Work Text:
"Okay, you mechanical piece of shit. What do you want from me?"
On their hall, only two teachers have fourth block planning.
"I gave you paper. I gave you toner. I have pulled things from your depths. Turned you off. Turned you on."
That means that, more often than not, Derek walks into the workroom to find Mr. Stilinski cursing at their terrible copier without any other audience.
"Would you please just fucking work?!"
Derek stifles his laugh. "Copier down again?"
Stilinski rolls his eyes. "Do you think I'm cursing at it for my health? Yes, it's fucking down again."
"Want me to try?"
Stilinski throws his hands up. "Be my guest. The damned thing is cursed."
Derek proceeds to enter the admin code he got from Martin last time the thing died and hard resets it. When it comes back on, Derek types in Stilinski's copy code (that the man keeps on a sticky note under the counter, the dumbass), and it starts to spit out the pages Stilinski sent from his computer.
"Ta da."
Stilinski is looking at him like he hung the moon.
"You are a miracle worker. Hale, I could fucking kiss you right now, that was glorious."
To be honest, Derek would let him
"We've got to put a work ticket in to get Danny up here to see what's really wrong. Knowing our luck, that was a temporary fix."
"I'll take what I can get at this point, but I'll definitely write that ticket." Stilinski pauses for a second. "Thank you."
"Yeah, anytime." Derek pours himself a cup of coffee, his actual goal in all this, and heads back to his room with a soft smile.
...
The next time Derek has to fix something for Stilinski, he doesn't expect it to be the man himself.
Derek is working on grading essays for his English 1 class, wading through terrible sentence structure and dubious grasp of spelling conventions to try and find the point that Kaley Fitzpatrick is attempting to make. There's a knock on his door, and when he looks up, it's Stilinski.
Derek stands and opens the door to find an exhausted version of Stilinski who seems to be barely holding himself up.
"Can I... can I hide in here for a bit? I'm not... my brain is... I can't..."
Derek bustles him into the room, more grateful than ever for his flexible seating classroom. It means he can deposit Stilinski on the couch and drape a blanket around his shoulders before the man even realizes he's been moved.
"You don't have to explain. Just take your time, relax. I'm grading papers, so you don't even have to worry about talking."
"Thank you," Stilinski whispers.
"Of course, Stilinski." Derek goes back to his desk and picks up his pen again.
"Stiles," the man says softly. "You should call me Stiles."
"Stiles. Okay, just so long as you call me Derek."
"Derek. Cool."
The next time Derek looks up, Stilinski- Stiles is asleep on the couch, curled up into an impossibly small ball. Derek stands and carefully takes the man's glasses off, before he drops and breaks them.
He sets the glasses on the nearest table and turns off the overhead lights, leaving the Christmas lights over the back board and the lamp on his desk.
Stilinski sleeps until the bell for dismissal, which startles him awake to the point of nearly falling off the couch.
"What... what happened?"
"You asked to hide here because of some kind of distress, I helped you sit and gave you a blanket, and you've been asleep for more than an hour," Derek explains quietly. "Stiles, are you okay?"
Stiles shakes his head. "There was an issue at the pharmacy with my insurance, so I couldn't take my meds. Second block was in rare form today. Then, I got word that one of my former students was in that pile-up last night."
Derek is up and across the room almost instantly, wrapping his arms around the man before he even considers the consequences.
Stiles freezes for a moment, but he sinks into the embrace between one heartbeat and the next.
"I'm glad you came to find me," Derek murmurs. "I'm glad you didn't try and handle this alone."
"I knew your room is a safe place. The kids all love you, even the complicated ones."
"Complicated just means in need of love." Derek tightens the embrace. "And you're welcome here."
"Thank you." Stiles hides his face in Derek's shoulder, the fabric growing damp-hot with tears.
"Anytime."