Stiles was looking at the girl holding his arm, having walked in with him and leaning heavily into his side while looking around excitedly. She was wearing a suit herself, but it was very fitted and classy. She was Asian, and gorgeous, and absolutely not someone Stiles had ever seen before. Her long dark hair was up in an intricate hairstyle, she was wearing heels, and he thought she might have had a corsage around one wrist, it was hard to tell with how she was holding onto Derek’s arm with both hands. 

Derek looked... happy. Just—so fucking happy. Smiling and laughing while they walked further into the transformed gym, moving towards where Derek’s friends were clustered in the corner. 

The girl laughed at something Derek said, and Stiles felt anger and jealousy eating a hole through his stomach when she reached up with one hand to pull his face closer and kissed his cheek. 

Derek smiled so wide that Stiles thought it might break his stupid, dumb face. 

“Stiles...” 

He ignored Danny, turning back to face the group, hands clenching at his sides and struggling to rein in the jealous monster rearing its ugly head. It was fine, really. No big deal. So Derek was already taken by some unknown beauty, whatever. Really, good for him. At least Derek wasn’t going to die alone from the amount of reading he always did. 

“Hey man, I’m sorry,” Kevin said, sounding more sober saying those four words than he had in the past hour. 

Stiles’ eyes caught sight of the bottle his friend still held and without giving it much thought, he snatched it out of his hand, got on his knees to stay out of sight, and tilted his head back while he drank. 

The vodka burned going down, and it tasted sharp in his mouth, but he forced himself to ignore that and just kept swallowing. 

“Whoa, whoa!” Jackson insisted, grabbing at the bottle when Stiles downed almost a third of the remains in only a few seconds. “Fuck, Stilinski! He’s not worth it. Don’t be stupid.” 

“I’m going to dance,” he said while getting unsteadily to his feet from his kneeling position. Shit, that had gone up real fast, but that was kind of what he’d wanted. 

He grabbed at Danny’s hand while he turned, dragging the other teen out onto the floor and beginning to dance like an idiot. Danny looked worried, casting glances back over at Jackson every few seconds, but he obediently danced along with him, though much better. 

It didn’t take long for Scott to appear beside him, Jackson evidently having gone to tell him what had happened. Or maybe Scott had seen Derek with his girlfriend, too. Wasn’t like they weren’t sticking out, what with the fact that Derek was having a swell time! 

“Hey,” Scott said, eying him worriedly while Stiles swayed on the spot to one of the slow songs playing. “Are you okay?” 

Stiles scoffed loudly, spittle flying from between his lips, and flapped a hand at Scott. The vodka had really hit in the past ten minutes he’d been on the floor, and he was now in some weird, cotton candy sort of head-space where everything was swaying and nothing mattered. 

“M’fine, Scotty.” He fell into his friend, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and patting him lightly on the chest. “Totally fine.” 

“Were you drinking?” Scott asked, sounding scandalized. 

That meant he’d seen Derek on his own. Jackson was probably trying to make sure he kept the path between Derek and Stiles blocked in case Stiles went after him. 

And whatever! So Derek had a girlfriend, big deal. Wasn’t like Stiles had spent the last four years crushing on him. Wasn’t like Stiles had tried to get Derek to notice him all through high school. Wasn’t like Stiles had been angsting for days over asking Derek to prom. 

Didn’t matter, because Derek didn’t matter, because he had a girlfriend, and good for him. Soon, they’d all graduate and go their separate ways and he wouldn’t even care about Derek Hale. He’d be a nobody in the pages of his history, and good fucking riddance. 

“Where’s Kevin?” Stiles slurred, looking around and basically only being held up by Scott, now. He wondered if Danny had been holding him up before this, and he just hadn’t noticed. 

“Kevin’s by the far wall with Joel and Jackson.” 

“Whitty!” Stiles grinned dopily at Scott. “Bring me to Whitty.” 

“Okay, come on.” Scott dragged him back across the floor, Danny following them. Stiles was sure he meant to have his legs cooperate, but it was hard. Wow, he’d had a lot more to drink than he’d thought. “What the hell, you let him get drunk?” 

“He grabbed the bottle before I could stop him,” Jackson snapped, grabbing at Stiles to get him away from Scott, like some territorial Werewolf bullshit they always did. “He was happy out there dancing, why did you bring him back here?” 

