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“I think,” Stiles says, looking up at Derek with amusement flickering in his eyes, “that this is the part where one of us says, 'This is the start to a beautiful friendship', don't you?”
“I don't,” Derek says, masking all emotions. He gives Stiles his best blank, boredom expression. “I don't think this is the beginning of anything.”
“I'm hurt,” Stiles says with a gasp. He puts his hand dramatically on his chest. Stiles grabs Derek's coffee and holds it out for him. “Have it your way, Mr. Hale. I'll just be your barista, who has your order memorized and ready to go every day at 3pm.”
Derek nods, but Stiles catches a glimpse of a smile. “Have a good day, Stiles.”
“You too,” Stiles calls out with a little wave of his hand. He doesn't notice the next customer in line until Derek's left the coffee shop. “Oh hello!”
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“I've got this,” Stiles tells his favourite co-worker, Erica, two weeks later. She snorts.
“I really didn't think I'd be the one serving our professor, Stiles. You have fun flirting,” she tells him, heading into the back. That's why she's his favourite. She understands him.
Stiles gives Derek his best smile. Derek hadn't returned any of his smiles in the past two weeks, but Stiles had caught him wanting to do so. Today isn't one of those days though. “Hey good-looking, what's wrong?”
Derek's eyes widened slightly. It's the only sign that he seems surprised about Stiles picking up on his mood. He shrugs, looks down at the counter, and says, “Crap day.”
“Wanna talk about it?” Stiles asks as he prepares Derek's drink.
“Not really,” Derek mutters. There's only a tiny pause before he explains, “I had to fail a student on a big assignment today.”
“I'm sure that happens a lot,” Stiles says, not looking at him. “I mean, people have to fail out of laziness or stupidity. It's not a reflection on you though.”
Derek's class isn't exactly the easiest. Stiles steps back to the cash register. He keeps the drink out of reach for Derek, so that he can pick out the largest piece of brownie. Derek says, “It's not uncommon, no. I have a gut feeling that he's having a rough time at home though.”
Derek winces. “I shouldn't have said that. Stiles--”
Stiles slips the brownie into a bag. “Oh. Well, my best friend and I are looking for a roommate.”
He picks up the cup and brownie to hand to Derek, who frowns at it.
“On the house today.” Stiles gives him a warm smile. “Feel free to tell your student to hit me up here if he wants out. Rent's cheap. We're a ten-minute walk from the campus. And we only yell at video games.”
Derek blinks. “Oh. Um. Thank you, Stiles. I appreciate that.”
“You'll be late to class,” Stiles tells him. “I hope your day is better, Derek.”
His professor nods, and even glances back to look at Stiles through the window when he's outside. Stiles waves, smile plastered on his face. God, that man is hot.
“If you're done drooling, wanna go on break?” Erica asks, suddenly beside him. “If you spend your break in the bathroom, I won't judge.”
“Shut up,” Stiles murmurs. “But thanks.”
She laughs.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
A kid with an expression of worry steps into the coffee shop. Stiles recognizes him immediately. He's from one of Stiles' classes--not Derek's though. He can't place the kid's name, but the mystery is solved when he steps up to the counter.
“I'm Isaac Lahey. Um. Mr. Hale sent me to see a...Stiles?”
“Hi! I'm Stiles Stilinski. Are you here about the room?” he asks, carefully.
“Yes!” Isaac says a little too eagerly. He blushes and ducks his head. Stiles notices he's rubbing his hands together. “He said you mentioned it to him.”
“Yeah, I did. Listen, let me give you the contact info of my buddy. He's sitting at home doing shit all right now, so if you have time, you can probably go see it if you want.” Stiles grabs a paper and a pen. He scribbles out Scott's number. “Tell him you're the kid I said might come around. His name's Scott McCall.”
“Oh, wow, okay.” Isaac accepts the piece of paper. He smiles nervously at it. His eyes are bright when he looks up at Stiles again. “Wow. Thank you.”
“Don't mention it. I hope it works out,” Stiles tells him. Isaac's already walking away to sit down and call Scott.
“Boyd could have moved in with you,” Erica says quietly. “If you were desperate.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “Firstly, Boyd wants to move in with you. Don't give me that look. We both know he's waiting for the right time to ask your pretty ass. And secondly, Isaac might need it more. Scott and I aren't hurting over the rent. But a third person will help loads.”
