sterek hs au: awkward-jock!derek has a crush on unpopular!stiles and can’t figure out how to ask him out. Bonus of it being a fall ficlet with a fall-inspired date of corn mazes and apple picking.
*
Isaac laughs at him, and even Boyd smirks. Derek hates them both so much right now. Isaac’s deciding which books to shove into his backpack, and Derek leans against the rows of lockers next to him. His face is flushed, and he hates that his friends can see it.
Stiles is down the hall, gesticulating wildly as he talks to Scott McCall and his girlfriend. Derek watches as Stiles knocks his hand into the crosse strapped to his back, and Stiles jumps and spins like he thinks it’s trying to attack him.
“Go talk to him,” Boyd encourages. He nudges Derek in the shoulder.
“I don’t know why you’re nervous,” Isaac says, slamming his locker shut and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. They glance down the hall just as Stiles manages to get his backpack and crosse tangled with Scott’s. “It’s Stilinski.” Derek glares, and Isaac doesn’t even flinch. “I don’t know why you like him anyway. He’s weird. And an asshole.”
“Fuck off, Isaac,” Derek growls. “You’re an asshole. And at least I’m not pining after someone else’s girlfriend.” That shuts Isaac up real quick.
Derek knows Stiles has lacrosse practice now, and he’s trying to figure out a way to talk to him without McCall and his girlfriend. Derek gets the brilliant idea to ask about their calculus assignment, so he tugs his letterman jacket straight and readjusts his backpack as he walks towards Stiles.
When Derek arrives in front of the other boy, his heart starts racing. He can’t help it. Stiles is so freaking cute. Derek has had a mild crush on him for awhile, but since the school year started and Derek got to see him every day in calculus – well, Derek’s crush has reached maximum heights. More often than not, Derek finds his eyes drifting over to Stiles’ side of the room in the middle of class. He finds everything about Stiles fascinating – from the way his long fingers tap constantly on his desk, to the way he always has a pen or highlighter in his mouth, to the way he throws out answers like he never studies and it’s not a problem. And Derek has spent too many classes memorizing the pattern of dots on Stiles’ cheek, the slope of his nose, the soft shape of his lips.
Yes, Derek Hale, captain of the basketball team, who could have anyone he wants, is stupid for Stiles Stilinski. So stupid, in fact, that when Stiles, Scott, and Allison all turn to him, confused as to why Derek is standing there in the first place, he just stands there. Staring.
“Um,” Stiles says uncomfortably, breaking the silence. “Do you need something, Derek?”
Derek opens his mouth to reply, but his heart is beating so hard in his chest that he can feel it in his throat. He spins on his heel and walks back to where Boyd and Isaac are waiting on him.
“Not a word,” he says. He punches Isaac when he laughs. Laughing is almost as bad as talking.
*
In calculus the next day, Derek walks up to Stiles’ desk before class. He’s been practicing what he’s going to say to Stiles all day. He can do this. Even his heart is under control. Mostly.
Derek pauses beside Stiles’ desk and just stands there. Stiles stops talking to the person sitting next to him and looks up. He frowns. “Dude, you’re really starting to creep me out.”
Derek turns around and retreats to his seat. All through class, Stiles keeps glancing at him curiously. Derek just wants the earth to open up and swallow him whole. He’s not sure he could make a bigger fool of himself than he already has.
*
Monday, Derek’s worse than before. He spent all weekend sulking in his room and avoiding Laura and Cora’s nosy questions and his parents’ worried glances. After spending all Saturday blasting emo rock, Laura threatened to rip out his stereo if he didn’t get better taste in music, and his mom brought him cookies and asked him if he wanted to talk. When he dodged that awkwardness, he just marathoned Netflix the rest of the weekend.
He successfully avoids Stiles in calculus, but Stiles catches him staring when he glances over halfway through class. Derek jerks his head away so fast his whole body follows and he ends up knocking his book onto the floor. The whole class turns and snickers, the teacher pauses her lecture, and then class returns to normal, except Stiles’ eyes remain on Derek for most of the rest of class.
