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“Eat lunch with me."
Derek internally winced at his harsh tone. He can’t help it if he sounds pissed off all the time. His mom told him it was just the way his voice was, that there was nothing to be ashamed about, that the right people would know he was actually a sweetheart and love him. Problem was, Stiles Stilinski wasn’t one of those people.
Said Stiles looked up from his phone and stared right into Derek’s eyes, cocked an eyebrow, and laughed, “Oh that’s rich, the jock-boy wanting to sit with the nerd. Tell me, are you failing history, is that why I’m worth your time?”
Derek shook his head, but it seemed that Stiles was on a roll, “Oh I know! There’s a bet going around the lacrosse team to make me the next prom king, and you have to do it or else you’ll lose your precious leather jacket that you wear all the time.”
Derek shuffled his feet and ducked his head down. Stiles could’ve just said no, there was no need to make him feel stupid for liking him.
"Derek I don’t want a dumb jock-boy to fool me into thinking that I’m something I’m not.” He returned to his phone and made a hand motion to where Derek’s friends were sitting, “Go sit with the rest of the jocks and tell them to leave me alone."
Derek felt like crying he was so disappointed. Instead, he took Stiles’ advice, and went to sit with his normal friends.
"Any luck?” His best friend, Isaac, asked with a sad smile. One look from Derek, and it turned into a sad grimace, “Guess not…"
Derek huffed and set his head down on the table, his appetite long gone.
It had all started for Derek, as things tend to do, two years ago.
He had just started high school in the middle of his Sophomore year, and he was nervous. He had just moved from Beacon Valley after their mom got a new job, and he was terrified to see what Beacon Hills was like.
At least they had a lacrosse team he could try out for.
He walked in, and someone knocked into his backpack, nearly spilling all his things. His saving grace was that same person who steadied him and put a hand on his books so they didn't fall.
"Hey sorry man you ok?" The person said, and Derek turned to say thanks or even to say something snarky, when his ideas died on his tongue.
The person was gorgeous. He was about the same height as him, and his hair was short, hidden under his beanie. He was wearing a flannel shirt, unbuttoned, with a shirt with the blueprints for the Millennium Falcon. He also wore glasses, but it didn't distract from his beautifully brown eyes. Or his nose that turned up just so, or the splatter of moles on his cheek.
Derek felt his heart stop.
The guy gave him a strange look, but nodded like Derek told him yes, and walked away.
It wasn't until later, after he had went into his English class and heard the roll call, that he learned his name was Stiles, and he had fallen hard ever since.
The fates were not smiling on Derek that week, because the Thursday after Stiles’ epic shut down, the history teacher announced the big project, and split the class up in pairs to work on it. Derek’s partner, of course, was Stiles.
Derek was the one to get up and sit next to Stiles, but he didn’t look at him. He didn’t think he could.
"So man, what do you wanna do the project on? We can’t do it on the history of sports just because you’re the jock, we need a person.” Stiles laughed, “And no I refuse to do it on someone who played sports.”
Derek dropped his head on the desk and thumped it a couple times. That’s what he gets for trying to impress Stiles in class by taking his time with the answer to seem smart. It apparently made him look dumb.
"C’mon dude, don’t leave me hanging."
Derek sighed and lifted his head to mumble, “We can do it on whoever you want, Stiles. I don’t care.”
He was saved by the bell, signaling class being over, and he rushed out of there before he had to hear another Stiles insult.
Lunch that day was worse, somehow.
Derek entered the cafeteria, refusing to look at where he knew Stiles was sitting, probably on his phone, probably with his stupid beanie and his smirk and-
At any rate, he should just leave Stiles alone.
Unfortunately, fate wasn't done chewing Derek up today.
"Hey! Jocky!" He heard Stiles call across the cafeteria, and it made Derek sigh. He never regretted playing sports until this year.
He turned his attention to where Stiles was waiving him over.
Derek blinked. Did Stiles change his mind? Would he like to hang with him?
He walked over, quickly so as to get there as soon as he could without seeming desperate, and went to set his tray down, "Hey Sti-"
"Woah!" Stiles reared back from the table, hands in the air, "I didn't mean to offend you, I was just going to ask about this project."
Oh. Well.
