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Stiles had been minding his own damn business, stumbling over his feet as he made his way to the lacrosse field when he caught his nemesis, his anti-thesis, the antagonist to the ridiculous movie that was Stiles’ life sitting on the bleachers. Grinning to himself, Stiles sneaked his way underneath the bleachers, catching Derek Hale talking to his best friend, Boyd, completely unaware of anything else.
“…Harris really fucked me up, man,” Boyd was saying in that deep, rumbling voice of his, leaning back on his elbows. “He keeps throwing in these pop quizzes on the day of our matches just to fuck with me.”
Derek sighed, leaning forward till his elbows were resting on his knees. “I can’t wait to get out of this hellhole,” he murmured and Stiles had to bite his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud as he sneaked his hands through the gap in the bleachers and reached out towards Derek’s shoes.
“Me neither,” Boyd agreed, stretching his arms above his head and yawning. “Especially can’t wait to have no training at the crack of Satan’s ass o’clock.”
Stiles was just finishing tying Derek’s shoes together when Derek laughed.
Stiles halted in his actions, blinking in surprise. He had never, in the three years of his constant enmity with Derek, seen him crack a smile, least of all give a full bodied laugh. Snapping his head up to get an eyeful of a happy Derek Hale before it disappeared for another three years, Stiles gasped out loud when he noticed how pretty Derek looked with laugh lines around his eyes.
Stiles had always known that Derek was beautiful in an otherworldly, unfair and unbelievable sort of way, had always known that Derek was the kind of beautiful that people wrote poetry about, but he’d never truly understood the intensity of Derek’s beauty till he saw his cute lil bunny teeth glinting in the sunlight, the skin of his cheeks pressing in to form adorable dimples.
Derek had dimples.
How the hell was this even fair?
Shaking himself out of his reverie, Stiles finished tying the laces of Derek’s shoes together before backing away and out from underneath the bleachers.
Walking to the front of the bleachers, Stiles gave Boyd the widest smile he could manage. “Morning, Boyd,” he said, giving him a small nod in greeting before turning to Derek. “Good morning to you too, Jerkwad.”
“Fuck off,” Derek responded almost automatically, rolling his eyes.
“Nah, sorry,” Stiles said with a faux apologetic smile as he threw his duffle bag next to the benches. “Already jerked off twice this morning so I’m all fucked out.”
He wasn’t sure whether he was imagining it or if Derek’s ears were actually turning red with a gorgeous blush. But he didn’t have long to ponder it, because in a second, Derek was getting up from his seat, muttering a “why you little-” before tripping down the bleachers.
Stiles had to curl up on the ground, he was laughing so hard, watching a cute look of confusion cross Derek’s face as he tried to understand what had just happened. He looked down at his shoes and immediately the confusion turned into anger as he shot up to untie his shoes.
“What the fuck is wrong with you, Stilinski?” he shouted. “I could have bashed my fuckin’ head in.”
“What a tragedy that would have been for the universe,” Stiles said teasingly and it took Boyd’s amused expression for him to realise that he sounded very sincere and not at all sarcastic. “I-I mean…You stink,” he said lamely, trying to get back his footing but Boyd’s smirk only grew. “A-and your grades suck.”
Derek paused in his struggle to untie his laces to give Stiles his patented What-The-Fuck-Is-Your-Damage-Stilinski look. “I’m top of my year,” he said.
“Well, your f-face is weird,” Stiles murmured, wincing as soon as the words were out.
“Okay?” Derek said in confusion, a smug smirk on his lips because fuck that asshole, he knew his face was anything but weird.
Face flushing in anger and humiliation, Stiles could feel his nostrils flare as he pointed a finger at Derek threateningly. “Don’t you dare give me that smug look, you asshole,” he said. “You’re on the ground. I put your there.”
“Yeah, about that,” Derek trailed off as he jumped to his feet, somehow having tied his laces correctly while Stiles had been drowning in the pool of his own embarrassment. Giving him an evil smirk that really shouldn’t turn Stiles on so much, Derek took a hostile step forward. “If you value your life, you better start running now.”
Stiles begged his fear-boner down and ran.
*
“Mr. Stilinski,” Jennifer Blake said sternly, holding Stiles’ homework in one hand. “This is unacceptable. You’re not in grade two anymore and you can’t decorate your entire essay in-in Barbie stickers and glitter!”
Stiles gave her a tired sigh. “You can either accept this or give me an extension to redo it,” he snapped unintentionally, instantly regretting it when he saw Ms. Blake clench her jaw in barely repressed anger.
“Well, I don’t have to accept this or your bad attitude,” she said in a clipped tone as she pushed Stiles’ shiny, colourful mess of an essay towards him. “Please show yourself out of my class and there is no need to return till you learn some manners.”