After basketball practice, Derek hangs around the weight room trying to burn off some excess energy. He’s walking out of the shower with a towel hung around his waist when half of the lacrosse team – including Stiles – bound noisily into the locker room. Stiles is flailing his arms around, his hair damp and flat against his head. Sure, Derek has seen Stiles in his lacrosse gear, but never like this – in the locker room, with Stiles all sweaty, his hair messy and flat in a way that makes him look younger, softer, and cuter than ever. So, because he’s taken by surprise and kinda entranced by sweaty Stiles sweaty Stiles, Derek just stands there, not moving.
When Stiles catches sight of him, he stops mid-flail. He smacks McCall in the face when McCall walks into him. Derek feels his entire body flush, and even Stiles’ cheeks go red, and oh god he’s dripping wet and standing naked except the towel.
Derek thinks he should make a joke. This is the perfect moment for one of those. Isaac could make a great joke here, or Erica, or even Stiles. But not Derek. Derek’s not good with jokes. Derek’s not good with talking and people, so instead of joking, he opens his mouth and just utters a sound that’s close to a grunt. Stiles starts to say something, but Derek turns and hurries to the first place he finds – an empty bathroom stall. Inside, he drops his forehead against the stall wall. As if this couldn’t get any more humiliating.
At least Stiles has the decency not to look at Derek when he comes out of the stall a few moments later and hurries over to his locker. Thank god his locker is on a different row than Stiles’. He couldn’t handle anymore life-ruining embarrassment today.
*
On Wednesday, Stiles drops heavily against the locker beside Derek, wincing and rubbing his shoulder. Derek smirks.
“What gives, Hale?” Stiles asks. “Is this a new form of making fun of me?”
“I’ve never made fun of you,” Derek snaps defensively.
“I know that,” Stiles says, “But all your jock buddies have. It was only time before you joined them.”
Derek frowns deeply. “That’s what you think of me?” Even the thought that Stiles believes he could make fun of him – it makes him want to throw up.
Stiles shrugs and picks idly at a thumbnail. “The rest of the basketball team makes fun of me. Don’t know why you’d be any different.”
Derek storms down the hall. This is not good, not good at all. He feels like someone has punched him in the stomach, leaving him unable to breathe.
*
On Thursday, Derek grabs Stiles’ arm afterschool, when he’s walking down the hall with Scott and Allison. Stiles squeaks as Derek pulls him into an empty classroom and closes the door.
When Stiles sees that it’s Derek, a suspicious expression covers his face. “What do you want, Derek? You’ve been really weird for the last – “
“Goonadatewithme,” Derek rushes in a mumble. Scott’s banging on the door behind them, and Derek glares at the door.
Stiles’ jaw goes slack, his mouth hanging open. “Come again?” he says when he can speak.
Scott’s rattling the doorknob where Derek had locked it, and Derek yells, “Go away!”
But Scott doesn’t let up until Stiles rolls his eyes and yells, “Scotty, buddy, it’s cool. I’ll meet you in a minute.”
Derek exhales heavily through his nose, realizing how much of a disaster this has turned into. “Will you go on a date with me?” he repeats. Derek’s heart is rabbiting in his chest, and he feels hot all over. He’s pretty sure he’s sweating everywhere.
“You’re an asshole,” Stiles snaps. It would have hurt less is Stiles would have punched him.
“Excuse me?”
“This is some sick shit you people have cooked up,” Stiles goes on. “It’s not enough just to shove me into lockers and call me names, no, you have to – “
“Wait,” Derek interjects. “You think I’m making fun of you???” Derek doesn’t know if the expression on his face matches his utter despair, but whatever is on his face gives Stiles pause.
“Well, you are, aren’t you?” Stiles asks uncertainly.
Derek shakes his head. “Nevermind,” he mutters. “Stupid idea anyway.” Derek makes for the door, but a firm hand halts him. Derek pauses, refusing to turn around.
“You’re…serious?” Stiles asks, his voice small. Derek nods, staring at the dirty doorknob. “But…why?”
Derek turns around then. Stiles is staring at him in complete disbelief. “What do you mean, why?”
“Exactly what it sounds like,” Stiles says. “Why do you want to go out on a date with me of all people?”
Derek rolls his eyes, his head following. “I thought that’d be perfectly obvious.”