Four minutes later, and Stiles catches Isaac waving goodbye. Stiles waves back and glances at Erica. She nods in understanding. She'd caught the glimpse of Isaac's side too. When he'd waved, his shirt had rose a little. Enough to see a dark bruise.
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When three o'clock comes, Stiles has forgotten about Isaac and has been working a late lunch rush. It's just coming to a calm when Derek Hale walks in.
“Afternoon,” Stiles says as he starts to make his order. “Isaac came in today. Your suspicions were right.”
“I, okay. I had hoped I was completely wrong,” Derek admits quietly. “I didn't have enough evidence or signs to report it...just a gut feeling. I, sorry that I breached student confidentiality. I was having a rough day. I don't do that kind of thing ever.”
“Happens to the best of us, Hale.” Stiles gives him a reassuring smile.
“Stiles,” Derek says lowering his voice. “If anyone finds out, I could be fired.”
Stiles blinks. “Dude, I'm not telling a soul who would get you in trouble. Besides, there's not much you could've done anyway. He's over eighteen. The government would've thrown it under a rug and forgotten about it. So you helped in a different way. Maybe. I haven't checked my texts to see if he took the room.”
“Can you do that now?” Derek asks.
Stiles does.
SCOTT: hey so that kid said you're sending him over - he sounds nice dude!
SCOTT: wow he's awesome! quiet but he's definitely one of us
SCOTT: shit dude I just saw a nasty bruise. I lowered rent by fifty bucks for him. hope that's cool.
SCOTT: HE SAID YESSS! WE HAVE A NEW ROOMMATE!
SCOTT: bring dinner, we gotta celebrate!!
He lifts his head, and waves his cell phone in the air. “You did it. He's moving in.”
Derek's shoulders slump with relief. He gives Stiles' a unsettled look. “I...thank you, Stiles.”
This time when Derek pays, he drops a twenty dollar bill on the counter. He turns and leaves, before Stiles has a chance to protest.
“Hmm,” Erica says beside him. “That's an interesting development.”
“Shut up, Reyes. He's just happy that Isaac can leave whatever shithole he's in.”
“Sure,” Erica says, full smirk on her face. “That's all.”
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“Yo buddy, is it okay if Isaac moves in this weekend?” Scott shouts from their living room couch. Stiles drops his keys onto the side table at the door and nods. After a few seconds, Scott says, “I can't see your head movements, dude.”
“Oh, right, yes. Yeah, that's perfect. We'll have to move our junk out by Thursday then,” Stiles says as he comes into the living room. He doesn't bother changing immediately, but sits down on the chair to receive a questioning look from Scott. “What did you think of him? I only spoke to him for like thirty seconds.”
“I think he's great!” Scott beams. Then he adds, pleased with himself, “We hung out all afternoon. He just left about thirty minutes ago. His dad called...”
“Were Derek's suspicions right?” Stiles frowns, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “He said he had a gut feeling. Did you see the bruise on his side?”
Scott frowns, his eyebrows coming together. “I saw one on his back. I accidentally knocked the remote onto the floor, and when he leaned forward to pick it up for me, his shirt came up.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. Isaac wasn't so sure he could move in, so I told him that you and I could knock fifty bucks off.” Scott's voice gets softer. “I figure that we could handle that.”
Stiles nods. “Yeah, whatever works. I'm just glad that he's moving out. Shit. Erica and I saw a bruise on his side. His shirt came up a bit when he waved goodbye on his way over.”
“Could your dad do anything?”
“I'll talk to him. Maybe if Isaac opens up about it, we can talk about pressing charges for assault or something.”
Scott leans forward to clap his hand onto Stiles' knee. “You're a good person, Stiles.”
“Back at you, man.”
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“How's Hale these days?” Erica asks, jumping up onto the counter. She stretches her arm out so she can eye her manicure. Stiles gazes at her, unsure how to respond.
“Well, I'm pretty sure he's never going to talk to me again. Isaac's been living with us for two months, and he never says anything but one-word answers when he comes in.” Stiles pulls up a stool to perch on. “In class, he avoids me like I'm the plague. I'm not sure how to make him see that I'm not judging him for mentioning Isaac's situation to me.”
Erica considers this, and then tells Stiles, “Maybe he's just embarrassed. He probably has a legal obligation to report any suspicious, and he ignored that.”
