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“My brain is leaking out of my ears,” Stiles groaned, squeezing his hands against his skull like he could physically stop his cranial mush from dripping out.
The California sunshine wasn’t doing enough to alleviate the oppressive darkness that finals week was leaving on his soul. Students with magical bounds of energy streamed around him, talking or laughing or in a few too many cases, crying.
“It’s over, right?” Scott asked, handing over a Snickers just like he promised. “That was the last one?”
He ripped into the candy bar and chomped down half of it. “Dude I can’t even remember right now.”
He vaguely recalled a paper for his psych class, but he can’t remember if his writing and submitting that paper was a memory or just a dream. He needed to double check that before he rolled himself down Frat Alley looking for an end-of-finals celebration party. That is, if he had the energy to get back to his apartment. This was the first time all semester he wished he still lived in the dorms since then they’d be close.
He trudged on, feeling a little better with every step. Professor Hiasa was amazing, but that organic chemistry exam had been a brutal nightmare. Fuck chirality. He took another vicious bite of his Snickers in retribution.
Scott chatted beside him as they walked back to their apartment. For once, Stiles was being quiet. Scott’s last final had been two days ago, he’d had gone through the pit of brain-dead despair and come out the other side happy and go-lucky, and had generally been really really annoying for someone whose torture still hadn’t ended.
Walking away from his last exam and chomping on chocolate was letting Stiles hate his best friend less at least, which was good news. He felt guilty hating Scott because Scott was awesome. Scott hung around campus just to hand Stiles a much-needed candy bar after his test.
Stiles prayed to whatever was listening that his torture was over. Please let turning in that psych paper be real and not a hallucination. He chanted it in his head like a mantra as he placed one foot in front of the other. Please, please, please, he begged with each step, tuning out Scott’s conversation except to recognize when he needed to hum in agreement.
When Stiles looked up, they were passing the park. It meant they were close to home, but also still a few blocks away from peace and Stiles just wanted to fall face first into his bed. The grass of the park was looking really tempting.
But then even through the haze of brain-drain, he saw.
Stiles stopped in his tracks, barely aware that Scott kept walking. Stiles was too busy staring at the most gorgeous creature he’d ever seen in his life. He had to -
He had to.
He dashed forward, tripping in his haste, but through life-long practice he caught himself before he face-planted on the ground.
“Stiles?” Scott called after him, confused.
But Stiles was a man on a mission and would not be dissuaded by such paltry things as explanations. He skidded to a halt in front of the love of his life.
“Hi there,” he breathed. “What’s your name?”
The massive black dog with equally massive fur smiled at him, tongue lolling out of its mouth. Stiles sunk to his knees and wrapped his arms around the giant ball of floof, sinking his face into that soft coat. It was deep and soft, and Stiles felt his whole body sigh with relief as the dog shuffled even closer and put up with his attention.
“Stiles! You can’t just touch random dogs!” Scott chided, tugging at his shoulder to try to pry him out of the happiest moment of his life. “You have to ask if it’s okay.”
“Don’t get in the way of true love, Scottie,” Stiles said, unrepentant, refusing to let Scott budge him from this slice of heaven.
“What the hell are you doing.”
That flat voice definitely wasn’t Scott, and Stiles glanced up. The most gorgeous human he’d ever seen was standing over him, glaring down at Stiles like he’d stolen the last cookie. And that cookie had been a warm homemade chocolate chip cookie of gooey deliciousness.
Or maybe it was because Stiles was about to steal his dog, since he was holding a leash - a leash that connected to the collar of Stiles’ floofy savior.
“Oh.”
His eyebrows twitched in response that Stiles read as ‘yeah that’s right asshole, so what the HELL.’
The rebuke wasn’t enough for him to let go of his dog captive - not that the dog couldn’t just walk right over him if they wanted. Stiles had bulked up in college, okay, he had muscles now, but he had nothing on this dog. He stayed where he was because this dog was saving his soul, and rather than go for the embarrassed apologies that Scott was trying to stammer out, Stiles decided to go for the pity plea.
“I’m sorry but I’m a poor brain dead college student in the week of finals and stressed to the max and your dog is literally saving my life right now,” he spat out quickly. He tightened his hold on the dog, who probably didn’t even notice the pressure through the thick fur. “Please let me cuddle your dog to regain my health.”