“He wanted to see you, Whitty,” Scott sneered. 

Stiles let out a laugh at that, because it was funny. Or it had been funny, once upon a time. 

When he’d come up with Jackson’s nickname, his friend had seemed proud of it. Like he enjoyed it because he thought Stiles was calling him witty, like he was quick on his feet at comebacks and verbal banter. 

He’d liked it less when he clued in it was literally just part of his last name. Still, Stiles was never going to stop using it, it’d been years since then and it was sticking, the same way ‘Stiles’ had stuck for him when Jackson had started using it. 

His parents used to call him Mietek when he was little, since Stiles couldn’t pronounce his full name, but once he and Jackson had started nicknaming each other, Stiles had come up and it had stuck. Even his dad called him Stiles, now. Everyone called him Stiles. 

He was still the only person who called Jackson Whitty, but Stiles had high hopes for university! If he said it often enough, maybe it’d stick. 

Jackson and Scott were still snarking insults at each other and Stiles noticed Kevin was holding the vodka loosely in one hand. When he made a grab for it, Jackson pivoted so that he just barely missed. 

“Don’t be stupid, think about graduation,” Jackson snapped. “He’s just a guy, Stiles. You’re hot and popular, you can have anyone.” 

“Not anyone, apparently,” Kevin supplied helpfully. Joel snickered and Stiles’ happy state began to crumble a little. 

“I need to piss,” Stiles muttered, pulling away from Jackson and swaying slightly in place before taking a step. When both Jackson and Scott went to follow, he turned to them sharply. “I can take a piss on my own. Don’t fucking touch me.” 

Scott looked worried, but Jackson just looked pissed off. Like he was contemplating storming over to Derek and demanding to know what the fuck he thought he was doing. Stiles really hoped he didn’t, he felt humiliated enough for one night, thank you. 

Stumbling his way around the crowd to the other end of the gym, he pushed through the doors leading into the locker room and made his way through a few couples making out. He ignored them and disappeared into the bathroom, the door swinging shut behind him. 

It helped with the thudding in his brain, which had begun to match the bass of the song that was now playing. He stumbled his way into a stall, the bathroom empty, and shut the door. Locking it, he swayed on the spot while struggling to undo his pants and just sat right down on the toilet to piss, his head spinning. 

He didn’t trust himself to use a urinal, or piss standing up right now, so this was his solution. Just sit down and pee and try not to think. 

Try not to think about how much he wanted to run his hands through Derek’s hair. How much he wanted to taste his skin. How much he wanted to kiss him once, just once. Just so he could see what it felt like. 

His chest was beginning to ache, and he figured he’d bail early. If the alcohol wore off before he left, he was liable to do something stupid.

Then again, he was liable to do something stupid with the alcohol in his system.

Fuck that girl. Fuck her all the way to the moon.

And fucking fuck Derek Hale! 

“I gotta admit,” Kira said with a smile, leaning back against the wall with a bottle of water in one hand and her hair beginning to come loose from her bobby pins, “this is a lot more fun than I was expecting.” 

“Right?” Derek hadn’t been able to stop smiling all night. Kira looked so good, he felt amazing in his suit, and he was just... having such a good time. The two of them had gone to dinner before coming to the school, they’d danced for a while, spoken to some of his friends, had a good laugh. Things were good. He was having a great time. 

And to top things off: he hadn’t caught sight of Stiles even once. He’d seen Scott around with his girlfriend, mostly on the dancefloor, and he’d caught sight of Jackson once or twice, but he usually averted his eyes whenever he saw either of them. Because where Scott and Jackson were, Stiles wasn’t far behind, and he didn’t want to ruin his night. 

So far, he hadn’t seen who Stiles had brought, and he didn’t want to know. He really didn’t. His night was going amazingly well, and he wasn’t going to let Stiles Stilinski ruin it. 

Man, but he probably looked so good. He was probably in a suit, and his hair was probably all slicked back, and Derek wondered if he was wearing a tie. Or a bowtie? Maybe he had a vest. He wondered what colour it was. Derek’s own suit was navy, but he wondered if Stiles had gone classic black. Or maybe he’d gone nuts and worn some kind of multi-coloured, hideous thing that would somehow still look amazing on him. 

Derek wanted to look for him, wanted to see how fucking hot he looked, but he didn’t want to ruin his night. It was going really well, and he just wanted to keep it that way. 