“He didn't though. He told me, and I provided him with a safe option. Isaac's been doing so much better now. He hasn't talked to me about what it was like with his dad, but he's told Scott stuff. He even has a therapist now.” Stiles shrugs. “I don't see why we can't be friendly outside of class time. Or friendly during class time, for that matter.”
“Consider it from his perspective,” Erica says.
Stiles rolls his eyes, but a quick glance at the clock tells him Derek will be at the coffee shop in four minutes. He's never late. “I'm trying. But I talked to my dad about it. He had no proof, so there was no reason for him to report it. I mean, if he'd seen the bruises, or heard Isaac talking about it, it would be different. He just had a gut feeling because Isaac was quiet, reserved, and probably a little skittish. But for all he knows, that's part of Isaac's personality, you know?”
“I know,” Erica says, because she's heard his reasoning a few times. “Look, Stiles, I don't know what to tell you. Maybe give up on Hale if you're that concerned about it.”
“You asked!”
“I know, and I immediately regret doing so because you're chicken shit.” Erica unwraps her legs and hops down onto the floor. Her heels make a distinctive noise when she lands. “I'll be in the back, Stilinski. Boyd might come in—he's done class at three today—so do me a favour?”
“Send him in,” Stiles says nodding. “I have no idea what he sees in you.”
Erica snorts, and with a casual “Everything” over her shoulder, pushes the door to the kitchen open. He watches it swing behind her.
“Ahem,” a familiar sound comes. Stiles spins around to see Derek, who's glancing behind the counter to see that Stiles hasn't made his drink already. He raises an eyebrow.
“Excuse me,” Stiles says upon realizing this. “I'm sorry you have to wait like a normal customer for your drink today.”
Derek doesn't respond, so Stiles takes his sweet time. He decides to make small talk, even if Derek won't acknowledge him. “Was my paper okay?”
“Fine,” Derek surprises him by saying.
“Isaac's seeing a therapist now, did I tell you about that?” Stiles says, switching topics to throw Derek off. It doesn't work.
“Last week.”
“You did him a favour, you know.” The words are soft as he finishes the drink. He reaches over and puts a lid on the cup. Derek tended to struggle with it.
“Maybe. Or maybe I didn't.” Derek's frown fades into a scowl. Surprisingly, they're quite different expressions. “Listen, Stiles, I appreciate the updates but can't I just come in here and not have to small talk? Just get my drink and be gone.”
“Sure.” Stiles jerks his hand out, and avoids touching Derek's hand when he accepts the drink. “It's on the house, Mr. Hale. I'm sorry to have upset you in any way.”
“Stiles, wait—” Derek starts.
It doesn't matter though. Stiles spots Boyd and gives the guy a big grin. “Boyd! Erica's waiting for you. She's in the back. Let me show you.”
Boyd gives him a puzzled expression, but goes with it anyway. Boyd rocks.
Just before Stiles pushes the door open, he glances to see Derek still standing at the counter. “Have a great day, Mr. Hale.”
“What was that about?” Boyd asks, his tone mildly bored. It's no wonder why he's crazy about Erica—they shared that same bored tone.
“He's being an asshole,” Stiles mutters. “Thanks for saving the day, buddy.”
Stiles pushes the break room door open for Boyd, and announces to Erica, “Your lover has arrived in good condition. Try not to break the table, you two.”
“God, Stiles. We don't always have sex in here,” Erica says, but Stiles hears the laughter in her voice.
He doesn't respond as he heads back out to the front of the shop. When he gets behind the counter, he grabs the wet cloth out of habit to wipe down the counter top. It's only after he hears the clicking of keys on a computer that he looks up to see for the first time ever, Derek Hale is sitting down in the coffee shop.
Well, well.
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“Stiles, are you almost ready?” Isaac asks a few nights later. Stiles groans, and steps out of his bedroom. He holds his arms out, silently asking for the kid's approval. When he gets a nod, Stiles drops his hands to his sides and goes to put his shoes on.
“Is Scott meeting us there?” Stiles asks.
“Yeah. He's already there with Allison and Kira.” Stiles notices Isaac rub his hands together. He'd learned quickly that Isaac does it when he's nervous. “Is it weird? It's weird, that we're all going out.”
“It's not weird,” Stiles says automatically. “Scott and Allison ended on really good terms. He told me just the other day that he's happy you two have hit it off.”