"Why." Derek internally winced again. Quite a charmer.
"Well..." Stiles face scrunched up, although he kept his defensive position up, "I know you're going to graduate based off your sports prowess, but I want to graduate because I passed my classes so..."
Derek felt himself get irritated. Irritated that he was stereotyped because of his sports talents. He wasn't even that great, but to be mislabled as only a jock by his crush...
Well it hurt.
"And I mean I know you're probably not passing but-"
"I'm third in our class, Stiles." Derek finally said, interrupting Stiles.
Stiles dropped his hands and smirked, "There's no way cause I'm secon-"
"Stiles they post the list every year, you never noticed my name under yours?"
Stiles's jaw clicked shut, and Derek had his answer.
"Stiles I'm not just a jock, just like you're not just a nerd." Derek tried to fight back his emotions, but it was difficult, "All I wanted was to eat lunch with you and get to know you, and all you've done is be rude to me. When I say I don't care about who we do it on, I mean because you've already made me feel terrible for something I can't control so I don't care as long as you start being nice to me."
With that, Derek picked up his tray, dumped his food in the trash, and left to sit in the bathroom. He didn't look back to see anyone's reactions to the tears forming just at the corner of his eye.
When Derek closed his locker that afternoon, the last person he expected to be waiting on the other side, well, was.
"Can we talk?” Stiles didn’t look like his normal cocky self. His trademark beanie was pushed low on his forehead, like he had used it to hide his eyes. He looked pale, subdued. He even wasn’t twitching as much as he usually does.
Derek flared his nostrils but nodded anyways.
Stiles took a deep breath, “It’s come to my attention that I’m an asshole-“
Derek snorted. That’s an understatement.
With a glare aimed at him, Stiles continued, “I guess I’ve been a little harsh talking to you. I didn’t realize how smart you actually were, plus the whole ‘lacrosse team not actually knowing who I was’ kinda made me realize that you were just trying to be nice, so. Uh.”
Derek raised an eyebrow. He knew what Stiles was trying to say but like hell he’d make it easier for him.
“What I’m trying to say is…” Stiles sighed, “I’m really sorry dude. You…you wanna work on the project a little tonight? Just look at some people on Wikipedia we could do?"
Derek let Stiles stew for a moment before he responded, “Practice gets done at 4.”
Of course, though, Derek had forgotten about the pictures.
His sisters always made fun of him for loving to take pictures, but he enjoyed the peacefulness of the shutter click and the result of what he saw coming to life on paper. He imagined that people could see what he saw at that point and understand him past his grumpiness, rather than assume he hated the world.
His favorite thing to take pictures of, unfortunately, was currently staring at his favorite photo in shock.
Derek hustled over to the nightstand and promptly snatched the photo of Stiles from last year. It was after a fire drill (chemistry), and Stiles was lying on the grass with his beanie pulled over his eyes, like he was about to go to sleep. Derek happened to have his camera for photography class, and he snapped a quick one of Stiles before they were called back in. He developed it outside of class and it turned into his favorite photo ever. With Stiles just lying there, his limbs all spread out, but allowing the viewer to get a clear outline of his profile, it was beautiful. Just like Stiles.
And he had forgotten all about it.
"I…uh…I dunno where that came from…that…uh…Laura….Cora….."
Stiles was still staring at where the photo was, like it was still there. He slowly turned his head to look at Derek, and his gaping mouth turned into his cocky grin, “You really do like me.”
Derek huffed and tried to turn around, but Stiles had caught his wrist, “You think I’m pretty?”
Derek laughed and tried to shake Stiles loose, “C’mon, Stiles, lets get to work-“
"You think I’m goooorrrrrgeous you wannnnnaaaaaa daaaaaaate me"
Derek groaned. Oh no.
"You want to loooooooove me, you want to huuuuuuuuuuuug me, you want to smmoooooooooch me-"
Derek latched his lips on Stiles’ mouth before he could continue singing those (completely accurate) things.
The next day, the entire cafeteria stared in shock as not only Stiles allowing Derek to sit with him, but Stiles promptly getting off his own seat on the bench and draping himself onto Derek’s lap, rambling on about some superhero as Derek watched with a lovesick expression on his face.