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The sheriff’s house is dark and quiet, as expected.
It’s ten p.m. and Derek is regretting every single life choice that brought him to this point, as he casts nervous glances up and down the street, double and triple checking that it’s empty before rolling to a slow halt.
“Why am I doing this, oh god, why,” he mutters to himself before getting out, leaving the car door ajar, rather than risking anyone hearing him slam it. The reason he’s doing this at all is – like so many other questionable things in his life – Erica. Derek loves his friends, but Erica and Isaac in particular have the ability to work Derek up to a point where he loses all common sense every so often. And this time, for some unholy reason, Boyd had been backing them up, despite him usually being the single voice of reason in Derek’s life.
And so, here Derek is. Walking as casually as he can across the dark street towards the sheriff’s house. To commit a crime. Oh god.
“It’s just a prank!” Erica had argued. “You just gotta go in there and do something annoying. Like pour water in his shoes or something.”
Derek hadn’t been convinced at all. “But why?”
“So he knows someone got the better of him, duh.”
“But he’s the sheriff. Won’t he take it as a threat or something?”
“Nah,” she’d waved him off. “Sheriff Stilinski is super chill, I’ve met him a few times. Besides, he’s always talking about his troublemaker of a kid, so he’ll probably just think it was them. And if he does suspect a break in, then let that be a hint to him that he needs better security, if a highschooler can just break into his house.”
At the time, her assurances that there was no actual security hadn’t felt very convincing, but as Derek furtively darts into the back yard, her every word is proven correct. There’s no kind of security to see, and the back door is old with only a slightly rusty standard lock that is almost begging to be picked.
Even though Derek was promised repeatedly that the sheriff isn’t home and won’t be until after midnight, Derek still stands frozen and listens intently, nervously touching the lock pick in his pocket.
“He’s at the annual fundraiser. He’s the sheriff. He has to be there. No one is home,” Derek assures himself in a murmur, taking a deep breath before finally getting out the lock pick. He forces himself to focus on what he’s doing, rather than constantly looking around. He already made sure he’s not in view of any windows, and almost every house on the street is dark as well, considering most of the town is at the fundraiser – including Derek’s own parents. Oh god, his parents. They trusted him to be home on his own and not get into trouble.
He swallows down the shame of disappointing them, because he said he’d do this and he will. He’s no coward. Erica will eat her goading words, and Derek has more than a few things planned she needs to do in return. And, after this, he will enjoy them with all the smugness he so richly deserves.
The lock makes a small squeak and Derek winces. There’s no sound anywhere else, though, so he focuses on just moving more slowly, easing the tumblers around and jiggling them as gently as he can. He can feel them falling into place, already tasting victory, when, to his absolute horror, there’s suddenly light and movement right on the other side of the door, and someone unlocks it before Derek can. The door swings open slowly, and rather than running for his damn life like he should, Derek just stands there, frozen in terror, because oh fuck, he’s so dead.
But instead of coming face to face with the sheriff like he’d feared, someone much younger and leaner pushes open the door, a bulging plastic bag in one hand. And when the person looks up, Derek abruptly realizes that his worst case scenario of being caught by the sheriff was not worst case at all. No, even worse, a scenario he never even imagined – and would have vomited in terror had he attempted to – is being caught breaking into the sheriff’s house… by Stiles. Stiles, the popular junior that half the school is in love with. Vibrant, smart and funny Stiles, who seems to have smiles for everybody, and yet at the same time be just enough of a dick to be endlessly cool. People who don’t want to date him want to be him. There’s literally no one worse Derek can imagine being caught by doing a stupid, childish prank. He’s going to kill Erica. And then he’s going to kill himself, god.
Stiles stares at him sleepily for about half a second before seemingly regaining full consciousness, and then dropping the bag with a sharp cry.
“Wuargh! Jesus christ, dude, what are you doing lurking out here in the dark?!”
“It’s just a prank!” Derek yelps, holding his hands up in defense, before the weirdness of the whole situation occurs to him. “Wait, what are you doing here? It’s the sheriff’s house!”
“Uhhh.” Stiles looks at him like he’s suspecting brain damage. “I live here. You know? With my dad? The sheriff?”
