Archive of Our Own ^beta

When his alarm went off at half-past four in the morning, it was so loud he was pretty sure it blew out an eardrum. His head jerked up off his pillow, heart pounding in his chest at being startled into consciousness so aggressively, and he reached out for his phone to shut off the alarm. 

His hand smacked around on his night stand for a few seconds before he followed to source of the noise and realized his phone was beside his pillow. Right, he’d forgotten about last night. 

He’d been on a call with a client in Japan for almost an hour, but because of the time difference, mid-day for them was not so much for him, and he’d gone to bed way too late to be awake this early. 

That was the job though, so he couldn’t complain. Sometimes he was up all night, it came with the territory. 

At least it paid well. 

He finally managed to silence his alarm, rubbing at his eyes with thumb and forefinger while bracing himself on his other forearm, back arched as he stayed motionless on his stomach for a few seconds. 

When he was sure he was awake enough to function—barely, but still functioning—he rolled onto his back and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He plugged his phone in to charge before heading to the bathroom so he could grab a quick shower, hoping he didn’t pass out while doing so and deciding he should take a cold one.

Positively arctic. 

Okay, maybe not quite that cold, but cold enough that it jerked his entire body into survival mode and he managed to actually stay conscious long enough to wash up. He made sure to keep to his usual schedule, not wanting to be late, and got done in the shower in fifteen minutes. 

Climbing out and towelling dry, he got himself organized for the day before going to change in his room, perusing his closet as if he had a really important decision to make. 

Should he wear the navy suit, or the extra navy suit? Decisions, decisions. 

One of his coworkers had once accused him of only having two suits that he wore over and over again, and while he’d started out that way when he’d first been hired almost eight years ago, he definitely wasn’t that way now. He’d taken a picture of his closet to prove his point and summarily shut his coworker up. 

He would love to have super crazy suit options, like a plaid suit, or a red suit, or even a freaking tie dye suit. But he wasn’t allowed, because he was professional and his boss would skin him alive. A lot of other people alternated their outfits with vests, slacks, khakis and blazers. He was too lazy to think that hard on clothes so he’d opted for suits. It was easier to just grab a button-down and a tie, then pull on one of his many suits. 

He decided to go for the extra navy suit today, making sure to find a fun tie—he allowed himself the fun ties!—and a complimentary shirt before pulling everything on. 

Once he was ready to go, polished shoes tied and everything, he grabbed his phone from the night stand and went to mainline coffee. His coffee machine was set on a timer, so when he walked into the kitchen and turned on the light, he was already blessed with the sweet, sweet smell of caffeine. Inhaling deeply, he made a beeline for it, grabbing the travel mug he always used from beside the pot and filling it to the brim. 

“My life’s blood,” he whispered to it before closing the lid and taking a sip. He burned himself instantly, but it was so worth it. 

Checking the time on his watch, he realized he was a minute behind and hurried to grab his briefcase and headed quickly out of his apartment, locking up behind him. He took the stairs down to the ground floor, because the elevator took an eternity, and had just entered the lobby when his usual morning companion exited the lift. 

He offered a smile, and raised his travel mug in greeting. The silent hello was returned with a head jerk and the raising of his own travel mug. 

The two of them headed for the door together, his companion reaching it first and opening it, holding it open for him. Nodding a thanks, he exited the building and went to wait at the curb, the other man following suit a moment later. 

They stood about two feet apart, sipping their coffees and saying nothing to one another. 

Stiles Stilinski had been doing this song and dance routine with his neighbour for just over two years. He didn’t know the guy, or where he lived in the building, or why he was always up and out as early as he was, but while they never spoke because mornings were way too early for polite chit chat, they always greeted one another. 

Honestly, Stiles had started it. His neighbour used to mostly ignore him, aside from the first day where he’d looked startled to see anyone else up as early as him. Stiles could relate, because he’d never encountered another soul awake this early on a weekday except for a couple on the fourth floor who always walked their dog first thing. They’d moved out a year before his new morning buddy had moved in, so now it was just the two of them. 

After a week of seeing him every morning at the same ungodly hour, Stiles decided that, while he was too tired to make friendly, he wanted to at least be polite, so one day when the other man had looked over at him as they exited the elevator and stairwell at the same time, Stiles had smiled. 

The guy had looked startled, and kind of confused, but he’d offered a small nod in return. 

And thus, their silent bro-ship was born! They always got downstairs within seconds of one another, and they always silently greeted each other before waiting at the curb for their respective rides. 

Stiles had a car, but it was absolutely out of the question for him to drive it all the way downtown with the price of both gas and parking. There weren’t a lot of places to park near his office, and they didn’t have a lot for their employees, so Stiles had calculated the price of parking versus taking a cab to the office five days a week. 

By some absolute shocking turn of events, the cab was actually cheaper. He’d have preferred taking transit, but the buses didn’t start until much later out in his area, so while he did bus home at the end of the day, getting to work required either a drive all the way downtown, or a cab. He had a regular cabbie now anyway, so it worked out well for him. 

He assumed his morning friend was in the same boat as him, though he had a friend or coworker pick him up every day. The two cars usually arrived within a minute of each other; sometimes Stiles’ cab was first, sometimes his morning friend’s ride was first. 

Considering the horrible hour, he had to wonder what kind of job the other guy had. He always dressed fairly casually, wearing faded jeans and a T-shirt, sometimes with a bulky jacket overtop during the colder months. At first glance, Stiles had thought maybe he was a firefighter, but something about the way he held himself made him think he was wrong. 

He couldn’t place what it was that made him feel that way, he just felt like the guy had a vibe to him that might look like a firefighter but he wasn’t actually. 

Though the guy definitely had the build for it. He was effortlessly attractive, and Stiles always felt like his mornings were made whenever this was the first face he saw every day. He seemed like he might take a little time to warm up to, but he’d never been rude to Stiles, so he figured the guy just wasn’t a morning person.

To be fair, neither was Stiles. Especially not at this hour. 

Stiles had his phone out within a minute of being outside, having to juggle a bit so that he was holding his coffee and briefcase in one hand, and his phone in the other. One of his coworkers was texting about settlement instructions being wrong, as if Stiles could fucking do anything while standing outside his apartment building. 

He texted back for them to confirm with the Settlements team on the correct coding and to pass the information along to their back office to have the instructions updated. He’d barely even sent the message when someone from the Settlements team was emailing him. 

For fuck’s sake, Stiles thought, exasperated. Sometimes having his work account connected to his personal phone was a curse, but at least he had an email to pass along to his coworker so they could get everything organized before he got there. 

Sometimes, he wondered how the overnight crew didn’t fall apart, they literally texted and emailed him constantly the second he was out of sight. It was a wonder he managed to get any sleep.

Not that he did, really, since he was always talking to clients, and foreign clients had absolutely no concept of time zones. 

He was never going to forget their client from London who’d called him once at three in the morning to yell at him. Stiles had been forced to bite his cheek until bleeding to stop from snapping something rude in a confused haze of sleep deprivation. 

Sometimes he hated his job. 

But money. 

Also he only hated his job sometimes. The rest of the time, it was interesting and he had a good time with it. 

When headlights flashed across the front of the building, he looked up. His morning friend always just stood there staring into the void while he waited, so he was already looking over at the car approaching them. 

It was his friend’s ride, so Stiles looked back down at his phone, scowling at one of the emails in his inbox and wondering how things could fall to shit so fucking quickly in only three hours. 

