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“Scott!” Stiles shouts into his phone. “You should totally answer your phone! I’m drunk as fuck—it was a great night, dude, can’t wait to tell you hung over tomorrow—and I’m going to crash at your place. I know that you’re at Allison’s tonight. So. I’ll see you when you come home!”
He hiccups twice as he hangs up, and then stumbles towards Scott’s dorm room building. Bless the gods that put Scott onto the first floor. He counts the windows. Six, seven, eight, perfect. He lazily walks forward, and wonders why the college doesn’t invest in better security. Some girls live in these dorm rooms. It’s a little freaky how easy it is to break into the dorm rooms.
Stiles jiggles the window. Scott must have guessed that he was coming tonight, because the window slides open easily since it’s unlocked. Stiles places both his hands on the sill and jumps up.
He tosses a leg over, with too much force, and then his entire body falls down to the floor. Dammit, he needs to get better at that. His legs are in the air, and he rubs the back of his head. He doesn’t move for a minute, because fuck that hurt.
Stiles groans when he sees a black cat jump up to the windowsill. “No, no, kitty! You can’t go out there.”
Stiles scrambles to get up, so he can pull the cat down from the window. He shuts it closed, and then locks it for extra measure. Truth is that the locks suck shit and it just takes some careful jiggling to get the windows to unlock again. Stiles glances at the lock and wonders if the cat has learned how to open the window. He wouldn’t be surprised, since it doesn’t seem to mind that it’s closed.
He strokes the cat’s head and then sets it down onto the floor. It curls around his legs. “Scott would kill me if I let you outside.”
Somewhere in the back of Stiles’ mind, he recognizes that Scott doesn’t have cats. In fact, Scott’s allergic to cats. When Stiles gets to the red couch—he totally thought Scott’s couch was blue, but what does he know?—he’s surprised that he has to move an orange cat. Scott got two cats?
Such a strange thing not to tell his best friend. He tugs his shirt over his head and lets it fall to the ground beside him. Stiles yawns, mouth opening wide, and then closes his eyes.
He sprawls out onto the couch, only burying his face into the pillow.
He’s too drunk to question why this couch seems infinitely more comfortable than usual. He’s also too drunk to question why Scott’s blanket isn’t scratching his skin. Instead, it’s warm and nice.
Man, Scott’s such a sweetheart. He knows that Stiles hates that damn blanket.
The black cat curls up on his legs, and Stiles drifts off to sleep.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
Derek decides to get up early to start working on his latest assignment. It had been given out two days ago, and isn’t due until the end of the semester, but he’d rather get a head start on it. He grabs his laptop and textbook, deciding to work at his kitchen table. The desk in his room is crowded with stuff from another project.
When Derek leaves his room though, he hears a faint snoring noise. Figuring it’s one of his cats, he sets his stuff down on the table. He debates whether or not he’s hungry, and sees his black cat, Fitz, jump up onto the table.
“Mornin’,” he says as he scratches Fitz’s head. The second that Fitz starts purring, he makes Simmons jealous. She comes running over to get attention too.
He smiles at them, and it takes a fully forty seconds to realize both of his cats are awake and there’s still something snoring.
Derek looks into the living room, and spots a hand at the top of the couch. He can’t see who’s on the couch, but someone is most definitely asleep on his couch, in his apartment.
He moves quickly as he grabs his baseball bat from his bedroom. He walks over into the living room, careful not to wake up his invader.
When he recognizes the guy with his moles and open mouth, Derek relaxes. At least it’s someone harmless. Then again, what the hell is Stiles’ doing in his apartment? How did he get in?
Derek stares at him for a few minutes. Stiles has the blanket up over his chest (dammit, because Derek sees that his shirt’s on the ground). He has no idea what his neighbour’s best friend is doing here. Scott hadn’t been an issue to live beside, but whenever Stiles was over, Derek had a hard time not getting annoyed.
They weren’t usually too loud, but Derek always went over and complained anyway. Just thirty seconds of seeing Stiles Stilinski was enough to drive his body crazy for the following two days.
