Archive of Our Own

Stiles’ first year in New York had been wonderful. He liked his classes enough that he had maintained the grades necessary to keep his scholarship. Rooming with Scott had been easy, so getting an apartment together for second year was the logical thing to do. He’d liked the atmosphere of the campus bar, and he’d thought it would be a perfect fit when he’d applied as a bartender.

He hadn’t considered that the bar was open until three in the morning, which forced him to walk to his apartment in the middle of the night. The apartment which was usually empty, since Scott had met the girl of his dreams and was spending every waking hour outside of class absorbed by her. So no one would know if Stiles didn’t make it home, and no one would care if he didn’t get up for class in the morning. And if no one cared if he went to class, it was harder to wake up and go, which meant his grades were slipping. Which, of course, made it even more important that he keep his job at the bar in case he lost his funding.

Stiles repeated this cycle in his head over and over while he trudged down the empty street, rushing between streetlights so he wouldn’t get caught too long in the dark.

He caught a glimpse of a guy in a hoodie coming towards him and tightened his grip on his school bag. He felt stupid immediately. He was overreacting and the guy was probably just heading home, same as Stiles was. He scolded himself for his silliness and loosened his grip, which was, of course, when the guy made a grab for it.

“Fuck!” Stiles shouted, scrambling to maintain his hold and keep the guy from yanking the bag out of his grip. All Stiles was thinking was I paid $200 for this textbook.

The thief pushed Stiles and he slammed into the brick wall beside then. “Let go,” the guy whined.

“Get away from me,” Stiles countered. The guy let go of the back with one hand and for a second Stiles thought that would work, but instead of backing off, he pulled out a knife. “Shit,” Stiles said, eyes wide.

“You’re gonna want to give me all your money.” The guy slashed forward and was abruptly pulled back.

“You’re gonna want to back off.”

Stiles jolted when he realized someone else had appeared and had the would-be thief in a choke hold, and a hand around the guy’s wrist. The knife clattered to the ground and the mugger started whimpering as Stiles’ rescuer’s grip tightened, and the stranger growled menacingly, “If I catch you out here again, I’ll break your fucking hand. Is that clear?”

“Yes, yes. Please,” The guy said. As soon as he was released, he bolted down the street, leaving Stiles to gape after him.

“It’s dangerous to be out this late at night. You should be more careful.”

Stiles stiffened and turned to his rescuer. He looked more like another villain than a hero with his dark hair, dark leather jacket and, most of all, his murderous expression. Stiles shrugged awkwardly. “Gotta get home somehow. Thanks for your help.”

He gave a jerky nod and shoved his hands in his pockets, hunching his shoulders as if that would miraculously make him smaller.

“Okay…” Stiles said. “Well, it’s the middle of the night, so I’m gonna go home now. Thanks again?”

There was a second jerky nod, and the guy stepped aside so Stiles could pass by him. Stiles felt like he had eyes on him the whole way down the block. He glanced back when he turned the corner and the guy was standing on the sidewalk where Stiles had left him, staring back at him.

Stiles elected to sprint the rest of the way home.

***

It was a couple days before Stiles had his next shift, and he dreaded the walk home. When he was dismissed for the night, he contemplated calling a cab, but he knew he couldn’t afford that luxury on a regular basis. He would have to face the late night walk of terror eventually, it might as well be now.

He walked with his keys between his fingers, scanning the shadows as he rushed toward his apartment. He thought he heard footsteps behind him, but they didn’t come closer or pass him, so he attributed them to being paranoid, with an overactive imagination. He could swear he heard them all the way home, but there was no one behind him. They didn’t stop and start when he did or speed up when he sprinted down a particularly sketchy street. They just faded in and out of his hearing, the tread soft and methodical.

He breathed a sigh of relief when he got to his apartment, and put it out of his mind. He thought the same thing when he heard them on his next shift, and the one after that.

On his fourth shift, he started to get actually worried. He tried taking an alternate route the next night, in case it was just someone who happened to head home at the same time as he was, but the footsteps followed him, echoing quietly on the empty street, never approaching.

He considered telling Scott about it, but the opportunity didn’t come up. Scott talked so much about Allison it was hard to get a word in edgewise. Besides, it was tough to transition naturally into a conversation that started with So, I think I’m being followed.

He briefly thought about telling his dad, but didn’t want to worry him. There was nothing the Sheriff could do from the other side of the country so why stress him out?

Stiles tried catching sight of the person, but every time he looked back, they disappeared. The most he’d managed was the blur of a dark figure as it vanished out of sight.

Eventually, he was struck with the idea to use his phone. He always kept it firmly in his pocket for the walk, not letting himself be distracted, but making sure it was easily accessible in case he needed it. He swiped blindly, opening the camera app, then he glanced at it to make sure it was facing the proper direction and hovered his thumb over the trigger. He looked straight ahead again, and when he heard the footsteps behind him lifted it quickly and pressed the button several times in quick succession. The footsteps stopped and Stiles shoved his phone back in his pocket, doubling his efforts to get home quickly.

He waited until he was locked into his apartment to look at the pictures. He had managed to catch a couple shots of the source of the footsteps. Despite the fact that he hadn’t used a flash, all of the pictures had a weird red eye thing going on that made it hard to see the person's face. He recognized the jacket though, as well as the posture, strong hands, and tight jeans.

His rescuer was following him home.

Stiles sighed in relief. Wait, what? He thought. Relief was a stupid thing to feel because clearly the guy was stalking him. But knowing it was him made him feel a bit better. He wasn’t a complete stranger. (Just mostly.) They had spoken. (All of five sentences between them.) He smacked his head against the door and berated himself for his insanity. It was a stalker for fuck’s sake, not a date to the prom.

The reckless voice inside his head said maybe the relief was because the guy had had the chance to hurt him before, and he’d protected him instead. It wasn’t a faceless stranger anymore, and it made him feel oddly...cared for. And didn’t that just speak volumes about his constant need for attention, good or bad.

“Stupid, stupid,” Stiles muttered, and told himself the guy was probably just biding his time before he dragged him down a dark alley to murder him. It wouldn’t be that difficult, since the guy was strong and there were several alleys on the way to Stiles’ place.

He went to bed convincing himself that this guy was dangerous and that he should find a way to get him to stop. He slept through his alarm, and would have missed his class, but he was woken up by a loud bang outside. He didn’t bother looking for the source, assumed it was someone being too rough with the dumpster and rushed to school.

When his next shift rolled around and the footsteps echoed behind him, Stiles told himself he was scared, and ignored the thought hiding in the back of his mind that at least if something happened to him on the walk home, someone would notice. Unless, of course, the only person who cared was the one Stiles needed to be rescued from. He picked up his pace as unease prickled at the back of his neck.

Was the guy staring at him? Probably. If he was willing to stalk Stiles, he probably had no reservations about creepy staring either. How close was he? Far enough that he could duck out of sight quickly, obviously, but was he close enough to see the sweat on Stiles’ neck? Did he notice when Stiles shivered, or when his grip tightened on his keys?

Stiles briefly entertained the idea of confronting him, but dismissed it quickly. Even if he could get close enough to say anything, which was unlikely, what would he say? Hey, wanna stop being a creeper? Furthermore, he didn’t want to risk making the guy angry. He hadn’t hurt Stiles so far, but Stiles had read a lot of crime reports about people rejecting someone, even someone they barely knew, and getting stabbed for it.

So he just hunched his shoulders a little further and walked as fast as he could.

***

The thing was, Stiles was never walking home refreshed and energetic. It was always the middle of the night, and he’d been on his feet for hours. He counted his lucky stars every shift that he didn’t have to wear heels like the girls did, but nonetheless, his feet ached, his leg muscles practically quivered, his back was stiff, and his brain was half asleep.

So, after a couple weeks of being followed, but not attacked, he slowed his pace from the brisk walk he'd been trying to maintain. Slightly. He vowed that he’d start running the second something was out of order, but nothing changed. His stalker continued following from an unknown distance, and Stiles made it home in one piece.

One week shifted into another, and his pace slowed more. That week ended, and Stiles started slacking more by the day. The guy never approached, but he never missed a shift. Never failed to be present for Stiles’ walk through the concrete wasteland.

Stiles was halfway home one night and he got a call from Scott. He didn’t usually like to use his phone while walking, but there was nowhere safe to stop, and he was too tired to rush home to return the call. He answered quickly, and Scott explained that he was at the apartment, but had lost his key at some point.