Derek wants to sink through the ground to the center of the damn earth right now. Because how did he never even think to wonder where Stiles lives? Or what his last name is? God, if he’d had any shred of hope of being seen as anything other than a dumbass sophomore, that shred has now died a violent death on the sheriff’s back porch. Lightning can strike him dead now, please. It would be vastly less painful.
And how did Derek also never consider that the sheriff’s kid might be home?! God, he’s such a massive moron he can barely stand it.
“Oh,” he says weakly, his knees wanting very badly to buckle under him from the combined pressure of deathly mortification and Stiles’ gorgeous eyes scrutinizing him.
“What are you doing pranking the sheriff? Do you have a death wish or something?” Stiles asks, picking the bag up again and walking past Derek to the trash cans, like catching people breaking into his house is nothing to be too worked up about. As he puts the lid back on the can with a small clang, however, there’s a sharp cry from inside the house, and Stiles’ whole face goes slack with sudden panic. “Oh shit, I actually forgot–”
The sudden explosion of noise from the house makes Derek wince, as a small child breaks into violent screaming, and Stiles slaps his face into his hands. “Oh god, I fell asleep and forgot all about my living nightmare,” he mutters into his hands before moving back to the door, the noise inside only increasing, to a point where Derek’s eyes are watering.
But just before closing the door behind him, Stiles stops dead and whirls back around to face Derek. “Hang on. You’re Derek Hale, right?”
The fact that Stiles knows his name at all is so shocking Derek can only nod mutely. There’s barely a year between their ages, but there’s a gaping maw between their levels of coolness, and Derek is completely lost as to how he’s supposed to deal with the knowledge that Stiles knows who he is.
“And you have, like, a million siblings, don’t you?”
“Uhh. Five? But yeah,” Derek confirms, his horror dimming slightly in confusion.
“You babysit them sometimes, right?”
“Sure?”
Stiles’ face does something complicated and shrewd that has Derek torn between scared and horny. As much as he can be with a small child screaming their lungs out nearby, which is a major boner killer in any given situation.
“Dude. I’m about to make you the offer of a lifetime. I will not breathe a word of this to my dad ever… if you can make this baby stop crying somehow.”
That offer is almost too good to be true, but even as Derek is ready to jump on it, he’s still kind of confused. “Excuse me?”
Stiles’ shrewd face morphs back to the mildly panicked one, and he actually clasps his hands together pleadingly. “I’m begging you, man, I need help. I said I’d babysit this kid tonight, and I thought I could handle it, I mean, it’s a baby, how hard can it be? But she cried for like three hours after dinner, and when she finally fell asleep I passed out on the couch. I can’t handle another three hours, Derek. I’ll die.”
As weird as it is to see super cool Stiles in a moment of weakness like this, it’s slowly but surely being overridden by Derek’s big brother instincts. He can’t stand listening to babies crying if there’s something he can do about it, so there’s really only one answer here.
“I’ll try,” he says, and Stiles seems to almost collapse in relief.
“Thank you, oh god, thank you. I’m an only child, I’ve never changed even a single diaper in my entire life, why the fuck did I think I could do this!?” Stiles rambles as he leads the way into the house and up the stairs at a fast pace, making Derek jog uneasily behind him. “I figured I could just google anything that came up, but it turns out googling with a screaming baby on your arm isn’t super easy! God, why did I think this was a good idea? No money is worth this!”
He ushers Derek into what is most likely Stiles’ actual room, and if there hadn’t been all that deafening wailing going on, Derek would have been super awed about being there. But first things first.
Going into full babysitter mode, Derek picks up the baby from her carrier and starts rocking her, while simultaneously doing checks. Diaper, fine. Temperature, fine. Clothes dry and clean.
“When did she eat last?”
“Uhhh, I dunno, an hour and a half ago maybe?”
“How much did she eat?”
Stiles looks around and then snatches a half empty baby bottle from his desk. “About this much.”
“Hmm. That’s not a lot. Can you make another bottle?”
“Yes! Yes, definitely, I can do that!” Stiles rattles off, and then zips down the stairs like his ass is on fire while Derek keeps gently rocking the crying baby.
“Heeey, easy, baby, easy,” he shushes. “If you’re hungry, we’re on it. If you’re tired, you can sleep when you’ve eaten. If you need hugs, I’m here. It’s okay, you can have all the hugs you want.” He keeps talking to the kid in a low voice, and eventually her cries do quiet somewhat. There’s a small beep from downstairs, and a moment later Stiles pokes his head in so cautiously it’s almost hilarious.