“It's still weird,” Isaac mumbles. He grabs his sweater and pulls it on, as Stiles stands up.
“Okay, it's a little weird.” Stiles laughs when Isaac's face fills with worry. “Dude, it's fine. Scott would've told me, if not you, if he had an issue with it. Let's go get hammered, and then you'll forget all about it.”
Isaac relaxes, and they head out.
It's a short six minute walk to the bar. Isaac breaks the silence after the first block by saying, “Thanks for letting me move in. I never really thanked you, I guess.”
Stiles snorts. “That's a weird thing to thank me for, but sure, you're welcome or whatever.”
“Are you...are you and Mr. Hale close?”
“What?” Stiles answers, and stops walking all together. Isaac stops too, and rubs the back of his neck. “Derek and I are so not close. I had hope, because, I don't know...he always comes into the coffee shop at 3pm. Monday to Friday. He only orders the same damn, boring drink.” They start walking again. “But we're not close.”
“Oh, uh, I assumed. Because you told him about your extra room, and because you complain about him in a familiar way,” Isaac explains.
“What do you mean?” Stiles asks.
“You know when someone complains about another person, but you can tell they genuinely care about that person and don't mean a single one of their insults. Kind of like that, I guess.” Isaac gives Stiles a shy smile. “Sorry, man. I didn't mean to...”
“No, no, I guess you're right.” Stiles shrugs. “He had a bad day. Told me that he had a gut feeling about one of his students, and he didn't really seem to know what to do. I told him we had a spare room for rent, and that was that.”
“Well, however it happened, I'm glad.”
“Good,” Stiles says softly. He's not sure what else he should say, but he's pretty sure it's not what tumbles out of his mouth next. “I talked to my dad. You can still press charges if you want.”
Isaac jerks to look at him. “I...uh...”
Stiles mentally groans. “I saw the bruises, Derek had the suspicions, and Scott didn't say a word. I care about you, and I just want you to know you have options.”
Isaac puts his hand on Stiles' arm, stopping them both before they enter the bar. “Stiles, I'm not mad or upset. Thank you, for caring. I'm not exactly used to it, so I don't know what the protocols are.”
“No one does, Lahey,” Stiles says, smiling. “It's life. There are no protocols. Let's go get drunk, yeah?”
“Yeah.”
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“Hey cutie,” Erica says sliding into the booth beside Stiles. She pokes his cheek. “I didn't expect to see you here tonight.”
Stiles is drunk, but not drunk enough that he can't recognize that Erica is also drunk. He laughs and pokes her nose. “I could say the same about you. I get enough of your face at work. Why are you here?”
She giggles and leans into him. “I'm celebrating. Boyd asked me to move in with him finally.”
“Erica, that's great! Let me buy you a round!” Stiles says.
She laughs again. “No, Stilinski. It's not like we're engaged.”
Her eyes widened at the word. Stiles asks, “Do you want to be engaged?”
“No. I'm not the marrying type of girl.” She thinks it over. “But maybe if it was with Boyd.”
“I'm definitely buying you a drink. Let me out.” Stiles waves her out of the booth, and glances long enough to see Erica slide back into it with pink cheeks.
He's not stumbling, he swears he can walk straight. But people keep bumping into him so it's hard to keep his balance. When he finally reaches the bar, he collapses against it, using it to hold him upright.
The bartender turns to take his order, and Stiles realizes he doesn't know what Erica's been drinking all night since they had just met up. He settles with, “Two tequila shots, good sir!”
Erica's definitely the shot kind of girl, Stiles decides.
“Make it three,” a voice comes from beside him. Stiles turns to find himself looking at his professor. Derek Hale. What the hell?” Derek gives him a tight smile. “Stiles.”
“Derek,” Stiles mocks. He shakes his head. “You're gonna do a tequila shot with me?”
“Only if you'll let me,” Derek says. Stiles swears he must be more drunk than he thought because is that hope in Derek's eyes?
When Derek pays for the three shots, Stiles holds one of them up. “Bottom's up, professor.”
Derek doesn't seem fazed by the comment, and picks up his own shot. There's a silent count down before they both swallow the burning alcohol. Stiles glances down at the third shot. He'll get Erica another one. He waves down the bartender. “One more shot, for my good...for my dude here!”
The bartender nods.
“I want to apologize,” Derek says over the music.
