Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt 4, Pt 5
Curling his hand into a fist, Stiles raises it and hesitates, taking a deep, cleansing breath; then, steeling himself, he knocks on the door of Derek’s apartment.
It’s four days since Derek helped fix Puggle, but even though they parted on great terms, since then Stiles has been slammed at work. He hasn’t seen Derek once. They haven’t even passed each other in the corridor, and because of that doubts have begun to creep in.
Sure, Derek seemed like he was in to Stiles, but was he really?
Stiles has spent quite a few sleepless nights this week obsessing over that question, and he’s decided that the best way around this situation is through it. He just has to nut up and ask Derek out for a drink, or to brunch, or maybe to marry him. He hasn’t decided yet. He just knows that he can’t stop thinking about him and he needs to something before he goes insane (or before his dick develops friction burns, because there has been a lot of personal Stiles time this week. He feels like a fucking teenager again. Seriously.)
Which all sounds like a good plan, except he’s been standing outside Derek’s door now for a couple of minutes, and no one is answering and that means either he didn’t hear, or he’s out. Possibly even at work. Ugh.
Just in case it’s the first one, Stiles lifts his fist to knock again, but at that exact moment there’s the sound of someone unlocking the door. Stiles’ heart is suddenly in his mouth as it swings open to reveal– not Derek. No, this is a stunning brunette but her full, pouting lips are turned down sulkily. She’s petite but she has a ‘don’t fuck with me’ demeanor that Stiles immediately buys into wholesale. He has no intention of getting his ass handed to him, and he’s pretty sure she could do it.
There’s one heart-stopping moment Stiles considers the very real possibility that Derek might have a girlfriend. What if he doesn’t like guys at all? What if Stiles has completely misread the situation?
“Uh, hi–” Stiles says, feeling impossibly awkward. “Is–uh–Derek in?”
“I’m–uh,” Stiles wilts a little under her glare. “I’m his neighbor? I live across the hall.” He jerks his thumb at his apartment behind him. “I was just wondering if I could uh–”
Her gaze flicks over him, then she glances at the door to his apartment, then back to him. “So you’re the doofy neighbor guy he’s always talking about?”
“Yes exac–wait, what? No! I am not doofy!”
“So you didn’t tip your coffee over my brother?”
“The thing with the eye? The nosebleed?” She folds her arms.
“I–” Stiles’ shoulders sag a little. Even the fact that she’s Derek’s sister, and not some mysterious hot girlfriend can’t allay the hot rush of shame that floods him. “He called me doofy?”
“No,” she taps one elegant finger against her chin and narrows her eyes. “I called you doofy.”
“Derek calls you the ‘hot, clumsy neighbor guy with the hands.’ Or he used to– now he calls you Miles?”
“Stiles,” Stiles corrects, “And what does he mean, ‘with the hands?’” Stiles stares down at his palms. “Everyone has hands, that doesn’t make any–wait, he thinks I’m hot?”
She wrinkles her nose. “What can I say. He’s always had weird taste in guys.”
“So–” All in a rush Stiles decides to go for it, “if I ask him out, you think he’ll say yes?”
“Given that you’re all he’s talked about since he moved into this damn apartment, I’m gonna go with yeah.”
Stiles beams. “Okay,” he says. “Thanks for the heads up.”
“I’m not doing it for you,” she says, arms still crossed. “I’m bored of hearing him freak out about whether you like him.”
“Y’know, you’re a strange kind of person.”
“Says the guy who maimed my brother repeatedly. Tipped their coffee on him. Ruined his favorite pair of chucks and got pink frosting on his t-shirt.”
“Yeah, when you put it like that, maybe Derek’s the strange one.”
“Oh he is,” she says, “but it looks like you are too, so kudos on meeting each other in this crazy world!” She does the most lacklustre jazz hands Stiles has ever seen and then starts to close the door.
“Uh–waitwaitwait,” Stiles says, flailing forward before she can close it. “So can I speak to him?”
“He’s working. Won’t be back till much later.”
“Oh–” Stiles’ face falls and the woman sighs.
“His next day off is Sunday,” she says.
“We’re not doing anything, but if you’re asking if my brother will go to brunch with you, then I’m gonna say yes.”
“Ugh. Fine. I’ll give you his number.” She fishes her phone from her pocket and thumbs through it until she finds what she wants. “Okay, ready? It’s–”
She fires off the number so quickly, Stiles can’t begin to keep up, but eventually he gets it down okay.
He grins down at his phone, elated. “Thanks so m–”
He’s too late. She’s already slammed the door shut. It isn’t as though he can be mad. He has Derek’s motherfucking number. He has confirmation that Derek likes him back. Oh yeah.
He texts Derek when he gets back to his apartment and they agree to meet on Sunday for lunch, which is, like, two days away. Two days which Stiles spends freaking out about what to wear and whether or not he’ll manage to get through their brunch date without injuring Derek or throwing his food over him.
He even ends up calling Scott at midnight on Saturday, while he stands in his bedroom with eight slightly different plaid shirts and every graphic tee his ever owned strewn on his bed, panicking.
When Sunday morning finally arrives, though, Stiles is only slightly sleep deprived. He’s dressed in his best black skinny jeans, the ones that hug his ass just so– and a slightly too tight Strokes tee, that’s a nice shade of red. Kira had recommended the red. Apparently it’s his color.