Stiles knew for a fact it was sitting on the kitchen table, forlorn, forgotten, and rarely used. (Okay, so Stiles might have had a particularly sulky moment of commiseration with the key, but he’d been a little drunk, alright?) Knowing where the key was didn’t help Scott get in, so Stiles assured him he was on his way home.

He didn’t notice the car pulling out as he stepped onto the street. He saw the sudden blinding flash of headlights, and heard the blast of the horn before he was yanked backward by his hood.

He landed on his ass in the middle of the sidewalk, phone still clutched in his hand. He could hear Scott shouting on the other end as Stiles looked around. The street was once more deserted, but Stiles knew he hadn’t stepped back on his own.

The Guy, he thought. Stiles had been rescued again, and even though he hadn’t stuck around, Stiles knew in his gut, the same guy had kept him from being splattered across the pavement in a Stiles-shaped skidmark.

“Huh.” Stiles didn’t know what to make of this. Following someone was bad. Creepy and wrong and weird. But if the guy hadn’t been there, what would’ve happened? Stiles pushed himself up off the ground, wincing at the pain in his butt that would definitely turn into a bruise. He put his phone to his ear again and told Scott he was fine, and promised to be home soon. He looked twice before stepping out into the street and continuing home.

On the last block, he caught the familiar rhythm of footsteps behind him.

***

It was another couple of weeks before Scott found out about Stiles’ tag along, but by then Stiles was so used to his walking companion he brushed off Scott’s concern. Scott tried to convince him to go to the police, but Stiles didn’t want to. It was crazy, but he’d rather have Guy following him than face the late night shadows himself. He’d stopped thinking of him as the guy, switching somewhere along the way to His Guy, which wasn’t good at all, so he forced himself to start thinking just Guy. It made him feel like he knew him.

He’d started to pick up where Guy would stop and wait for Stiles to get further ahead, and where he’d catch up. Stiles knew that when he passed the particularly seedy apartment building on his route, Guy would follow more closely before backing off again. Sometimes there would be people hanging around the entrance, but something about Guy made them stop trying to talk to Stiles.

So Stiles had gotten used to it. If he was honest with himself, he might even say he counted on Guy being there, quiet but steady, looking out for him. Someone to care if he got home, a talisman against the dangers of late night New York. With Guy as his guard, Stiles’ school year was getting better. He didn’t dread his walks so much, and he was adjusting to his usually empty apartment. He wasn’t missing class anymore, because whenever he slept late, he got woken up by someone making a racket down in the alley outside his window.

Oddly, that never happened on the days he didn’t have morning classes.

Guy still hadn’t approached him, but he was there after every shift. Diligently following him. Stiles still wasn’t sure exactly what Guy got out of the situation. He made a list of possible motivations. Guy was:

-- Worried Stiles will get mugged. (Again.)
-- Plagued by a Batman complex and determined to keep the streets of New York safe, starting with skinny bartenders. (It wasn’t a great neighbourhood, but it was no Gotham.)
-- Incredibly shy and couldn’t get up the nerve to talk to Stiles. (Absurd, because Stiles had seen Guy, and he was hot in a grumpy, murderous sort of way.)
-- Checking out Stiles’ ass (unlikely, he couldn’t see it that well in Stiles’ dark pants so late at night.)
-- A magical creature of the night who’d decided Stiles was his one true love, and the only one who can break the spell! (Ha.)
-- Looking for a possible murder victim. (Really, it’d been weeks, surely he would have killed him by now.)

So all in all, Stiles still wasn’t really clear on Guy’s reasons behind following him every night, but it’d been working out pretty well for Stiles.

One night, it was pouring rain, and Stiles had forgotten an umbrella. When he set out for home, he nearly tripped over one lying directly in his path. He looked around for the owner but he didn’t see them, just a blurry shadow of Guy waiting for him to get a move on.

“Did you leave this here?” Stiles called, and Guy blended further into the shadows. Stiles shrugged and picked up the umbrella. He saw no point in getting soaked when he didn’t have to. He made it to his apartment, and left the umbrella propped up next to the door. If it was Guy’s, he could take it back. If not, maybe some other poor, wet soul could use it. Either way, it was gone in the morning.

***

Stiles hefted his box higher and tried to transfer some of the weight to his chest. He hated group projects, and he didn’t understand how he was the one who’d ended up taking care of all their materials when he didn’t live on campus. He’d had to drag it to work for his shift, and now he had to carry it all the way home. It wasn’t that it was even that heavy, but it’d been a long night, and an even longer week, and he was only halfway home. The remainder of the journey stretched out before him.

With the box in the way, he couldn’t see his feet, so he didn’t notice the garbage bin that had tipped over into his path until it was already under him. He crumpled, ending up sprawled on the ground, the box spilling open beside him and the garbage can clattering. There was a moment where he was completely motionless, suspended in disbelief and confusion. Later, it would feel like he laid there for an absurdly long time, feeling the grit of the sidewalk under--and in--his palms. Then he realized that his ankle was throbbing with every beat of his pulse. When he tried to move it, the joint objected with a sharp stab.

“Ow, fucking ow,” Stiles said through teeth clenched against the pain. He maneuvered into a sitting position and stared down at the box in dismay. He might be able to hobble home like this, but not if he was carrying the box. His groupmates would murder him if he left it behind.

He hung his head in dismay, ready to curl up on the concrete and cry when he heard Guy take a couple steps closer. His head shot up and Guy slipped back down the alley he’d been emerging from.

“Hey, Guy-- I mean, um, buddy?” Stiles called. “Could you maybe give me a hand?”

For a moment, he was met with silence, then Guy slowly looked around the corner. Stiles mustered a tentative smile, and Guy started forward, stalking toward Stiles like a wary wild animal.

“I tripped and I think I sprained my ankle,” Stiles explained. “Could you just--”

Guy rushed over. He crouched down and took Stiles’ foot in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and Stiles held his breath as Guy carefully appraised the injury. He startled when Guy started unlacing his shoe.

“Whoa there! What are you doing? We’re sitting in the middle of the sidewalk.”

Guy scowled up at him. “Your ankle is swelling. If you don’t take it off now, you might have to cut it off later.”

“Oh. Okay then,” Stiles said. He liked these shoes, and he could imagine how difficult it would be to remove the hightop later, so he tried not to wince too much as Guy worked it off.

“So, I was thinking, since we're going the same way anyway, you could carry my box for me,” Stiles said, ignoring the heat of Guy’s fingers against his skin. Creepy he may be, but he was also really freaking hot. Guy glared at him, and Stiles sighed. “Look, if you’re going to stalk me, you could at least be helpful just this once.”

“That’s fine,” Guy said. “I just didn’t realize you’d...noticed.”

Stiles thought it was interesting that Guy didn’t even try to deny it, but he was too tired to say anything about it. “Okay. So, maybe just help me up and grab the box--”

“No.”

Stiles blinked at him. “No?”

“You shouldn’t try to put weight on your ankle. I’ll just carry you and the box,” Guy insisted.

“My apartment is still a few blocks away. You can’t carry me that far,” Stiles said. “Just help me up and I’ll lean on you for balance until we get there.”

Guy’s scowl deepened. “I could take you straight to the hospital.”

“It’s not broken. I don’t need a hospital, I just need to get home.” Stiles was exhausted, his ankle was fucked, and he just wanted to be home so he could lick his wounds in peace. “The sooner the better, so let’s get to it.”

Guy glared at Stiles a for a minute and then said, “If I carry you, you’ll get home faster.”

“Ugh,” Stiles said to the sky. He was 100% done with this day. “Fine, whatever. Just don’t drop me.

Guy smirked at him. He collected the papers that had escaped the box and placed it in Stiles’ lap, then set Stiles’ shoe on top. He put one arm at Stiles’ back and the other under his knees. As soon as Guy started lifting, Stiles scrambled to get an arm around his neck while the other steadied the box.

Guy set off down the street, his steps steady and even, like he was trying to avoid jostling Stiles.

“What’s your name?” Stiles asked. Maybe he could stop calling him Guy all the time.

Guy flicked his gaze over to Stiles and huffed. “Derek.”

“I’m Stiles,” he offered. Derek nodded, which was really kind of creepy since they hadn’t spoken more than once. Stiles was sure Derek would have to stop and rest a few times, but he made it to the apartment barely out of breath.

It occurred to Stiles that it probably wasn’t a good idea to let your stalker think you were completely helpless and alone. “My roommate is probably home,” Stiles lied.

Derek gave him a pointed stare.