“B-but,” Stiles stuttered, tone going from bratty boy to pleading in an instant. “I’m sorry, Ms. Blake, I’ve just had a really long day a-and I did my work on time and in a formal way, I promise. It’s just. Derek Hale is the culprit here. He’s the one that stole my homework when I wasn’t looking and did this to it!” he said, flourishing his essay around, leaving glitter trails everywhere.
Ms. Blake frowned, lips pursed. “You’re telling me that Derek Hale, captain of the lacrosse team and student body leader, the boy who barely ever talks in class, vandalized your homework?”
“Yes! That’s exactly what I’m saying!” Stiles exclaimed, throwing his hands up in desperation. “You know the demons that the Church warns you about? He’s like them! Only worse, because you think he’s this innocent lil child with his beautiful green eyes and his adorable little dimples, but it is all an illusion! He is evil, conniving and life-ruining.”
“Ookay,” Ms. Blake drawled, giving Stiles a weird look. “Whatever the…explanation, I can’t accept this. You can do extra research for bonus marks, but I simply won’t take this.”
Groaning in defeat, Stiles exited the room without another word, balling up the essay and throwing it against the hallway wall before feeling guilty about littering, picking it up and throwing it in the trash.
In the trash, he thought to himself maniacally. That’s where Derek will be going soon enough.
*
Derek smiled in satisfaction as he watched Isaac monkey-climb up Boyd’s back, demanding to be carried to his next class while Erica looked on fondly. Even though Boyd was the same age as him and Erica and Isaac were only a year younger to him, he always felt like a proud father whenever he saw how much they’d grown in the past few years, how much more comfortable they seemed in their skins now.
“Erica, stop him before he breaks my back,” Boyd grumbled half-heartedly, letting Isaac wrap his legs around his waist.
“Nope, you’re going to be carrying me around for the rest of the day because you’re the one that injured me,” Isaac said with a grin, clinging harder.
“I pinched your leg,” Boyd complained. “You don’t even have a bruise.”
“Still hurt,” Isaac shrugged and Boyd slumped his shoulders in resignation, making Isaac whoop in joy.
Derek was grinning at them when he suddenly turned and caught Stiles’ eye across the hall. He forced himself to scowl on principle, even though he could feel the butterflies awakening and trying to crawl up his throat like they did every time he saw the star sprinkled boy.
Stiles gave him a sarcastic smile in return before giving him the finger and turning away.
“Why are you guys like this?” Erica asked, a small, amused smile on her face.
“Like what?” Derek asked, dread settling in his stomach. Erica could not know about his crush on Stiles. She was the queen of making Derek uncomfortable and he couldn’t even fathom the amount of power she would have if she figured it out.
“Like this,” she repeated, rolling her eyes. “You’ve been circling around each other for ages, Derek. I think it’s about time that you go and tell him that you really want to eat his ass.”
“Oh my god,” Derek whispered, eyes wide and suddenly feeling faint from his brain being assaulted with images of Erica roasting his naked body over a large fire, interspersed with images of his face pushed between the round, soft cheeks of Stiles' butt, leaving the pale skin red with stubble burn.
“They’re like little kids teasing each other because they don’t understand what they’re feeling,” Isaac mused.
“Oh my god,” Derek said louder this time, trying to stop himself from freaking out. “I-it’s not like that! Stiles is obnoxious a-and he talks too much. His hands have a life of their own and he just cannot stay still. I could never like him.”
“Even though you’re always staring at him?” Erica asked.
“And trying to find him in the crowd?” Boyd added.
“And know his entire schedule?” Isaac asked with a raised eyebrow. “Which, creepy, dude.”
“T-that’s just me keeping tabs on him because he’s a little shit and he can attack me whenever and I need to protect myself from him,” Derek said, slamming open his locker only to find all his books, his homework and the pictures Isaac had forced him to put in his locker completely soaked with whipped cream. Turning to look at them with a triumphant grin, he said, “See? This is what happens when I take my eyes off him.”
“Sure,” Erica said with a roll of her eyes. “Tell yourself that.”
*
Derek Hale was an asshole and Derek Hale needed to die.
Stiles could feel his entire body turning red in embarrassment as he came out of the shower in the locker room to find his clothes gone. Wrapping the towel tightly around his waist, he tried to think of a solution when he heard the door to the locker room open and he squealed involuntarily in surprise.
“Isaac? Why did you-” Derek’s voice called out before stuttering to a halt, his pale, green eyes going wide as they trailed down from Stiles’ face to his naked chest, mouth hanging open.
Driven stupid with self-consciousness, Stiles felt himself slap his hands down on his chest to cover up his nipples. “What?” he squealed again, voice weirdly high.