“Okay,” Stiles says. He waves his hand in the air to tell Derek to keep going.
Stiles' professor leans in close and says, “It wasn't fair of me to shut you out, when all you've done is been nice to me.”
“That's what shots are for, dude. Bonding, and forgiveness, and shit. Let's do one more, you buy another round of three, and we go back to my booth.” Stiles beams at Derek, hoping that he's convinced this is Stiles' best idea ever.
Derek nods in agreement.
Four shots later and they finally make their way back to the booth. Derek has a grip on Stiles' arm. He told Stiles that it was because he couldn't walk properly, but Stiles has a sneaking suspicion that it's because Stiles can't walk properly.
“We brought shots!” Stiles announces to Erica and Boyd.
“Finally,” Erica says, laughing. “I thought you'd been eaten!”
Stiles laughs with her, deciding that's the funniest thing he's been told all night. Derek slips in the booth awkwardly beside him.
“Mr. Hale,” Boyd says, with a nod.
“Derek,” Stiles corrects. He smiles at the older man. “He's pretty okay.”
“I'm glad to hear it,” Erica tells him.
“Stiles, buddy!” a familiar voice comes from the crowd. Stiles looks up to see Scott grinning at the end of the table. “Stiles, it's our song.”
“Shit! Give me a second. Everyone! Grab your shot!” Stiles downs his within seconds. Then he's pushing Derek back out of the booth.
When he runs out after Scott to the dance floor, he grabs Derek's hand and drags him with them.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“What happened last night?” Stiles asks, groaning. He hadn't even woken up in his bed, but apparently had only made it as far as the loveseat. It's okay though, because Isaac's curled up on the couch with Scott. That couldn't be comfortable.
“I don't know. Stop talking,” Isaac moans. He buries his face back into Scott's shirt. “My head.”
“My stomach,” Scott says. He lurches forward, and Isaac reluctantly lets him go. Scott disappears into the bathroom, but his movement makes Stiles a little nauseous.
Stiles rubs his forehead. “I think I'm going to go to my bed. Sleep for a few hours. Only wake me up if you make hangover breakfast.”
“Deal,” Isaac says in a tone that makes Stiles think that that's never happening.
His body feels sore as he stands up. It takes him a few seconds to adjust to being upright, before he even thinks about walking.
When Stiles opens his bedroom door, he winces at the bright light. Apparently, he hadn't turned his light off last night. He flicks it off, grateful that the curtains are closed. It's a nice dark home. He shuts the door quietly before he crawls into his bed.
His body curls up against another warm body.
It takes him a full five seconds to realize that there shouldn't be a body in his bed. He lets out a yelp, and scrambles to push himself away. “What—who—what?”
“Shut up,” a familiar voice growls. “Quit moving. I...stop.”
“Derek?” Stiles whispers.
The body moves, sits up a bit. “Stiles?”
“What are you...?” Stiles tries to remember last night. He vaguely recalls Derek telling him he lives on the other side of town. Or something. “Shit, dude, I forgot.”
“Are we at your place or mine?” Derek grumbles.
“Mine,” Stiles says. “But uh, we didn't...I slept on the loveseat.”
“Oh,” is the only thing Derek has to say. He falls back onto the bed. “Can we sleep a little bit longer?”
“Yeah,” Stiles whispers. He settles back into the bed, fully aware that Derek's warm arm is against his. Then Derek rolls over, to give them both more room presumably, and Stiles finds himself a little disappointed.
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“Stiles,” a deep voice says.
He slowly opens his eyes. He's completely curled up on top of Derek, his legs tangled, and his grip around Derek's chest tight. His hangover feels as if it's faded a little. “Mornin'.”
“Stiles,” Derek repeats. “Don't move suddenly, but your knee is...”
Stiles jerks a little, and realizes that it's in the wrong direction. Derek groans loudly and his body lurches forward. “Fuck.”
“Oh my god, I am so sorry.”
“It's fine. Not quite direct contact. But...fuck.”
Stiles tries not to laugh, because really. He gets what it's like to be kneed in the balls. Truly, he's been there before. Many times. But how the hell is he supposed to sit in class or greet Derek at the coffee shop knowing he'd accidentally kneed him?
“Shut up, Stiles,” Derek mutters darkly.