“Want to head back out there?” Derek asked when Kira was done nursing her water. 

“My feet hurt,” she admitted with a wince. “Should not have worn heels. Can we take a break for a bit longer?” 

“Sure. I need to take a leak anyway.” He looked around for an empty chair and then motioned for Kira to follow him, leading her over to it and motioning for her to sit. If she sat down, it would take some pressure off her feet and hopefully by the time he was back, her slightly enhanced healing would have kicked in enough to solve her aching feet problem. 

Only downside to being a Kitsune instead of a Werewolf: the healing was just that bit slower. 

“I’ll be right back, okay?” 

“I’ll be here, trying not to get hit on.” She winked at him and Derek rolled his eyes. Not like he hadn’t noticed everyone eying her with interest, but Kira wasn’t going to get with anyone when she had the promise of McDonald’s fries and a McFlurry before they headed home. Besides, with everyone graduating soon, meeting someone was kind of a moot point. 

Derek headed through the gym towards the locker room, scoffing and rolling his eyes at the few couples practically fucking in the place. They were dumb for doing something like this where literally anyone could see them, but he didn’t concern himself with it. A teacher or chaperone would come in eventually, he was sure. 

Pushing open the bathroom door, he headed for the urinals to do his business, the music still loud enough to be heard even here. He couldn’t stop smiling while he relieved himself, thinking about how much fun Kira was having. And how much fun he was having because of her. 

His mom was right. As annoying as this entire stupid thing was, it was still really fun and he was glad she’d forced him to come out. He was glad he hadn’t just bailed without telling her. 

Finishing up, he went to the sinks so he could wash his hands, hearing a toilet flush in the occupied stall behind him. He was in the middle of soaping his palms up when there was a loud thud and someone said, “Fuck!” 

He froze, heart beginning to pick up speed in his chest. 

He knew that voice. He knew that voice!

Holy shit, Stiles was here. In the bathroom. With him. 

This was perfect! Derek would get the opportunity to see him without having to see who he’d brought along as a date! His night couldn’t possibly have gotten any better if it fucking tried! 

Slowing down in washing his hands, he tilted his head to listen to Stiles in the stall. He seemed to be having trouble doing his pants back up, and he was muttering obscenities under his breath. He kept referring to someone being a giant asshole, and a loser, and not good enough for him anyway, with his dumb hair, and his stupid ears, and his gross suit. 

Derek honestly wondered if Stiles’ date was a guy, and if he’d ditched him for someone else. How anyone could pass up an opportunity to be with Stiles Stilinski at prom, Derek had no idea, but the more Stiles muttered about it, the more positive Derek felt that he’d gotten stood up. 

He tried not to feel happy about it, but it was hard, because he’d been jealous for months leading up to prom. Finding out Stiles was alone today made him feel so relieved he could hardly stand it.

Though Stiles was really taking a while getting his pants done back up. He seemed to be struggling with the belt, if the clinking sound was anything to go by. 

After what seemed like entirely too long, the stall door unlocked and opened, hitting Stiles with how hard he yanked on it. He cursed again, stumbling and almost falling backwards onto the toilet before he managed to get out from behind the door. 

Derek understood immediately why he was taking so long to get himself organized the moment he stepped out. 

Stiles was drunk. 

Or tipsy, but clearly some level of inebriated. 

He smelled like vodka and his eyes were all glassy and he was stumbling forward towards the closest sink. 

That gave Derek pause, because while Stiles was definitely popular, he was one of those people who didn’t really do things like that. Stiles was still eighteen, same as Derek. They weren’t legally allowed to drink, and with his dad being the sheriff and graduation right around the corner, this was very uncharacteristic for him. 

Stiles stopped at the sink beside him and finally looked up into the mirror. His eyes seemed to focus ever so slightly when they shifted to the side to stare at his neighbour’s reflection, and then they sharpened. Derek frowned, hands still under the tap, but soap long since washed away. 

“Having fun?” Stiles asked sarcastically, pumping much more soap than necessary into his hand. He struggled to turn the tap on with his other hand and then started washing them, splashing himself and the counter with water. 

“Yeah,” Derek said uncertainly. He didn’t really know how to react to this Stiles. He was hard, and cold, and seemed really angry. 

But beneath the anger and inebriation Derek could smell on him, there was also pain. A pain so visceral that it seemed to be all-consuming. Whoever his date was, they’d really hurt him. 