“You’ve barely spoken to me before today,” Stiles points out.
“We’ve talked in calculus.”
“No, we haven’t.”
“I know I’ve talked to you.”
“Nope.”
“Stiles…”
“You want to go on a date with me?” Stiles asks again. “For real?” Derek nods, his face burning. Stiles licks his lips and nods. “Yeah, okay. I guess.”
Derek smiles, and he decides he likes the way Stiles’ face flushes.
*
Midday Saturday, Derek parks in the Stilinski driveway. He sits in his car for a few moments, trying to gather the courage to exit the car and walk to the door. After a few steadying breaths, he gets out of the car and heads towards the house. The door opens before he has a chance to knock. Derek recognizes the man on the other side as Sheriff Stilinski. He’s wearing his uniform and studying Derek closely.
“Hello sir,” Derek says, sticking out his hand. “I’m Derek Hale.”
“Sheriff Stilinski,” the man says, putting emphasis on Sheriff. “That your car?”
“Um, yes?” Derek replies, glancing back at the Camaro like he’s not sure.
“Sure is a fancy car for a teenager. A bit too fast, I’d think.”
“Um…”
“Dad!” Stiles yells as he runs down the stairs inside the house. He trips on the last step and nearly face plants, but instead bumps into the back of his dad. “Seriously, just…no. Stop. Please.” Stiles gives his dad a meaningful look, and between that and the tripping down the stairs, Derek has to suppress the wide, ecstatic grin that’s threatening.
The sheriff sighs. “Fine.” He turns to Derek, wagging a finger. “I’ve given your car’s description to every deputy in the county. And you can bet I’ll get your license plate before you leave this driveway.”
“Yes, thanks Dad,” Stiles says, slipping past his father. He rolls his eyes at Derek, and Derek bites the inside of his cheek not to laugh. “We get it. You’re the big bad sheriff and will be watching. In fact, the whole county is watching us, so we promise not to have any fun or anything. Thanks a lot for ruining this before it starts.”
Stiles grabs Derek’s arm and tugs him down the steps. Derek glances back at the sheriff, not sure what to do. He’s pretty sure he’s making a horrible impression on the man. But the sheriff is watching after them with a small smile on his face. “Have fun, you two.”
“See you later, Dad.” Derek gives the sheriff a feeble wave just as Stiles lets go of his arm and walks to the passenger door.
When Derek’s seated behind the wheel, Stiles grins at Derek. “Well, that went well.”
“Your dad hates me,” Derek says dejectedly as he cranks the car. He spies the sheriff still watching them from the porch as he backs out of the driveway.
“He doesn’t hate you,” Stiles says distractedly. He’s not really paying attention to the conversation because he’s too busy running his hands across the dashboard with a dreamy sigh. “I think I’m going to date your car. Is that okay?” He caresses the leather seats, and Derek glances at him out of the corner of his eye. He laughs. “What?”
“Just…you,” Derek says. His face is caught in a wide smile, and he feels like his entire chest is going to burst open. He can’t believe that Stiles is in his car, with him, on a date. Derek wants to pinch himself to make sure it’s real.
“I guess that’s a good thing?” Stiles says, unsure. “I mean, you’re smiling, which has to be something. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile, and now you look kinda like a crazed clown or something.” Derek’s smile falters. He stares at the road, unable to understand why Stiles doesn’t think he’s serious. Plus, Stiles said he looked crazed? He’s supposed to be charming and flirty, not causing Stiles to think he’s a serial killer.
He glowers at the road, lost in his thoughts, until Stiles’ hand lands on his arm. “Where are we going?” Derek glances at Stiles, who is smiling encouragingly at Derek.
“I thought we could go to Harp’s Farm.”
“Are we doing the corn maze?” Stiles exclaims. He slaps Derek’s arm, and he has to grip the steering wheel to keep them from swerving off the road. “Dude, I’ve been wanting to do that all season!”
“Really?” Derek asks, a small smile returning to his lips.
