Based of this tagfic, which was then continued here.
His New Favorite Month
Derek makes very, very poor housing decisions.
Look, it’s not like this is new information. It’s old information. Ancient, really. Derek has known this for years.
He had followed his family for the first eighteen years of his life (and best not to think about what happened to those homes) and then his first decision as an adult in need of a place to stay is to essentially live in his old family’s burnt shell of a house. He then upgraded to an abandoned train car. When he finally did managed to buy a real place on his own, he chose a loft apartment that was essentially a concrete box whose only feature seemed to be a spiral staircase for people to sit on and smirk out at the huge dining room table.
Seriously. He should not be allowed to house himself. He’d never even gotten chairs.
However, this most recent living decision may be the worst. Because, really, in what universe was it a good idea to move in with two college students in a shitty three bedroom apartment whose air conditioning only works half the time even though they live in California?
It was not a good idea. It was a terrible idea.
It also doesn’t help that the “two college students” Derek had decided to move in with are Scott and Stiles.
Sure, at the beginning, it sounded smart. Scott is his Alpha; Stiles his Second and, really, after his road trip during their Senior year resulted in what can only be described as a catastrophic failure, it made sense to stay close. He’s spent their Freshman and Sophomore year of college in an apartment nearby and they were over all the time so much anyway, it had seemed logical to simply nod along to Stiles’ suggestion that all three of them should get an apartment together as they moved off campus.
Again, Derek makes terrible housing decisions.
Because, sure Scott is his Alpha and so having him around calms his wolf and feel right in a way that he’s not sure Scott fully understands but Stiles is…
Derek shakes his head. He literally doesn’t have time in the day to list all the ways that Stiles gets under his skin. There’s the singing in the shower and the fidgeting during movies and the way you have to remind him to eat all the time (Adderall side effect) but then when he does eat, he always does it with his hands which means he licks his fingers clean and-
It’s disgusting. That’s what it is.
And they are both so messy. Well, not messy, werewolf noses would never allow for food everywhere, but cluttered.
They are both very cluttered.
Piles of paper cover most of their kitchen table and he didn’t know either of them owned more than one pair of shoes, but apparently they do, because shoes have been kicked everywhere and would it kill them to put their game controllers away?
“I’m going to say something,” Derek grumbles to himself as he goes through and separates out which notes are Scott’s and which are Stiles’. “This is ridiculous.”
It’s now almost October and he’s been claiming he is going to say something for weeks. The problem is that when they both get home, they are always so happy and chatty and they bounce in with excitement, eager to tell him their stories from the day. They seem to spare no detail, telling him every moment of their day and what they’re classes are about and who they have decided to hate this week (well, that’s more Stiles. Scott always defends people. Even the person who he caught trying to steal his bike.)
Anyway, it never quite feels right to yell at them. Even when Scott is off with Kira and Stiles is driving him crazy, the most he can manage are grumbles that make Stiles ignores with a grin. And then doubtless, Stiles will do something that makes him laugh and he won’t remember what he was so annoyed about in the first place.
“But, seriously,” he continues. This pile looks old. He swears he’s already cleaned up this mail before. Didn’t he give Scott his insurance card already? He has said it a thousand times, just because they are werewolves doesn’t mean Scott should be without proof of medical insurance!
Yeah, this mail is definitely old. It’s like Scott purposefully put it back in a mess so Derek would clean it up again.
Still, he sorts through it, knowing that Scott and Stiles manage to mix up their stuff and—
Beacon Hills Lacrosse Calendar 2013- 2014
He stops.
It’s nearly 2020 so the title catches his eye. It looks perfectly normal from the outside, a picture of an unidentified lacrosse played snapped running across the front and Derek has no idea what it is sitting on his kitchen table.
Maybe a memento?
Or maybe this is a pile of trash Scott meant to throw out?
He opens it without really thinking about it. If there are a bunch of notes on the pages, then he’ll assume memento; if not, probably trash. (At least, he’ll put it with the other junk mail and let Scott decide.)
He keeps his eyes on the white part at first, noting that it is mostly blank and then-
Then his eyes drift up.
He stops.
Stops everything.
Stops breathing and stops thinking and he’s pretty sure his heart stops beating for at least ten seconds because…
Because Stiles Stilinski, his current roommate, is staring at him from the top half of the calendar.