“Can I… come in?” he asks awkwardly, and Derek can’t help but grin.
“Yes. It’s your room.”
“Yeah, well, I didn’t wanna risk breaking your groove or whatever.” He eases in, like he’s still not sure it’s okay, and freezes hilariously when the baby lets out a slightly louder cry. “Yeah, see, that’s what I meant.”
“It’s fine, I think she’s just hungry. Did you check the temperature of the milk?”
Stiles looks at the bottle in his hand with a frown. “Uhh. Check? It feels fine?”
“You’re supposed to drip some out onto your wrist to check it’s not too hot. It should be around body temperature, and the skin on your wrist is thin enough that you can feel it if it’s too hot.”
Stiles looks stricken. “I didn’t know you were supposed to do that. I just followed the instructions on the box. Did I… did I hurt her?”
“Did she eat, or did she cry when you gave her the bottle?”
“She ate fine. Just… not a lot, I guess?”
“Then you’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”
He watches as Stiles shakes a little milk out onto his wrist and then hands Derek the bottle a little hesitantly. “I think it’s okay.”
“I’m sure it’s fine,” Derek says, and adjusts his hold on the baby before offering the bottle. “Here, baby girl, let’s see if this helps.”
There’s a few seconds of blissful peace as the milk is accepted, but that joy is short, and she turns her head away. Derek checks the milk just in case, but it seems fine, so that’s not it. She starts crying again, and Stiles is literally wringing his hands now.
“See?! What am I doing wrong?!”
“Probably nothing. There are a million things babies can cry over,” Derek says, putting her on his shoulder just in case there’s any burping that needs doing. “Sometimes they just… cry. It’s not your fault.”
“It feels like my fault,” Stiles mutters.
“That’s how it feels for anyone who’s ever been responsible for a small child.”
“I’m never having kids, oh my god.”
Derek can’t help letting out a small laugh, even as the baby whimpers against his shoulder. “What is it, baby? Is it your tummy?” he murmurs, and barely are the words out before there’s a significant wet sound, complete with straining grunts from the tiny human in his arms. And then the smell.
“Did she just… deliver a massive crap?” Stiles asks, eyes wide. “Oh jesus fuck, what is that smell?!”
“Welcome to babysitting,” Derek says, eyes watering. “Wow, baby, you had something nasty bothering you, didn’t you? You poor thing.” He chats calmly at her and gently rubs her back, giving her a little time to make sure she’s done before changing her. In fact, judging from the sheer effort and volume, she might need deep cleaning.
“Hey, can you go make a bath for her? I think we’ll need it after the diaper change.”
A brief glimpse of panic is back on Stiles face, but then replaced by a frown. “Uhm. I don’t have a bathtub for a baby.”
“Anything will do. A spacious sink or a plastic bowl of some kind. Anything big enough to submerge about half her body in. Test the water the same way as the milk.”
“Uh, sure. Okay. Can do,” Stiles says, and leaves again.
There are some towels laid out on the desk, which has obviously been designated changing table for the night, and Derek gingerly lays the baby down on them. Not that his caution helps, and there’s a wet squelch as her back flattens out. “Aw man,” he groans, but then just gets on with it. He’s done it before, and he did say he’d do this in exchange for Stiles not telling his dad that an idiotic sophomore tried to break into his house.
The good news is that the baby is in a great mood now that her obvious stomach distress is dealt with, and she flails and drools all too happily as Derek eases her out of her filthy clothes and starts the lengthy cleaning process.
“Dude,” Stiles says from right behind him, making him jump a little. “You are my hero, I owe you big time. Damn, where did all that come from? Was all of that inside such a small person? How is that possible?”
“I have no idea, but I’ve seen worse,” Derek mutters, forcing himself to focus on the job at hand, and not on how Stiles is close enough that Derek can feel his breath.
“Jeez. People say babies are magical, but I had no idea it meant that babies defy the laws of physics. There is no way all of that fit inside a body that tiny.”
“You’d be surprised.”
“I’m already surprised,” Stiles points out, and reaches out to let the baby clutch at his finger. It’s frankly rude how adorable that is. And it’s not like Derek needs more reasons to swoon over Stiles, but this is his life now.