“Um, if you want to just put me down at the door, I’ll get him to come grab the box,” Stiles offered.

“How are you going to get up the stairs?” Derek asked.

Stiles gaped at him. “How do you know I live upstairs?”

Derek looked away from him, shoulders tensing slightly under Stiles’ hand. “Maybe I guessed.”

“I don’t think you did,” Stiles said slowly.

Derek sighed. “I won’t hurt you. I just want you to be safe. I’ll carry you upstairs and get you some ice, and then I’ll leave you alone, okay?”

Stiles thought this should probably go on a list of monumental bad ideas, but he was tired and in pain, and like he’d acknowledged before, Derek could have hurt him a dozen times over by now. “Fine.”

Derek didn’t smirk this time, but the corner of his mouth twitched and his eyes looked almost relieved. Stiles was grateful he only lived on the second floor, because he would hate to make Derek carry him any higher. He was shocked that they made it up the narrow stairs without incident, and Derek lowered him to the floor outside his apartment so he could fish out his key.

Derek unlocked the door quickly and returned the key to Stiles immediately. He shoved the box into the entryway and carefully lifted Stiles again.

“Bed or couch?” Derek asked.

Stiles shrugged. Derek was already in his apartment, it couldn’t be that much worse to let him into the bedroom and he really didn’t want to hop to his room after Derek left. “Bed, please. My room is--” Derek walked over and shifted Stiles so he could open the door. “Seriously, could we at least pretend you don’t know where I sleep?”

“Sorry,” Derek mumbled. He set Stiles on the edge of his bed and sank to his knees. He took Stiles’ uninjured limb and took off his shoe like he was a child, then helped him with his jacket before settling him on the bed. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Stiles stared after Derek as he left them room, then closed his eyes, listening to him move through the apartment. He wasn’t loud exactly, but he didn’t seem concerned about waking Scott either. Not that that was an actual possibility.

Derek returned with a pillow from the couch, a towel, a bag of frozen peas, a bottle of tylenol, and some water. He wrapped the peas in the towel and put them on top of the pillow, and tucked them under his ankle. “I got this from your bathroom,” he said, shaking some of the pills into his hand. Stiles hoped that was true because he could really use some pain relief, and it would be easy enough for Derek to drug him with something else. Derek seemed to realize this, because he handed the water bottle to Stiles and let him crack the seal himself before helping him sit up to swallow the pills.

When the medication was gone and the water placed on the bedside table within reach, they stared awkwardly at each other.

Derek clenched his hands at his sides. “It probably won’t be very comfortable to sleep in your clothes.”

“Probably not,” Stiles said. His T-shirt wasn’t so bad, but his jeans weren’t great and the whole outfit smelled like bar.

“Can I help you?” Derek asked.

Stiles swallowed. “That’s probably not a good idea.”

Derek nodded. “Probably.”

Stiles worried his blanket between his fingers. “Maybe just the shirt?”

“Okay,” Derek said. He pulled Stiles up to sit again and stripped the black T-shirt off quickly.

Stiles sighed as he laid back down. He was half naked in bed, unable to run, while a stranger stood in his room. But he still didn't really feel threatened. Maybe because of the pain, maybe because it didn’t feel like a stranger. It was just Guy. Or Derek, as it turned out.

“Okay, clearly I’m not functioning on all cylinders today. Could you help me get my pants off?” Stiles asked.

Derek nodded. He let Stiles do most of the work, unbuttoning them and tugging them off his hips then reached under the blankets to pull them down efficiently. He moved them over his ankle carefully, then replaced it on the pillow.

“Could you pass me my phone? I need to set an alarm tomorrow.”

Derek fished the phone out of his pocket and handed it over, then draped the pants over Stiles computer chair. “Maybe you should stay home tomorrow. Give yourself a chance to heal.”

“Can’t. That box is for a stupid group project I need to work on, and I have a test tomorrow,” Stiles said. “I’ll be okay. Getting to campus will be a bitch though.” Stiles frowned, wondering just how much a cab trip would cost.

“I could drive you,” Derek offered.

“You have a car?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded and Stiles blinked at him. “Then why do you walk everywhere?”

“It’s New York,” Derek said with a shrug. “It’s faster to walk.”

“Fair point,” Stiles said, then broke into a jaw-cracking yawn.

Derek smirked at him, then sat gingerly on the edge of the bed and lightly rested his fingers on Stiles’ ankle. “You should get to sleep. I’ll come back in the morning.”

“Are you sure? If you have things to do, I’ll figure something else out,” Stiles said. The pain meds must be kicking in because his ankle was starting to hurt less. The long day and the absence of pain made it hard for him to keep his eyes open.

“It’s fine,” Derek insisted. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of everything.”

Stiles sighed. “Just so you know, it would really suck if you murdered me right now.”

Derek quirked his eyebrow. “Noted. Goodnight, Stiles.” He slipped from the room as quickly as he’d melted into the shadows of the street. Stiles had a brief thought that he hadn’t told Derek what time his class was, but it quickly vanished as sleep took over.

***

“Stiles...Stiles, wake up.”

Stiles blinked his eyes open and jerked his head up in confusion. His phone was clutched to his chest. He’d clearly grabbed it, turned off his alarm, then fallen back to sleep. He looked for the source of the voice and found Derek standing in the door to his room.

“Hey, sorry. I slept in,” Stiles said through a yawn.

Derek just nodded.

“I do that way too much,” Stiles said, nervously filling the silence. “I used to miss class a lot, but then…” he trailed off and looked to his window. There was no ruckus today. The alley was completely silent. He looked back at Derek suspiciously.

“You should get up now,” Derek said. He refused to meet Stiles’ eyes as he crossed the room. It took Stiles’ sleep addled brain a moment to realize Derek was about to lift him again.

“Oh, hey, whoa,” he said as he became airborne. “What are we doing?”

“Bathroom.” Derek neglected to explain further, instead, carrying Stiles in and setting him down on the toilet. Stiles wasn’t sure how long Derek had been in the apartment while he was asleep, but apparently he’d grabbed some clothes and left them on the counter before waking Stiles. “Call me when you're done, and I’ll come get you.”

“Um, okay,” Stiles said, eyeing the tub. He wondered if he could keep his balance long enough to shower.

“Unless you need...help?” Derek said with a frown.

“No, no!” Stiles squeaked. “I’m good.”

Derek nodded and retreated from the room.

Stiles checked the clock on the wall and decided he had time to at least rinse himself off. It was a bit of a challenge to get into the tub, but he felt much better after washing away the grime of the bar. He rushed through his morning routine as best he could, pulled on his clothes, including the shoes and socks Derek had thoughtfully provided, then took a few deep calming breaths before calling for Derek.

“All set?” Derek popped his head through the door.

“Yep,” Stiles said, offering him a cautious smile.

“Good. Hold this.” Derek thrust something wrapped in wax paper at Stiles and scooped him up.

“What is this?” Stiles asked.

“Breakfast.”

“Oh,” Stiles said, eyeing the package. It smelled pretty good. “Do you want to eat it before we go?”

“No, it’s for you,” Derek said. “You can eat it in the car.” He set Stiles down to lock the door.

Stiles blinked at him. “You made me breakfast?”

Derek shrugged. “I told you I’d take care of everything.”

“Right,” Stiles said slowly. “My box and my backpack…?”

“Already in the car,” Derek said, sweeping Stiles carefully back into his arms. “If we leave now, I’ll probably have time to get you coffee.”

“That’s...really nice of you,” Stiles said. He wasn’t sure what the proper protocol was in this situation. If it were one of his friends, he’d be offering to get them coffee for helping him out. But he and Derek weren’t really friends. They were just...stalker and stalkee?

Derek didn’t acknowledge what he’d said. He went down the stairs carefully. One of Stiles’ neighbors held the door open, and Stiles murmured thanks to her without meeting her curious gaze.

Stiles wasn’t exactly sure what he expected Derek’s car to be, but it certainly wasn’t the sleek black Camaro he was being placed in. He tugged on his seatbelt while Derek rounded the car to the driver’s side. They shot out into traffic with the confidence only those accustomed to driving in New York could muster.

Stiles looked around the car, but it had absolutely no personal details. The interior was spotless, no air fresheners or baubles to give a clue toward the owner’s quirks. It was as devoid of personality as a car driven right off the lot.

“You should eat that before it gets too cold,” Derek said.

Stiles carefully unwrapped the wax paper to reveal the breakfast wrap it protected. He kept it partially wrapped in the hope that he wouldn’t make a mess of Derek’s perfect interior. It was delicious. After a few bites in awkward silence, Stiles said, “Tell me something about you.”