For fuck’s sake, he’d checked his messages before taking the call from his client in Japan, this was ridiculous! He needed a raise. 

He needed a vacation.

Fuck, he needed to get laid. Stress relief, anything. 

The car eased to a stop at the curb, and Stiles glanced up long enough to lock eyes with his morning friend. They did their usual smile/head jerk song and dance in parting, and the other man climbed into the car. He’d only just shut the door when Stiles’ cab came around the corner, lights flashing across the front of the building again. 

Stiles moved quickly towards the left so the cab could turn around behind the other car and climbed into the back, offering his cabbie a friendly greeting despite the hour. 

“Morning Conrad.” 

“Good morning, Stiles,” Conrad Fenris replied cheerfully. “History of the Titanic okay for this morning?” 

“Sure.” 

He reached over to press play on his phone and then pulled away from the curb. 

The guy had been driving him for what seemed like forever, they were practically besties at this point. And because he knew him so well, he also knew Stiles liked to just exist in the morning, so he didn’t really speak to him much anymore and just played random podcasts for them both to enjoy. 

The drive wasn’t particularly long, probably only about twenty or so minutes. When the cab stopped alongside his office building, Stiles paid with his credit card, leaving his usual tip, and wished him a nice day. Conrad called back a cheery farewell and then eased away from the curb back into traffic. 

Given the hour, the fact that there were already enough cars out to be considered busy was still surreal to Stiles, but he supposed that was just the way the city worked. He’d grown up in a small town where he could literally go miles without seeing another car, so moving to the big city had been a bit of a culture shock for him. 

Mostly, he missed the green. Everything in big cities was just concrete and towers and glass. There was a park a ten minute walk from his office, but it wasn’t the same. He missed the quaint little town life, but also knew he would grow bored of it extremely fast considering how go, go, go his life had become. 

Hell, even going home for vacation for two weeks usually had him crawling up the walls. He wasn’t used to the quiet anymore. 

Walking up to the building’s front door, he pulled his wallet from his pocket and waved it in front of the sensor, the reader able to pick up his pass despite the leather encasing it. The doors were always locked this early in the morning, and required a building pass to enter, so Stiles waved it until the lock clicked and then pulled open the door. He headed across the lobby, raising his coffee hand in greeting to the night guard, who offered him a stern but somehow friendly-feeling nod. 

Getting into the elevator, he swiped his pass again, then hit the button for his floor. When the doors opened and he swiped his pass for a last time to get into the secure area that comprised his department, he could already hear his coworkers chatting loudly—and very quickly—to one another as the night shift and morning shift swapped out. 

As he rounded the corner to head towards his office, he walked past his coworkers and offered a nod. “Morning,” he said, voice lacking its usual energy as it always did this early in the day.

“Morning Stiles!” one of his coworkers called, much too cheerfully. They were from the night shift, so it made sense. They were more awake than he was. 

Setting his coffee down, then his briefcase, Stiles took a seat at his desk and wiggled his mouse to bring it out of sleep mode. He had to type his password four times because he kept typoing the damn thing since it was long as hell and had to have all those usual capital, lower case, number and symbol bullshit parameters, but he finally got himself into his computer and opened all his programs. 

He had to reach out to shift one of his three screens a little bit, since it had been moved and it would drive him absolutely crazy if it wasn’t just right, and then started opening all his programs. 

He’d barely even gotten started when someone knocked on his door. 

It took a conscious effort not to sigh, and he just motioned whoever it was in over the large screens in front of him. 

It was going to be another long, tiring day. But at least it was never boring. 

Stiles always felt a little thrown off on the mornings his friend wasn’t there. He knew the guy took vacation, because of course he did, everyone took vacation at some point, but it always made him feel off somehow. He felt like he was late, or early, or forgetting it was a weekend or holiday. 

It didn’t happen often, since the guy seemed to be more of a workaholic than Stiles was, but it still threw him off whenever it happened. He also worried sometimes that maybe the guy had moved out and he’d never see him again, which would be an absolute tragedy for his eyeballs. It wasn’t like they were actually friends, so he doubted it would occur to the guy to let Stiles know he was moving. 

He hoped he hadn’t moved this time around, because it had been almost four whole days since he’d seen the guy, and whenever there was a long absence, his mind went to the worst places. 

A part of him idly wondered if his morning friend worried about him having moved when Stiles took time off. It was a nice thought, so he liked to pretend that he did. Realistically though, Stiles had no interest in moving. He liked his penthouse, he liked the neighbourhood, and he liked that there was at least some greenery out here, even if it wasn’t much. Still more than downtown. 

And while yes, the transit thing was obnoxious, he’d bought his place for a really good price, and it was huge. Their building only had two units on the top floor, that being two separate penthouses, and it had two floors. It was absolutely massive, and beautiful, and Stiles loved it. 

It reminded him of his home, except modernized and higher off the ground. He really liked it, so he had absolutely no plans of moving. 

When five days passed of no morning friend, Stiles just hoped that Monday would yield a better result, but didn’t even have to wait that long. He was walking down the street on his way back to the building from the bus stop when he saw his morning friend heading in his direction with a brunette beside him. She was speaking to him excitedly about something, and while the guy’s expression didn’t change, it was obvious he was listening to her intently. 

He looked so casual, wandering slowly down the street with this girl, hands in the pockets of his usual jeans and wearing a black Superman shirt. It was such a weird thing to see him in, because the shirts he wore in the morning were usually just plain colours, but he liked them all. T-shirts made the guy’s muscles bulge like crazy and damn if Stiles wasn’t into that. 

They were coming up to one another on the sidewalk, his friend noticing someone else was there and shifting aside behind the girl slightly to let him pass, but he looked up before they fully walked by one another. 

Stiles smiled at him, like he did every morning, and the guy took a second to realize it was someone he knew before offering his usual head jerk in greeting. 

Then they continued past each other without a word. 

“What the hell was that?” he heard the girl ask, stopping mid-sentence to redirect. “Who was that? Who are you bro head jerking to?” 

Stiles was too far and his friend’s voice too low for him to hear the response, but the girl’s voice carried a lot further as she harassed the guy, demanding he tell her everything or she’d put hair dye in his shampoo again. 

That made Stiles laugh, and he ascertained immediately that the girl had to be this guy’s sister. He might be an only child, but he’d grown up around a lot of friends with siblings, and the only takeaway he’d ever had was that siblings existed to make each other’s lives miserable. But only them! They could be mean to their sibling, but they’d go absolutely feral if anyone else was. 

It was kind of weird, in Stiles’ opinion, but it made for entertaining nights out sometimes. He wished he’d had a brother or sister growing up, but considering his dad always said he’d barely survived one of him, it was probably for the best there was only one of him. 

Entering the building soon afterwards, he went to take the stairs up to the top floor, too lazy to wait for the elevator—or rather, impatient, considering. When he entered his apartment, he put his briefcase down by the door, and immediately stripped off his tie while heading for the back of the large condo. 

Letting out a loud, relieved sigh as he fell onto his back on his couch, he threw one arm over his eyes and contemplated his evening. He wanted something good, but he was too lazy to cook. He didn’t feel like going back out though, and none of the places nearby that delivered were calling to him. 

He was still lying there on his back, contemplating the most important life choice he had to make for the day—that being, what food to put into his stomach—when he heard his lock snap loudly, denoting someone had just unlocked his door. 