Stiles’ grin is blinding, and Derek has to look away before he loses himself in Stiles’ eyes and crashes the car. “Yes! I haven’t been in years. Scott and I got lost in it for hours when we were like twelve, but I blame Scott because I don’t have the best sense of direction, and I should never have put him in charge of the clues, and – “ Derek listens contently as Stiles relays a scattered, tangential story about him and Scott getting lost in corn mazes that somehow ends up with him talking about the Black Death by the end.
Stiles cuts off in the middle of a ramble about boils, and Derek glances at him. Stiles’ face is red, and he’s tapping an erratic rhythm on his knee. “What?” Derek asks.
“What, what?”
“You just stopped. You were talking.”
“Oh. Um…” Stiles scratches his chin. “I didn’t want to bore you.”
“You could never bore me,” Derek replies truthfully. Then, Derek forces out, “You are the least boring person I know.” Stiles’ flush deepens.
“I just realized maybe boils aren’t the sexiest thing to talk about on a date.”
Derek shrugs. “I don’t mind. I think that stuff is fascinating, though I like the Spanish Inquisition more.” Stiles lights up and starts excitedly talking about different torture devices, and though he agrees with Stiles that these are perhaps not the sexiest topics in the world, it doesn’t stop Derek from wanting to kiss Stiles until he’s breathless.
*
When Stiles goes to pay the cashier for his ticket to the corn maze, Derek hands her his debit card first. Stiles waits until they’re walking towards the maze before he hands Derek some cash. “Don’t worry about it,” Derek says.
Stiles shakes his head and insists. “Please.”
Derek huffs in frustration. “This is a date, Stiles. I asked you, ergo, I’m paying.”
“Ergo,” Stiles snorts. Derek glares at him. “Fine,” he says as he pockets the money. “But just so you know, I’m not a cheap date. I’m getting cotton candy before we go into the maze.” Derek smiles. He knows he’d buy Stiles anything he’d ask for.
*
Cotton candy plus Stiles equals a very bad idea.
Stiles is even more hyper than usual, talking at a speed that Derek can barely keep up with. He spends the first part of the maze discussing how bizarre the concept of a corn maze is, and then reenacts the plot of Children of the Corn. When Derek admits he’s never seen the movie, Stiles sags against him, head on his shoulder. “What is wrong with you?” he whines. “How have you not seen that horror classic?”
Derek shrugs. “I’m not much into horror movies.”
“That’s just sad.”
When they end up at another dead end in the maze, Stiles kicks a cornstalk. “This is so stupid!” he yells. He picks up an ear of corn and chucks it. It hits the wall of corn with a soft rustle.
“You’re not supposed to throw corn,” Derek points out. “It’s in the rules.”
Stiles looks at Derek like he’s a moron. Derek mentally kicks himself and wants to erase the last few moments. “Are you serious? Follow the rules?” Stiles snorts. “Are you a rule follower, Derek? A goody-goody who doesn’t like to get into trouble?”
“You don’t know my mother,” Derek mumbles.
Stiles scoffs. “Dude, my dad’s the sheriff.”
“You still don’t know my mother.”
At that moment, Stiles slides through the cornstalks. “What are you doing?” Derek calls after him. Stiles is pulling apart different cornstalks, making a path between them, and nearly tearing the wall down as he goes through to the other side. “Stiles!” Derek yells, running over to where he went through. “Stiles!” He’s only answered with silence.
Great, Derek thinks. Ditched on their first date. Derek has dated before, but he hasn’t been this excited about someone since Paige, and that was over a year ago. Of course Stiles would want to leave him. Derek has nothing to offer him; he’s just a boring, bland guy who plays basketball and is bad with words.
Derek’s backtracking, lost in his thoughts, when something crashes into his back and latches on with four impossibly long limbs. He startles, and it takes him a second of recovery before he hears Stiles’ laughter in his ear. As soon as Derek knows it’s Stiles on his back – oh god, Stiles jumped on his back and now has his arms and legs wrapped around him oh god - his entire body goes hot all over. He becomes hyperaware of Stiles’ weight on him, of the wall of heat at his back, of Stiles’ soft breaths brushing against his ear.
“Found you!” Stiles says as he drops back to the ground. Derek tries not to look disappointed at the loss. “I win.”
“I didn’t know it was a game,” Derek says.