“What?” Derek said.

Stiles sighed. “You know all this stuff about me, like where I live and go to school. You seem to know my class schedule? I’m trying not to freak out about that, so I want to even the field. Tell me something about you.”

Derek was silent for a moment, and Stiles thought he wasn’t going to answer. He’d resigned himself to a silent trip when Derek said, “I live in the same neighborhood you do. A few blocks closer to your work. I live with my sister. I hate cilantro.”

“Cilantro?” Stiles echoed.

“Yep. Tastes like soap.”

“Huh,” Stiles said. “It kinda does. Ew. Tell me something else.”

“Like what?” Derek grumbled.

“Anything. Where do you work? Do you go to school?” Stiles prompted.

“Not exactly. I’m taking some online courses, but…” Derek shrugged. “My sister thought it would be a good idea.”

Derek lapsed into silence again, so Stiles asked, “What’s your favorite colour?”

“Why do you want to know that?” Derek said.

“I don’t know. I want to know anything,” Stiles said. “I could ask you what your quest is first, if you’d like.”

“To find the holy grail,” Derek mumbled.

“Yes!” Stiles shouted. “See? Now I know Derek likes Monty Python.”

“Well then, clearly we've covered everything important,” Derek drawled.

“If that was an attempt to stop me from asking more questions, you are going to be very disappointed.” Stiles bit into his wrap with gusto. “How long have you lived in New York?”

Derek jerked his shoulder. “A few years. We moved around for a bit, then ended up here, I guess.”

“You and your sister?” Stiles crumpled the empty wax paper and looked around for somewhere he could get rid of it. If it was his car, he’d just toss it on the ground, but that didn’t seem like Derek’s style, so he shoved it in his pocket.

Derek nodded, but didn't elaborate. He was saved from Stiles asking further questions by their arrival at campus. He managed to duck into a recently vacated parking spot in the school lot, but when Stiles offered to pay the parking fee Derek scowled at him until he squeaked, “Nevermind.”

After Derek had paid the attendant, he came to retrieve Stiles.

“Um, maybe we shouldn’t do the bridal carry into the school…” Stiles suggested.

Derek looked at him with a grumpily confused glare. “How would you prefer to be carried?’

Stiles shrugged. “Um, I could try walking,” Derek gave an irritated, disbelieving huff, “or maybe like...piggyback?”

Derek made a small growling noise in his throat. “If I carry you like that I’ll have to go back for your stuff.”

“Oh, right,” Stiles said. He’d forgotten about the stupid box of group project supplies. “Same as last night then?”

Derek nodded. He put Stiles’ messenger bag over his own shoulder, set the box in Stiles’ lap and lifted him. He pushed the door shut with his hip and set off toward the building that housed Stiles’ class.

After they got inside, Derek slowed his pace. “I haven’t actually been inside this building, so I’m not sure how to get to your class. I think it’s upstairs?”

“Yeah, third floor, west wing.” Stiles pointed over to the elevator with the arm that wasn’t clinging to Derek’s neck. He was starting to be more comfortable with being carried around but he still considered being dropped a very high possibility.

They joined the cluster of students waiting for the elevator, and when it arrived, Derek carefully put them in a corner where no one could accidently brush against Stiles’ ankle.

Someone cleared their throat. “Morning, Stiles.”

“Oh, good morning, Harley,” Stiles said, craning his neck around to see who’d addressed him. “How’s it going?”

“Um, good,” she replied, eyes flicking over to Derek. “How about you?”

“Eh, you know,” Stiles said vaguely. The elevator lumbered to a stop on his floor and he called over Derek’s shoulder, “See you later.”

She waved awkwardly as the doors closed.

Stiles directed Derek to the class, and took a bracing breath as Derek carried him inside. His classmates glanced up when they entered and their conversation stuttered to a halt.

“Hey, guys. Look, I’m not late today!” Stiles said cheerfully. Derek set him down in the desk next to Lydia and put the box on the floor.

Lydia and Allison exchanged a look, then Allison pasted on a smile and asked, “Who’s this?”

“This is Derek,” Stiles said. “I hurt my foot yesterday and he offered to help me out.”

“You haven’t mentioned him before,” Lydia said. Her smile was tight and her eyes sparkled with annoyance. Stiles knew for a fact she hated not knowing anything, so she was probably irritated that she wasn’t aware of Derek’s existence.

“Haven’t I?” Stiles said vaguely. “He’s um, he’s my guy.”

Lydia’s eyes narrowed and Stiles looked away quickly.

“Do you want a coffee?” Derek asked.

Stiles worried his lip indecisively. He really would love a coffee, but, “I don’t want you to go to any more trouble.”

“No trouble.” Derek turned on his heel and left the room without waiting for Stiles confirmation. Or his coffee order, actually.

Lydia reached over and flicked him in the ear. “When did you get a smoking hot boyfriend and why did you not tell me?”

Stiles rubbed his ear and glared at her. “Not boyfriend, Lydia. I said he’s my guy.”

“He carried you to class,” Lydia pointed out.

“My foot is injured,” Stiles said gesturing to his aching appendage.

“So? He could have got you a pair of crutches and helped with your stuff,” Lydia said, gesturing to the box.

“Wait,” Allison said. “Your guy?”

“Yes,” Stiles said, curtly.

“Isn’t that what you call the creep who follows you home?” Allison worried a curl between her fingers and Lydia gave an outraged gasp.

“Stiles, you did not let your stalker carry you to class!”

“No,” Stiles said immediately. Lydia pinned him with a glare, lips pursed in disapproval. Stiles stared down at his nails, refusing to meet her gaze as he mumbled, “I let Derek carry me to class.”

“Jesus Christ, Stiles, what were you thinking?” Lydia said through gritted teeth.

“Why didn’t you call someone for help?” Allison said, softer but still scolding.

“Call who, Allison? My roommate? Considering I haven’t seen him for days, it didn’t really seem like an option,” Stiles glared. He felt a little guilty when Allison flinched, but he’d had a hard week. His ankle still hurt, his eyes were sore from the lack of sleep, and he’d already been berating himself for trusting Derek, he didn’t need them to do it too.

Derek chose that moment to re-enter the room. He handed Stiles a large coffee and smirked as he inhaled deeply. Derek shook a plastic bag in his hand. “I brought you some ice.”

“Really?” Stiles said. He hadn’t thought to bring an ice pack and he would love a little pain relief.

Derek grabbed the desk next to Stiles and pulled it in front of him so Stiles could prop up his foot with the ice under it. “Oh,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles messenger bag, and pulling out a bottle of pain meds. “I forgot to give these to you at the house.”

“Gimme, gimme.” Stiles made grabby noises at the bottle and Derek relinquished them with a smirk. Before Stiles could open it, Lydia plucked it from his hands.

She opened the bottle and sniffed while staring at Derek, then pulled one out to inspect it. “Where did you get these?”

Derek quirked up one eyebrow. “Stiles’ medicine cabinet.”

“He was in your house?” Lydia hissed.

“Lydia, give me the drugs.” Stiles said.

“Stiles, you can’t just--”

“Lydia, he literally could have killed me a hundred times by now, I doubt he’s going to do it with 20 witnesses standing around. Give me the goddamn Tylenol.” Lydia relinquished the bottle quickly and Stiles sighed, turning back to Derek. “Sorry.”

Derek shrugged, and offered him a water bottle. “Have a good class,” he said, and turned to leave.

“Thanks, I’ll--” Stiles cut off when he realized Derek was already out the door. “Shit. I hope he comes back.”

“What?” Lydia said. Her fingers curled in front of her like she wanted to wrap them around his neck.

“I have to get to that stupid group meeting after this and then I have to get home,” Stiles said. “I have no idea how I’m gonna do that if he doesn’t come back and help me.”

“We can help you,” Allison offered. Stiles smiled at her, appreciating the offer, but he knew it would be a hell of a lot easier if Derek was there. Unfortunately, he couldn’t expect Derek to devote his whole day to carting Stiles around.

Stiles downed a couple of pills, shooting Lydia a triumphant smirk when the seal of the water bottle cracked open and she sniffed in disdain. He tossed the bottle on his bag and grabbed his coffee, savoring the flavor as he drank. He didn’t know why Derek knew his coffee preferences, but it was perfectly composed, and Stiles was enjoying it too much to care.

