Chapter Text
What Stiles hates more than waking up at the crack of dawn, is having a class he loves when he needs yet another cup of coffee to be his fully functioning self. Dr. Derek Hale’s class is one which fits all the previously described criteria. Machine learning CS229 is by far the best subject Stiles has in the ongoing semester, and he has zero regrets regarding his choice, except for the time slot. That, and maybe, the slight issue of professor call me Derek being a complete man in every sense of the word.
When Derek had first walked in the auditorium, Stiles hadn’t been able to believe his eyes. Not only had the much talked about Doctor Hale proven to be absolutely stunning, in the way he could easily quit academia and he would have houses flounder around him to get him signed as a model, but he had also carried himself as approachable and with a sharp sense of humor. What Stiles respects most about Doctor Hale is that the man knows how to make lectures entertaining enough, and equally as motivating, thus, unintentionally urging students to research each topic additionally. It was difficult not to love the class from the very start, and even more so, not to love Derek.
Because, Stiles does. Love him. And, as his luck always rains down on him; a second time around, he has managed to fall in love with a person, who could never love him back. And, it has nothing to do with Derek being his professor, and every bit with Stiles not being the loveable type. He has always known it to be so deep down, but it doesn’t stop it from hurting like hell each time it happens. He doesn’t suppose being let down easy would ever be a manageable sting, so he set himself out to never let his emotions show after the first time his heart was broken. After the lesson he got with Lydia, he never subjects to his whims to observe more than it is needed, and avoids wrapping his mind up in what could be. He finds it easier that way.
When it comes to Derek, Stiles imagines it would hurt more if Derek is supportive and understanding in the face of the obvious, rather than being angered over it, the latter a case which Stiles knows Derek incapable of. So, he keeps his distance and tries not to breach the borders of professionalism between them. He speaks with Derek only when necessary, and with as little familiarity as he can manage. There are exceptions, albeit rare.
“Mr. Stilinski, if you could stay after class. I would like to discuss your project idea.”
Stiles sinks into his seat. He had avoided speaking with Derek before making up his mind with regard the topic and submitting it, though now it seems he had done so in vain. Stiles picks up his pen, presses the cap over his bottom lip and chastises himself for not discussing it with his professor in the first place. He can’t properly focus on the lecture from that point onward, thoughts swirling as to why Derek asked a discussion of him.
When Derek dismisses class, Stiles remains slouched in his seat, expectant. As Derek is packing up his notes at the front of the room, Stiles closes his laptop down, packs it and zips his backpack. He strides down towards his professor’s desk with fake determination, worrying his lower lip between his teeth at his professor’s turned back.
Derek looks up when Stiles is by him and meets his student’s gaze. “You don’t mind walking with me to my office? I have a meeting in ten.”
Stiles shakes his head vehemently, his nerves getting the best of him. “Not at all, professor.”
“You know, you are the only student who still calls me professor. I don’t mind it, per say.” He smiles at Stiles in understanding, eyes glinting with amusement. Stiles is once again struck speechless at the sincere openness Derek’s expression carries. “Makes me feel a little old. In seriousness, I used to do so myself, when I was in your place. Though I believe conversation would flow much easier if you were to call me by my name.”
“I find it more comfortable this way,” Stiles states, offering a half-truth in response, with hopes he won’t afflict insult to injury, the injured party being himself, clearly. Gods, he needs Adderall. “If it is alright?”
“Of course. I will never insist on it again.”
They walk in silence, and Stiles can’t help noticing the warmth radiating from the other man. Derek is the kind of person who would easily attract the attention of the most disinterested individual. A solid arm brushes against Stiles, and he does his best not to flinch at the contact or pull Derek against him until they are crowded along the closest wall. His heart is wildly thudding in his chest, a mix of anticipation and nervousness; and, his stomach is lurching in anxious displeasure and the rising tide of arousal. Stiles engulfs a sharp breath, followed by a hissing exhale, but his professor doesn’t inquire. Derek probably has too much on his plate to deal with him as well, and the fact he offered to give Stiles the time of day spoke how the man valued all his student’s interests. Stiles is at awe of his dedication, as much as to walk quiet and spare him from the rattlings his brain would no doubt provide were he to open his mouth.
“Make yourself comfortable,” Derek offers, as he pushes the door of his office open.