Stiles rolls his eyes. “Of course you didn’t.” He shakes his head with a smile. “Though you did kinda look like someone killed your puppy.” Stiles narrows his eyes, a calculating look on his face. Derek flushes under the gaze. “You thought I left, didn’t you?”
Derek shrugs. “Nope.”
“You so did,” Stiles says through a laugh. But he looks in awe at the new piece of information. He steps up beside Derek, looks at him for a few moments where Derek doesn’t even breathe, then grabs Derek’s hand. Goosebumps break out across Derek’s body when Stiles threads their fingers together. “Dumb jock.” Stiles laughs, and Derek pushes his head away playfully, but holds on tightly to his hand.
*
It takes them just over an hour to complete the corn maze. It wouldn’t have taken so long if they hadn’t gotten into a loud argument at one of the crossroads and fought about the answer to the riddle for ten minutes. Derek was right, and Stiles sulked until he forced Derek to give him another piggyback ride. He didn’t have to force Derek too hard. Stiles held on to Derek tightly, and Derek tried not to get distracted by the feel of Stiles’ thighs in his palms or his warm breath on his neck again.
Afterwards, they decide to go apple picking. Derek feels pleased when Stiles doesn’t offer him money for the bags, and feels even more pleased when Stiles suggests they share a bag.
“Stiles!” Derek hisses when Stiles drops the apple bag and reaches for one of the branches. These particular trees are larger, with thicker and longer branches, just tall enough to be the perfect temptation for Stiles. Stiles grabs on and kinda hangs there on his tiptoes.
“What?” Stiles glances at him, and Derek’s mouth goes dry. The way Stiles has stretched his arms above his head has caused his shirt to ride up, revealing a thin strip of pale flesh and a thatch of dark hair. Stiles drops his arms, and when Derek finally looks at Stiles’ face, he sees that Stiles’ face is beet red.
“Um,” Derek starts, his voice cracking at the end. Stiles tugs his shirt down self-consciously, and Derek wishes he could tell Stiles there is nothing to be self-conscious about. Instead, he says, “I don’t think you’re supposed to climb the trees.”
Stiles rolls his eyes, the awkward moment gone. He leaps up, grabs a mid branch and pulls himself into the tree. The apple tree isn’t extremely tall, so there’s not much to climb. But Stiles is precariously standing on a limb, reaching for apples from the very top. “You gotta live a little, Derek! These are the best of the crop! They haven’t been picked over by everyone else.”
“Except the birds,” Derek drawls.
“You will eat your negativity when I get you the perfect apple,” Stiles calls down to him. Derek searches for an apple on the lower branches like a normal person. A moment later, Stiles jumps down from the tree with a triumphant grin on his face. He holds out an apple. “See? Perfection.”
Derek shoves the bag at Stiles’ chest. “Wipe the smug grin off your face.”
“You’re just jealous, Derek. Admit I’m awesome.”
“I’m not admitting anything.”
“So, you agree then?”
“Shut up.”
Stiles crowds against Derek’s side and takes his hand again, and Derek smiles.
Stiles is munching on an apple as they walk deeper into the orchard when Derek suddenly says, “I don’t like horror movies.”
“Huh?” Stiles stares at him in confusion until he figures out what Derek’s talking about. “Oh, no, it’s cool. I don’t like most comedies.” He shrugs.
“It’s just that…” Derek exhales, wondering why in the hell he feels compelled to share this with Stiles in the first place. “I get scared easily.”
Stiles startles out a laugh, and Derek goes red. “I’m not laughing at you,” Stiles says, still chuckling slightly, “But I just didn’t expect this. You don’t look like someone who gets scared at movies.”
“Laura was obsessed with them in middle school,” Derek explains. “And she made me watch them with her.” He shudders, remembering some of the horrible images from those movies.
“Maybe we can, uh, have a horror movie marathon?” Stiles says uncertainly. “And I can, you know, keep you from not being scared. Or something. I don’t know. Stupid idea. Forget I said anything.”
Derek squeezes his hand and stares into Stiles’ eyes. “I think I’d like that.” Stiles looks relieved, and Derek adds, “Just no sugar, okay?” Stiles balks for a second before throwing his head back and laughing.