“You’re wet,” Derek stated, sounding breathless, as if he had run here. “And naked.”
“I don’t know why you’re surprised since you’re the one that took away all my clothes, you jackass!” Stiles shouted indignantly, suddenly remembering that he was meant to be angry at Derek, not dazed under the intensity of his gaze.
“What?” Derek asked in a far away tone, eyes snapping up to Stiles’ face again.
“You stole my clothes,” Stiles repeated with emphasis, stepping forward, only to have his towel drop to his feet.
For a second, the world seemed to have stopped spinning, everything seemed to have stopped existing. It was just Derek, with his mouth impossibly wide and eyes frozen to Stiles’ junk, and Stiles, skin blotchy with a blush. And then it fell apart around them, starting with Stiles giving a loud, high pitched scream and turning around and then bending down to grab his towel.
Derek made a sound akin to that of a dying cat as he stared unblinkingly at Stiles’ bitable and disgustingly round ass jiggling sinfully while Stiles tried to cover himself up again.
*
“I can’t fucking believe that you sent me there when you knew that Stiles would be there,” Derek said bitterly, glaring at Erica. “Naked,” he added unnecessarily because he still wasn’t completely over the shock.
Erica just laughed harder, leaning on a grinning Boyd. “Oh my god, I wish I’d been there to see your face when it happened!” she said, eyes tearing up with how hard she was laughing. “You were completely pale and dazed for hours afterwards, wonder what you looked like when you finally got a good look at Stilinski’s goods in-Hey! Where are you going? I’m not done yet!”
“I’m going to get better friends,” he grumbled, taking a long swing of his beer when that just made Erica laugh harder.
He walked around aimlessly, observing drunk teenagers make out in dark corners or puke everywhere, wondering why he’d thought it was a good idea to go to a party. It was then that he noticed Stiles standing at the opposite end of the room with his hands in his pockets, staring at the impromptu dance floor where everyone was grinding and flailing.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, Derek decided that he should probably go talk to Stiles. He definitely should try and apologize, to explain that he would never steal his clothes, because that’s just not cool.
Stiles didn’t notice him approach till he was right next to him, making the younger boy flail and trip on thin air a little. “Derek, what the fuck!” he exclaimed in surprise before schooling his features in a scowl. “What the hell do you want? Do you wanna humiliate me some more?”
“Stiles, I-” he gulped, his brain going haywire as images of Stiles’ better than fantasy butt splattered all over Derek’s vision. “I didn’t steal your clothes. I would never do that to you, I swear. I just came here to-to apologize for…”
“Running away instead of helping me?” Stiles asked, raising a brow.
“Yeah,” Derek breathed out and he could physically feel his face turning red in shame. It wasn’t his fault, okay? If he had stayed in there with a half-naked Stiles for another minute, he would have burst out crying helplessly and he just couldn’t take that level of embarrassment. “Yeah, that.”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “What are you even doing here? I thought you hated parties,” he said, pushing himself on top of the nearly empty snacks table behind him.
“I do,” Derek admitted, not even surprised that Stiles knew such an unimportant but personal detail about him. “But I just really needed the free booze today.”
Stiles wrinkled his nose in distaste when he noticed the bottle of beer in Derek’s hand. “Ew,” he grumbled. “Figures that you’d be beer person. That shit is fucking disgusting; I don’t even know how you can drink it without vomiting it out three seconds later.”
Rolling his eyes, Derek took an exaggeratingly long swing of his beer, keeping eye contact with a suddenly flaming red Stiles. “Mmm,” he gave a fake moan. “So good.”
Before he could truly understand what the hell was happening, Derek had an armful of Stiles.
Both of them froze for a second, their eyes wide and staring as Stiles pressed his chapped and bitten lips against Derek’s. Their bodies were pressed so close together that Derek couldn’t tell whose heart beat was which. When Derek’s brain finally caught up to him, he felt his eyes flicker shut and he made a small, incomprehensible sound as he sucked Stiles’ bottom lip between his own.
That seemed to pull Stiles back to reality and he sighed against Derek’s mouth, wrapping his arms around his neck and biting at his lips.
Derek pushed Stiles back on the table, Stiles automatically opening his legs to allow him to stand between them as Derek slipped his hands into his hair, pulling at them gently, and licking his way into Stiles’ mouth. Stiles moaned when he felt Derek’s tongue trace his lips, arching his back till they were pressed hard together again.
Stiles pulled back when he ran out of breath, pressing his forehead to Derek’s and breathing hard. “Okay, maybe beer doesn’t taste too bad,” he panted and Derek grinned, palming Stiles’ butt through his jeans. “But I think I’ll taste it again, just to make sure, y’know.”
And if their teeth clacked because they were grinning too hard, well, that didn’t change the fact that it was the best kiss ever.