“Thank you.” Stiles drops his backpack by the chair, as he flops down on it. Waiting for Derek to settle, his mind focuses on the fact he feels comfortable in his seat, but not in Derek’s presence. There, he is uneasy.
“I recall you didn’t consult with me over your project topic, but there are a few issues I would like to address.” He pauses there, perhaps for effect, but Stiles has no suitable answer to give. He keeps his eyes firmly locked with Derek’s, and says nothing. “It is mentioned in the syllabus the final project has to be data oriented. Audio and image processing are not permitted.”
It takes a moment for Stiles to catch up. “Oh… Yes, of course. I will change my topic right away. I… I will send a new proposal by tonight.” He reaches for his backpack, considering the matter settled.
Derek speaking up keeps him riveted in his seat. “Stiles.” The sound of his nickname leaving Derek’s lips comes as a shock to his senses. Especially since he had never given it to the man. “If I wanted you to change something, I would have simply emailed you.”
“Then?”
“Your topic is powerful, and even though it is image processing, I am willing to allow you to work on it.”
“Really?”
“You want to classify brain tumor on patient’s results. I would never oppose to that.” He pauses, as if he considered whether he should go on or not. “Not to mention, you have the largest dataset on the topic I have ever seen. And, it is not one I could find online. Which leads to the question. Did you gather the information all by yourself?”
Stiles fiddles in his seat a moment, stirring his shoulders in a snake-like movement. “Not completely. I mean, I had help. My best friend’s mum works at the hospital. She knows a lot of people around the world, so when I asked her if she could help, she reached out to her contacts. About a week later, I had more info and pictures than I had expected. I sorted it out later.”
Derek’s brows furrow, eyes widening in surprise. His voice is extremely inquisitive. “When did you pick this topic?”
“Uhm, when I read th- the course info,” Stiles admits, cheeks pinking with shyness. His eyes are distinctly mapping out the not-so-interesting pattern of Doctor Hale’s office’s rug.
“This is not just a class project for you, is it?” When Stiles doesn’t answer, Derek smiles his reassurance and nodding, he states, “No matter. Here’s the deal, I will let you work on this, if and only if you promise me that every time you get stuck somewhere, you contact me for help.”
Stiles’ gaze snaps up to meet his professor’s. “Okay.”
“And, another thing.” He leans forward. “I am by no means trying to undervalue your abilities with what I am about to say, but if you can’t manage this topic for whichever reason, and want to take up something less complicated, you let me know. I am not going to think any less of you for it, I promise.”
A knock reverberates from the door. Stiles launches out of his seat. “Yes, professor. I presume that is your ten o’clock.”
“I believe so.” Derek’s lips quirk in amusement. “We’ll talk more another time. In the mean-time, if you need anything, mail me.”
Stiles throws his backpack over his shoulder and heads for the door, when Derek calls out, “Oh, and Stiles.”
“Yeah.”
“Run the data before our next class. I have a feeling your computer is not going to do a good job out of processing that monstrosity fast, so I might need to help you with that.”
“Yes, sir.”
And, with that, Stiles exits Doctor Hale’s office as hastily as he can.
Lydia is an unforgivably evil human being. Thus, Stiles is firmly set on repeating those words for the nth time in a row in hopes she will finally react to hearing them said, when he collides against a very firm, not much taller body. He whirls around with an apology on his mind, but short-circuits when he finds himself face to face with Professor Hale – who is dressed in a Henley, decorated with John Varvatos sunglasses hanging on the u-necked shirt.
“Hi,” he squeaks, his hand waving an aborted twitch.
“Hello, Stiles. How are you?” Professor Hale’s ears turn pink as recognition sparkles in his eyes, ensuring Stiles that had the man been without beard, his cheeks would be coloring crimson as well. As it is, at least he is not the only one embarrassed.
“Good. Shopping.” Every word appears redundant on his lips. “And, you?”
“Great. Thinking about how I want the earth to swallow me.”
Stiles feels ridiculous for the thumbs up jolly wiggle he does. He can’t be sure why his weird reaction surprises him, as he is never able to control his awkwardness. “Great, so we are going to ignore the fact we met in a lingerie shop.” It hurts knowing he is being seen as a strange kid once more, nonetheless.
“I am here with my sister,” his professor elaborates, his finger’s jabbing directed somewhere behind his back. As if he can sense where his sister is, without sparing a look.
“I am here with my friend. She is pushy.”
“Oh, I know the pain.”