And the dog was perfectly happy to be cuddled, leaning into Stiles’ hug at just the right amount to be a solid anchor. There was drool all over Stiles shoulder and dripping down his back to prove that happiness. So much it was starting to soak through. Gross but he would take it because dog.
He ran his hands down the dog’s sides, fingers digging into the fur. “Please?” he said, blinking up at the man with the widest, most innocent eyes he could manage.
They didn’t work on his dad anymore, not since Stiles turned twelve, but this guy was caving. The eyebrows had smoothed out from anger to simple confusion. But then the guy ducked his head, the scowl on his face deepening, and Stiles’ heart sank.
The dog pressed closer, almost tipping Stiles backwards.
“Whoa buddy,” Stiles warned with a laugh, pushing to stay upright. “You could snap me like a twig. Though that might get me a pass on finals, so let’s keep that as Plan B.”
The owner sighed, exasperated, but it reminded Stiles too much of his dad’s ‘I’m exasperated because I’m giving in’ sigh rather than the exasperated sigh that meant Stiles had run through the stock of patience.
“You’re lucky she didn’t rip your face off,” the man said, crossing his arms.
It made his biceps bulge in the sleeves of his tight T-shirt. Stiles buried his face back in the fur to remove the temptation to say that he could rip Stiles’ face off anytime, please and thank you.
“Lucky?” he scoffed, and then had to lean back to spit out the mouthful of hair he’d just earned himself. “She is like the most gentle dog on the planet. Dude, you’ve got this temperament training down.”
“Thanks,” the guy replied, blinking in surprise.
“That’s Newfoundland breed in general,” Scott piped up, his high school job of being assistant to the vet showing. “They’re gentle giants.”
“Aw, who is the most gentle giant ever?” Stiles cooed, pulling back to rub at the dog’s ears and look at its beautiful happy drooling face. “Who is? You! You are!”
Scott snickered, and Stiles felt a late stab of embarrassment at his dog-voice. A quick glance at the owner rewarded Stiles with the guy’s soft smile.
“Is it okay if I…?” Scott asked, reaching a hand out to the dog’s head.
“Fine,” the guy said, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like your friend is going to let go anytime soon anyway.”
“You get me,” Stiles said, smiling up at the owner, and then blinked in surprise when the guy blushed. “Thanks, by the way. Don’t know if I’ve said that yet, but thanks. Seriously saving my life right here.”
The guy shrugged, watching his feet scuff at the ground with more intensity than the act required. “I remember how terrible finals are.”
“You one of those lucky ducks on the other side already?” Stiles tried to feel out. He’d come across enough nontraditional students to make ‘college age’ a useless description, though the guy did look a few years older.
But that could be the beard too. The guy was really working that stubble.
“Tell me the grass is greener over there,” Stiles begged.
The man huffed a soft laugh, and Stiles had to bury his face back into the mound of black fur to hide how much he wanted to scream.
But then he had to peek, because he couldn’t waste the chance to soak in every image of this guy.
“It is. You’ll make it.”
“Dude, I don’t know,” Stiles said, only too late realizing how much of an unattractive whine it was.
“I can -” the blush came back, poking up out of the guy’s scruff to dust the top of his cheeks. “I mean, if you wanted my number so you can -” he gestured to Stiles and his dog, “- during the rest of finals.”
Hell yes Stiles wanted this guy to take away all of his final stress. There were several different positions he’d been itching to try that would take his mind off everything, and this guy looked like someone who could make Stiles forget his own name.
Then Stiles realized he was gesturing to the dog.
But still, a super hot guy wanted to give Stiles his number - a Stiles who had glomped onto his dog, a Stiles who was covered in dog drool, a Stiles who was staring, jaw dropped, in response rather than replying YES ABSOLUTELY MOST DEFINITELY PLEASE -
“Oh dude that’s so nice,” Scott started, “but we’re both done with-”
“Shut up!” Stiles hissed at him, and the most wonderful gentle dog in the world whined in his arms and dropped more drool onto his shoulder, trying to cuddle closer. He scratched behind her ears to thank her. “There’s post traumatic stress from finals, okay?”
“What?” Scott asked.
“Hey!” Stiles glared at him. “Do I need to revoke your best bro status?”