“Right. Shutting up.” Only he lies, because he starts giggling. He doesn't even care anymore. “Dude, I really am sorry. It's just...how many students get to say that...?”
“Stiles.”
“Right,” Stiles says, taking a deep breath. He stops laughing, but the grin doesn't leave his face. He gently sets his leg in a better position and rests his cheek back onto Derek's chest. “Did you apologize to me last night?”
“At least three times,” Derek says in a strained tone.
“Thanks, dude.”
“This is so inappropriate.”
“I know,” Stiles says with a little sigh of satisfaction. “But you're not leaving.”
“Is that a statement or a demand?”
“Both,” Stiles decides. Quietly, he adds, “You know, you didn't have to shut me out.”
“No, I didn't.” Derek sighs, and then Stiles feels his arm wrap around him. He smiles. “I just...Stiles, you're too fucking tempting.”
“So go to a different coffee shop.”
“Impossible,” Derek mumbles. “It's the only time I can...”
“See me?” Stiles supplies.
“Yeah. I...listen, I could've lost my job for not appropriately reporting my suspicions about Isaac.” Derek buries his nose into Stiles' hair. “I would've reported it eventually, if it hadn't been for you. I just hate the system. You saved my ass. And Isaac's.”
“And,” Stiles murmurs, “I looked good doing it, huh?”
“Yeah, maybe that too.”
“But? There's a but coming,” Stiles says.
“But this can't happen. I can't get drunk with my students, go home with him, and sleep with him.”
“We only slept,” Stiles murmurs, disappointment in his tone.
“It still can't happen, okay?” Derek says. “I'm a figure of authority.”
“You are literally six years older than me, and I've been legal for a while now.”
“Stiles,” Derek says.
“Okay, okay. So shut up, and let me enjoy this.”
“Okay.”
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“It's almost three,” Erica points out a week later at work.
“I know,” Stiles says. A small smile crawls up on his face without his knowledge. “I'm so glad I have you in my life, Erica.”
“Ugh, mushy.” But Stiles sees her face soften, and she hops off the counter top to wrap her arms around him. “Me too, Stilinski. Me too.”
She smirks when the door's bell jingles and walks into the back. Erica's the best.
“Hello, Derek,” Stiles says. His drink is ready to go, but Stiles doesn't hand it to him right away.
“Hello Stiles,” Derek says, in a much more relaxed tone than previous months.
“How are you today?”
“I'm alright, how are you?” Derek asks.
“I'm alright too.” Stiles picks up the hot drink and holds it out for him. “Only three more weeks until the end of the semester.”
“That's right. Are you prepared for finals?” Derek asks, casually. Only Stiles can recognize the intense interest.
“Definitely not. But I'm sure I'll do okay.”
“Have a nice day, Stiles.”
“Have a nice day, Derek,” Stiles echoes. He watches as Derek sets up his laptop in the window seat of the coffee shop. A seat with a perfect view of Stiles.
Bingo.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“Today's the day!” Erica shouts when she comes in for her shift. She beams at Stiles. “Are you ready?”
“I...maybe.”
“Oh no, no, no doubting this, Stilinski. You two have been good lately! You have to give it a shot.” Erica shakes her head. “No ifs, ands, ors, or buts. I'll have none of it. You will drag his fine ass back to the break room, and I'll cover you out here.”
“I...Erica, I'm not sure...”
“No arguing. Make your move.”
“Alright.”
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“Hey,” Stiles says, smiling. Derek's smiling back. Life is wonderful.
“Hey,” Derek says. He jerks out his hand. Stiles takes it, shaking, and gives him a puzzled look. “My name is Derek Hale.”
Fresh start.
“I'm Stiles. Stiles Stilinski,” Stiles stammers. He grins. “My co-worker suggested I show you something in the back.”
“Oh yeah?” Derek asks, eyebrows going up in amusement.
“Oh yeah. Would you like to follow me, sir?” Stiles says.
“Definitely.”
Erica snorts.
“Where are you taking me?” Derek asks quietly.
“The break room. Erica's done so many dirty things with Boyd in here,” Stiles admits quietly. “I know it's soundproofed.”
“Lucky for us,” Derek murmurs.
“Yeah, lucky for us.” Stiles shuts the door and finds himself being pushed against it. Derek glances at his eyes once for consent, before he closes the space between them.
“This,” Derek says against Stiles' lips, “is the beginning to a beautiful relationship.”
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