“It’s a date then.” Derek smiles.
They spend more time in the apple orchard than it takes to pick a small bag of apples. But the orchard is huge, and Derek enjoys walking through the trees as he holds Stiles’ hand and gets to know him. Stiles is even more interesting than he originally thought, and the longer they spend time together, the further Derek falls for him.
Stiles is so cute that Derek can barely keep his eyes off him. His cheeks and nose are red from the cold wind, and his eyes are bright and animated as he talks. Derek finds himself more than once wanting to kiss the cold from his cheeks and bury his nose behind his ear and kiss the skin there.
When Stiles starts shivering, Derek takes off his jacket and hands it to him. Stiles stops talking and stares at it. Then, he glances up to look at Derek. “Really? I can wear your jacket?”
Derek shrugs, going for nonchalant. “Sure. It’s no big deal.”
“Like hell it’s not,” Stiles says, yanking the jacket from Derek’s hands and sliding it on. He hugs it around himself as he closes his eyes and inhales. “It’s so warm.” A content smile spreads over his face. “I’m wearing the captain of the basketball team’s letterman jacket. Take that, Matt Kline.”
“Who’s Matt Kline?” Derek asks.
“This dick in the eighth grade who told me I was too much of a loser to ever have anyone, especially someone popular like him or Lydia Martin, want to play with my dingdong.” Derek flushes the moment before Stiles realizes what he’s said. He stammers, “Ugh, not that this means you want…because it doesn’t…and I don’t want…I mean, I don’t not want…I just…shit.” Stiles hangs his head. “This just turned awkward.”
Derek takes Stiles’ hand again and threads their fingers. “Screw that guy. I don’t want anyone else to wear it.”
Stiles lights up. “Can I wear it on Monday at school? Is that too fast? I mean, shit, here I go – “
“Yes,” Derek answers with a smile. “I’d really like that.” Stiles grins, and Derek’s heart does a flip in his chest.
Later, Derek crosses his arms and scowls as Stiles ascends yet another apple tree. “Just one more,” he says as he reaches for the top. “I just want this one – ah!!!” Derek hears a loud rustle and Stiles’ yelp before he sees Stiles crashing to the ground. He lands with a thump.
Derek rushes over to him and drops to his knees in the grass beside Stiles. “Owwww,” Stiles whines as he pushes himself to his elbows.
“Are you okay?” Derek asks frantically. “Oh god, you didn’t break anything or – mph!” Derek’s cut off when Stiles lunges forward and presses his mouth to Derek’s. Derek’s too surprised at first to react, but then he feels Stiles’ warm, chapped lips and tilts his head to get a better angle. The kiss is tentative, chaste nervous presses that Derek doesn’t want to end. Their noses are bumping together, and Derek can not only hear but feel Stiles’ breathes. But after a few moments, he pulls back, his eyes flicking down to Stiles’ pink lips. Stiles’ tongue darts out and Derek wants to kiss him again, but this time push it further until he can feel Stiles’ tongue against his own. But he holds himself back and asks again, “Are you okay?”
“I think I got dirt on your jacket,” Stiles groans. “Don’t hate me, dude. I’m sorry. That apple just didn’t want to be picked.”
Derek laughs incredulously. “I don’t care about the jacket, idiot. I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”
“My pride – and probably my ass – is pretty bruised.”
Derek smirks and stands, extending a hand towards Stiles. He helps Stiles to his feet, and Stiles stumbles into him and grips his shoulders to steady himself. They stare at each other for a moment before Derek softly kisses him again. When he pulls away, Stiles is grinning. “Worth it,” he states.
“Idiot,” Derek says fondly.
“Buy me a cup of hot cider,” Stiles says, grabbing Derek’s hand and tugging him towards the farm stand.
“No more sugar,” Derek says.
“An apple tree pushed me to the ground and I bruised my butt,” Stiles says, “and it’s only our first date. I’m feeling vulnerable. Hot cider will help. It might convince me not to freak out that you may not ask me out again.”
Derek leans close and whispers, “You don’t need hot cider to convince you of that.”
Stiles smiles but mumbles, “I’m still getting cider,” as he pulls Derek inside the store.
-fin