***

Class passed quickly, despite Lydia giving him the cold shoulder. He was surprised she didn’t stalk off as soon as class ended, instead gazing off imperviously as Allison helped Stiles gather his things.

He was just starting to wonder how he would manage getting to the library when Derek ducked into the room.

“Hey,” Stiles said brightly.

Derek offered him a hesitant smile. “All set?”

“I can help,” Allison said. She looked cheerful enough, but her tone brooked no argument. She tightened her grip on the box as Derek frowned at her. He didn’t bother to say anything in response before turning back to Stiles.

“Do you want to try the other way?”

Stiles frowned. “What way?”

Derek shrugged. “This morning you said you wanted me to carry you differently.”

“Right, piggy-back,” Stiles exclaimed. Derek winced a bit but nodded. “Sure, let’s try that.” Stiles scooched forward awkwardly on his chair and Derek kneeled with his back to Stiles. After a little maneuvering, they managed to get Stiles on Derek’s back, and Derek stood, readjusting Stiles into a more secure position. “Good?”

“Yep,” Stiles said, voice tight. It hadn’t occurred to him that in this position, even more of him would be pressed against Derek.

“Library, right?” Derek asked.

“Yeah, work room three.” As they set off, Lydia started trying to interrogate Derek. He didn’t acknowledge that she was even speaking, so Stiles figured he must not have minded telling Stiles about himself earlier that day.

“Are you hungry?” Derek asked while Lydia gave an outraged huff.

“Kind of? Hopefully I’ll get this done quickly so I can go home and eat.” Stiles was extremely grateful for the breakfast burrito Derek had made him. If he hadn’t had that he would be starving by now.

“There’s a muffin in your bag,” Derek said.

“There is?” Stiles said. “Did I leave that there?” It wouldn’t be the first time he’d abandoned food to the black hole at the bottom of his messenger bag.

“No, I put it there.” Derek said. Lydia sputtered again and Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Sweet, I bet I can eat that without a librarian noticing,” Stiles murmured into Derek’s ear conspiratorially. One of said librarians frowned at them as they entered the library but none stopped them. It probably wasn’t the strangest scene to enter the campus library.

Two of his groupmates were already in the workroom, messing around on some cat app rather than starting the project. Stiles was well versed in the many ways a student could waste time, and he would never judge someone the simple pleasures of adorable cartoon animals. But they played this game non-stop while he was trying to get their work done, and he was about ready to shove their phones up their asses.

“Hey, guys. So, how did the summary go yesterday?” Stiles said, hoping to sound enthusiastic instead of bitchy.

His groupmates blinked up at him eyeing Derek. Stiles sighed. They totally didn’t work on it.

“Well, we were really busy so,” Amber started.

“Yeah, I remember when we left off yesterday I explained I had work so I wouldn’t be working on it, and you guys only have that one other lab due, so we decided you would finish off the summary of the information I gave you, right?” Stiles wondered if it was possible to be taken seriously while clinging to a full grown man’s back like a baby koala.

“The lab was really hard,” Debbie whined.

Lydia tsked from the doorway and Allison set the box on the table. “Stiles, this discussion isn’t finished, but I refuse to subject myself to unnecessary stupidity.” She turned in a flurry of strawberry blonde curls and swept out of the room. Allison shot Debbie an apologetic smile and followed after her.

“So,” Stiles said. “You didn’t do it.”

Amber and Debbie shrugged, nodded, then started to turn back to their phones.

“You could do it now,” Derek said. Stiles couldn’t see what his expression was at the moment, but apparently it was enough motivation for them to set down their games and open their books. Derek settled Stiles into a chair at the head of the table. This time, instead of disappearing, he took the seat next to Stiles.

The other two members of the group arrived, shooting confused looks at Derek. Stiles didn’t elaborate on his presence, just started going through everything that needed to get done and assigning tasks.

It was the most productive meeting they’d had so far. Every time someone started to stray off topic, Derek would glare at them, or clear his throat, and they’d focus. By the time they were finished, they had most of the project completed, and Stiles was certain all he needed to do was a final read-through and they’d be ready.

Before his groupmates could disappear, Derek slid the box of resources toward them and said, “One of you will be taking this.”

Their frantic nodding was quite a contrast from them all pushing it on Stiles the day before.

Derek opted for a speedy exit after that, reverting to the bridal carry instead of on his back. Stiles could feel his phone going crazy in his pocket, so he pulled it out as Derek walked. He had 4 missed calls and 12 texts from Scott. Apparently Lydia and Allison had told him about Derek and he was convinced Stiles was dead in a ditch instead of slaving away in the library.

“Hey, could we swing by the campus cafe? My roommate is kind of worried about me.” Stiles raised an eyebrow when Derek snorted.

“Sorry, I just...If he’s that worried about you, where was he yesterday?” Derek asked.

“Don’t be a dick,” Stiles said. “I thought we’d agreed to pretend he was sleeping.” Derek quirked an eyebrow at him. “Which he was.” Just not in the apartment Stiles had said he was in.

Derek rolled his eyes but headed toward the cafe instead of the car.

When the walked inside, Stiles noticed the cashier Erica gasp, but he was immediately distracted by Scott exclaiming, “Stiles, where have you been?”

Derek set Stiles down at the table with his friends and muttered, “I’ll just get you some food.” Erica had disappeared, so he went to place his order with the other cashier on duty.

“Hey, guys,” Stiles said casually.

“What the hell, Stiles? Why are you being carried around by your stalker?” Scott demanded in a harsh whisper.

Stiles glared at Lydia, who just tilted her head defiantly in return. “Scott, calm down. I needed some help. Rather than leave me to lie defenseless on the sidewalk last night, Derek helped me get home. It’s not that big of a deal.”

“Defenseless?” Scott squawked.

Stiles shushed him as other patrons glared at them. “Can you just stop freaking out for a second and listen?” Stiles explained about his ankle and Derek getting him to class, and reassured Scott that Derek had been nothing but respectful, going so far as to call him downright chivalrous.

Derek came back and set a turkey sandwich and a brownie in front of Stiles. Scott and Lydia glared at him suspiciously, but Stiles just smiled up at him. “Thanks.”

Derek nodded acknowledgement, but he didn't smile, too focused on glowering back at his friends.

“Sit with me,” Stiles said, tugging on the side of Derek’s jeans. Derek huffed, then pulled up a chair. “Are you hungry? Do you want some?

“I’m fine,” Derek grumbled.

“Are you sure? It’s really good. Here try some.” Stiles shoved the sandwich toward Derek. He shot Scott one more uneasy glare before taking a bite and returning it to Stiles. “Good, right?”

Derek nodded, and Scott started up again, “Stiles, I really think--”

“Scott, I’m hungry and injured. It’s not like I could call you to help me since I never see you anymore, so could you please stop judging me and let me eat my sandwich in peace?” Stiles snapped.

Scott’s face contorted with hurt, red rising to his tan cheeks. “Fine.” He pushed away from the table and slumped out of the cafe. Allison looked at Stiles reproachfully then hurried after him. Lydia tapped her nails against the table and stared at Stiles.

“I’m sorry,” Derek mumbled.

Lydia’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and Stiles set down his sandwich. “Why?”

“I didn’t mean to get between you and your friends.”

“You didn’t. That was my fault. I shouldn’t have snapped at him like that. I’m just tired, okay?”

“Okay.” Derek didn’t look like he really agreed.

“Hmm.” Lydia looked between them, eyes calculating. “I have to get to class. Text me when you get home, alright?”

“Sure,” Stiles said. She leaned over and kissed his cheek before leaving, giving one last steely look to Derek, as if to say I’ve got my eye on you.

“Here, have another bite,” Stiles offered. They talked a bit about the perfect sandwich components. Then Derek tensed, head jerking toward the window then at the counter where Erica was looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

“We have to go,” Derek said, grabbing Stiles bag.

“I didn’t finish my brownie,” Stiles protested.

“You can eat it in the car, we need to--” Derek cut off as a woman swept into the store and stalked over to their table. Derek hunched his shoulders and glared down at Stiles’ plate as the woman loomed over him, hands on her hips.

Stiles took in her designer jeans, dark shirt, leather jacket and perfectly styled raven hair and thought, Oh fuck, he has a girlfriend.

“What the fuck, Derek?” The woman started. Derek didn’t respond, so she continued. “Where the hell have you been? Is this what you’ve been doing all morning?”

Derek nodded. The woman put a hand to her forehead and gave an aggravated sighed.

“Derek, we talked about this.”