“Good!” Stiles vigorously nods.
Derek absentmindedly repeats the motion. “Great.”
Helplessly, Stiles murmurs, “Still awkward.”
Nothing could have readied Stiles for Derek’s cackling. It is a wonderful sound.
“You know, Stiles?” he prompts upon easing the cackle into a smile, which equally blinding. “It tells me, we need new company.”
As Stiles has no idea how to reply to those words, he is grateful for the incoming company. The brown-haired, model-like female wraps her arms around Derek’s shoulders and clasps them over his chest, laying her chin down over his right shoulder. She smirks at Stiles knowingly, as if she knows something he doesn’t, which is illogical considering they have never met, but possibly true if to be determined by the spark in her eyes.
There’s the family resemblance – tall, dark and mind-numbingly handsome.
“Der-bear,” she murmurs, not taking her eyes off Stiles, “I didn’t know you had acquaintances in lingerie stores.” Intense is one of the words which Stiles imagines would describe her accurately.
The man in question rolls his eyes, making Stiles wonder how he have never seen Derek do so before. It seems to be a second nature, as natural as breathing, at the moment. Exasperated, his professor offers, “If I visit any more with you, I am sure I will make some. Stiles, however, is not the gay clichéd panty-wearing friend you are so desperately looking for.”
Stiles can’t hide the blush at the words, which give him ideas. Which he is not supposed to have. He swallows dumbly.
Unperturbed, Derek continues, “He’s a student in my CS229 class, and has as infuriating a person in his life as I do in mine. Apparently.”
“Oh, please. You love me.”
Derek’s brows climb up, as if to say ‘Not really’.
They are expressive, the younger man observes, unsure how he had missed that before. Stiles is glad he doesn’t have time to delve there on that particular thought, as he has to direct all his attention to Laura once her smirk turns on him. “Now, this is the infamous Stiles.”
“Don’t harass him, Laura.”
“You, brother of mine, are going to make him think I am a horrible person.”
“You are,” Derek deadpans.
Laura doesn’t even flinch at the words. “Nice to meet you, Stiles. I am Derek’s older, infinitely wiser and more socially capable sister.”
“Nice to meet you too, Laura.” Stiles is proud that his voice doesn’t waver and betray how unnerved he is.
“Since my brother here didn’t have the answer,” she pats Derek’s shoulder slowly. “Can I ask something?”
“I have a feeling you will, answer as I may. So, sure.”
“That name of yours is not a name, is it?”
“No, but Professor Hale’s struggle to pronounce my actual name off the class list happens more often than not, so that’s why I use Stiles. I would change it, but it reminds me too much of –.” His mouth snaps closed with a determined click. “Anyhow, not my given name, no.” He finishes in mortification, cheeks blotched red. Laura is faintly smiling at him, but Derek’s forehead is creased, and Stiles isn’t sure what his professor is thinking. He can only hope Derek doesn’t think he is flirting with his sister, because he would never. He knows when something is far out of his league, and besides he already has that incurable, always-present, gnawing crush on Derek. He gnaws on his lip.
“Well, he is adorable, isn’t he? Handsome, too.”
Stiles head jerks up. Did she just -?
“Laura!”
“What? He is! Don’t tell me you can’t see it.”
“First, you know the physical has no influence on me. And, second, he is my student. I am not going to grade that.”
Stiles’ lashes flutter towards Derek. What?! Derek is asexual? I could have done without knowing that.
He shrinks in on himself, when Lydia’s voice rings through the shop. “Stiles, what use do I have of you here, if I have to yell for you?” Judging by the fierceness behind it, she is still in the dressing room.
“Sorry, I have to go. It was nice meeting you, Laura. Bye, professor.”
Stiles has time to think of the day only when he is under his covers late that evening. And, he wonders at Derek’s asexuality. He knows it is not body type related, but a shame given Derek’s sculpture-like appearance. Stiles would run his hands down Derek’s torso, up along his back, and scrape over his pecks. He would kiss every sumptuous patch of skin and – shit.
Stiles throws the covers off his body and fires up his laptop, aiming to finish some part of his project as a better alternative to either dreaming and drooling over his unattainable professor, or an angry, self-pitying jerk off session featuring his unattainable professor.
Stiles lands his fist down on the laptop before him. What Scott doesn’t know, won’t hurt him. And, the punch was largely subdued by Stiles’ dampened mood.