“Good,” Stiles spat sarcastically, still splashing water everywhere in his attempts to wash up. “That’s awesome. Congratulations, Derek Hale. Real fucking happy for you.” 

Derek frowned, not sure he understood the aggression. Stiles was always a dick to him, sure, but this seemed different. This seemed like resentment. Maybe because Derek had shown up with a date himself? After all, Stiles had probably assumed a loser nerd like Derek would be alone for prom, so maybe he was just bitter that even the bottom of the barrel in his eyes had managed to snag a date. 

“So glad you got to come to prom with your fucking girlfriend,” Stiles spat, turning the tap off and stumbling for the paper towel dispenser. He yanked a sheet out, then turned to glare at Derek while continuing to pull out paper towel without looking. Sheet, after sheet, after sheet, like he didn’t realize he was doing it. “Must be a special night for you two. Hope you have tons of fun and lots of fucking sex. Hope it’s the best fucking night of your stupid, miserable fucking life!” 

He finally stopped pulling the paper towel out and started drying his hands roughly. Derek’s were still under the water and he hastily turned the tap off, wiping his hands on his pants since Stiles was blocking his ability to use the dispenser. 

Derek was... Actually, he was kind of worried about him. It was more than just the fact that he had a crush on Stiles. Even if he hadn’t, and even if Stiles was always a dick to him, he could tell how truly, thoroughly, heartbreakingly upset he was. 

All of his actions were jerky and rough, his eyes were sharp as glass, and even though he was slurring, the level of anger and hatred in every syllable was palpable. 

“Are you okay?” he asked, taking a step forward while Stiles continued to dry his clearly already dry hands with the paper towels. A few of them had fallen to the ground since he’d pulled out so many. 

“Oh, fucking peachy, Derek Hale!” Stiles snapped, and Derek started when the paper towels he’d been holding were thrown at him. Most of them were still dry and just fluttered to the ground, but the damp ones reached his chest, bouncing off his suit jacket harmlessly. “Just—so good. Yeah, having a great time tonight! So glad I came!” 

When Stiles turned to head unsteadily to the door, Derek moved quickly to grab at his arm, honestly worried about him. He couldn’t go back out there like this, the parents and teachers would know he was trashed in a second. 

He’d opened his mouth to say something but Stiles jerked his arm free so roughly that he actually fell back into the door and Derek almost stumbled into him before catching himself. 

“Don’t fucking touch me!” Stiles shouted, eyes burning with hatred beneath the haze of alcohol. 

“Look,” Derek insisted, hands out in front of himself in the most calming fashion he could muster, “I’m sorry tonight isn’t turning out how you were hoping it would. But whatever happened, it’s not worth getting suspended. Just... Can you just come have some water and sit here for a minute?” He motioned the counter.

Stiles let out a mirthless laugh, the sound cold and hard, with an edge so sharp to it that Derek felt like it could’ve cut right into his skin. “Oh, the great Derek Hale wants me to come and sit and have some water. Well, how can I refuse when he asked so fucking nicely?” 

Derek frowned even more. What the hell was going on right now? Why did Stiles keep saying his name like that? 

When Stiles flipped him off and went to open the door again, Derek grabbed for him against his better judgement. He really didn’t want him getting into trouble, and if he had to trap him in the bathroom by force, then he would. At least until he sobered up enough to stand on his own two feet without falling over. 

The second he grabbed his arm, Stiles whipped around and slammed his fist into Derek’s face. It didn’t hurt, not really, but he knew Stiles had probably broken his hand and Derek was... stunned. Stiles was not a violent person by nature. Sure, he played sports, but he didn’t go out of his way to beat on people, so to have him punch at him like that... 

Something was really wrong. And somehow, Derek grabbing his arm had set him off. 

When he opened his mouth to apologize, to ask Stiles to just wait and talk to him, he didn’t get the words out because Stiles shoved roughly at him with his trapped forearm, pressing the length of it across Derek’s chest and pushing hard. 

Derek let him go reflexively, taking a step back even as Stiles shoved at him again with both hands. He barely managed it, unsteady as he was, but Derek still jerked back a few steps at the action. 

“Fuck you!” Stiles shouted, taking another step forward and shoving at Derek again. He just let him, because at least they were moving further into the bathroom and away from the door. “Fuck you, and your stupid fucking face, and your stupid hair, and your stupid everything! Fuck you! I fucking hate you! I fucking hate you!” 