He couldn’t resist. His best friend, Erica, had told him to give into his temptations and had encouraged him. God, he fucking misses her. She’s currently travelling around the world with her boyfriend, and Derek’s other best friend, Boyd. Derek hasn’t seen them in almost a year, but they all invested in international texting just to keep in touch.
Derek wonders if he should kick Stiles out of his apartment—because really, what was he doing here—or if he should use this as an opportunity. Maybe he could get to know Scott’s loud-mouthed, gorgeous, so fucking gorgeous, best friend.
Erica had told Derek to befriend the two boys, because she worries about him being alone too often.
He rests the baseball bat against the chair and goes to get his phone.
DEREK: Stiles is asleep on my couch? I don’t know how or why or anything, I just woke up and he’s there?
ERICA: hahahahah I was gonna yell at you for waking me up and forgetting about time differences
ERICA: but this is worth it—are you gonna wake him up?
DEREK: no, should I?
ERICA: boyd and I think that’s fair
ERICA: but don’t kick him out
ERICA: this is your chance dude
ERICA: make a friend
DEREK: I had a feeling you were gonna say that
DEREK: do I make him breakfast or something? I bet he’ll be hungover
ERICA: OH MY GOD YES MAKE HIM BREAKFAST
ERICA: food is the fastest way to make a friend
ERICA: we’re so proud of you, puppy!
DEREK: I know you think you’re cute when you call me that but it’s really weird
ERICA: yeah well we’re currently your only friends…unless that changes?
DEREK: okay, okay I get it
DEREK: wish me luck, buttface
ERICA: GOOD LUCK, PUPPY!
ERICA: we love you!
DEREK: love you guys too
Derek looks back at the hand that’s resting at the top of the couch. He takes a deep breath. Here it goes.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“Excuse me,” a deep, booming voice comes from hell.
Stiles groans and covers his eyes, suddenly aware of the bright light. He reaches around for a pillow, finding one that he’d put on the floor, and covers his face with it. “Go away.”
“This is my dorm room,” the voice says. “Why are you here, Stiles?”
Stiles realizes that’s most definitely not Scott. The voice is too deep, and too annoyed to be Scott. He pulls the pillow away, groaning at the light. His head is killing him, but he forgets about that when he realizes whose dorm room he’s in.
Not Scott’s, but his annoying neighbour’s, Derek Hale. He had been so close.
“Oh shit,” Stiles says, feeling his face go red as the realization of what he’d done last night hits him. Derek has his arms (god, have his arms always looked this good?) crossed and a very serious, threatening expression on his face.
Stiles sits up a bit, surprised when the black cat meows in annoyance on his leg. He glances around the apartment. Yeah, this isn’t Scott’s room. Stiles says, “I can explain.”
“Good,” is the only response he gets. He then notices that Derek has a baseball bat in his hand. Fuck. Stiles doesn’t want any trouble.
Stiles rubs the back of his neck and then lies back down. God, his head isn’t to be forgotten, because it’s killing him. “So I—”
“Here,” Derek says. He looks over to see Derek pick up a glass of water from the coffee table and hold it out. Stiles takes it with a quiet ‘thanks’ and then tries to sit up again. The black cat jumps off the couch, only to come back on it to lie beside Stiles’ thigh. He shifts so that he’s sitting up comfortably, and feels Derek’s gaze burning into him.
“So,” Stiles starts after he’s had a few sips of the water. “I accidently broke into your dorm room. Scott—Scott lives next door, but you’re neighbours and you know this already, and I was drinking over at Jungle, and my dorm is like, on the other side of the campus, and Scott was supposed to be with Allison last night. So in my drunken haze, I thought that I was climbing into the right window. It’s the eighth window. I remember that.”
Derek frowns. “The eighth window? Does that include the lobby window at the end of the building?”
Stiles’ head snaps up to look at Scott’s delicious neighbour. He groans at the swift moment and his drunken stupidity. “Shit, I forgot about the lobby window. I guess it’s technically the ninth window.”
Derek doesn’t answer, but waits for Stiles to continue. His entire body screams impatience, whereas Stiles’ body is screaming in agony. God, couldn’t Derek cut him some slack? He knows that Derek’s never been particularly fond of Scott and Stiles—especially Stiles—but Stiles does have a killer of a hangover. He supposes that Derek cut him some slack when he got him water.