A familiar, strangely soothing at the moment, voice comes on his left. “I have it on good authority punches will not boost up the processor’s speed.”
When Stiles looks up, Derek inquires, “Mind if I join you?”
“Not at all, professor.”
Derek drops his handbag on the table, and pulls up a chair. Stiles waits for his professor to have a seat before saying, “Scott is on some seminar and needed a laptop with an HDMI socket. When he was buying this shitty excuse of a laptop, I wasn’t allowed to comment on the rubbish choice, and now he packs up my laptop and says this is just as good as mine. I can’t even install Anaconda, let alone run the data here. It is going to jam before I even open Spider. I will be better off running this on a freaking Pentium.”
“I am sure everything is just so, up until that last comment.” Derek is chuckling, and Stiles blushes crimson at his word vomit.
“Believe me, it feels like that is right, too.”
His professor hums, head cocked. “Why didn’t you tell him to find another’s laptop?”
“You don’t know Scott, okay? With his puppy dog eyes and cute crooked jaw, he is practically impossible to refuse.” Stiles flails his hands, and proceeds to give Derek Scott’s speech. “You know, Stiles, Allison is going. And, she asked me if I could take a laptop, so she could have her bow and arrow with her. She is gonna show me how to use them, you know? It’s gonna be awesome, dude. She is so pretty, Stiles, and I can’t refuse her. It’s not polite, and I really like Allison, in an incurable, heart-eyes obsessive manner. Please, please, be a bro.”
“Ah, so it was the bro code’s fault, then.”
Stiles assumes Derek is mocking him, but when he looks over Derek is smiling at him, understanding and sympathy embedded on his face. Stiles snickers, “Exactly! And, the only thing that works on this close to my satisfaction is Microsoft Office, so I am falling behind on my work.”
“I have a feeling Scott is going to pay when he gets back.”
“It has come to mind.” Stiles muses. “But, I am afraid of Melissa.” At Derek’s dumbfounded expression, he elaborates, “His mum.”
Stiles turns to the laptop only to find the battery dead, and the black screen actively mocking him. He groans, bowing his head over his forearms, and decides to go back to his dorm room and crawl under the covers of his bed to sleep off his angst and low spirits. He feels like crying, most of his patience lost already, or throwing a tantrum, in the likes of a five-year-old, and would if his company was only the silence of the library.
Stiles looks up with an excuse on the tip of his tongue, but Derek beats him to it. “I have papers to grade, but my laptop is fully charged and all the programs you need are already there. I’ve a power bank with me and a feeling I will spear that laptops demise, so if you have the data stored somewhere, do you want to work on my laptop while we are here?”
“Really? But, don’t you need to input the grades?”
“I can do that later, Stiles. Believe it or not, the grading is the difficult part.”
Stiles beams at Derek, who in return blinks at him. “Thanks, Professor.”
Finally getting something done, when he concludes his work for the day, Stiles is exhausted, with a thudding headache, expected after working a full-time staring into a computer screen, and ready to sink in bed, after a relaxing shower. He is smiling as he steps out of the library, with Derek high at his trail, and breathes in the chilly, night air.
Stiles gazes up at the stars and rolls the kinks in his shoulders. “I’ve not done this much work in a week. Thank you, professor.”
“I am glad I could be of help.” Derek smiles at him, partly-shy, seemingly a rare smile he gives, or so it appears to Stiles. “Remind me, if I should forget, to bring you a graphic card for the processing job, okay?”
“Okay.”
Derek’s brows furrow and Stiles is suddenly overwhelmed with appreciation for his conversation-able eyebrows. He wishes he could have an ability to convey words through expressions, but people don’t seem to follow his track of thoughts as he would wish for them to. He is aware Derek will ask him a question, before it comes, but is thrown off by its content.
“For how long is Scott away?”
“Hmm, for a little over a week?”
Professor Hale nods. “When you feel like working, you can drop by my office and I will let you borrow my laptop. It doesn’t have to be the project for my class you work on. Anything, okay?”
“Yeah, thanks.”
“You don’t sound so convinced, and I mean it, Stiles.” Derek’s brows climb up his forehead, and Stiles smiles. “Just shoot me an email, to see if I am there.”
“I am not going to be imposing?” Stiles scrapes the back of his head, ruffling his hair.
“Not at all.”
“Okay, then. Good night, professor,” Stiles provides, waving awkwardly.