“I brought you a Snickers!”
“Not in the same stratosphere as what’s happening here.” Stiles leveled Scott with a glare that conveyed the importance of what was happening. Or could be happening. Or should be happening if Scott was a true best bro.
“If you two are done?” the gorgeous man who wanted to give Stiles his number asked. “We need to be going.”
Stiles was impressed at the forwardness. It really worked for him. “Yeah, I think -” he cut himself off as the man tugged on the doggie-love-of-his-life’s collar and he had to let go of his grip of gorgeous fluffy fur. “Right. You and your dog need to be going.”
Not Stiles and the gorgeous guy and the dog. Damn it.
“Yeah, we do.” The guy hesitated and looked like he was going to say something. Then snapped his jaw shut and gave them an equally sharp nod. “Good luck with - school,” he finished haltingly.
Because Stiles was done with finals and had no need to set up doggie playdates to cuddle his soul back into his body, and so had to watch both gorgeous creatures walk away. Down the street and out of his life.
“I don’t even know their names,” Stiles mourned.
“Do I earn my best bro status back if I tell you to go after him?” Scott said, shoving Stiles’ shoulder.
And Stiles didn’t know why that hadn’t occurred to him. “Yes, yes Scottie you do.” He clapped Scott on the back and then took off.
“Hey, hey!”
The guy didn’t stop, didn’t turn, but he also didn’t speed up. Stiles chose to take that as a positive sign.
“Hey, uh, dude,” Stiles said, catching the guy’s shoulder.
“Don’t call me dude,” the guy said flatly, finally deigning to look at Stiles.
“Okay, sorry?” Stiles offered, hands up in defense. “It’s just - it’s not like I know your name? You never told me.”
“You never told me yours.”
“Stiles.”
“Sadie.”
Stiles tried to hide his surprise, but he was pretty sure he failed given the glare the guy was leveling him with. “Cool, cool, that’s a cool name. I mean, I go by Stiles you wouldn’t believe the looks I get with that -”
“Her name is Sadie,” the guy said, tilting his head to indicate his dog.
His dog who was panting up at him, smiling, a happy floof ball that had Stiles holding back the urge to collapse onto her again.
“Yeah, of course! Sadie, Sadie hi,” he said, running a hand through his hair. “Sadie, who might be interested in keeping a tragic college student alive through cuddle dates? Coffee and dog-love, that’s all my poor shriveled soul needs and hey look at that Sadie seems happy to be of service and there’s a coffee shop a few blocks down?” Stiles bit his lip and tried not to look desperately hopeful.
He wasn’t sure he succeeded.
The guy eyed him, giving Stiles a once over that left heat crawling across Stiles’ skin in its wake.
“Can’t,” the guy said, and Stiles couldn’t tell if the grimace on his face was regret that it was true or annoyed he had to fake it.
“No worries spontaneity isn’t everyone’s thing, I get it -” Stiles said, backing away.
“No! It’s - she’s got training. It’s at the lake, we’re working on making her a water rescue dog. But -” the guy ducked his head again and how did a guy that gorgeous get to be so bashful? He was driving Stiles insane - “later? I can text you, if you want to give me your number.”
Stiles walked back to Scott in a daze.
“He’s like, the hottest person on the planet and has the sweetest most floofiest dog and he’s training her to rescue people, Scott! Rescue people, in a lake!” He threw up his hands, trying to convey his disbelief that such a human being existed and also wanted his number. Stiles. Stiles’ number. A guy like that wanted Stiles’ number.
“I’m going to marry him and have all his floofy puppies.”
“I’m happy for you?”
“I need to start a five year plan. A five year plan to woo the man of my dreams.”
“And his dog,” Scott added.
“And his dog, Sadie, who is a queen among men. A five year plan to woo Sadie and -” Stiles froze. “I don’t know his name. He told me her name but not his. Why don’t I know his name? Why didn’t I ask?”
“You’ve got five years to figure it out?” Scott offered.
Hey, this is Derek
Sadie’s Derek?
Yes
Hello there Sadie’s Derek will you please do me the honor of asking Her Majesty when she is available to fetch my soul and return it back to my body?
So I’m just the messenger boy now?
Well if you want to snuggle my soul back into my body then just name the time and place and I’ll be there with bells on
Please don’t mean that literally
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