“Okay, so I counted wrong. I really thought I was climbing into Scott’s window, and falling asleep on his couch. Although I remember wondering why Scott got two cats ‘cause he’s allergic, but I didn’t think about that too hard. Obviously, since I’m still here. And well, now I’m hung over and shirtless in your living room,” Stiles explains. He watches as Derek just continues to glare at him. “So, hi. Um. Well, how are you?”
Derek rolls his eyes. “Fuck, you and McCall will be the death of me. Drink up. I’ll make you breakfast.”
“Seriously?” Stiles sputters.
“You should see yourself right now. You look like death came knocking four times and you accepted each time with open arms,” Derek mutters as if Stiles is that stupid, while he walks into his kitchen. Stiles wonders if he should be insulted, but then he remembers he accidentally broke into Derek’s dorm room and slept over. Awkward. He’s sure that grants Derek some free passes.
“Do you make breakfast for all the people who break in to your dorm room?” Stiles asks, putting his chin on the back of the couch.
Derek tosses him a glance over his shoulder. He deadpans with, “I try not to make it a habit.”
Stiles snorts, but the noise makes his head feel close to exploding. He cringes.
“There are two Tylenol on the table beside you. Take them,” Derek tells him.
He does and then he lies back down. “You’re awfully cool about someone breaking into your dorm room, dude.”
“Stop talking or you won’t get breakfast,” Derek threatens lightly. “You’re just lucky that I know you. Sort of.”
Stiles closes his eyes. God, Scott’s going to make fun of him so hard for this. But when he smells Derek’s eggs, he realizes he doesn’t care.
Maybe breaking into the wrong dorm isn’t so bad.
In fact, once Derek puts a full plate of food in front of him, Stiles is thinking it’s the best decision he’s made in his drunken haze.
SCOTT: got your message, must have missed you this morning, hope you’re feeling okay
♚♞♚♞♚♞
The following weekend, Derek wakes up to find a passed out Stiles shirtless on his couch again. He hadn’t talked to Stiles during the week, hadn’t seen him, but for some reason he’s relieved that Stiles is in his living room.
He starts cooking, and when Stiles groans, he says, “Good morning.”
He could be nice and polite. He could make a friend. Right? Derek’s starting to doubt his abilities, but Erica’s been encouraging him all week. She’d even called up their old friend, Isaac, and he had texted Derek with advice. Apparently, Isaac knows Stiles and swears that food is the fastest way to befriend him.
Derek takes the advice, whether he wants to or not. It’s pathetic how the few friends he has want him to make a new one. He would be offended, except after high school they’d spread out. He had come to college, Boyd and Erica had gone travelling, and Boyd takes online courses, and then Isaac had picked up and moved to France. It sucked.
Stiles pokes his head over the back of the couch and says, “Dude, I think I miscounted.”
Derek just smiles. He doesn’t mind whatsoever. He puts the bacon on, and then he brings over Stiles a glass of water. “It’s fine, Stiles. I don’t mind the company.”
Stiles’ eyebrows go up, but all he says is, “I smell food. You’re a fucking saint.”
Derek snorts. “I don’t think I’m a saint, but I appreciate the thought. Do you need Tylenol today?”
Stiles rubs the side of his head and then nods. “I don’t think it could hurt.”
Derek tosses him a bottle before he goes back to stand by the stovetop.
“If you keep making me breakfast, I’m going to keep breaking in,” Stiles tells him fifteen minutes later as he stabs at a piece of his egg.
Derek’s expression doesn’t shift, but his tone is a little wishful when he responds with, “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing.”
Stiles just gives him a grin.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
Stiles decides to make it a routine.
Scott tends to go to Allison’s place these days, and Stiles hates being alone. God, he hates it.
It lasts for about six weekends in a row. Scott had been bewildered at why Derek would make him breakfast in the mornings after breaking into Derek’s dorm room, uninvited. Stiles is right there with him on that, except he has a theory.
They had avoided (and if he’s honest, made hardcore fun of) Derek Hale for a few reasons.
