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"I swear to god if you don’t get your ass out of your bed right now, I will make you pay!” an unfamiliar, feminine voice demands from his living room. Stiles looks up from his book. Who the fuck is in his apartment? He pushes his book to the other side of his bed when the voice comes again. “Seriously, dude. This apartment looks like some college kid’s dive. We’re going to go to fucking IKEA - after you take me wedding dress shopping like you promised.”
Stiles gets to his door when the woman starts pounding on his bedroom door. He almost gets punched in the face when he swings it open. Well, holy shit, whoever this woman is, she’s gorgeous.
"Who the fuck are you?" she asks, confused.
"I think I could ask you the same thing," Stiles says, idly.
"My brother has a boyfriend?" is the woman’s next question. "Finally. Thank the lord. You are an angel for putting up with his sorry ass. I should give you a cake or something.”
"I’ll take the cake and an explanation," Stiles says, finding himself more amused than annoyed. He follows her into his living room. "But I think you have me mistaken for someone else. I’m not seeing anyone, and definitely not your brother."
"Wait, what?" the woman asks.
"I’m Stiles," he holds out a hand. "And I think you have the wrong apartment."
The woman flushes. “I’m Laura Hale, and I’ve just made an ass out of myself. Is this apartment 336?”
"337 actually," Stiles says, with a laugh. "Are you the sister of the grumpy guy across the hall then?"
"Derek Hale?" she asks.
"I don’t know. He has yet to acknowledge my presence," Stiles says, shrugging. He rubs the back of his neck. "Your brother isn’t very…um, social."
Not social is being polite, really. The guy had moved in a few weeks ago, looking gorgeous as fuck, and had completely ignored Stiles. He’d offered his name, told him that if he ever needed to borrow some sugar, he knew where to find him, and had even tried complaining about the old couple downstairs who watched everyone come in and out of the apartment because they were so nosy. Once, while they’d climbed the stairs together, Stiles had even offered him helpful advice as to how to deal with their landlord.
Still, his neighbour hadn’t spoken a word. Sometimes he’d smile, but that was the extent of that.
"That sounds like Derek. Don’t take it personally. He’s bad at people. Come with me. My brother’s a baker so I wouldn’t be surprised if he doesn’t have a cake ready to go." Laura’s grabbing Stiles’ wrist and dragging him out of the apartment. He manages to shut his door before she’s pounding on the one across the hall. "Derek Hale, you’re a dick.”
Stiles laughs, before the door swings open. Wow. Derek’s wearing a red apron, which is covered in flour just like his face. The laugh dies in his throat and he has to force himself to inhale. Holy fucking shit, Laura’s brother is gorgeous. Not that Stiles hadn’t seen him around the apartment building but he looks much more relaxed than usual. Maybe Stiles only catches Derek when he’s tense and annoyed.
The amused smile he gives his sister is kind of incredible. Stiles feels a little starstruck.
"Laura." Derek’s eyes move from his sister to Stiles. "Neighbour who plays the drums at three in the morning and never shuts up when we run into each other."
Laura huffs. “Don’t be rude. You gave me the wrong apartment number, so I barged into Stiles' apartment like an asshole. I promised him baked goods to make up for it. What are you making?”
Just like that, Laura’s dragging Stiles in pass Derek. He stumbles a little and then takes a deep breath. Oh god.
"Are you making fresh bread?" Stiles asks.
"Yes, but it’s not going to be done for a few hours. There’s also pie in the oven. Laura, why are you here?” Derek growls.
"You promised you’d take me wedding dress shopping!" Laura says, indignantly.
"That was on Tuesday," Derek says, eyeing his sister down. "And I did not give you the wrong apartment number."
She pulls out her phone and scrolls for a bit before she lifts a conversation to show Derek. “Look, dumbass.”
Derek squints and then sighs. “Okay, I’m sorry. I must have forgotten then. I have pumpkin pie in the oven. When that’s done, we can go shopping. And…”
Derek looks at Stiles.
"And you’re welcome to join us," Derek murmurs. Stiles is still reeling from Derek’s greeting. He’s embarrassed. This guy had been fully aware of who Stiles was.
"No, don’t worry about it. I didn’t realize that you could hear my drums over here," Stiles says, a little sheepish. "I’m sorry. I should go. Laura, thanks for the offer of your brother’s goods—baked, baked goods--but I was studying so I should, uh, get back to that. It was nice meeting you two.”
He might jog out of the apartment before either of them could say another word. Holy hell.
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"Oh my god, you’re such a dick." Laura’s eyeing Derek at lunch three hours later.