Stiles didn’t even move, staying exactly where he was on the couch with one arm over his eyes and his sluggish brain still cycling through all the possibilities. Thank God for weekends, because it was the only time he could actually convince his stupid noggin to shut the fuck up.

And his phone. God how he adored the silence of weekends. 

“Someone is gonna murder you one of these days,” an unimpressed voice said loudly, the words getting closer and closer as the man approached him. 

“The only person other than dad who has a key is you,” Stiles replied, voice thick as if he’d actually been sleeping. He hadn’t been though.

At least, he didn’t think so. It was possible he’d passed out for a few minutes without noticing. That happened sometimes when he was really sleep deprived. 

“Get up.” He felt a kick to his closest foot, which was flat on the floor from the position Stiles was lying in. “Change into something that makes you look less like a pompous piece of shit, we’re going out.” 

“Or I could stay here and not have to get changed, that’s also an option.”

“No it’s not.” He got another kick to his shoe. “Get up. I got bitten by four kids today, and I need a drink.” 

Stiles couldn’t help the snort that escaped him at those words. “Stop putting your fingers in their mouths and they’ll stop biting you.” 

“Hilarious, Stilinski. Get the fuck up, or I’ll charge you next time you have a dental emergency.” 

He’d walked right into that one, though he knew his friend would never charge him. Stiles had been trying to pay him for years, but apparently his money was bad money and no one at the dental clinic would take it. 

Letting his arm fall over his head, squinting slightly at the harsh light after having been in darkness for so long, he stared up at Jackson Whittemore’s handsome face as his best friend scowled down at him. If he was this impatient, he’d clearly gotten more than a few bites from his patients today. He’d probably had someone come in all in a huff over the price of his services again. 

Stiles found that stupid. If people wanted the best, they had to pay for the best. Sure, Jackson wasn’t cheap by any stretch of the imagination, but he was the best oral surgeon this side of the country, and he wasn’t even thirty yet. 

For another year, at least. Stiles liked to tease him for being old since Jackson was eight months older than him. 

“Where are we going?” Stiles asked, making no move to get up. “Depending on the answer, I might decide to move from this spot.” 

“Enzo’s.” 

Stiles stared at him for a few seconds, then let out the most horrific sound of annoyance he could muster and rolled himself off the couch, using his foot still on the floor and both hands on the coffee table to stop himself from hitting the ground entirely. 

“Fine, but you’re paying for parking if I have to drive your drunk ass home.” 

“I live two blocks away.” 

“Yes,” Stiles agreed, turning to him from the foot of the stairs leading up to his room. “And it is extremely inconvenient for me to go so far out of my way for you all the time.” 

Jackson flipped him off and Stiles continued his ascent to the second floor. 

Stiles and Jackson had known one another since they were five years old, and Jackson had thrown the world’s biggest tantrum because Stiles was using the green marker and wouldn’t hand it over. They’d had the equivalent of a brawl, but the kind five year olds have, and that had somehow turned into them becoming best friends. The next day, Stiles had handed over the green marker he’d hidden away, even though Jackson hadn’t needed it anymore, and they’d been inseparable ever since. 

Stiles had moved out to the city first, and he always teased Jackson for having followed him, but in reality it was because his schooling had taken longer given his profession as an oral surgeon. Still, it was funny to watch Jackson get all offended and argue until his face turned red that he had not followed Stiles! 

Though he totally had, even if it had been after school. To be fair, Stiles would’ve followed him if things had turned out the other way around. 

Jackson hadn’t managed to snag a place in Stiles’ building at the time, but there were a few units for sale in the area and he’d settled for one two blocks down. His place was nice, but Stiles liked his better. He supposed it made sense, since it was his. 

Having their crazy schedules made it hard to hang out most of the time, but they always managed to make the most of any time off they had. Even if it involved Jackson coming to kidnap him so they could go and eat food. 

Damn him for knowing Stiles so well and bribing him with authentic Italian cuisine! 

He didn’t spend long upstairs, changing out into black jeans and a graphic tee. He pulled a plaid overshirt on while he headed back down the stairs, ignoring the look of disdain he got from Jackson for that, but he said nothing. 

Jackson had long ago gotten used to Stiles’ two settings—the most professional suit and tie look he could manage, or the comfortable gremlin who wore too many graphic tees. There was no in between. 

“So,” Stiles said after locking up and heading for the elevator, looping one arm though Jackson’s and cooing, “how was your day? Tell me all about it.” 

Jackson hip-checked him away and Stiles laughed, letting him go and allowing himself to be bodily moved. They stopped in front of the lift, and Stiles hit the button. He hated waiting for it, but Jackson was lazy—legitimately lazy, not pretending to be lazy to hide his impatience lazy—so he always took the elevator. 

“I told you, I got bit by a bunch of kids. One of them practically tore a chunk out of my hand.” 

He raised said hand to show Stiles his injury, and while it did actually look like someone had tried to chomp through it, it was mostly fine as far as he could tell. Wasn’t even bandaged up or anything, so it was likely just a surface wound.

“I could not do your job, man.” Stiles moved forward when the elevator doors opened. “Mouths are gross.” 

“Says the guy who puts dicks in his mouth,” Jackson countered, as if he didn’t do the exact same thing. To be fair, he wasn’t complaining about mouths.  

“Dude,” Stiles insisted, hitting the ground floor and then leaning back against the side of the elevator, Jackson doing the same across from him, “I haven’t gotten laid in forever. I haven’t had a dick in my mouth for like, six months, at least. I don’t even know if I remember what dick tastes like, at this point.” 

“We were talking about how gross mouths were,” Jackson said dryly. 

“Uh, I brought up mouths, you brought up dicks, this is on you,” Stiles informed him. 

“You’re an idiot.” 

“A horny idiot,” Stiles complained, letting his head thunk back against the elevator wall and whining. “Could really go for like, a mega hard rail. Just have the beefiest motherfucker plow into me from behind until my headboard breaks through the wall.” The elevator jerked slightly before stopping. “That or choke on a massive dick. I miss a good face fuck.” 

The doors opened and Stiles pushed off the wall, he and Jackson moving to exit the elevator. Stiles quite literally froze one step off the lift, wondering if it was possible to just fall right down the elevator shaft though the small gap between the elevator and the floor. 

His morning friend and who Stiles assumed was his sister were both standing off to one side of the lift, obviously having been waiting for it while Stiles had been bemoaning his lack of a sex life. 

Well. That was embarrassing. But probably a good reminder for him to not be so fucking crass in public, Christ almighty. 

A part of him wondered if he should apologize, but considering the stoic look on his morning friend’s face and the shit-eating grin on his sister’s, Stiles chose the much more mature path of absolute silence and just moved quickly after Jackson, heading towards the door that led to the elevator that went down to the garage on the left. 

He’s only taken two steps towards it, Jackson holding it open for him, when a voice behind him called out. 

“He’s got a massive dick, by the way.” 

“Cora!” 

Stiles turned sharply, mostly because he had to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Sure enough, the girl was grinning like a mad fool, being yanked into the elevator, even as she grabbed at the edge of it to stop from disappearing into it fully. 

“Just thought I’d let you know, in case you’re in the mood to blow someone!” She was almost yanked out of sight but managed to keep her grip, grinning broadly. “He could use some stress relief!”

Stiles saw arms wrap around her middle from behind, and she was wrenched fully into the lift, a mad cackle the last sound he heard before the doors shut. 

He stood there staring for what felt like an age, then slowly turned to look at Jackson, as if needing confirmation that had actually just happened. 