Derek knew that. Stiles had made that perfectly clear to him. For years. For literal years. Derek knew Stiles hated him, but something was clearly wrong and he was extremely upset and Derek just wanted to help him. 

He just wanted to take the pain away. 

Derek’s back hit the opposite wall, and when Stiles went to shove at him again, nevermind he had nowhere left to go, Derek grabbed at his wrists and flipped them around. Stiles was already off-balance, so it was easy for Derek to shove him back against the wall with his hands trapped on either side of his head, shifting to press his knees against Stiles’ legs to keep him in place. 

Derek let out a harsh exhale, but Stiles was breathing so hard he might as well have been hyperventilating. He tugged uselessly at his wrists, trying to free himself, but they weren’t out on the field right now. There were no rules against using super-strength right now, and Derek wasn’t above keeping Stiles pinned against the wall for a fucking hour if it got him to calm down. 

“Stiles,” Derek said, voice a low growl and eyes flashing. He heard Stiles’ heart do a weird double-thump in his chest at the sight of it, but figured it was because they were blue. 

Same as Jackson’s, but still. 

“What is going on?” he demanded heatedly, face inches away from Stiles’. “Talk to me. Seriously. Are you okay?”  

It seemed like such a stupid question to ask. Stiles was very clearly not okay, but Derek didn’t know how to help him. He just wanted to take this pain away, that was only growing stronger by the second, but he couldn’t. Because this wasn’t physical pain he could just steal, this was something deeper and he just wanted to help. 

Stiles’ head slammed back against the wall once, very hard, and when he closed his eyes, Derek felt the shift in his scent. The anger left him instantly, like someone had sucked it right out of him, and all that remained was pain. 

Pain and betrayal. 

“Why did you do this to me?” Stiles asked, voice tight and thick with emotion. 

Derek frowned. “What?” 

“How long?” 

“How long what?” Derek asked, wishing he could just reach into Stiles’ mind and figure out what the fuck he was saying. 

“How long have you been with her?” 

“With who?” Derek demanded, confused. “With Kira?” 

“Fuck her,” Stiles insisted, spit flying from between his lips and hitting Derek in the cheek. He let out a small, almost painful sounding laugh. “But you’re going to, right? I shouldn’t encourage you to, since you probably already will.” 

Derek was very, very confused right now. 

“Stiles, I’m not going to fuck Kira.” He leaned back slightly, but didn’t let him go. 

Stiles was still breathing hard, but his eyes opened then, and somehow they seemed to focus a bit more. Like he was looking at Derek, really looking at him. His lips parted while he continued to try and get his breathing back under control, and then he said the most confusing thing ever. 

“You’re not?” 

It wasn’t so much the words, but the tone. The hope, and surprise, and the very sudden absence of grief in his scent. 

“No, I’m not,” Derek confirmed, slowly releasing Stiles’ wrists and taking a step back. “Kira’s just a friend, she isn’t having prom at her school, so I invited her to come to mine in a strictly platonic sense.” 

Stiles went from breathing too much to not breathing at all. He was staring at Derek like he’d never seen him before, and Derek didn’t understand. He could not understand what was happening. How Stiles had gone from angry and bitter and shoving at him heartbrokenly one second, to looking like Derek had just relayed the meaning of life to him with a few words. 

“You’re not—She’s not—” Stiles cut himself off repeatedly, like he didn’t know what he wanted to say. And Derek couldn’t help him, because he had no idea what Stiles wanted to say. 

He didn’t even know what was happening right now. They’d barely spoken a civilized word to each other for four years, and now suddenly they were having some weird heart to heart in the bathroom at prom? 

“She’s just a friend,” Derek said again. He didn’t know why, probably because he was a glutton for punishment and he was waiting for the old Stiles to come back and make fun of him for not being able to get a date, but he felt like he needed to say it. 

Stiles moved so fast that Derek couldn’t react. For a second, he thought he was being attacked again, but then realized Stiles had just stumbled forward to hug him, Derek losing his balance and almost falling over. He managed to just take a few quick steps back until he felt the door behind him, stopping him from falling on his ass with Stiles on top of him. 

“She’s just a friend,” Stiles repeated, hugging Derek tightly with his face buried in his neck. That was a bad place for Stiles’ face to be, it was doing things to Derek. Things he didn’t want to have done while Stiles’ front was pressed right up against him. 