That doesn’t mean he isn’t nervous though, because he is and the only thing that settles him is that when Derek opens the door to him, he seems just as antsy as Stiles, shuffling about foot to foot, his ears scarlet. Stiles can’t see what Derek has to be embarrassed about– he’s wearing a soft plum colored thumbhole sweater, the jeans that Stiles has really grown to appreciate, and his hair looks mussed, like he’s been running his hands through it. The overall effect is excruciatingly sexy, and Stiles nearly bites his own tongue suppressing a whimper.
“So where are we going?” Derek asks.
“I figured the place on Main?” Stiles suggests. “Unless there’s somewhere you’d rather–”
“No, that sounds good.” Derek grabs his leather jacket and then shuts his door, locking it behind him. They turn and walk down the corridor together.
“So,” Stiles begins, “You weren’t worried about going on this date?” Derek raises his eyebrows, and Stiles clarifies, “What might happen to you, y’know…being here with me.”
“Well,” Derek says. “Cora suggested body armor.”
“My sister? You met her the other day?”
“Ohhhh. Yeah. She did not like me.”
“That’s not true.” Derek offers him a small smile.
“She gave you my number. She likes you.”
“That… did not come across.”
“I guess she can be a bit–”
I was gonna go with terrifying, but yeah, sure.”
“Well, I promise to be on my best behaviour today. No accidents,” Stiles says earnestly. “I swear.”
Derek smiles, small, but genuine. “Is it weird to say that I kind of liked them?”
“Very weird, extremely, some might say. I’m not gonna complain about it though.” Stiles glances at him askance. “I’m not sure I believe you though. When I spilled vanilla latte over your comic books, you looked like you wanted to kill me.”
“Really?” Derek says. “That wasn’t what I was thinking– I swear.”
“Well you might want to tell your eyebrows that.”
“I–” Derek heaves a sigh. “I’m not that great with people.”
Stiles narrows his eyes. “I call bullshit, Ami loved you.”
“Okay, kids I’m fine with. Hot guys, not so much. I tend to–” he sucks in a breath. “Panic.”
“Like when you apologized and offered to help me clean up, and I just ran away?” Stiles opens his mouth to reply, but Derek barrels on, “And then I spent the whole evening psyching myself up to speak to you the next chance I got, and when I saw you’d dropped your keys I thought it would be a perfect opening but then–”
“Yeah. I kind of just– shut down in those kind of socially awkward situations.”
“I don’t know, you handled the whole thing where I dropped a carton of eggs on your shoes really well.”
“By that time Id promised myself the next time I saw you I wouldn’t freeze up. Besides, compared to the other stuff, the eggs weren’t so bad. I just–” his ears are crimson. “Saw you wearing those glittery fairy wings in the middle of the grocery store and it– you were just so–”
Stiles cocks an eyebrow. “Hey, those belonged to Ami, but I can totally buy a pair if they do it for you. I’m very– open minded.”
Derek’s blush creeps over his cheekbones. “Stiles–”
“Look, if it helps, I spent the last couple of weeks mortified and pining. I was convinced you were gonna end up dating Jason Gunderson, and I was gonna be alone forever.”
“Who?” Derek looks confused and intrigued.
Stiles waves a hand. “It doesn’t matter. What I’m trying to say is, I like you,” he says, leading Derek along the corridor to the top of the stairs. He turns to face him and continues, “I really like you. Just in case that’s not obvious.”
“I like you too,” Derek says.
Stiles sucks in a breath. Holds it. Is it too weird to have a first kiss before your first official date? He’s already leaning in though and Derek’s eyes are lingering on his lips. So maybe not.
When their lips finally meet it’s just a chaste press, nothing raunchy. Derek’s lips are soft and dry, and his scruff prickles Stiles lips in the best way. When they finally pull apart Stiles feels elated. Almost dizzy with it. He’s grinning like a loon and Derek is too.
They stare at each other. “Yeah,” Stiles says, “we should probably–” he takes a step backwards, totally forgetting that he’s at the top of the stairs.
There’s a stomach dropping moment where he wobbles, his arms pinwheel wildly as they reach out for something anything. Time seems to slow, and he has this horrifying moment where he’s absolutely sure he’s going to ruin his first date with Derek by falling down the stairs and breaking his arm. He’s no sooner thought it though, and Derek’s hand shoots out, grabbing him by his t-shirt and pulling him in, steadying him.
“Oh my god,” Stiles sighs, slumping forward. “I swear, I swear I am only ever this clumsy around you.”
Derek reels him in, lets Stiles put his head on his chest. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment.”
“You should,” Stiles wheezes, heart hammering in his chest.
Derek clears his throat roughly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, because we can totally go to brunch if you want, but maybe we could go just go back to mine? I could make pancakes. You could sit very still in the armchair and watch me.”
And maybe Stiles should be insulted by that, but given what’s happened over the last couple of weeks, it actually sounds pretty good, unless…
“Is Cora there?” Because Derek says she likes him, but Stiles doesn’t really believe him.
“No,” Derek murmurs, pulling Stiles in closer, “we’d have the whole place to ourselves. All day.” His words sound like a promise.
They do go back to Derek’s apartment, Derek does make pancakes, and everything is going well right up until Stiles’ twists his ankle tripping over Derek’s cat.
Stiles doesn’t mind too much though, it turns out Derek’s more than happy to nurse him back to health.
Now, also available on Ao3!
vaporwave
kianamaiart
kaledo-art
turnnoffyourmind
andulkaphoto
discoholicmusic
jbbartram-illu