Jackson looked unimpressed by the entire thing, and motioned for Stiles to hurry up. 

“Get the fuck over here, I’m hungry and I need a drink.” 

Stiles glanced back over at the elevator, and while he was positive it was just his imagination, he was pretty sure he could hear the girl cackling all the way back to her brother’s apartment. 

When Monday morning rolled around, Stiles had mostly forgotten about what had happened on Friday. It was too early in the morning, and he was much too tired from oversleeping on the weekend and fucking over his schedule—a common occurrence, but it didn’t make it any less hard to tolerate. 

It wasn’t until he was at the ground floor, about to push open the door, that he remembered the last time he’d seen his morning friend and he froze. 

Jesus fucking Christ, he’d been talking about getting railed and being face fucked. And the super attractive and unattainable guy had heard him! 

Sure, his sister had started throwing out all those jokes afterwards about him having a big dick—Stiles didn’t doubt it, he’d seen the dude’s hands—but he didn’t want this to be awkward. He had no idea how to not make it awkward, but standing motionless in the stairwell for the rest of time wasn’t going to help him, so he just steeled himself, hardened up his liquid spine, and pushed open the door. 

His friend was halfway across the lobby, presumably because of Stiles’ brief delay in the stairwell, but he turned when he heard the door open. 

Stiles thought he was going to be completely ignored or shunned or any other number of things, but after what felt like ten thousand years—but was more like two seconds—the other guy did his usual head jerk greeting and raised his travel mug of coffee. 

Oh good! They were going to pretend Friday had never happened! Excellent! 

Stiles immediately offered a brilliant smile and raised his own travel mug, moving quickly across the lobby while his morning friend waited for him to catch up. They got to the door and Stiles held it open for the other man this time, getting a nod of thanks. 

Walking to the curb, they shifted to their usual waiting spots two feet apart, and Stiles pulled out his phone when he felt it buzzing with messages against his leg. He noticed his morning friend side-eying him, but resolutely ignored him. 

If he thought about it too much, he was going to think himself into a panic and start babbling incessantly about what had happened when it was entirely likely the other man had just let it go ten minutes after it had happened. 

At least Stiles knew he wasn’t homophobic, so he had that going for him. Yay. 

They were both silent, as always, Stiles tapping away at his phone and the other man staring at nothing in particular. 

And Stiles. 

He was definitely casting occasional glances at Stiles.

Except he definitely wasn’t, because Stiles was not going to overthink this! No overthinking, thoughts were bad! Especially the over kind. Over thoughts were the worst. Stop. Cease. 

Desist! 

He jumped when lights flashed across the front of the building, as if he hadn’t literally been doing this for eight years of his stupid life, and was somewhat relieved to see it was his cab. Thank fucking God. 

He turned to smile to his friend as the cab turned around so it could park at the curb, and the other man did his head jerk just as his phone went off. He had to dig it out of his pocket, Stiles waiting for the cab to stop beside him and reaching for the door.

“Shit.” 

Aside from the angry shout of his sister’s name the previous Friday, this was... the first time Stiles had ever heard him speak. He hadn’t really given it much thought, too busy being embarrassed by what had happened, but it occurred to him the first word he’d ever heard come out of his mouth was his sister’s name. 

The second word was a swear. 

Stiles didn’t exactly mean to turn, having already pulled open the door and about to step into the cab, but he couldn’t help it. He shifted to look behind him at his morning friend, and realized... there was no car coming. 

Usually his cab and the other man’s ride were always within a minute of each other, and one of them had never left before the other’s ride had arrived. But Stiles was about to get into the cab, and there was no car. 

He hesitated, not sure whether or not he should actually say something, but considering the guy had heard him talking about dicks not two days ago, he figured there was no harm. Wasn’t like things could get any worse, right? 

“Everything okay?” 

The other man’s head jerked up, as if startled to find Stiles still there, and talking to him. He looked back down at the phone in his hand and scowled. 

“My friend’s car died. She thought she could get it started again, but her boyfriend just got there and said the engine overheated.”

“Shit,” Stiles said. He didn’t know much about cars, but he knew enough from experience that engines overheating were not good. 

A loud, annoyed sigh left the other man then, clearly not angry at his friend, but at the situation. It was obvious he was now without a ride, and would likely be calling a cab.

Stiles paused at the thought, turning to look at the vehicle he was half-into, and realized... he had a cab. 

He didn’t know where this guy was going, but if it was anywhere close to downtown, they could just ride in together. The buses started earlier in the heart of town for commuters, so he was sure the guy could get where he needed to be. 

“Where are you headed?” 

The other man paused in his typing, slowly lifting his head to look over at Stiles. 

“What?” 

Stiles motioned the cab unnecessarily with the hand holding his coffee. “No point in both of us taking a cab if we’re going in the same direction. I’m headed downtown to the corner of Birch and Bay. If you need a ride out that way, might as well tag along.” 

For a moment, he said nothing, staring at Stiles for a long while. Then he looked down at his phone, staring at it exceptionally hard, before locking the screen and putting it back into his pocket. 

“I can pay for the ride.” 

“Why?” Stiles asked with a snort. “I was taking it anyway, I was gonna end up paying no matter what.” 

“I can still pay.” 

“It’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine,” the guy insisted, approaching the cab. “You’re doing me a favour, so I’m paying.” 

“If you pay, I’m not letting you into this cab.” 

“Pretty sure I can muscle my way past you into it whether you want me there or not.” 

“No way, I can totally take you, easy!” 

“You sure about that?”

“Positive.” 

“I’m not letting you pay.”

“And I’m not letting you pay!” 

“How about you compromise and split the difference?” 

Stiles jumped at that, turning to look into the cab and seeing Conrad staring out at them, looking somewhat amused. 

“We’re on a schedule if you want to get to work on time, so how about we go and you guys each pay for half the fare. Sounds like a nice compromise to me.”

Turning back to his morning friend, Stiles hated admitting defeat, but the cabbie wasn’t wrong. Stiles was gonna be later than usual if he stalled for too long, but it wasn’t like he was going to abandon the guy when they were probably going the same way. 

“Fine,” Stiles said, tilting his chin up and going for pompous. “I can live with that.” 

The other man crossed his extremely muscled arms—thank you, Lord—over his chest, clearly annoyed about losing the fight, but he eventually just nodded once curtly. 

“Fine,” he agreed. 

Stiles beamed at him, and motioned him on over, then got into the cab, sliding along the seat to the other side so his morning friend didn’t have to walk around the car. He climbed in shortly afterwards, pulling the door shut and buckling himself in. Stiles did the same, but more slowly, since he had both hands full whereas the other guy only had the one hand holding his coffee. 

When they were set to go, the cab pulled away from the curb, heading down the street and around the corner so they could make their way towards the road leading into downtown. 

“Birch and Bay good for you?” Stiles asked, the other man nodding while sipping at his coffee. He was still scowling, like he was annoyed, but Stiles was glad he’d agreed to the compromise. 

Or at least, he better have agreed to the compromise and wasn’t just humouring him. He’d start biting if they got to the end and the guy used his considerable muscles to bully him out of paying. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. I can take the twenty-four up to Adriatic road and I’ll still be on time. I always show up early anyway.” 

Stiles’ eyebrows shot up. “You show up early?! At this ungodly hour?! Why?!” 

He got a weird look for that, as if clearly being judged since he basically did the same thing—but he didn’t know that!—but he eventually said, “My friend is a baker, and she starts earlier than I do. It’s get a ride in early from her, or fork over money to get my own cab. I’d rather save the money.” 

