When Derek gets home from work he figures two can play at this game. He snaps a picture with his phone of the avocado on a plate with a knife and fork positioned over it and replies to the email with a curt, Your avocado is unharmed. For now. We will make the exchange at the coffeeshop on 83rd street at 5pm tomorrow. -D
He gets back a reply within the hour: a picture of a pale hand stretched out over the bridge across the bay; Derek’s keys suspended above the water. A minute later another email turns up with a photo of a grinning guy with making a thumbs up sign; the photo is cropped to show just the smile and the hand, with the words Just kidding! Sorry, I got really into the cloak-and-dagger bit. I’ll give you back your keys and jacket. Oh, but really don’t eat the avocado, it’s a science experiment. -S
Derek tries not to wonder about what sort of science experiment involves an avocado in a jacket pocket and taking it to dance clubs, but to each their own, he guesses. He brings the avocado to school with him, and it sits (in the original jacket pocket) until his day is over and all the students have gone home. Derek finishes up grading a few assignments and then heads out, making it to the coffeeshop on time.
Derek orders a coffee for himself and waits; at five p.m. a few people stroll into the coffeeshop, and Derek recognizes the guy that caught his eye at the club the other day. What’s he doing here?
edited for sterek purposes :>
Laura’s in the middle of one of her lectures when Derek catches sight of Stiles walking through the door. Every nerve in his body immediately stiffens, and he forces himself to relax before Laura notices. Unfortunately, Laura’s not the type to let anything pass her by. She pauses.
Stares him down.
Derek can feel his eye twitching, but he doesn’t break, and, he doesn’t look over to where Stiles is rocking back and forth on his heels, rubbing his hands together as he peruses the menu.
Okay, so he might not be looking over at Stiles, but he is aware of every movement Stiles is making.
He doesn’t whimper when Stiles swivels on his feet and catches sight of him and Laura. He doesn’t.
He also doesn’t notice the way Stiles purposefully strides towards them and plonks himself down onto the table over. Laura, however, does.
She kicks Derek under the table. “He’s cute,” she hisses, ignoring the way he grimaces. Derek scowls at her, reaching down to rub at his shin, and not-so-subtly glances over. Stiles is the picture of innocence, but Derek knows he heard Laura, because there’s a smirk that’s tugging at the corner of his mouth, his face carefully turned away so Laura can’t see.
“Laura,” Derek warns, and she makes a face.
“Oh come on, when was the last time you got laid? Like, six months?”
Derek inhales sharply. “Laura,” he whispers angrily, as Stiles chokes, and Laura turns to eye him suspiciously, but Stiles has his phone out, and he looks like he’s laughing on the screen, so she turns back to Derek, whose face is bright red at this point. He didn’t really need Stiles to know that he’d been on a fairly lengthy dry spell before they met nearly two months ago.
A dry spell Stiles had helped him relinquish. Multiple times.
“What? It’s not like it isn’t true,” she shrugs, unconcerned, and Derek clenches his jaw.
“You’re not exactly talking quietly,” he says, still angry. She makes another face, and stabs her fork into an innocent tomato slice.
“I’m just saying,” she mutters petulantly, dropping her gaze down to her plate, and Derek feels the sudden urge to apologize. He hasn’t done anything wrong though, so he shovels a spoonful of mashed potatoes into his mouth to stop himself from saying anything. The mood has gone quiet and somber, and Derek’s wracking his brain for something to say that isn’t an apology, when Stiles clears his throat loudly, and Derek’s phone starts to vibrate in his pocket. He turns to him, sees Laura do the same in his periphery, and wrinkles his brow in confusion when Stiles is tapping his fingers in an irregular rhythm on the countertop, completely oblivious. Derek doesn’t pick up, because duh, Laura, but Stiles doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, his whole face brightens up when he reaches Derek’s voicemail. He settles in more comfortably in his chair, before he catches Derek’s gaze briefly, and he’s suddenly worried about the manic gleam his eyes.
He doesn’t know why, but he has the sudden feeling he should run far, far away.
“Hey,” Stiles’ voice has gone flirty, quiet enough, but still loud enough for both Derek and Laura to hear. Derek can feel his palms start to sweat. “I was just thinking about last night, and,” he pauses and laughs, low and pleased. Derek suddenly feels too-hot in his skin, and he knows he’s blushing. “So I thought I’d tell you now that you better not have plans on Saturday night, because I’m going to sit on your face.”