After another minute of Derek cleaning up poop and ignoring the cuteness, Stiles eventually clears his throat. “Hey, uh… you don’t have to do this. I’m the one being paid for this, and you already fulfilled your part of the deal.”
“I might as well finish the gross part of it. Then while I bathe her you can clean up in here and take over when she’s been washed.”
“That sounds like a shit deal for you, but I’m not too proud to take it. Thanks, dude.”
Derek shrugs. “It’s just practical. And you’re welcome.”
“Still. You’ve gone above and beyond, man. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Just not telling your dad I was a complete idiot is enough. More than enough. Thanks,” Derek adds, finally deeming the baby clean enough, and picking her up to gingerly carry her to the bathroom.
As much as Stiles had panicked earlier, he clearly has the level of good sense that all half decent babysitters need, seeing as he not only filled the bathroom sink, but also left two different washcloths as well as a bowl to pour water over her with. Derek makes good use of it all, and a few minutes later he hands over a much cleaner and happier baby to Stiles, who’s ready with a fluffy towel.
“Wooow, look at you, sweetie pie! Look at that smile! I thought you hated me or something!” Stiles says, joy practically radiating off him as the baby slaps her hands against his cheeks and blows spit bubbles. “You are the cutest, even though you are literally full of shit.”
Derek has to smile to himself as he cleans the sink and washes his hands. When he’s done he returns to Stiles’ room, and then has to bite down on his despair, because his vague, distant admiration of unattainable cool guy Stiles is rapidly snowballing into a full-on crush. And that just has heartbreak written all over it. So as soon as he gets back home he’s gonna have to work on stomping down on that as hard as he can.
But for now he lets himself enjoy the sight of Stiles being handsome and adorable as he gets the baby into some clean clothes, taking many, many breaks to just make faces or blow raspberries at her. It’s glorious, and Derek soaks it all up.
“I still feel like I should do something to make up for you taking on the shittiest job of this experience,” Stiles says, snapping Derek out of his rosy haze. “Buy you lunch or something, I dunno,” he continues, eyes still firmly on the baby, who seems utterly besotted with him.
Derek can relate.
“Oh, no, you don’t have to. I fixed the baby, you keep the secret of how I was a moron, we’re even,” Derek argues, hating himself a little bit for not jumping on the chance to have lunch with Stiles, but mostly feeling like he should have left several minutes ago.
Stiles finally tears his eyes off the baby and turns them towards Derek instead. It’s a little overwhelming to be the only focus of them like this, all private in Stiles’ room.
“Look, you might as well give up now, and accept that I’m taking you out. I’ve been told by very reliable and annoyed sources that I could talk paint off walls, so.”
The grin Stiles sends Derek makes tingles rush down his spine, and he struggles to think of a response for long enough that Stiles seems to decide that’s an answer in itself.
“Good choice! You’re a smart guy, I can tell,” he says, picking up the baby, and bouncing her a little in his arms. “Looks and brains. Even this here baby can tell me that’s a great deal.”
Derek is pretty sure he gapes stupidly, because he could have sworn Stiles just insinuated that he finds Derek good looking. And as much as Derek questions his sanity, there’s no missing the fact that Stiles winks at him, and then – for some reason – waves the baby’s hand at him.
“Okay, that face right there isn’t the most hot thing on the planet, I’ll admit, but come on, carpe diem and all that stuff, like, how dumb would I be to pass up the chance to take someone cute out on a date when they literally appear on my doorstep?” Stiles rattles off, looking increasingly unsure with every word. “Am I being weird? Is this too weird a way to ask someone out? God, it is, isn’t it. You know what, just forget it, it’s fine-”
“No!” Derek yelps, finally jerking out of his disbelieving daze to stop where this is going, pronto. “No, it’s not weird at all, I’d… I’d love to go out on a date-” he has to stop and swallow a whole bucket of nervous spit. “- a date… with you. I’m just… a little confused?”
“About what?”
Stiles looks genuinely baffled, and Derek gets the distinct impression they’re not on the same page somehow. “About… how you even know who I am?”
“You’re Derek Hale,” Stiles says, gesturing with the baby, as if he has to move his hands for emphasis, whether they’re holding something or not. “Laura’s little brother, pretty decent basketball player and like, upstanding member of society? And also really cute?”