“That’s fair,” Stiles agreed, nodding in understanding. “I’d love to get a ride, but I’m stuck with this guy.” He nudged the back of the driver’s seat, but saw Conrad grinning in the rearview mirror. 

“It must be expensive.” 

“It is, but it’s cheaper than paying for gas and parking downtown so,” Stiles shrugged. “Lesser evil, and all that. Besides, without me, Conrad would be out on the streets.” He grinned and nudged the back of the driver’s seat again. 

“Yes, thank you ever so much for not letting me starve,” the cabbie said, an eye roll clear in his voice, even if Stiles couldn’t see it. 

“You are so welcome,” Stiles said with a grin, turning to look at his morning friend. The other man snorted, but Stiles was glad he was amused. 

When silence fell, the radio not playing one of the cabbie’s podcasts since he likely hadn’t queued it up when Stiles entered with a friend, it felt kind of weird. He felt like he should probably be saying something but he had no idea what. He’d never actually spoken to the guy before, and he didn’t usually even talk this early in the morning. 

“His name is Stiles, by the way.” 

Stiles started, having been lost in thought about what to say, and noticed Conrad watching him in the rearview mirror. 

“Right!” He turned to the other man in the cab with him. “Stiles! Is me. I’m Stiles. I have manners, I promise.” 

“No one has manners at this hour of the day,” the other man said, giving Stiles a pass. “Derek.” 

Halle-fucking-lujah, he finally had a name. 

“Nice to meet you.” Stiles paused. “Officially. Past the whole head nod, raised coffees and smile thing.” 

That earned him another snort, but he also got a nod in return, so he’d take it. 

“So,” Stiles said, stretching the vowel out a bit before continuing, “where uh, do you go this early in the morning?” 

“Work.” 

He gave Derek an unimpressed look, and the guy had the absolute nerve to look smug. 

“Thanks, jackass, I figured that out for myself.”

“Then why did you ask?” 

Oh my God, this man is perfect. Anyone who could match his level of sass was automatically his future husband, whether they wanted to be or not. 

Stiles didn’t make the rules, this guy was stuck with him now. 

“I will throw you out of this moving vehicle,” Stiles threatened, motioning behind Derek. “Don’t test me.” 

Derek smirked then, like he was imagining it and liking his chances, but he seemed to show Stiles pity because he actually answered his poorly asked question.

“I work in construction. Construction labourer, so a lot of manual work.” 

“Aha!” Stiles pointed at him, finally having an answer for all those muscles. “I knew you weren’t a firefighter!”

Derek looked confused. “Why did you think I was a firefighter?” 

“I didn’t think you were a firefighter. You have the look of one, though. I just couldn’t figure you out.” He motioned his head then. “Where’s your hard hat and your vest and stuff?” 

“At work,” he admitted. “I only bring my stuff home when I change sites after a project, and even then I usually leave it in Erica’s car since she gives me a ride the next morning.”

Erica must’ve been the friend’s name. 

The one with the boyfriend who is definitely taken and thus not dating Derek, his mind supplied unhelpfully. He told it to shut up and stop overthinking about Friday. 

“Do you like it?” Stiles asked curiously. “Building and all that.” 

“It’s a lot of hard work, but I enjoy it.” Derek shrugged and crossed his insanely muscled arms once more, head turned to look at Stiles. “I get to wear more comfortable clothes than you do, at any rate.” 

Stiles blinked at him, then looked down. He was so used to his suits that he sometimes forgot when he was wearing one. 

“Oh. Yeah, well, comes with the job.” He shrugged easily. “I’m pretty used to it after all these years, I don’t even really notice anymore.” 

“What do you do for a living?” Derek asked, his question much clearer than Stiles’. 

“I’m an Institutional trader,” Stiles informed him. 

Derek hummed, nodding once. “That’s really interesting.” 

“Yeah.” Stiles stared at him for a few seconds, a small smile crossing his features. “You have no idea what that is, do you?” 

“Not a clue,” Derek admitted, managing a small smile. 

“It’s okay, neither do I,” Conrad said from the front. “He’s explained it to me at least a dozen times. I just understand big client, buy and sell stocks, make money.” 

“I mean, basically,” Stiles insisted with a laugh. “Though my firm makes the money, not so much me. I just get my salary and bonuses. Depends how well we do.”

“Uh huh. Says the man wearing Armani,” Conrad quipped. 

“Excuse me,” Stiles said, going for offended. “This is Hugo Boss, I’ll have you know. I’m not spending three grand on a suit, a man’s gotta eat.” 

“You own at least one Armani suit, admit it.” 

“I do not,” Stiles argued, pointing a finger at Conrad. “I have one luxury suit. It’s a Saint Laurent, and I only own it because my friend got married and I was best man. All my other suits are more affordable, I’m not made of money!” 

“Says the guy who lives in the penthouse,” he heard Derek said, but he sounded more teasing than bitter. 

“This is bullying,” Stiles insisted, pointing between the two men. “You guys are bullying me. It’s too early to be dealing with this.” 

Derek just laughed, but he and Conrad didn’t say anything else on the matter. Stiles knew Conrad was just teasing him, and while he’d only really just met Derek, it was obvious he recognized Stiles wasn’t a pompous rich asshole. 

Yes, Stiles had money. Good money. He was doing really well for himself. But he worked hard, and had long hours, and had earned every penny. And considering the area he lived in, it was obvious Derek made decent money too, because it wasn’t exactly cheap way out there. He’d always heard people in trades made good money, but Derek had said he was a construction labourer, so he didn’t know how that differed in salary. 

Regardless, he could obviously afford to live in the same area as Stiles, so he had to make good money, or come from money.

They were all silent for at least a minute before Derek asked Stiles once again what he actually did. Stiles spent a better part of the remainder of the ride explaining his job to Derek, and he seemed to understand better than Conrad did. To be fair, Stiles wasn’t sure if Conrad just pretended not to understand, or if it was just one of those jobs he couldn’t wrap his head around. 

Stiles didn’t blame him, he had some jobs he didn’t understand at all, either. Like some government employees, the ones who travelled to other countries for like, trade deals and whatnot. Stiles didn’t get their jobs at all. And he could confidently say that, seeing as his best friend’s wife did that for a living, and he still didn’t get her job. 

The ride in seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, and before Stiles knew it, they were pulling up beside his work. It felt surreal to realize he’d been having an honest to God conversation with someone at the ass crack of dawn, but here they were. 

Stiles made sure to grab the card machine first when he was handed over, just in case. He eyed it critically, comparing it to the metre, to be sure that it was truly half and Conrad wasn’t overcharging Derek, but he should’ve known better. The cabbie was a good guy, so Stiles paid his half—despite still being bitter about it since he would have had to pay anyway—and handed the machine back. He watched Conrad input the same amount for Derek before passing it over once more, Derek paying with his credit card. 

“Thanks for the ride,” Derek said, and started to reach for the handle. 

“You said you were going to Adriatic road, right?” Conrad asked, tearing the receipt from the machine and half-turned to look at Derek. 

Derek glanced at Stiles, then Conrad. “Yes.” 

Conrad waved one hand while setting the machine down with the other. “It’s not far from here, I’ll give you a ride. Both your tips already covered what the fare would’ve been.” 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I know I don’t have to, but I’m offering.” He turned to arch an eyebrow at Derek. “Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth kid, just put your seatbelt back on.” 