Derek feels a flash of lust zing through his belly, and he’s staring at Stiles in disbelief when Stiles hangs up, turns to him, and has the gall to wink. Laura, who misses the wink, looks both scandalized and impressed. She mouths ‘wow’ at Derek. “Oh my word,” she says softly, fanning herself. She glances at Stiles then back at Derek again, and a thoughtful look crosses her face.
“No,” he says, before she even opens her mouth.
“You could really use some pointers,” she argues, and before Derek can stop her, she leans over to tap Stiles on the shoulder. “Hi, I’m Laura.”
Stiles raises an eyebrow. “Stiles,” he offers, then laughs when Laura looks absolutely confused. “It’s a nickname. Don’t ask.”
“Alrighty then,” she relaxes into her seat with a smile, before kicking Derek in the shin. Again. “This idiot is my brother, Derek,” she says, not unkindly, and ignores the way Derek scowls at her. Stiles turns and directs a smile onto Derek. It’s hard to miss the way his eyes flick up and down his body as he blatantly checks Derek out, but Laura’s still talking, oblivious. “He’s a bit… Well, tragic is a bit mean, so we’ll stick with horrifically ungifted in the art of being smooth,” she was saying, and Derek wasn’t sure if he wanted to kill her, or himself.
Stiles bites a lip, looking like it’s killing himself not to laugh. “Is that so?”
Laura nods, and she pins Stiles with her most effective puppy dog expression. “I overheard you on the phone -“
“Did you?” Stiles asks, eyes wide, like it’s any news to him, and Derek falls a little bit in love with the smirk curling across his face. “I’m so sorry about that.”
Laura waves the comment away.
“No big, I was just wondering if you could give him some, I don’t know, pointers or something?” Stiles’ eyebrows flew up, and this time, he couldn’t hold back the snort. Laura sighs, put upon. “I know it sounds silly, but I just want him to be happy, you know?” Despite it all, Derek feels a rush of fondness for his older sister. “I think he’s forgotten how.”
Or maybe not.
“Didn’t you have a meeting to get to?” Derek butts in rudely, watching in satisfaction as Laura glances at her watch and swears.
“Please, at least think about it,” she begs Stiles, as she’s standing and double checking she has everything in her bag.
Stiles shrugs. “I don’t see why not? I’m free right now, so if Derek’s not busy…” he trails off, and Laura squeals in delight.
“He’s free until six!” she hollers, before bending down to hug Stiles quickly. “Thanks, cutie,” she winks, and leans over the table to kiss Derek on the cheek. “Try to remember how to flirt, grumpy puss,” she teases, but her voice is fond, and she laughs when Derek scowls at her. “Love you.”
“Yeah, you too,” he sighs, and she disappears, leaving him with the check. Again.
He belatedly remembers Stiles, who’s watching him with a soft look on his face. “I’m so sorry about her,” he says lamely, and is totally not expecting the way Stiles throws his head back to laugh.
“Are you kidding? That was hilarious,” he says, glancing out the window to where Laura’s disappearing into a cab, shooting them a final wave. “You’re not smooth?” he asks, before he hums thoughtfully. “I seem to recall you being pretty smooth when we met.”
Derek rolls his eyes, but Stiles can tell he’s pleased. “Laura is Laura. She has her own ideas about things,” he says, and hooks his ankle around Stiles’ under the table.
Stiles bites his lip, and smiles up at Derek slyly. “I really am free right now, if you wanna?” he waggles his eyebrows, and despite how ridiculous he looks, Derek can hear the heat underneath the words, and he nods.
Stiles beams at him.
When Derek brings Stiles to dinner the next Friday, Laura’s smug for about ten seconds before they tell her they’d been dating the entire time.
She kicks Derek in the shin, and he doesn’t even say a word.
Scott hears a rustling sound and waves his wand about the corridor. It’s only a stray rat, scuttling along. He yawns but keeps doggedly patrolling his corner of the castle. He knows Stiles makes fun of his dedication to his Prefect duties all the time, but these things are important.
He walks past the door that leads to the Astronomy Tower, nodding at the Gryffindor prefect, Boyd, as he continues down the hall.