Derek’s brain is doing cartwheels trying to keep up with what is happening right now. “But you’re a junior? Why do you even care about sophomores?”
Stiles frowns. “Because… I’m not a total dick? Also, I was moved up a year in middle school, so we’re practically the same age, dude. And it’s not like any of my fellow juniors want to touch me with a ten foot pole.”
Those words make Derek bark out a surprised laugh, because what. “What?!” he bursts out. “How the hell do you figure?! Everyone in school wants to date you!”
It’s Stiles’ turn to explode into laughter, and his goes on for so long he has to clutch the baby to his chest so he can wipe his eyes with his free hand. “Oh my god, what the hell? If that was true you’d think more of them would say yes when I ask them out. Where the hell did you get the idea that I’m like… cool or whatever?”
“Everyone knows that!”
“And by everyone you mean… a random bunch of sophomores?” Stiles asks, and Derek’s retort dies on his tongue, because that’s a good point. No one around him had even seemed to be aware that Stiles’ last name was Stilinski. And having been homeschooled for most of his life, Derek hadn’t thought to argue with what the people around him insisted was just a fact of life in high school.
There’s an increasingly high likelihood that Derek has been a moron for quite a while before tonight.
“Well. I can name at least five sophomores who would pretty much fall at your feet if you asked them out,” he ends up offering weakly, feeling the mortification settling bitterly in his stomach.
“Then you can tell them to maybe talk to me instead of just assuming all kinds of things. And maybe also ask me out instead of, like… pining from afar. Because I’ve tried that one, and trust me, I know for a fact that that strategy will not work. But, more importantly,” Stiles adds, with a significant look at Derek, “do you happen to know if the guy standing in my room right now is one of those sophomores?”
Derek can’t decide if what he wants more is to sink through the floor or float to the ceiling, but he’s already been an idiot in more ways than he wants to even think about, so he sucks up his embarrassment and seizes the moment. “Uhm. Yeah. Yeah, I guess he kinda is. And if that offer of a date still stands, then. Well, I’d love to.”
He’s still a jittery mess of nerves and confusion after everything that’s happened in the last half hour or so, but he’s here, Stiles is grinning happily at him, and apparently they’re going out on a date.
“Great! That’s great!” Stiles says, and fumbles around in his pocket for a while until he realizes his phone is on his desk. “Here, put in your number, and I’ll like… text you?”
Derek does, and soon there’s a text from an unknown number, only containing a heart emoji.
“Too much?” Stiles asks, and Derek only just barely manages to not clutch the phone to his chest.
“No,” he says, and he can feel the huge dopey smile on his face.
“Hah, I see how it is. You, Derek Hale, are a complete romantic!” Stiles says, pointing at him with the baby’s chubby arm, and Derek could melt through the fucking floor. “Well, prepare to be wooed good and proper, then! Because Stilinskis don’t do anything halfway!”
Derek believes him completely, and floats home on a little cloud of disbelieving happiness.
Stiles makes good on his word, but not before Derek has enjoyed the look of first horror and then confusion and then intense envy on Erica’s face as he tells her the whole story. She may or may not have been the main source of Derek’s misinformation, and it’s pretty sweet to share his feelings of stupidity with her as she groans into the couch about how she never thought to even Facebook stalk Stiles or anything. And now she missed her chance. Derek can’t make himself feel bad for it, considering his own good fortune.
Also, it turns out that maybe one of Derek’s friends was not so in the dark about things. Boyd doesn’t exactly say outright that he knew who Stiles was and that he’d be home, but he also doesn’t deny it, and hovers unobtrusively around Erica while Derek marvels at the sheer genius at work here.
Isaac claims he thinks the whole thing is fucking hilarious, but Derek isn’t a complete idiot – despite evidence to the contrary – and he’s seen how Isaac has been eyeing Stiles’ best friend Scott the few times they’ve been in the same room.
Derek really needs to stop trusting people so blindly. Clearly he’s surrounded by schemers who won’t hesitate to take advantage of their gullible friend to further their own motives. But considering how he’s now the pleasantly steady significant other of one Stiles Stilinski, he can’t bring himself to even be angry.
But revenge will be sweet. Oh yes. And considering Derek is now dating a certifiable genius at planning, they will definitely all get what’s coming to them. But not until after a few weeks or maybe months of dating and holding hands and kissing behind the bleachers.
Priorities.
End.