Derek looked at Stiles again, like he didn’t know what to do, but eventually pulled his seatbelt back around himself and clicked it home. 

Stiles just grinned at him and opened his own door, being sure to watch for oncoming cars since he was on the road side of the car. “Thanks for the ride, Conrad. See you tomorrow.” 

“See you tomorrow,” Conrad agreed. 

Stiles waved one hand back at Derek, getting his own slightly raised hand in return, and then exited the car, hustling around it quickly to get to the sidewalk. Trust his luck to get run over even while being behind another car. 

He watched the cab pull away from the curb and continue along the road, turning left at the next light to head over towards where Derek was working. 

It was kind of surreal to realize he’d just spent the whole ride into work talking to his morning friend, whom he’d been seeing daily for two years, whose name he hadn’t even known until twenty minutes ago. 

How strange to consider after all this time that they could have been riding in together. Not that Stiles was going to invite himself into his friend’s car or anything, but it was crazy to realize they’d been doing this for two years. 

Then again, if Derek worked construction, he probably wasn’t always at the same sites. His friend likely had to drive him around everywhere, but she seemed fine doing that. Or maybe she just drove him downtown and he bussed from there? 

Stiles didn’t really know, but it was going to rattle around in his brain incessantly for a while. 

“Morning,” he called to his coworkers with a smile as he walked past them. 

“Morning?” one of them said, the word coming out more like a question than anything else. 

It only occurred to Stiles once he was sitting at his desk that... 

That was probably the most chipper greeting they’d ever gotten from him. 

When Stiles reached the lobby the following morning, exiting the stairwell like he always did, Derek was just stepping out of the elevator. They locked eyes and Stiles offered him a smile, toasting him with his travel mug. Derek did his usual head jerk and raised his own coffee. 

Stiles laughed, unable to help himself, and they made their way towards the front door. 

“I can’t decide if I’m tired enough to just go back to being non-verbal again,” Stiles informed him. 

“I think my coworkers would appreciate me still being half-asleep,” Derek admitted, holding the door for him and following him out. “One of them told me I was scary yesterday because I was actually fully conscious for once when they got there.” 

“Yeah, I think I freaked out my coworkers too. I gave them an overly cheerful greeting and I’m pretty sure I short-circuited their brains.” 

Derek managed a laugh at that, shaking his head a bit. When they reached the curb, they went silent again, but didn’t take their usual two feet apart places, instead opting to stand beside each other. 

“How was work for you yesterday, anyway?” Stiles asked. 

“Long.” Derek shrugged. “But rewarding. Project’s coming along pretty fast, we’ll probably be finished ahead of schedule.” 

“Unless you just jinxed yourself,” Stiles teased. 

“Jinxing is not a real thing.”

Stiles scoffed, raising his coffee hand in surrender. “Okay, Mr. Big Man. Let’s see if you still think so when the foundation crumbles beneath your feet.” 

Derek rolled his eyes, but instead of arguing his point, he asked, “How was your day?” 

“Stupid, but that’s normal. I love my job, and my team, but sometimes things are just dumb and I want to brain myself against the closest hard surface.”

“That’d be a shame,” Derek said, and Stiles turned to him, somewhat startled. Before he could really make sense of what had just been said, Derek followed up with, “What time do you finish work at?” 

“Uh, well technically two, but I usually stick around until closer to five.” Stiles eyed him. “What about you?” 

“I’m usually off at three, but I’ve been known to stay later.” 

“And you arrive early,” Stiles said. 

“Lots to do, and all I’ve got waiting for me at home is my TV.” 

“And your bed,” Stiles said. He only realized once the words were out how that might sound and hastened to add, “because sleep! Is good. And nice. Sleep is heaven. Do you sleep?” What kind of question was that?! “Of course you sleep,” Stiles continued quickly, not giving Derek a chance to respond. “Everyone sleeps, it’s a thing we need to do to survive. I meant napping. Do you nap? Are you a napper?” 

Please God, stop talking. Just shut your mouth and stop.

He managed to clack his teeth together, though it was hard, his mouth wanting to continue rambling in an attempt to make this less awkward, even while knowing he was already making it more awkward. 

“I do nap,” Derek admitted, looking amused. “My sister gets annoyed about it. Apparently, I have a talent for passing out anywhere.” 

“I’d love that talent,” Stiles said. “I need something soft to lie on. Like a mattress, or a couch.” 

“Or another body.” 

Stiles shot a look at Derek, and saw the other man watching him, looking two-parts amused, one-part uncertain. 

“Okay,” Stiles said, turning to him and pointing a finger at him with the hand still holding his coffee. “I thought we were pretending that Friday never happened.” 

“Why would we do that?” Derek asked, arching an eyebrow. 

Stiles tried to flap one hand at him, but they were both full and made for difficulty with the flaps. “Because it didn’t happen! You heard nothing! And I heard nothing! We both went temporarily deaf!”

Derek’s face darkened slightly at those words, but Stiles recognized a moment later why when he spoke. “Yeah, I was almost down a sibling, Cora’s lucky I love her so much.” 

“Regardless! We both heard nothing, right?” Stiles motioned between them. “We have never heard each other speak ever until yesterday. First time ever. Never before.” 

Derek still looked amused, but he at least had the decency not to say anything else. They both stood in silence for a few seconds, Stiles shifting his weight and Derek absolutely pleased as punch beside him. 

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore and turned to face Derek again. “So did your sister just say that to fuck with me and embarrass you, or was the implication that you wouldn’t mind getting your dick sucked true?” 

The way Derek’s eyebrows rose ever so slowly would have been comical if Stiles’ heart wasn’t beating fast enough in his chest to have him ready to pass out. 

He’d always been a fairly blunt person, but that had been a lot for even him. 

For a few endless seconds, Derek said nothing. It only had Stiles’ heart pounding even harder. 

But then, very slowly, a smirk began to form on Derek’s lips. “How did I get lucky enough to find someone exactly my type, while also being blunt enough to be worth the wait?” 

“So you do approve of dick sucking,” Stiles said, even as headlights shone right in his eyes when a car rounded the corner. 

Derek turned his head slightly, as if checking for who it was, and Stiles glanced over quickly as well. It looked like it was Derek’s ride, though it wasn’t the same car as usual.

That meant it was probably in the shop and this Erica girl had borrowed someone else’s. Engine failure was a bitch. 

When Derek turned back to him, Stiles’ eyes snapped to him once more. Derek started walking backwards towards the car, even as Conrad came around the corner. 

“Birch and Bay, right? Your office?” 

“Yeah,” Stiles said. 

“I’ll see you at four.” Derek pulled open the passenger side door as Conrad turned wide behind the other car to pull up behind it. “Don’t worry if you’re late. I’ve waited this long, I can wait another hour.” 

With that, he climbed into the car, slammed the door, and Stiles watched it drive away. 

What.

The. 

Fuck!

To say Stiles was distracted all day would be the understatement of the century. He couldn’t stop going over the conversation from this morning over and over again in his head. 

Of course Stiles had always found Derek attractive, he had eyes after all! But he felt like he’d always stayed politely detached, because he’d assumed Derek was straight, and most likely taken. They never really saw each other around the building, maybe once or twice in the past two years, so it was just in the mornings. 

While Stiles was sure Derek had wanted to say something about the conversation on Friday, he likely hadn’t really known how to broach it. His friend’s car breaking down the previous day, allowing the two of them to have a real conversation, seemed to have been the kind of opening Derek had been waiting for but never thought he’d get.