No, not staring.
Smoldering.
His current roommate, Stiles Stilinski, is smoldering at him.
He is lying on his back, looking at the camera from almost upside down, one hand about his head, gripping the bench of the locker room, his other draped over his stomach, fingers long and almost out of focus and only one of his legs is in the picture but it looks like they are spread obscenely wide and-
Derek’s mouth goes dry.
Most of Stiles’ neck is in shadow, but the light hits his eyes in just the right way and he isn’t smiling, not exactly, but his mouth is curved slightly upward as if he knows what you’re thinking.
And he doesn’t mean to – he doesn’t – but his eyes go back to Stiles’ leg then, running over the lines of his pants and watching where they bunch up and-
Derek snaps the calendar shut.
He holds it dumbly for a moment.
And then throws it on the couch.
And then goes for a run.
*^*^*^
On his ten mile run, he manages to convince himself that the picture was not that good, that it was all in his head, and that, most importantly, Scott must have meant to throw it away.
So that’s what he’s going to do.
He is going to take the calendar and put it in the trash where it belongs. He is going to march into his apartment and throw it away. In the trashcan. Maybe he’ll even take the trash out. Lord knows, Scott and Stiles will never do it. Yes, he is the responsible one of this apartment and he will take out the trash. Which includes their old Lacrosse Calendar. He has a plan.
He flips open to January the moment he gets back to the apartment.
January is some kid Derek has never seen so he might as well go to February, and then there’s March and Stiles and Derek only looks for a moment before flipping on because Nope, he’s already seen that one and it wasn’t that good a picture, thank you very much. Scott is April, grinning and there’s nothing shocking there and then—
Stiles is May too. He’s leaning against the lockers this time, almost smirking, looking confident and like maybe he just did something wrong but doesn’t care and- and-
The way the light hits this one, you can see the tendons of his neck. And his thigh filling out his gray jeans. Why can’t Derek stop staring at Stiles’ thigh? What is-
He flips. He should stop but he doesn’t. Once he gets to the end though, he’s throwing it away. June, July-
August.
August.
August is Stiles again and he’s in the shower.
He’s fully clothed but the shower is on and there is water trailing down his neck.
There is water trailing down his neck. And another rivet following the curve of his chin and another off the tip of his nose and his shirt is stretched with the weight of it, revealing a small patch of chest hair and-
There’s a patch of Stiles’ arm that is lighter than the rest, untanned perhaps because of a sweatband or something and Derek feels like he is going to die. Because he wants to stare at that patch of skin and lick at Stiles’ neck and suck the moisture from his shirt and his mind automatically fixed Stiles’ hair so that it is longer, more like he wears it now and it would be drenched too, Derek knows, drenched and long enough that Derek could sink his fingers into it and pull Stiles forward for a kiss, long and scorching, and-
Stiles drives Derek crazy. Gets under his skin. Winds him up. He has since Derek had met him almost six years ago. But Derek is always very careful – after Kate, after everything – always very careful in his head to keep certain things down. He reacts to people, to Blake and Braeden and a few men and women he met on his road trip. He feels things but only later, only when it is offered and he is always very strict with- with not thinking like this. Not with Stiles.
Okay, sure, there have been a few slip-ups. Dreams that go a little bit off-kilter or moments when a jerkoff session get a little too specific on the constellation of moles he wants to be tracing with his tongue and, okay, yes, he’s gotten a bit hard watching Stiles clean off his fingers from his various snacks a few times but…
But, dammit, he is careful. Usually, he keeps Stiles safely in a certain light and doesn’t think about him like this and Stiles is just Stiles. His hyper, challenging, hilarious friend who knows all the lines to Star Wars and once listened to “They’re taking the hobbits to Isengard” for three hours straight while writing a paper.
But now… now he cannot make himself flip away from August. He is stuck in August. August 2014. His new favorite month. His new favorite month with his new favorite picture of his new favorite-
He’s underage in this picture! Derek tries but another part of him just notes that He’s not now.
No, now Stiles is 22 and Derek just turned 26 and now Stiles would probably look even better standing fully clothed under a shower and his arm muscles are bigger, hands just as long, and there’s a scar he has across his shoulder and how would that affect the cascade of water and-