"What?" he asks, as though he has no idea what she’s referring to. He does.
She rolls her eyes, forever dramatic. “When you get home, you better give Stiles an apology pie or something. I made an ass out of myself when I barged into his apartment, but you, you made an ass out of yourself by being all…you.”
"Gee, thanks, Laura."
Still, when Derek gets home that night, he steps into an apartment that smells of pumpkin pie. He thinks he hears Stiles playing drums, and Derek doesn’t seem to mind this time. Maybe, fuck, maybe Laura was right. Maybe he’d given a bad first impression.
The thing is that up until now he’d thought that Stiles and he had a silent understanding. As it turns out, Derek had made that up in his head. He grabs his pie from the top of the stove. Only a piece that Laura had had is missing.
He knocks on Stiles’ door. There’s an abrupt stop in the drumming and then a few seconds later, Stiles is opening his door.
Derek gives him an apologetic smile to go with the pie. “Hi.”
"Hello," Stiles says, sounding nervous.
"I want to say sorry for giving you the impression that your drumming at three a.m. was a bad thing," Derek says quietly. "I do a lot of my baking then, and it’s actually really nice. I thought—I thought you knew."
Stiles’ jaw drops. He doesn’t say anything.
Derek jerks the pie forward. “Here. Laura, my crazy sister, had a piece. But the rest is yours. Sorry about Laura. And the fact that she had a really big piece of your apology pie. And uh, well, yeah. I hope you don’t stop practicing in the morning. You’re kind of, well, good.”
When Stiles takes the pie, Derek turns. “Wait!”
Derek glances over his shoulder, freezing in place.
"Do you really think I’m going to finish this by myself?" Stiles asks. "Why…why don’t you join me for a piece?"
"Um. Sure."
Derek follows Stiles into his apartment, glancing around. This is what Laura had meant by the apartment looking like Stiles was a college student. It has a certain vibe to it, but for some reason, Derek gets the distinct impression that it works for Stiles.
"Do you want anything to drink?" Stiles asks, leading them into his kitchen. Derek shakes his head, and Stiles nods. He gets two plates and forks out for them. "How long have you been baking?"
"My whole life. Professionally speaking, maybe six years now. How long have you been drumming?" Derek asks.
Stiles snorts. “My whole life, but I don’t do it professionally. I have really bad sleeping patterns, and playing drums helps me fall asleep. I’m self-centered enough to not have even considered the other people in the apartment. How shitty is that?”
"Some of us like it," Derek responds. "Laura says I should also apologize for never introducing myself."
Stiles laughs. “You’re sister’s something, isn’t she?”
"That’s one way to describe her," Derek says, smiling now.
"Did your sister also suggest that you ask me out?" Stiles asks now.
Derek watches the amusement dance in Stiles’ eyes, and he even catches the way Stiles bites on his bottom lip, nervously. He shakes his head. “No, but my sister’s too involved in her own love life—getting married, and all—to think of mine for once.”
Stiles smiles at him. “Well, I think your sister should reconsider her demands.”
"Stiles?" Derek prompts after a minute or so. Stiles raises his eyebrows in acknowledgment and anticipation. "Do you want to go out sometime or something?"
"Ten years later, and he finally gets the hint." Stiles winks before he adds, "Yeah, I guess we could do that. It’s not as though I’ve had the biggest crush superficial crush on you since you moved in."
Derek’s surprised, but then Stiles is rushing to tell him all of the stories where he tried to hit on Derek—who, apparently, had been too dense to pick up on it. He’d kept quiet because he’d never known how to handle Stiles. Very quickly though, he’s figuring it out. Stiles is the kind of person who just rolls with whatever’s thrown at him. Derek tries to be like that.
The evening ends with a laugh at an inside joke, Derek’s body running with sexual tension that Stiles makes worst with a quick kiss, and the promise of a date on Friday night.
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"You owe me a cake,” Laura tells her brother the next time she’s over and finds him in Stiles’ apartment. “Look at how happy you two are — all thanks to me.”
"I’m pretty sure you promised me a cake when we first met. I haven’t seen it yet,” Stiles points out.
Laura snorts. “Please, you ate half of my wedding cake by yourself.”
"What? It was really good!" Stiles says, grinning. He leans into Derek. "You make really good cake."
"So I’ve been told," Derek says, smiling with ease now. They’re both wondering how they’d gotten so damn lucky, finding each other, and Laura’s feeling smug because they’ve forgotten about the cake that she owes Stiles once again. It was too easy.
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