Maybe he wasn’t the kind of guy to just jump in the sack with someone, which was why he’d just ignored what had happened on Friday when they’d met up Monday morning. But after their chat in the cab, brief as it had been, he’d realized that maybe they really did mesh well together. 

And fuck if Stiles’ brain wasn’t going into overdrive thinking about the whole thing. But Derek was right, in a way, because Stiles also felt like he was the luckiest person in the world. Derek was exactly his type, with the muscles, and the stubble, and all those hard edges. He just hadn’t really thought much about it because that was weird to do, considering he didn’t know the guy. But he’d been sassy as fuck in the cab yesterday, and he seemed to have a dark sense of humour, which was right up Stiles’ alley. 

Was it possible they’d just spent the past two years side-eying each other without much thought when they could have just talked to each other—and then some—this whole time?! 

Four couldn’t come soon enough, and Stiles actually started packing his things away at five-to, shoving his empty, cleaned out travel mug into his briefcase before slamming it shut. His coworkers noticed, but none of them said anything. It was obvious something was on his mind all day, and he’d still done his job, so it wasn’t like anyone could complain. 

Besides, his day had been over for two hours, and he was too distracted to get anything else done today. 

He had a hot construction worker waiting for him in the lobby! No one could expect him to be of sound mind right then! 

He called goodbye to the others as he rushed past them, a few of them calling confused farewells, but one of them practically shouting in excited parting. Stiles got to the elevator and stabbed the down button. When it didn’t arrive within point five seconds, he stabbed at it again. When that still didn’t yield the desired result, he said fuck it and went for the stairs. 

There was a reason he used stairs all the time. Much faster. Got him where he needed to be. 

When he exited the stairwell, he looked around the lobby for Derek, and tried to ignore the crushing disappointment when he didn’t see him. Was he too early? Derek had said he worked late sometimes, so maybe he was still on his way? 

Or maybe this had all been a horrible, awful prank and now Stiles was going to have to move, and maybe even leave the country and—

“Good thing I know you always use the stairs.” 

Stiles almost hit the ceiling at the voice in his ear and whipped around. Derek actually laughed at his reaction, looking way too pleased with himself. 

“Where did you come from?!” Stiles demanded. 

“I was waiting by the elevators,” Derek said, motioning behind himself. “But I had my eye on the stairwell door. You basically ran right past me. Didn’t realize you were that eager.” 

Stiles would’ve been embarrassed, except Derek started all of this, so he refused to let him win. 

“You like Italian?” Derek asked, walking past Stiles to lead the way towards the building’s exit. “I know a really good Italian place close to our building.” 

“Fair warning, if you say Enzo’s, I might have to marry you.” 

Derek paused by the door, hand out to push it open, and turned to look at Stiles. He was smirking at him again. “Promise?” 

“Oh my God, how are you doing that?” Stiles demanded, punching Derek’s arm. “Stop checking literally every one of my boxes!” 

“Feeling’s mutual,” Derek insisted, following through on pushing open the door and preceding Stiles out. “Erica spent the whole ride in this morning insisting she’d been right all along and love at first sight is a real thing.” 

“Wait, why would she think that?” Stiles asked, following along as Derek headed for the bus stop closest to Stiles’ office. Stiles grabbed at his sleeve and motioned down the street at the corner. There was an express bus four blocks over that would get them back to their area faster, and stopped a block away from Enzo’s. 

Derek changed directions without a word, trusting Stiles since this was clearly his neck of the woods. “Because I’ve been talking about you for two years.” 

“Shut up, no you haven’t.” 

The look that earned him was unimpressed. “Granted looks aren’t everything, but I’ve found you attractive since the first time I saw you, and having a real conversation with you yesterday, adding in the fact that I knew because of Friday that you at least like men, kind of sealed the deal for me. And we’re about to go to my favourite restaurant, which you just agreed to marry me over, so I think I’m batting a thousand overall right now and finding it hard to argue with Erica.” 

Stiles almost walked into a lamp post, because he was composed that way when faced with the man of his dreams telling him they were basically meant to be together because destiny, or whatever. 

“How come you never talked to me?” Stiles asked. 

“Why didn’t you ever talk to me?” Derek countered. 

“Uh...” Stiles motioned Derek emphatically from head to foot. That earned him an unimpressed look. 

“Stiles, you wear hundred dollar suits to work every day, live in the penthouse, and smell like money.” Derek raised one hand, palm in. “I perpetually have dirt under my fingernails from daily manual labour, suffer from Resting Bitch Face, and can’t hold a conversation without inserting a level of sass people sometimes find offensive.” 

“Are you saying you thought I was uppity and a pompous prick?” Stiles asked, narrowing his eyes accusingly. He made sure to keep his tone light though, so Derek knew he was just kidding. 

“You smiled at me every morning, I knew you weren’t a rich asshole.” Derek rolled his eyes, stopping by the bus stop when Stiles flapped at it with one hand. “Just didn’t really know what to make of you. I was pretty sure you didn’t know how to swear until I heard you describing what you wanted someone to do to you in the elevator.” 

“Rich guys need to get laid, too,” Stiles insisted, ignoring the side-eye he got from the girl waiting at the stop with them. She was doing something on her phone, but had clearly heard him and gotten distracted. 

Stiles didn’t care, he had no shame. 

“How about dinner first?” Derek asked, still looking amused. “Let’s see how that goes. Wouldn’t want to ruin a perfectly pleasant morning greeting by jumping into this too quickly.” 

“I mean, we already agreed we were getting married, I think we’re well past that.” 

Derek made a face suggesting he was conceding his point, and then turned when the bus lumbered to a stop behind him. The two of them climbed on, managing to snag a double seat together with Stiles up against the window and Derek in the aisle. 

Even though it was an express bus, it still took twice as long as their morning trip in to get back to their area in afternoon rush hour traffic, but somehow it didn’t seem to bother either of them. Stiles was more than happy to fill the time with idle chatter, and Derek seemed content to listen. Derek chimed in every now and then, but he seemed to be more of a listener than a talker, which worked out well for Stiles because he was definitely a talker. 

By the time they reached the restaurant, Stiles was worried he’d either run out of things to say, or be annoying enough Derek would re-think this whole outing, but by the time they finished dessert and fought to pay the bill—they compromised and split it—they headed out to the Starbucks a few doors down from the restaurant and stayed there until close to eight before finally heading home. 

Walking into the lobby, Stiles somehow felt more awake than he ever had upon arriving home, even though it was hours later than usual. He headed to the elevator with Derek, watching him hit the ‘up’ button, and waiting alongside him for the slow as fuck thing to make its way back down from wherever the hell it was. 

“So,” Stiles said slowly, turning to look at Derek, “we still married?” 

Derek turned to him and said, deadpan, “With two kids and a dog.” 

“As long as it’s a German Shepard and we named it Roscoe.” 

“Fine, but our kids are named Miles and Eric.” 

Stiles snorted at that, because it was clear he’d done that on purpose so it rhymed with their names. “I’ll accept that.” 

The elevator doors finally opened, the two of them stepping aside to let a woman walking her dog out. She smiled pleasantly at them, and Stiles smiled back. Derek walked into the elevator, but Stiles didn’t. That caused the other man to arch an eyebrow at him, one hand raising to hold the door open. 