“Good night, Stiles.”
With those words Derek turns towards the parking lot, and Stiles heads home. He is in his room within ten minutes, dead weight as he drops in his bed and blacks out until the morning. If he doesn’t stop smiling until falling asleep, no one is around to see.
The lines are starting to blur together in a jumbled mess of letters and equations, as they usually do when a headache comes on gradually, and forces a way in so to grow in intensity, which makes Stiles close the book and throw it on the desk. He pockets his phone, ties his shoelaces and heads to the nearest park for a run.
Scott is not back from the seminar yet, so their room’s quell is not working with Stiles. He has no one to watch a bad movie with and laugh at the foolishness of it, a cold beer and a bowl of chips between them, which makes him realize just how much Scott really is missed. He is glad Scott is happy with Allison, it is his brother from another mother in question after all, but he can’t help but ask himself whether his friends really value him or is it just spend-the-time-when-there-is-no-one-else deal for every one of them. Allison is great, but Stiles has not spent quality time with Scott, playing games or watching a movie or anything, really, or, as rarely as it happens, studying, since his best friend met Allison. Lydia is there when it is either a great emergency, even when it is Stiles’ problem if he is honest, or a social occasion where she requires assistance and there is Jackson, the douche of her boyfriend, who has treated Stiles like trash since the day they have met, and Lydia has done nothing to stop him. Now she is not around.
He’s sweaty by the time those thoughts throw him in a whirlwind of weakness and a desire to crash to the ground and not get up, so he leans against the nearest tree and pants his exhaustion there. If he didn’t have his dad to think about, it would all be easily over with one extra pill of his Adderall. He can hear a voice in the back of his mind, sounding oddly like Lydia, calling him a moron. But, it would be a good way out, and he would not feel so alone and miserable and worthless all the time. He would see his mum again and hug her with all his strength, because it has been too long. Tears wake in his eyes, and he pants harder. He will not cry in a public place, for fucks sake. It is a new low, and one, he is not willing to stoop down to.
“Stiles?”
He jerks up. “Professor Hale?”
“Are you okay?” The man’s brows are furrowed in concern, and Stiles gasps at the face of it. His dad aside, it has been ages since someone had felt concern for him. Lydia is not there and is dismissive when she is, Scott is as oblivious as ever. Stiles is torn between crying at the face of the honesty in Derek’s expression and leaping into his arms to let all, which he’s been holding up inside him, out.
Stiles staggers towards Derek, who looks ready to catch him if at any time he falls. He changes the topic, “What are you doing out here?”
“I felt like a run. From the blotched cheeks and heavy breaths, I assume you are here for the same?”
“It’s been a while,” the words are languid on his tongue. “I wanted to watch a movie at first, but Scott isn’t here. It’s kind of pointless to watch one alone.”
“Best roommate is the absent one?” Derek offers.
Stiles knows it is an unspoken rule for some students, but not him. Having someone in the room with him means not thinking, which in return means no urges to snatch his Adderall from the nightstand and have a debate with himself, which he did that very morning. “You free tonight, then?”
“Wha-. Yeah?”
“Okay, how about you go clean up and I do the same, and we meet in an hour in front of the cinema? I’ll bring the GeForce I promised you and then we catch a movie together?”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Stiles. Really.” Derek’s smile brightens his entire face, forms small crinkles at his eyes, and Stiles lips curve up at the corners, as he nods his confirmation. Once Derek walks away, he can feel his leg starting to bounce, and jogs back to his room.
Stiles passes the hour in a blur of anticipation and anxiety. He is drumming his fingers on his desk, something he hasn’t done in a while, and then picks up two pens and starts a pattern, which comes from a song he can’t remember the name of. He is on edge. It’s good though, his thoughts from earlier are misty and distant, and he is ardently expecting the meet with Derek.
Derek is already at the entrance and waiting for him, tight black jeans, a Henley and a leather jacket, which makes Stiles feel underdressed. Derek looks great, date-night great.
“Hey,” he greets, when in earshot.
Derek turns around with a smile on his face. “Hey, yourself.”
“Have you waited long?”
Derek shakes his head. “I just got here.” Stiles nods, huffing a breath, to which Derek responds, “Well, now, what do you want to see?” He motions for them to go in.
Stiles realizes, as they walk inside, the closest to a friend he has had in the last year is actually Derek.