He’s clearly destined to be the grumpy old man who yells at kids to get off their front lawn, waving his cane in the air. Stiles has lost count at how many times Derek had come over to tell them to keep it down when they weren’t being that loud to begin with.
Still, Derek had seemed lonely. Stiles and Scott had never seen him bring anyone over, so maybe this is his way of having some company.
As long as he keeps feeding Stiles, he’s not going anywhere.
On the seventh weekend, Stiles has gotten drunker than he means to be. He tries to open up Derek’s window, only to be disappointed by the fact that it’s locked. He’s about to stumble towards Scott’s, when he hears it open. He spins around, and almost falls down into a shrub. That’s new.
“C’mon,” Derek mutters, sticking his head out the window. He helps Stiles in, and that’s a task and a half. Derek helps Stiles to the couch. “Why do you drink so much, so often?”
Stiles snorts. He then reaches out and pokes Derek’s nose. It’s a nice nose. “Why don’t you drink more?”
“My sister was killed by a drunk driver,” Derek responds instantly.
It’s not enough to completely sober Stiles up, but it’s enough to make him frown. He reaches up to wrap his arms around Derek. “Oh, Der-bear.”
“Derek,” he corrects.
Stiles leans away. He says, his voice a stage whisper, “I would never, ever drive drunk. I,” hiccup, “promise you. That’s why I come to Scott’s.”
“You mean my place?” Derek asks a hint of amusement in voice. Stiles bobs his head up and down, eagerly. “I’m glad you come here. It’s been...”
“Lover-ly,” Stiles tells him as he lies down on the couch. “Lover-ly, yep, yep, yep. I like you, Derek Hale. You’re weird. You let a stranger break into your apartment and then you feed him.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “You’re hardly a stranger. You’re my neighbour’s annoying best friend who laughs far too loud.”
Stiles pokes Derek on the nose. “You know what I think? I think you’re lonely, and you like the company.”
“Maybe I do,” Derek whispers. “Go to sleep, Stiles.”
It’s the closest that Stiles gets to Derek for another few weeks.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
It’s not until Derek is putting away his groceries that he realizes he’d bought pancake mix in hopes that Stiles would like the change. Derek stares at the pancake mix for longer than he should.
He is relying on the fact that Stiles will be here again Saturday morning. He knows better to assume anything. In fact, he knows he shouldn’t even care about Stiles, but he does. Derek falls into his chair at the kitchen table and looks at the pancake mix.
When had it happened? When had he started to look forward to seeing Stiles, when had he started to worry about Stiles and his alcohol consumption? Derek can’t seem to pinpoint the exact moment, but he knows that he wants to make Stiles happy. He wants to…he wants to what?
Feel like friends? Stiles never comes around sober, he only ever sticks around for breakfast. He never stays to hang out with Derek.
Fuck, Derek’s a fucking idiot.
Stiles is probably using him, and just like it’d been with Kate, his ex-girlfriend, Derek hadn’t even noticed.
DEREK: I have to end it with Stiles
ERICA: end what?
DEREK: this stupid thing we have
DEREK: or rather we don’t have
ERICA: are you over thinking this?
DEREK: probably, but we’re not actually friends
DEREK: and I bought us pancake mix..
ERICA: Derek, does he make you happy?
DEREK: I guess?
ERICA: does he enjoy your company?
DEREK: I think so?
ERICA: do you look forward to seeing him Saturday morning on your couch?
DEREK: yes, but that’s not the point
ERICA: the point is that you need to take a breather and enjoy yourself for once
ERICA: also, you keep texting me at the worst times, Hale
ERICA: but I love you so I’mma let it go
DEREK: I love you too, Erica.
DEREK: so you think I shouldn’t end it?
ERICA: not yet, but it’s your decision
ERICA: not everyone is a Kate, puppy
DEREK: but some people are
ERICA: is Stiles?
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“C’mon, this will be good for you,” Scott promises. Stiles can’t seem to focus on the rest of the words though, and leans into Scott more than he probably should. Scott sighs. “Stiles, I need some help holding you up.”
Stiles tries. He really does, but he can tell by the way that Scott’s hand catches his waist he doesn’t do a good job. God, everything is fuzzy and blurry and he doesn’t want to be here anymore.
