Chapter Text
Stiles didn’t sleep around. He swore it. He was a high school student who had more important things to worry about than quenching his thirst for sexual activity. Okay, maybe that wasn’t exactly true, but it wasn’t like he had the time anyway, even during summer break. He had grades to worry about, and lacrosse, and homework. And it wasn’t like he had many people throwing themselves at him.
It was just one night. The night he had walked in on his dad and Melissa.
He hadn’t seen anything scarring, anything that would follow him around for the rest of his life. The two were simply curled up in front of the television, speaking softly and laughing with each other, when he had come into the living room.
There had been shouts, his father frantically getting up and trying to reach him but before he even realised what he was doing, Stiles had been standing in the parking lot of the nearest bar. He wanted— he needed to get wasted.
He hadn’t ever imagined any other woman being with his father but his mother. To Stiles, his mother had been IT for them. And once she was gone, it had just been the two of them. He liked what they had. He didn’t want anyone intruding in that, and he definitely did not want anyone replacing his mother. `
It was true, when he looked back, that if it had to be anyone, he would have hoped it would be Melissa. She had been there for them ever since Stiles could remember, through everything, and she was, after all, his best friend’s mother. His father had been alone for nearly ten years, and it was time that he finally allowed himself to open up to love. Nevertheless, it stung, and in that moment, all he had wanted to do was forget.
So he had. Using his fake ID, that was surprisingly easy to hide from his father might he add, he had instantly purchased the strongest alcohol he could think of and sat down at a stool at the corner of the bar. Numbly, he watched as people around him drunkenly attempted to procreate whilst wearing clothes, slowly sipping from his glass.
He had always been good at this, despite people thinking otherwise. Watching, understanding, sitting in a corner and observing. Sure, when he got nervous he tended to rant on about anything and everything until someone brave enough to approach him physically stopped him from speaking, and he definitely didn’t mind being the centre of attention, but he liked this as well. Standing silently on the outside, looking in.
His mind began drifting as he looked out at the crowd, drink in his hand. Suddenly, a large shadow blocked his view, and as he looked up, he saw—
Holy fucking mother of God.
What Stiles saw before him could not possibly be human. Some kind of divine creation at least. Because that beauty resembled a god’s—
“You looked lonely, thought you might want some company”, the man spoke up, and God, that voice. He quirked a peculiarly dark, bushy eyebrow as he looked down at Stiles, and Stiles couldn’t help losing himself in his strangely familiar, yet beautiful emerald eyes. As he realised what he was doing, he cleared his throat and gestured towards the stool next to him.
“Yep! No company here! I’m very, very lonely— not that I don’t have any friends or anything, but like, right now, I’m completely free for you to sit beside me, or on me, or whatever—I like your face.” Stiles cringed as he realised that once again, he had blurted out everything he was thinking, but once he looked back at Sexy Eyebrows Man, he could detect a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
“Sorry, sorry, I do that sometimes” he exclaimed, causing Sexy Eyebrows to chuckle.
“I like your face too, if you want to know”
Stiles choked on the gulp of alcohol he had been drinking to calm his nerves, instead serving to make even more of a fool of himself.
He stopped to look at him, eyes skimming over his face. Dark mussed hair, high cheekbones, five-o’clock shadow and a piercing gaze that met his.
Sexy Eyebrows Man had nodded, pointing his chin to somewhere behind Stiles.
That somewhere had ended up being the coat closet, hidden in the dark corner of the bar.
Stiles would probably never look at coat closets in the same way ever again.
He had discovered what that godly man looked like under his henley, that he let out low growls when he groaned, and how exactly Stiles could provoke those groans. He had linked his hands through the man’s hair, pulling at it, and when they were done and their clothes had been retrieved, they had stayed another ten minutes, Stiles pushed against the closet door, making out.
It was only once Stiles had sneaked back into his room, the moon tracing patterns across the floor in the dark, that he realised he hadn’t asked the man for his name.
—
And here he was now, staring at Derek from across the hall of the Stilinski house, eyes wide, and for once completely silent.
Once Stiles had accepted the relationship between Melissa and his father, the Sheriff had announced that he had invited Melissa, and therefore the rest of the McCall household, to move in with them. Once the shock had subsided, excitement ensued at the prospect of living with his best friend.
And when Melissa had explained to Stiles that Derek, Scott’s older brother, was back from his father’s to begin his last year of high school at Beacon Hills, and would also be moving in, he had thought nothing of it. Last he had seen of him was a few years ago, when Scott’s father had somehow gotten custody of him, before either of them had even started high school.
And then said Sexy Eyebrows Man stepped onto the Stilinskis’ threshold, and recognition instantly hit both boys. Stiles was dumbstruck, as he mumbled “D-derek?”
“Stiles”, the Sheriff hissed, “Manners!”
Time seemed to stop as he treaded down the last steps of the staircase and grudgingly held out his hand for Derek to shake. Both held on for a second to long as a blush travelled down Stiles’ neck.
Internally, he shouted at himself. He knew he recognised the man at the bar, and now that he was presented to him as his best friend’s older brother, it was so clear. How had he not realised the resemblance?
They were all herded into the living room, somehow all fitting into the sofa and single armchair, as Stiles’ father stood up, clapping his hands.
“Alright boys! So, I know you’re already friends and everything, but I know teenage boys, and we all know that there will be some fights here and there. That’s fine and all, but let there be no wreckage, if you don’t mind. And, God, I hope neither of you are as messy as Stiles because if you are, this house is soon going to look like a pig sty.”
“And Scott, Derek”, Melissa piped in, pointedly looking at her sons, “This is a new house, but rules still apply. You’re both still going to have chores, and under no circumstances are you allowed anyone in your room with the door locked, okay?”
At this, Stiles dared a look at Derek, who was already staring right back at him.
“Well”, the sheriff chuckled, “Do whatever you like as long as no one else is in the house. I just don’t want to suffer hearing strange noises from any of your rooms”
“Dad!”, Stiles laughed halfheartedly, throwing a cushion at his father, as Scott blocked his hears, laughing along with him.
“I’m just joking! Kind of!” He shushed Stiles and pointed him towards the staircase. “Now you go and show the boys their bedrooms and I’ll help Melissa unpack the rest of the car, ok?”
Scott, who had already unpacked his things in Stiles’ room, raced up the stairs in front of him. Stiles trudged up behind him, all the while feeling Derek’s eyes on the back of his neck.