Scott hears another noise, and a wet, smacking sound, and yeah it’s definitely not a rat. He rolls up his sleeves, and puts on his best stern Prefect face. The sounds are coming from one of the supply closets that Scott knows are very well locked; whatever students who decided to go for a late night rendezvous must have gotten past Professor Finstock’s elaborate spell to keep the spare brooms safe.
Scott flings open the door and groans. “Again, really?”
"Wha— Scott? Derek, I thought you were keeping an ear out!” Stiles exclaims, not even moving from where he’s perched on Derek’s lap.
"I was distracted," Derek says sheepishly.
"Ten points from Slytherin!" Scott snaps. "Now get back to your dorms before someone else catches you. Jackson’s about to patrol this area next; I’ll head him off and send him to the greenhouses."
"Aw, thanks, Scotty," Stiles says, fumbling for the tie laying haphazardly on the ground next to them. He stares at it for a second, grinning at Derek, who is buttoning up his shirt, and they switch back their respective house ties after giving each other a fond look. "Wait, why aren’t you taking points from Hufflepuff?"
"Because I know for a fact that Derek knows better, and this was likely your idea,” Scott says, rolling his eyes. Plus, he’s not going to take points from his own house.
Derek just blushes. “Stiles just wanted us to be…um, courteous to our dormmates.”
"Like getting caught sneaking around at night is any better!" Scott exclaims. "Derek, you know we’re in the running for the House Cup," he says, and Derek is alternating between mumbling his apologies and giving Stiles happy, smitten glances. "I don’t want to catch you guys while I’m out on patrol ever again," Scott says firmly.
They get up and scramble out of the closet, holding hands. Derek gives Stiles a look, and Scott immediately says, “No, that doesn’t mean we’re sneaking Stiles into the Hufflepuff dorms for the night.”
Stiles’ lip wobbles a little, and he widens his eyes beseechingly.
"Fine, fine," Scott groans. "Come on."
It goes like this: Stiles is broke, and also is hungry. This is not a particularly unique set of circumstances, but what is unique is that he and Derek have just gotten off patrol duty, and Paco’s has a sign in the window that says “Proudly Participating in Wedding Week!”
"Dude," Stiles says, stopping short. "Wedding week!"
"What the hell is that?" Derek says, in that tone he uses for everything Stiles says, the tone that says "you’re boring and I’m humoring you," but Stiles knows it’s an act. If nothing else, Stiles is never boring.
"Wedding Week," Stiles says with a dramatic flourish, "is this week where all the restaurants in Beacon Hills offer free dinners to engaged couples to show off their catering options."
"Okay," Derek says, after a pause. "And this is important how?"
Stiles opens his mouth, points inside. “Tacoooooos,” he sings out, and then without another word, grabs Derek’s arm and drags him into the restaurant.
because Jessie posted this and my brain went, oh okay.
Stiles wants to make it clear he signed up to the website when he was drunk, okay? Yes, some part of him wondered what it would be like to get knotted, but he never would’ve signed up to a dating site based on knotting when he was sober.
But drunk Stiles likes making decisions that sober Stiles has to live with, and since drunk Stiles already paid for three months of membership, sober Stiles doesn’t really see a reason to back out of this.
Besides, the werewolves on the website are hot as fuck.
Four days after drunk Stiles signed up to the site, sober Stiles is idly scrolling through profiles in the werewolf section looking for jerk off material, when his site inbox pings with a message from leatheralpha, and Stiles snorts at the name before clicking on the message icon.
Are you serious with that username? You’re aware werewolves aren’t dogs, right? It’s lucky you’re cute.
Stiles wrinkles his nose and dithers over the reply button. Okay, the username is dumb, but drunk Stiles made that choice, not him. It’s not his fault you can’t change usernames on this dumb site. Navigating over to leatheralpha’s profile, Stiles clicks on the photos, and he’s just glad no one is in the room with him because holy fuck. The photos can’t be real. No one who looks like that can be on a knotting site.
Clicking through the album, Stiles groans when he comes across a photo of the guy in a cosy cardigan with a mug of coffee in his hand and a smile on his face. Whatever his username might be referring to — and Stiles is a little worried about the implications of leather in his name — leatheralpha is freaking adorable as well as hot and that’s just patently unfair.