Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Mieczyslaw “Stiles” Stilinski always thought that he led a fairly normal, average life. He was a normal young adult in his late twenties. He was raised by a normal single dad in a normal small town up north.

In short, Stiles never considered himself to be someone remarkable.

Or magical.

That was, at least, until his thirtieth birthday.

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At twenty-nine years and 364 days old, Stiles Stilinski could be found heading in for his data entry job at Nemeton, Inc., a stationery and office supply company. This basic, run-of-the-mill job gave Stiles the means to live his ordinary, unremarkable life in the City of Los Angeles, California.

Stiles would make the commute between his studio apartment in the suburbs to his workplace in the downtown area. He would clock in for a regular 8:30 am - 5 pm shift then head home, picking up dinner along the way. The next day, he’d do it all over again. This was his routine five days a week.

The day started out just as uneventful as any other. Stiles managed to reach the building lobby as a group of people were piling into an elevator. Once he stepped off on the correct level, Stiles took a quick detour for the records room to grab a file he knew he would need for the spreadsheet he was working on. He then headed straight for Nemeton’s office bullpen and made a beeline for his desk.

That is, until he tripped over virtually nothing and ate it right on the drab, gray office carpet.

Stiles managed to brace himself on the way down so thankfully he wasn’t injured, aside from an ache in his knee that may or may not bruise later. He noticed that the folder he was carrying landed a couple feet away and some loose sheets of paper had fallen out. As he scrambled over to collect his belongings, he could see a few of his coworkers looking over curiously.

This occurrence wasn’t too uncommon so Stiles’ coworkers mostly regarded him with mild concern in case he ended up suffering an actual injury. He could see a few heads in his periphery turned his way from the sales department across the room, craning their necks to make sure his fall was nothing serious. Though they might have just been distracted from their conversation since he could hear their newbie, Dunbar, chattering away about a sales pitch he was working on, most likely to Hale.

Stiles’ pride has taken a more or less permanent vacation from any worry at being labeled as the office klutz. He just wanted to clean up his mess as quick as he could, apologizing to anyone who passed him by for being in the way.

Luckily, Stiles came in early enough that he was able to set his things down and fix himself a cup of coffee. He had just settled into his chair and booted up his laptop when the rest of the office filed in. One of them was Greenberg, his deskmate and senior within their department. Stiles could hear the scrape of the guy’s office chair against the floor, using way too much force to push himself across their shared aisle. The man promptly collided with Stiles’ desk, causing his desk drawers to rattle.

“Yooooo, Stilinski,” Greenberg drawled.

Greenberg was a human man who had been with Nemeton for just a bit longer than Stiles which was quite a feat given that the guy tended to both overshare and ask pretty invasive questions. He also regularly stepped in it with just about anyone in their office by stating things a little too bluntly. Still, Stiles would like to think they had a pretty good working relationship, given that the guy frequently pushed some of his workload on him. It was mostly busy work that Stiles didn’t mind doing so he wasn’t too bothered when the occasion arose.

Stiles shifted his focus from his cup of coffee, fruit & nut bar, and e-mail inbox somewhat warily toward his coworker as Greenberg continued, “Is it true that you’ve never dated anyone before?”

Stiles froze while his brain was going a mile a minute. He briefly wondered how Greenberg got a hold of this information and how he even came up as the topic of water cooler gossip in the first place. He fidgeted uncomfortably under the other man’s gaze.

“Uhh… where is this coming from exactly?” Stiles asked warily.

“Come on!” Greenberg insisted while nudging Stiles’ shoulder with his own, apparently not sensing Stiles’ discomfort, or that his cheeks were starting to turn a shade of pink. “Just level with me here,” Greenberg added while he continued to stare expectantly and unblinkingly.

“Well…” Stiles began while trying to find a way to navigate this safely without coming off as abrupt or rude himself. Having found no other way around it, he decided to just go with “...actually, yeah.” Maybe the lack of details would get Greenberg to drop the subject.

In hindsight, Stiles thought that he should have known better after seven years of working with the man. Greenberg looked positively agog before exclaiming “What? So, does that mean you’re still a virgin ?!”

Stiles was certain that the outburst drew a few curious stares this time around.

“Please keep your voice down,” Stiles pleaded in a frantic whisper. It seemed this was all the confirmation Greenberg needed since he made a noise of understanding and began to mumble to himself and fix Stiles with an interested gaze.

“You know, this is kind of bordering on sexual harassment,” mumbled Stiles as he shuffled some papers on his desk nervously. Greenberg didn’t seem to hear him but thankfully moved on to a different line of questions.

“Okay, okay, wait. How old are you exactly?” Greenberg placed an elbow on Stiles’ desk and cradled his own chin thoughtfully.

“I turn thirty tomorrow actually,” replied Stiles, happy to take the conversation elsewhere.

Greenberg considered this when his focus was pulled by another co-worker passing by their row. Kira Yukimura was a kitsune who appeared to be Stiles’ age though given the longevity of her species, she could have easily been decades older. Stiles always liked Kira well enough since she first started at Nemeton. She had a bright and cheerful disposition and was well liked around the office.