“Much as I would love to suck your soul out of your dick right now, tonight actually... went super well, and I’d kind of like this to not just be a friends with benefits thing.” Stiles motioned the elevator. “If I walk in there, I’m gonna get off on your floor instead of mine. I’d rather we stay married, but take it slow.” 

The smile on Derek’s face this time was softer, less of a smirk and more of an actual smile. “I think I’d like that.”

“Good.” Stiles beamed at him and walked closer to the stairs. “Same time tomorrow morning?” 

“I’ll see you in the morning. Good night, Stiles.” 

“Night Derek.” 

Stiles watched Derek lower his hand, and the eye contact they held up until the doors shut felt more charged than any orgasm Stiles had ever experienced. 

This man...

... Was going to kill him. 

One Year Later.

When his alarm went off, it startled ten years off his life expectancy. He jerked up in bed, squinting around himself for a second before letting his head fall back down. He lay there, unmoving, letting his alarm wake the whole damn building and not giving two shits because he was tired. 

“I am breaking your phone if you don’t shut it off,” a voice said, rough with sleep and more of a mumble than anything else. 

Stiles groaned and turned his face further into the chest his cheek had been resting on, inhaling deeply before remembering that was a bad idea, because the scents assaulting his olfactory system would have him want to be late for work. 

Forcing himself to roll over so he didn’t start something he couldn’t finish, he slid out from under the covers and tapped his phone to shut his alarm off. The room went silent, and Stiles heard the body in the bed behind him shifting to roll over, going back to sleep for another fifteen minutes. 

Stiles rubbed at his face with both hands while he headed for the bathroom, dragging his fingers down his cheeks and hoping the shower woke him up a bit more. He shut the door before turning on the light, squinting at the brightness of it, and grabbed for his toothbrush to brush his teeth. 

He felt like molasses this morning, but he felt like that every morning, so he just did what he had to do, then got into the shower. He kept it reasonably chilly, but not freezing, the cold water waking him up into survival mode once more. Once he was done and dried off, he got himself organized for the day and by the time he opened the bathroom door, the light in the bedroom was already on and Derek was fully dressed for the day. 

The two of them swapped places, Stiles kissing Derek’s cheek on his way by and earning a grunt in return before the door shut. Derek was always more asleep than Stiles was in the morning because he showered at night. He needed to wash the grime off himself before he went to bed, so it worked out well for both of them that Stiles showered in the morning, and Derek at night. 

Derek had laid out Stiles’ clothes for the day, like he always did, and Stiles changed out into them relatively quickly, tying his polished shoes by the time the bathroom door opened again. 

He preceded Derek out of the room and down the stairs, walking into the kitchen as Derek got the light and making a beeline for the coffee. He poured some out into both of their travel mugs, slapping the lid on Derek’s and handing it to him before doing the same with his own. 

By the time he turned, Derek had already taken a large swallow, which meant he was awake enough to be something other than a caveman. He leaned forward to kiss Stiles lightly. 

“Good morning,” he said against his lips. 

“Always good when I wake up with you,” Stiles replied. 

Derek let out a small huff of a laugh at that, but he didn’t disagree with him, so Stiles took the win. 

They didn’t dawdle long, Derek draining half his coffee and refilling it by the time Stiles had everything set to go in his briefcase. They headed out of the apartment together, Stiles locking up while Derek went to call the lift. 

Stiles wandered over to him and leaned against him while they waited. Derek wrapped his free arm around Stiles’ shoulders, sipping at his coffee with his other hand. 

“Why are you so lazy?” Stiles asked after a solid minute of waiting. “The elevator is so slow.” 

“I do manual labour all day. You sit at a desk. Let me have my elevator.” 

Stiles groaned, because why did Derek have to be so sensible. He hated it. It made it hard to argue anything with him. 

He still did though. All the time. It was kind of fun. 

“What’s today?” Stiles asked, the elevator finally arriving after eighty-four years, and the two of them stepping into it. 

“Thursday,” Derek said, hitting the ground floor. “Conrad.” 

“Good, I still owe Erica twenty bucks, and I keep forgetting to take money out. She’s gonna hound me about it tomorrow if I forget again.” 

“I told you not to bet against her.” 

“She cheated, and we all know it,” Stiles argued, but only half-heartedly. 

Erica hadn’t cheated, he was just a sore loser. 

They exited the elevator and headed for the door, Derek holding it open for him and following behind him. They went to stand together at the curb, Stiles already on his phone as he leaned into Derek, and his boyfriend staring unseeingly across the street while rubbing at his arm. Despite how much in their morning routine had changed, some things didn’t. Derek still stared into the void while waiting for their ride, and Stiles still had to tell people how to do their jobs. 

It didn’t take long for the cab to show up, lights flashing across the front of the building as the car turned onto their street, and then did a wide turn to stop at the curb. Derek got in first, since Stiles always got out first. 

“Morning Conrad,” Stiles said as he climbed in, putting his briefcase down so he could buckle in. 

“Good morning,” the older man said cheerfully. With Stiles and Derek more awake in the mornings now, they usually spent a majority of the drive talking more often than not, and Conrad loved it. 

The cabbie eased away from the curb, and Stiles finished his message on his phone while Derek asked the cabbie about his Tuesday night concert.

Ever since they’d decided they were absolutely in this for the long run, the only real kink in their morning routine had been figuring out their rides. Stiles had been going to work with Conrad for eight years, the guy was basically family to him. Derek himself didn’t want to lose out on his time with Erica, since she’d also been driving Derek to work since before he’d even moved into the building. 

They had, as always, come to a compromise. Conrad would drive them to work twice a week, and Erica would drive them the other three. When one of them was on vacation, they just had to notify the other and they’d get the full five days in. It worked for them, and it allowed them both to keep to their schedules, at least somewhat. 

Stiles finished up his message, and then put his phone in his pocket, joining the conversation and listening as Conrad went over everything that had happened at the concert he’d attended, including one of the security guards accidentally setting off a fire extinguisher. Stiles didn’t know how someone accidentally set off a fire extinguisher, but it was a funny story all the same. 

The drive to work felt short, as it always did this past year, and when Conrad stopped at the curb, Stiles leaned over to kiss Derek, the other man reaching up to cup his cheek, the kiss lingering. 

“Have a good day,” Derek said against his lips. 

“You too. See you at four.” 

“See you at four,” Derek confirmed, and Stiles climbed out, calling goodbye to Conrad and that he’d see him on Tuesday.

Shutting the door, he headed for his building as the cab eased back into traffic to go and drop Derek off. Waving his wallet in front of the card reader, the door clicked unlocked and he opened it, walking through the lobby and raising his coffee hand in greeting to the night guard. He made it to the elevator in time to see the doors beginning to close, but thankfully the person inside was kind enough to hold the door for him and he hurried forward to enter, thanking them. 

He waved his wallet in front of the sensor again, then hit his floor, the two of them riding up in silence. The other passenger got off first, and then Stiles exited on his floor not long afterwards. Swiping his card a final time to enter the secure area, he walked past his rowdy coworkers and offered them a cheery good morning. 

“Good morning Stiles,” one of them called, extra loudly. 

He just grinned to himself while entering his office, setting his coffee and briefcase down before sitting in his chair, staring at his dark screens. 

His phone was buzzing incessantly in his pocket, and he knew it was going to be another long day, but he also knew that when four rolled around, he would walk down to the lobby and find a very attractive construction worker waiting for him by the stairwell so they could go home together. 

And that, more than anything, was enough to get him through the day. 

END.