Talked about what? Stiles thought. About Derek hiding from his girlfriend? Or stalking people? Or Stiles specifically?

“I’m sorry,” Derek mumbled.

The woman dropped into the seat that Lydia had vacated. “Derek, boundaries are important.”

“I know, I just…” Derek shrugged. “He smells nice.”

The woman dropped her head onto the table and growled. After a moment, she popped back up and turned to Stiles. “Hi there,” she said, extending her hand. “I’m Laura Hale. I’m really sorry, my brother doesn’t know how to function within normal society.”

Fuck yes, not girlfriend, Stiles thought, then shut that down because he probably shouldn’t be having thoughts like that about his...guy. Even if he was really hot. “Stiles Stilinski. Um...He’s actually helped me out a few times, so….”

Laura frowned at him. “What do you mean?”

“It’s how we met actually. Someone tried to mug me and Derek scared them off,” Stiles explained. Laura nodded like she had heard that before and still thought Derek was a creeper, which was kind of true. “After that, he started walking me home.” Laura raised an eyebrow and Stiles shrugged. “Okay, following me home, which, you know, is pretty weird, but it was super late at night, and after the whole mugging thing, I know for a fact that there’s sketchy people around. So, if it was a random person that would be like, whoa, hold up, but I recognized him, so I knew he’d helped me once and I thought, if something happened, he might do it again. Or at least, someone would notice if something happened to me, you know? And then I nearly got hit by a car, but he pulled me back, so yay for that. And I think he left me an umbrella, and I’ve been making it to class on time and then last night he totally could have left me there and he didn’t, and he didn’t have to come back today, but he did and he’s already fed me like three times. It was great.” Stiles stumbled to a stop and shoved a bit of brownie in his mouth, hoping to plug the flood of words.

Laura sat back in her chair, arms crossed, and looked at him like he was a puzzle she couldn’t quite solve. “Huh.” She sat up straighter and turned her attention to Derek. “First off, stop attacking muggers, I don’t want you to get arrested.”

Derek nodded.

“Second, stop trailing after him like a creepy fucking puppy. It’s weird, and once again, I don’t want you to get arrested,” Laura said. “If you want to walk him home, ask him if you can walk with him. If he says no, back off and get your ass home, got it?”

“Yes,” Derek said.

“If I think this is getting out of hand again--”

“It won’t,” Derek insisted, finally looking at her.

Laura smiled sadly. “Okay, Der.” She squeezed his hand hand and looked at Stiles. “I know he went about it in a really weird way, but I promise, he just wants to protect you.”

Stiles nodded. “It probably doesn’t make sense, but I feel safer knowing he’s there. I just want to balance things out. Learn as much about him as he knows about me.”

Laura chuckled. “Kid, you have no idea.”

“Laura,” Derek chided.

Laura winked at him, then grew serious. “Don’t be mad at Erica. She was just worried about you.”

Derek sighed. “I know.”

“You know Erica?” Stiles asked. They’d had a few classes together in first year, and though they didn’t hang out regularly, Stiles liked her style.

Derek nodded. “Yeah, she’s…”

“Family,” Laura finished. “Found family.”

Stiles smiled. He’d always called Scott his brother, so he was happy to hear that Derek appreciated that familial ties went beyond blood. “Erica’s awesome.”

“She sure is,” Laura said. “She would be even more awesome if she brought me one of those brownies.”

“I need a damn brownie,” Derek grumbled and went over to the counter. Erica was already plating up two of the treats, and she gave them to Derek with a tentative smile. He leaned over the counter to hug her, and Stiles took the opportunity to appreciate what a great butt he had before he came back.

Laura gave Stiles a knowing smirk before accepting her brownie. “So, Stiles. Tell me about yourself.”

They stayed and talked to Laura for half an hour before she had to return to work. She asked him all about his major, family and friends, interests and hobbies, and in return, told him things about Derek that he was unlikely to volunteer himself. Like how he had a major sweet tooth, and could probably eat five of those brownies on his own.

When she rose to leave, she pulled Derek up to hug him firmly. Stiles was prepared to wave goodbye, but instead, she leaned down to give him the same treatment, and said softly, “Please be kind to him.” She called out a goodbye to Erica and disappeared out the doors in a flurry of confidence and beauty.

Derek turned to him, hands clenched at his sides. “Sorry about that.”

“No problem,” Stiles said, waving his hand in dismissal. “I think it was probably good to talk things out, and I got to learn more about you.”

The corner of Derek’s mouth twitched in an almost smile. “Ready to go home?”

“God, yes,” Stiles said. “I need a nap.”

***

Derek deposited Stiles gently onto the couch, then stood awkwardly next to him. “Do you need anything else?”

Stiles worried the seam of the armrest. He didn’t really need anything, but he didn’t want to be alone quite yet. “I’m good, I guess. Hey, do you maybe want to watch a movie?”

“Yeah,” Derek agreed quickly. Stiles directed him to choose a DVD and set it up. When the movie started playing, Derek sat on the couch. He didn’t sit on the far end, opposite Stiles, but he didn’t sit right next to him either. His body was tense, sitting straight up, and he kept fidgeting, but Stiles wasn’t sure if that was because he wanted to move away or move closer. It made it challenging for Stiles to get a read on the situation.

Stiles really did think Derek was hot. Now that they had sorted out some of their boundaries (no more stalking), he wanted to get to know Derek better. He wasn’t sure if Derek was just interested in him physically, or if the whole protection thing was more...intimate.

There was no time like the present to ask, but it was hard to think of what to say. “Hey, so, um,” Stiles stuttered and Derek looked over at him, eyebrows raised. “How do you, um, uh, I was just wondering, um, maybe…” Stiles cleared his throat. “Is this a romantic type thing?”

Derek looked away. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“No, no!” Stiles said. “I just wanted to see if we're on the same page. You know, is this like a bro thing or a...more thing?”

“More,” Derek said, with an apologetic shrug. “Is that okay?”

“Yeah, sure, totally. Cool,” Stiles said, utterly failing at the nonchalance he was going for.

“Cool,” Derek said slowly.

They watched the movie in silence for a few minutes, sneaking glances at each other but refusing to actually meet each other's eyes. Stiles decided that was stupid. “Hey, so, do you want to cuddle or something?” He kind of winced after he said it. Derek looked more like he would crush someone to death, not cuddle with them. He probably wasn’t up for that.

“Okay,” Derek said. Stiles looked up in surprise. Derek sounded hesitantly excited.

“Great,” Stiles said. Derek reached for him carefully, and after a bit of maneuvering, they ended up half reclining on the couch with Stiles’ back to Derek’s chest. Stiles let his head fall onto Derek’s shoulder, and Derek tightened his arms around Stiles. Stiles fell asleep feeling safe and warm, while the movie played in the background.

***

Stiles and Derek developed a fairly consistent routine. Derek would arrive in the morning, bearing some form of breakfast, escort Stiles to his classes, then bring him home where they would spend some time together one on one. Stiles had to get someone to cover a few shifts, but when his ankle healed, Derek walked with him after work, instead of trailing behind, then bid him goodnight at his apartment door.

It took days for Scott to make an appearance at the apartment. He let himself in with a sheepish expression and eyed Derek on the couch.

“I should get going,” Derek said.

“But we’re not finished Bambi,” Stiles whined. They hadn’t really moved past cuddling on the couch, but Derek was damn comfy and Stiles wasn’t ready to get up.

Derek flicked his gaze to Scott and shrugged.

“Scott doesn’t mind if you stay,” Stiles said. “He has Allison over sometimes. Right, Scott?” Stiles looked at his roommate pointedly. Allison rarely came over, but he wanted Scott to understand that Stiles was serious about continuing to see Derek.

Scott still looked concerned but he said, “Totally.” He settled into the armchair and Stiles turned back to the movie, resting his head on Derek’s chest. They sat together in tense silence for a moment, then Derek cleared his throat.

“Stiles said you both used to play lacrosse?”

Scott took the offered olive branch and ran with it. He launched into a recollection of their so-called glory days on the field. Stiles didn’t really see why Scott was so fond of their time on the team. Considering Scott’s asthma and Stiles’...everything, they had mostly been used as moving targets to tackle in practices and benchwarmers for games. Scott regaled him with their trip to the state championships as if they’d been at center field for the duration. Derek made the appropriate noises of interest and traced a pattern on Stiles’ wrist.

By the time, the movie was over, Scott seemed much less uneasy about Derek and Stiles wasn’t resenting his friend so much. He knew Scott had just been concerned about his safety, even if he had a funny way of showing it.