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed, hands hovering awkwardly since he didn’t know where to put them. It felt almost like this weird ass dream might shatter if he touched Stiles right now. “Stiles, seriously, are you okay?” 

“I am now.” 

That made no sense. “Because Kira’s my friend?” Did Stiles have the hots for Kira or something? She was beautiful, Derek couldn’t fault him for liking her, but he was positive his best friend would’ve mentioned it if she’d met his crush at any point in the past few years. 

Stiles let out a shaky exhale against Derek’s skin, all the hairs on the back of his neck and arms standing on end. Then, Derek felt his breath freeze in his lungs when Stiles’ lips pressed against the area he’d just exhaled on. 

What? 

No seriously, what? 

He stood perfectly still while Stiles’ lips pressed against his skin, over and over, slowly moving up his neck, across his jaw, along his cheek, and then stopping at the corner of Derek’s mouth. Then, Stiles just stood there, lips barely touching Derek, hot breath ghosting across the skin of his face with every exhale. 

“I fucking hate you, Derek Hale,” Stiles breathed against his skin. “But only because it’s easier than focussing on how much I love you.” 

Derek was pretty sure the floor didn’t exist anymore. He was positive the entire Earth had just fallen out from under him. This couldn’t be real. This couldn’t possibly be real! 

“You’re drunk,” he said in response to that. 

“Tipsy.”

“You’ll hate yourself tomorrow for this,” Derek argued. “You don’t love me. You don’t even like me.” 

Stiles pulled away then, letting out a soft exhale. His hands shifted out from around Derek, moving up and burying themselves in his hair. God, Stiles’ fingers in his hair felt so good, but Derek forced himself to keep his eyes open, staring at Stiles while the other teen locked gazes with him with a remarkably focussed expression. 

“I’ve been in love with you for four years.” 

And that... that was impossible. 

Because Derek was pretty sure if Stiles Stilinski was in love with him, he sure as shit would’ve known about it by now. 

“I am going to kiss you,” Stiles informed him. “If you’ll let me. I would very much like to kiss you.” 

Derek had no idea what to say. A part of him couldn’t help but think this was all some elaborate joke, but Stiles’ anger and pain earlier wasn’t fake. The sharp focus in his gaze right now wasn’t fake. The way arousal was slowly beginning to waft off him definitely wasn’t fake. 

Stiles’ heart was beating rapidly, his breathing coming a bit faster, and his eyes kept dipping down to stare at Derek’s lips while he licked his own, like he was physically restraining himself from kissing him. Like he was honestly fully in control right now, and was just waiting for approval.

If Derek was dreaming, he didn’t want to wake up. He felt like he was floating, because Stiles loved him? Was he serious? It felt like his whole body was on fire right now, he didn’t even know what to say, or do, or how to react. 

But Stiles was still standing there, waiting for an answer, and if this was all Derek was going to get, well, he’d take it. 

So he just nodded once, still unsure this was real, and Stiles didn’t even hesitate. Didn’t wait another second. He just dove right in, pressing those God damn perfect lips against Derek’s and kissing him like this was all he’d ever wanted for his entire life. 

Derek brought one hand up, rubbing it harshly against Stiles’ cheek while his eyes slid shut, and he felt Stiles tugging insistently on his hair. He pressed forward, parting his lips and didn’t even have time to do anything else before Stiles’ tongue was in his mouth. 

He pressed Derek back hard against the door, the length of his body flush against him, and mouth warm and wet while he licked into Derek’s. It was confusing, and exhilarating all at once, and Derek never wanted this to end. His hand was on the back of Stiles’ neck, and Stiles’ grip was almost painful in his hair, and he felt like he couldn’t breathe, and this was everything, this was everything! 

And then someone tried to open the door and the moment broke. Derek jerked into Stiles from the action and they parted, both breathing hard and staring at one another almost incredulously. 

“Stiles?” It was Danny’s voice. He was probably the safest person to come and fetch him, considering how fucking angry he’d been. Nobody could be mad or hurt Danny, not even a drunk, angry Stiles. “Are you okay? They’re about to announce prom king and queen, and we all know you’re probably going to win.” 

Stiles let out a shaky exhale and took a step back out of Derek’s immediate space. His hands slid out of his hair and Derek forced himself to release the other teen as well. 