There’s a sharp noise that draws Stiles’ attention until he realizes that Scott just knocked on a door. He looks up at his best friend, but he can’t figure out why Scott doesn’t just use his key to get into his room.
When the door opens a few minutes later, Stiles finds himself looking at Derek.
“Derek! You found me!” Stiles announces.
Derek glances at Scott, and Stiles knows he’s confused. “Uh, Stiles, Scott.”
“Listen, it’s the anniversary of his mother’s death,” Scott tells him quietly. Stiles doesn’t want to listen anymore. Why does Scott always have to be so concerned? He should just think about happier things and forget the world. That’s why Stiles is drunk tonight.
“Party pooper,” Stiles slurs.
All he knows is that within the next thirty seconds, Derek is pulling Stiles inside. He’s suddenly on Derek’s red couch. He spreads out and then smiles. “I’m happy here.”
Derek’s sitting on the edge of the couch, and Stiles can feel his frown. “Stiles, is this why you drink? You miss your mother?”
“Righty-oh,” Stiles mumbles. His eyes are closed now and he can feel sleep coming. He shifts on the couch though, forcing his eyes open. “I’m safe here.”
“Yeah,” Derek says. Stiles feels a hand on his face. “You’re safe here.”
Stiles yawns and then mumbles, “All I want is you, Derek.”
“Stiles, I—”
He doesn’t know what else Derek has to say. He sleeps better than he has in a long time.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“Morning,” Derek says when Stiles wakes up. He holds out a glass of water and two pills. “Take them.”
“Okay,” Stiles says, groaning. “Today’s hangover is bad. I don’t remember much about last night. It’s all in a haze.”
“You were upset. You didn’t say anything bad.” Derek sighs. He’d actually said something that had made Derek’s heart stop. He had decided that he would tell Stiles not to come around anymore, and hadn’t expected Scott to show up with him on a Monday night.
He’d spent most of the night tossing and turning. Stiles feels safe here—does he feel unsafe elsewhere? Why? Where are those places? Can Derek keep him away from there?
Stiles had said, All I want is you, Derek. Those words would haunt him to his grave. He has no idea what they mean, what they could mean, what he wants them to mean. Instead, they had repeated themselves.
Derek realizes he’s not ready to give Stiles up just yet—even if they’re not technically friends.
“Breakfast is almost ready, but maybe we should talk?” Derek suggests.
Stiles looks up at him and nods. “Yeah.”
Derek glances over to see Stiles cringe.
“Did I confess something to you?”
“You did,” Derek says as he walks into the kitchen. “Are you going to take it back?”
“No, fuck no. Not when I smell bacon.”
It earns a laugh from Derek, who has decided that maybe they don’t need to figure out all the answers right away. Instead, he finds himself having a great morning with Stiles, who gives his cats an overwhelming amount of attention, and who loves the pancakes.
He would get chocolate chips for next weekend, because Derek wants to see the look of surprise and joy on his face again. He wants to be the reason that it’s there. Derek wants to see where this friendship, these feelings, can go. He wonders how he could've been ready to give Stiles up. The truth of the matter is that Derek likes Stiles, and that scares him. When his eyes meet Stiles' over their pancakes though, Derek can't help but smile. He'd figure out how to approach Stiles about a traditional friendship another time. For now, he's going to enjoy this.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“You seriously don’t remember?” Scott asks a few days later. Stiles shakes his head. “You were begging me to take you to Derek’s. You told me I couldn’t do anything for you.”
“Scott, I’m so—”
“I think you meant in a romantic sense,” Scott hastens to assure. “I didn’t take it personally, Stiles.”
Stiles snorts. “I don’t like Derek.”
“Really?”
“Really.” It doesn’t sound convincing to either of them. “I begged?”
“I thought you were going to cry.” Scott shakes his head. “Have you ever tried hanging out with Derek sober?”
Stiles rubs his nose. “No, we haven’t done that. I’m always drunk or hung over.”
“Maybe give it a shot,” Scott suggests gently. He pats Stiles’ shoulder. “You don’t remember his face the other night, but I do. He took one look at you, and pulled you in. He wasn’t going to let anyone or anything hurt you. I think he cares about you, Stiles.”