***

Stiles finished his shift, and Derek was waiting for him at the back door. They walked home together, instead of Derek trailing behind in the shadows.

“My ankle didn’t hurt tonight. Not even a twinge,” Stiles said as they neared the apartment. “I could probably start walking to class again. You wouldn’t have to fight through traffic and pay for parking.”

“Okay,” Derek said.

“Right,” Stiles said, trying not to show his disappointment. He’d gotten used to having Derek around, and the thought of going to school without him seemed incredibly lonely.

They reached the doors of Stiles building and Derek said a polite, “Good night.”

“Good night,” Stiles said, then leaned forward quickly and kissed him. He gave an awkward wave and rushed into his apartment.

He woke up the next morning to Derek leaning over him with a hesitant smile. “If you get up now, you’ll have time to shower.”

Stiles tried to rub the sleep from his eyes. “How do you even get in here? I know I locked the door.” Derek gave a noncommittal shrug and retreated to the main room.

Stiles showered, dressed, and grabbed what he needed for school before they set out. He ate the cinnamon bun Derek brought him as they walked to campus. When it was finished, he slipped his slightly sticky hand into Derek’s. Derek didn’t pull away. It was probably juvenile, but Stiles was delighted.

Neither of them let go until they reached Stiles’ class. Derek wished him a good lesson, then slowly leaned into Stiles’ space. When Stiles didn’t move back or push him away, he pressed a kiss to Stiles’ lips briefly. Stiles grinned and pulled him back in, catching Derek’s bottom lip in his teeth, then smoothing his tongue over it. Derek took that as full permission to take the kiss from sweet to filthy.

A couple of his classmates started catcalling as they passed them to enter the classroom, and they broke apart, flushed but grinning. Stiles entered his classroom like he was walking on air.

***

Stiles pulled his mouth away from Derek’s and let his head fall to the side so Derek could relocate to his neck. “Hey, Derek?”

“Hmm?” Derek’s voice vibrated against Stiles’ skin.

It’d been a month since Stiles had sprained his ankle, weeks since they’d added kissing to their interactions. Their time on the couch now frequently included making out and heavy petting, but nothing more. This wasn’t the first time Stiles’ had been in this position, on the couch, straddling Derek’s lap, Derek’s mouth latched onto his throat, and their hands wandering. But this time, he wanted to take things a little farther than some idle grinding.

“Can I blow you?”

Derek whined in the back of his throat, teeth biting into Stiles’ neck briefly before he pulled back. “What?”

Stiles pushed back so he was sitting straight instead of pressed against Derek’s body. “I just thought it might be fun. It’s okay if you don’t want to, I won’t be upset.”

“No, I do,” Derek said. “I just...You trust me enough for that?”

Stiles smiled down at him. “Yeah, Derek. If I could trust you enough to take care of me when I barely knew you, I think after a month of being together, I can trust you with this. You're my guy, right?” Boyfriend never really felt right to Stiles, but it meant the same thing to him. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course,” Derek responded immediately.

“Cool,” Stiles said, and climbed off, sinking to the floor and reaching for Derek’s fly. “So, yes to blow job?”

Derek visibly swallowed, watching Stiles’ progression. “Yes.”

“Great,” Stiles said. “If you change your mind, or I do something you don’t like, just say so. Okay?”

“Okay,” Derek said, nodding. Stiles opened Derek’s fly, tugging his jeans down over his hips, then mouthing at his cock through his underwear.

Derek slid his fingers into Stiles’ hair briefly, then pulled them away. Stiles pulled back and noticed they were digging into the couch cushion instead.

He smirked up at Derek for a second, then returned his attention to his dick. He pulled Derek’s underwear down, freeing his cock, and used his hand to give it an exploratory tug. He liked the feel and the weight of it in his hand. He traced his thumb over the head, intrigued by difference between Derek’s foreskin, and his own circumcised cock.

Stiles settled himself between Derek’s legs, and followed the path of his thumb with his tongue. Derek cursed above him, and Stiles sucked lightly at the tip before licking along the sensitive underside down to the base, then one long stripe up to the top.

He had yet to get enough practice at deepthroating, but he took as much of Derek’s dick in as he could manage comfortably, and used his hand in tandem with his mouth to give Derek the sensation of being fully embraced.

“Stiles,” Derek moaned. His fingers had creeped back into Stiles’ hair, and he was flexing them like he wanted to hold on. Stiles hummed around Derek’s cock, swirled his tongue, then delved into the slit while Derek panted about him.

It wasn’t much longer before Derek’s fingers tightened, and he pulled Stiles back while he tried to utter a warning. Stiles only let himself be pulled so far, so when Derek orgasmed, his come ended up striping over Stiles’ face, landing on his lips and tongue. Stiles looked up at Derek and darted his tongue out catch some of the mess.

Derek’s breath hitched like he’d been punched in the gut and he surged forward, pressing their mouths together, heedless of the come still glistening on Stiles’ face. He pulled Stiles flush against him, his arm a band of steel at his back, then tugged at his jeans. Stiles wiggled until they could push them down and Derek wrapped a hand around Stiles’ aching cock.

Stiles had to break their kiss to gasp for air and Derek started sucking at his throat. Stiles knew it would leave a bruise, but it felt so good he didn’t want to stop him. Stiles whimpered with the need for release, and cried out when Derek bit down on the line where his neck met his shoulder.

Stiles hadn’t thought he had a biting kink, but the pressure of Derek’s teeth digging sent a jolt down his spine that made him come hard over Derek’s hand.

His body when limp and they fell back on to the couch, still holding each other close. Stiles snuggled into Derek, too relaxed to care that they were a half dressed mess of sweat and come. Derek didn’t seem to care either. He was too busy nuzzling Stiles’ neck, murmuring things like, “Mine,” and “Perfect,” and “Smell so good.”

That last one was probably a bit weird, but Stiles didn’t mind. As long as Derek kept holding him like that, he felt safe and cared for, so what Derek considered pillowtalk didn’t really matter.

***

Stiles shivered, and pressed closer to Derek. New York was a hell of a lot colder than California, and at three in the morning, there was no sun to chase away the chill. Derek was warm though, and he didn’t mind Stiles twining their fingers together and tucking himself against Derek’s side.

Stiles’ feet hurt from his long shift at the bar, and they were only halfway to his apartment. “Maybe I should twist my ankle again so you’ll carry me around,” he teased.

He caught sight of Derek’s predatory smirk before he was suddenly being tossed over Derek’s shoulder in a fireman's carry.

“Not like that!” Stiles shouted, laughing as Derek jostled him higher onto his shoulder. Derek carried him for a block, taunting and teasing while Stiles made half hearted attempts to get Derek to put him down.

Derek stopped abruptly and lower Stiles to his feet. He was frowning at the sidewalk, head tilted to the side.

“Derek?” Stiles asked. He didn’t understand why Derek suddenly wasn’t playful anymore.

“Let’s get home,” Derek said, taking Stiles by the arm and pulling him forward quickly.

“Derek, are you--?” Stiles broke off when he heard a low growl in the shadows. His breath froze in his lungs when he turned and saw two glowing blue eyes in the shadows.

“Keep moving,” Derek said.

“What the fuck?” Stiles said, voice strangled.

“Just keep--” Derek started, but the thing lunged forward before he could finish. Stiles saw a blur of claws, fangs, and hair as it launched toward Derek.

Somehow Derek managed to dodge and used its momentum to send it crashing into the brick wall beside them.

“Stiles, run,” Derek spat out. The thing was already getting to its feet, growling as it turned back to charge again. This time its claws grazed Derek’s side before he could push him back.

Between one minute and the next Derek...changed. Suddenly he was roaring at the thing with fangs of his own, claws extended as he lashed out, ripping into flesh and forcing the thing back again.

He turned to Stiles again, eyes glowing blue and growled, “Run.’

This time Stiles feet obeyed. He took off toward his apartment, not stopping even though his lungs burned and muscles protested. He burst into his empty apartment, locked the door and collapsed against it. “Fuck,” Stiles gasped. He curled into himself and slid to the ground.

He tried to wrap his head around what he had just seen. Derek, his awkward, protective, gruff but sweet boyfriend had turned into a monster. Stiles wanted to convince himself that it had just been his imagination, some delusion brought on by panic and exhaustion. But he couldn’t. He knew what he’d seen. Two creatures from deep in the shadows, brought into the light.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there when he heard a soft tap on the door. “Stiles?” Derek called carefully.