“Damn straight,” he said, voice a little unsteady, but not from the alcohol. “I’m gonna look great in that tiara, and Jackson will make a fine prom king.” 

Danny let out a small laugh. “You’ll piss off Lydia if you take prom queen, but I can’t say I wouldn’t pay good money to see that.” 

“I’ll be right out.” 

“Okay.” A brief pause. “Hey, I’m sorry about Derek.” 

“It’s fine,” Stiles said quickly, and Derek knew now that this wasn’t all a joke. Or a dream. Or a hallucination. “It’s—I’m okay. I’ll be right out.” 

“Okay. See you out there.” 

Derek listened to Danny walk away, head tilted slightly and eyes shunted to the side. When the outer door shut, he focussed back on Stiles. His long, deft fingers were pressed against his lips, gaze on the floor. 

Even before he spoke, Derek felt his stomach begin to drop. 

“We’re graduating next week,” Stiles said softly. 

“Yeah,” Derek confirmed. 

“I’m probably never going to see you again.” A sharp, too-loud laugh escaped Stiles at those words and he let his hand drop, looking up at Derek once more. “This was stupid.” 

Much as it hurt to hear, Derek couldn’t exactly say he disagreed. 

Apparently Stiles was in love with him. And Derek was in love with Stiles. And they’d just been making out in the fucking bathroom of their high school gym’s locker room at prom literally six days before graduation next Thursday. 

They couldn’t start something now. Not when they were about to part ways, likely forever. 

“Yeah,” Derek finally agreed. 

Stiles swallowed hard, and Derek wondered if a part of him had been hoping he would argue. That Derek would insist it wasn’t stupid, and that they could make this work somehow, and they could figure things out and write or whatever. 

But they couldn’t do that. They both knew it. They had too much history between them, too much had happened, and there were too many conversations they just wouldn’t be able to have before they split up.

He knew Stiles was going to Stanford in the fall, but he and Jackson would be driving up a week and a half after graduation to get themselves settled in and find jobs for the summer out in the area so they could hopefully maintain them through the school year. 

Derek himself had plans with Kira and Boyd for the weekend right after graduation. 

They’d run out of time. This couldn’t work, not now. Maybe before, maybe if they’d spoken about this days, weeks, months ago. 

But not now. 

“Right,” Stiles finally said, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth. He was still a little shaky, but Derek didn’t know if that was the alcohol or the making out. “Well. I should go.” 

“Yeah.” Derek didn’t move for a moment, then remembered he was blocking the door and shifted aside, pulling it open for him. “Good luck.” 

“Thanks. And congrats on Salutatorian,” Stiles said. 

“Thanks,” Derek replied. 

They stared at one another for a long moment, then Stiles moved forward and eased out of the bathroom. Derek let the door go, watching it swing shut, then leaned against it and let his head fall back, closing his eyes and letting out a small exhale. 

He didn’t have to go out into the gym to hear Stiles win prom king. Predictably, Lydia won prom queen. They danced together, as was customary. Derek heard Stiles laughing and joking with her, but it sounded almost hollow, like he was propping his voice up. 

Derek left the bathroom while they were still dancing, found Kira, and asked to go home. She left with him without asking any questions, and didn’t pry when he made it clear he didn’t want to talk about it by giving her the silent treatment on the way home. He hadn’t meant to, he just really, really didn’t want to talk about it. 

About what could’ve been, if only they’d... tried. 

Six days later, they graduated high school. 

They avoided one another for the last few days of school, and Stiles’ usual boisterous personality was somewhat subdued. 

Derek was Salutatorian, and having kept his grades up, was guaranteed a spot at Berkeley for the fall. 

Stiles was third in their class, and was headed for Stanford with Jackson. 

Derek, Boyd and Kira went to San Francisco for a post-grad celebration. By the time he’d returned, Stiles and Jackson had already headed off to Stanford, California to get settled for school. 

Laura and Peter’s business opened in the late summer months. 

Kira left for England in early August. Boyd left for New York a few days later. 

Derek headed out to Berkeley over Labour Day weekend. 

Derek and Stiles never spoke about what had happened. They never tried to connect, or touch base, or discuss anything. They definitely didn’t keep in touch. 

Time passed, life went on, things changed, some didn’t. 

But they never forgot. 

After all, it’s not every day someone finds their soulmate. 

TBC...