“Nawh,” Stiles says, as he thinks about Scott’s words. “He just likes company for breakfast, that’s all. We don’t really talk about anything. I know that he loves cooking—that’s what he’s studying. He knows that I’m a bit of an alcoholic mess. We’re both a little lonely.”
“Stiles—”
“It’s not your fault, Scott. I want you to hang out with Allison, I want you to be happy.” Stiles wraps his arms around Scott. “But it’s tough. You’re my only friend.”
“Bullshit,” Scott mutters.
“Lydia’s in London with Jackson. Isaac’s in France. Danny is too busy to hang out with me, and whenever we do, it’s Drunk Fridays. I guess I just didn’t handle it as well as I should’ve,” Stiles admits. He rubs the side of his neck and then groans. “Fuck. I think you’re right.”
“About?” Scott asks, his eyes racing around Stiles’ face with concern.
“I think I like Derek.”
Scott lets out a laugh. “You think?”
“No, no. I like…” Stiles lets the words trail. He does though. He likes Derek.
Derek makes him breakfast, and stocks up on Tylenol just so that he can help Stiles with his hangover. Derek hadn’t kick him out, hadn’t tell him to fuck off, but just accepted it was their thing now. Derek sometimes waits up to help Stiles in the window, so he doesn’t crash onto the floor.
Stiles knows he’s drunkenly confessed some stuff, and Derek had always given him his understanding expression. He's never judged Stiles, not even when he's blackout drunk. He likes that Derek’s a grumpy pants about noise, and that he’s passionate about cooking.
Derek sometimes brushes his hand on Stiles’ cheek when he’s helping him onto the couch, and the way that Derek looks at him in the morning as if he gets Stiles. As if he doesn’t find what he sees repulsive. He loves that.
Derek lets him ramble about pointless topics, and he always manages to look both amused and interested.
Stiles likes Derek.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
Derek hears a small tapping noise on his window. He glances at the clock on his desk. It’s just a little after midnight, which is unusually early for Stiles. He gets up from his desk, and heads into the kitchen. He flicks on the light and walks to the window.
He pulls it open to see Stiles standing there. He hadn’t expected anyone else.
“It wasn’t locked,” Derek tells him quietly.
“I know,” Stiles whispers. Derek can sense he’s nervous, but he doesn’t know why. Stiles asks, “Can I come in?”
Derek tilts his head. “Obviously?”
Stiles gives him a quick smile before he carefully climbs into Derek’s apartment. It’s only when Stiles gets in without any trouble that Derek realizes he’s sober. This is new territory. He shuts the window behind him and turns back to Derek. “Did you know we went to the same high school?”
Derek nods. Isaac had told him.
“I didn’t know that until the other day,” Stiles says. He sighs. “I remember hearing about your family. Your parents died in that freak fire, and your sister, Laura…I’m really sorry, Derek. Scott and I made fun of you—before this—about being a lonely grump.”
He can’t help it, his lips twitch upward. “I am a lonely grump. Erica tells me all the time.”
Stiles seems to relax now. “I know I’m just a drunk who broke into your place, but I would love the opportunity to get to know you. All of you.”
Derek hadn’t realized there had been something dark and twisted in his chest, until Stiles utters those words and it vanishes. He inhales sharply. “I would love that too, Stiles. We should do it at a normal time some day, but for now, do you want to order a pizza?”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Stiles teases. He walks up to Derek though, and then he’s wrapping his arms around his waist.
Derek pulls him in closer and holds him. “You can sleep in my bed tonight.”
Stiles yanks his head away and studies Derek’s face. “Would it be okay if I…?”
Derek watches Stiles’ eyes flicker to his lips and then back up. Derek tips his head down, only slightly, and kisses him.
Erica’s going to freak out, because not only did Derek make a real friend, but also he’s sure he might have a boyfriend by the time the sunrises. He hopes so. Stiles leans into him, feeling as though he’s always belonged there.
“I’m glad you can’t count properly in a drunken haze,” Derek tells him.
It earns a laugh from Stiles. “Me too. Now, let’s get that pizza you talked about.”
“Okay.” Stiles slips his hand into Derek’s, and doesn’t let go until the pizza arrives.