Stiles tensed, freezing in place and trying to hold his breath.

“Stiles, I can hear that you’re there,” Derek said. “Can I just talk to you for a minute?”

Stiles slapped a shaking hand over his mouth, trying to hold back a sob. Derek sounded so normal. As cautious and concerned as was typical for him, like he was afraid Stiles would send him away at any moment. Stiles had always thought it was because of their unorthodox meeting, but now he wondered if there was more to it. So much more.

“Stiles, please, I didn’t mean to scare you. He just took me by surprise. I’m so sorry you found out like this.”

“Like this?” Stiles blurted out.

He could hear Derek whine through the door. “I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want to lose you. Please, can I come inside? We can talk about it properly. I’ll explain everything, and you can ask anything you want.”

Derek made it sound so reasonable, but despite his previous strange judgement calls, he wasn’t going to put himself in danger by opening the door. “What are you?”

Derek sighed. “Can we please not have this conversation through a door?”

“Answer the fucking question!” Stiles demanded.

Derek was silent for a moment, and Stiles didn’t think he’d answer, until he replied softly. “I’m a werewolf.”

“Those aren’t supposed to exist,” Stiles said, feeling detached from the whole situation.

“But we do.”

Stiles closed his eyes and pictured Derek’s eyes flashing, fangs bared. There was no explanation for that, other than the impossible. “And that thing that attacked us?”

“He was a werewolf, too.”

“He seemed…” Terrifying. Unhinged.

“He was an omega. A lone wolf. It makes us unstable to be on our own like that. I think he had been for awhile, otherwise he wouldn’t have shifted in front of a human.”

Questions jumbled through Stiles’ mind and he barely knew where to start. “What about you?”

“I’m a beta. I have a pack, my control is good.”

“How do I know that it’ll stay that way?” Stiles demanded.

Derek grumbled a bit, then sighed. “Laura’s in charge of our pack. She keeps me in line.”

Stiles’ breath wooshed out as he remembered her storming into the campus cafe and looming over Derek. He also remember how Derek had tensed moments before she had arrived.

“Can you--” Stiles broke off trying to form the right question. “You get fangs and claws. What else?”

“Advanced healing, heightened senses,” Derek said.

“Is that why you knew what food I liked? And which room was mine?” Stiles asked, moments in their relationship playing through his mind with new clarity.

“Yes,” Derek admitted. “I could smell which room you had been in frequently, and how stale Scott’s scent was. And I could hear you too.”

“How far away?”

Derek was silent for a moment again. “I don’t know. Sometimes I think I could hear you from anywhere.”

Stiles heart ached with longing. He wanted his Guy, the one who kept him safe, who took care of him, who could hear when he needed him. Not… “Were you hunting me, then? This whole time were you--”

“No! It’s not like that, I swear.” Stiles heard Derek’s hand thump against the door. “I just...It won’t make any sense to you.”

“Try,” Stiles begged, because he wanted to understand. He listened as Derek huffed and grumbled, trying to find the right words.

“Werewolves are more instinct-driven than humans. When I first caught your scent, you were scared and I needed to help you. And then the need to protect you didn’t go away. It made me crazy to think of you out there alone, so I thought I’d keep my distance and make sure you were safe, that’s all. But the more time I spent near you, the more you smelled like…”

“What?” Stiles croaked.

“Mine,” Derek growled. “Everything about you screams to my wolf that you’re mine and I’m yours. Stiles, I would never hurt you. I couldn’t. I love you.”

Stiles let out a shuddering breath and shook his head. “We’ve been dating for a month.”

“I know. It’s okay if you don’t feel that way. It’s different for you because you can’t smell like I can. You can’t know things about me just from that, the way I can learn about you,” Derek said. “But I know what I feel. I know what you are to me.”

“You kept one of the biggest parts of yourself a secret from me,” Stiles said. He could feel his resolve melting and he tried to steel himself against it.

“I know, and I’m sorry. It can be dangerous to tell people what we are. I’m not trying to make excuses but...I’ve trusted the wrong person before.” Derek scratched lightly at the door. “Stiles, I know this is a shock, but it’s still just me.”

Stiles played that through in his head and considered the situation. Back when he had first met Derek, he’d told himself time and again that Derek could have hurt him a hundred times over, but he didn’t. He’d used that to justify their whole relationship. Even adding in the possibility of deadly sharp claws, wasn’t that still true?

“How long have you been a werewolf?” Stiles asked.

“All my life, I was born this way,” Derek said.

“So the biting myth,” Stiles started.

“It’s partly true. Only an alpha can turn someone,” Derek said. “But Laura wouldn’t bite you unless you wanted it, I promise.”

“What about full moons?” Stiles ducked down to look out his window but he couldn’t see the moon from there. He couldn’t remember how full it was because he’d never paid attention beyond oh, look, how pretty.

“The pull to shift is stronger but I’ve been a wolf so long I have no trouble. I won’t hurt you, or anyone else, no matter what phase the moon is at,” Derek insisted. “Stiles, I’ll explain anything you want, you can ask a hundred questions, but please can you open the door so I can see that you’re alright?”

Stiles took a moment, and a deep breath, and looked inside himself to decide if he was going to panic and fear for his life, or move forward and keep the best relationship he’d ever had. He considered the fear he’d felt when that omega had come at them, and the warmth and comfort of a lazy afternoon on the couch with Derek.

He used the doorknob to pull himself to his feet then unlocked the door. Derek didn’t say anything or try to force it open. When Stiles slowly peeked out, Derek was just staring back at him, looking tired and tentatively hopeful, yet bracing for despair.

“That was really fucking scary,” Stiles said.

Derek nodded.

“I think you might have to come take care of me,” Stiles said, stepping back from the door. “I can’t sleep when I’m all wired like this.”

Derek did rush forward then, reaching out to embrace Stiles, then stopping himself. “I...Can I--?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said, stepping into Derek’s arms. He curled into Derek and held on tight, while Derek’s arms tightened around him, just shy of constricting. Stiles’ eyes prickled with overwhelmed tears and he pressed his face into Derek’s shoulder to keep them at bay. “This is reckless and crazy, but everything is better when you’re here. Promise me it’ll be okay so I don’t have to lose you.”

“I promise,” Derek said. “I’m gonna take care of you.”

They stood together in silence just inside the door. Stiles slowly released the part of Derek’s shirt he’d clenched in his fists. He brushed Derek’s side and felt a hole in the fabric. He looked down and panicked when he saw the grey shirt stained red. “Oh my god, you’re bleeding!”

Stiles shoved the door closed and started pulling Derek into the bathroom, intent on finding the first aid kit.

“Stiles, it’s fine,” Derek said.

“Fine?” Stiles said with a gasp. “It’s not fine, he hurt you! You’re injured!”

“I’m not,” Derek insisted. “It already healed.”

Stiles pulled up short. “What?”

Derek brushed a hand through Stiles’ hair. “I told you, werewolves have advanced healing. He caught my side, but it healed before I even got here.”

“Huh.” Stiles finished pulling Derek into the bathroom and grabbed a washcloth. He pushed Derek’s shirt up and wiped away the blood, revealing completely unmarred skin. “Whoa.” He traced his fingers on the the skin and jolted in surprise when Derek whimpered. “Does it hurt?”

“No,” Derek said, shaking his head. “I just...wanna touch you.”

Stiles slid his fingers along Derek’s skin again. His hands were still shaking with excess energy, looking for an outlet. “Tonight has been...Intense. I don’t think we should...do anything. But come to bed with me? We can just…”

“Yeah,” Derek said. “I should probably call Laura to warn her about the omega.”

Stiles eyes widened. “How are you going to call her? Can you howl?”

Derek raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “By phone.” Stiles filled in the you moron himself.

“Excuse me,” Stiles muttered. “Just thought it would be cool.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “We’re too close to other people. Someone would hear.”

Stiles brightened. “But you can do it?”

Derek nodded, taking Stiles hand. “Next full moon, you can come upstate with us, and I’ll howl for you.”

Stiles heart fluttered with pleasure. “Okay.”

Derek called Laura and explained what happened. Derek had encouraged the omega to move along elsewhere, but they planned to “patrol their territory” the next day, just to be safe. After Derek said goodnight to Laura, they both stripped and crawled into bed. Stiles settled with his head on Derek’s chest, and Derek put his arms around him and pulled him close.

There were so many questions that still needed to be answered. But for tonight he was safer wrapped in the arms of the most dangerous creature he’d ever encountered than outside in the cold and empty streets.