“Hey, Kira! Kira, Kira, Kira!” Greenberg called out to their colleague. Kira turned her friendly and curious gaze to the two humans.

Stiles had turned his chair to face her and offer a friendly smile, when he felt Greenberg clap both his hands down on his shoulders.

“It is this guy’s birthday tomorrow!” Greenberg continued.

Kira turned her thousand-watt smile on Stiles with a greeting of “Happy early birthday!” Stiles was able to reply with a somewhat flustered thanks in return before Kira thankfully considered that the end of her part in the conversation. She continued on to her own desk.

Stiles turned back to his work and breakfast, hoping that would be the end of this latest awkward encounter. Greenberg apparently was not quite ready to drop this subject just yet and grabbed the nearest side of Stiles’ chair to turn him so they were facing the same direction, toward where Kira had walked off.

“What do you think about Kira huh, Stilinski?” Greenberg asked. Stiles wasn’t sure if kitsune had heightened hearing but he was pretty sure every werewolf in the bullpen heard Greenberg’s stage whisper.

Stiles stared at the woman in question enviously as she sat at her desk, unbothered, going through her own emails. “What do you mean?”

Greenberg shot him an annoyed look, “My info says she currently does not have a boyfriend.”

“Okay…?”

Greenberg clapped his hands down on Stiles shoulders again, “What do you say? Want me to wingman up and put in a good word for you?”

Stiles squirmed out from under Greenberg’s clutches “Uh, no, that’s not at all necessary,” he stated nervously but not impolitely.

Wrong answer apparently since Greenberg grabbed a hold of Stiles’ armrests, this time turning him so they were face-to-face.

“I don’t think you understand the gravity of this and how you should be much more freaked out!” he exclaimed. “Don’t you know that if you’re still a virgin at thirty, you get magic powers and become a wizard?!” Greenberg had slowly risen from his chair during his tirade, now on his feet and was looming over Stiles as if to further impress the gravity of the situation or whatever.

Stiles tried hard while at work to usually remain inoffensive but he couldn’t help the look of pure doubt that crossed his face. “I’m pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“It’s most definitely a thing in Japan,” Greenberg argued, dropping back into his seat.

Stiles didn’t know enough about Japan to dispute his colleague’s claim. He decided to laugh their conversation off, albeit nervously. “If you’re sure it’s a thing then it’s probably all just a big urban legend,” he attempted to state with certainty but by the look on the other man’s face, not sure he pulled it off. “Do you really believe something like that could happen?”

“We share this city with weres and kitsune and whatever else goes bump in the night and you think gaining magical virgin powers is out of the question?” Greenberg leveled Stiles with an unimpressed gaze. “Should we call Kira back here so she can back me up?”

Greenberg looked like he was ready to get back on his feet to holler for and wave Kira back over so Stiles knew he had to at least try and end the conversation.

“Alright, I get what you’re saying,” Stiles conceded, “and your concern is noted. Can we get back to work now please?” he pleaded with as much finality as he could muster. Greenberg finally got the hint and dragged his chair back to his desk and dove into work himself.

It wasn’t like Stiles intended on staying a virgin. He wasn’t frigid and inaccessible; he’d certainly fallen in love before. He had crushes where it felt like those people were the be all, end all. That was definitely how it felt when each of those people let him know with certainty that they just didn’t see him in a romantic light.

Stiles still definitely valued their friendships so after a brief mourning period, he made an effort to stay friends. He was happy for them when they ended up in happy, long term relationships with other people. People who were noticeably the farthest thing from the shy, klutzy, anxious mess that Stiles was.

Stiles liked Kira well enough. Kira was great . She was a great workplace acquaintance; a great colleague. But he had not really let himself consider her anything past that. With his overall disposition and lack of experience at this point of his life, he couldn’t really bring himself to take action, much less think of what would come next. It most likely would not end well for him, given past experiences.

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Stiles was deep in his thoughts as he grabbed his documents from the office printer. He also made a point to deliver his other coworkers’ copies from the outgoing tray to their desks since he was already out of his seat.

On Stiles’ way back to his seat, he passed by a group of his colleagues discussing what sounded like the LA nightlife scene, based on the snippets of conversation he heard. He was able to easily identify Braeden and Paige as part of the conversation but there was one other person with them who had his back turned to the approaching human man.

“There’s this new steakhouse-bistro close to the fashion district that has a really great selection of wolfsbane wines. We can go grab dinner sometime and check it out?” The raspier voice belonged to Braeden, their Office Administrator.

“That’s a great idea! I’ll bring it up to Raf and see if we can set up a team dinner some time!” Ah. Stiles didn’t need to see the man’s face to know who he was.

“O-oh. You didn’t want to check it out in, say like, a smaller group?” That would be Paige. She worked with the Design Team. And hoped to keep the invite small and intimate, apparently.

“Won’t it be a lot more fun if everyone got to go though?”

Derek Hale was a werewolf who was instantly recognizable from his perfectly styled dark hair, groomed beard, and tailored three-piece suits. He was handsome, tall, well-built, approachable, charming, and naturally very well-liked at work. He was also the sales team’s best salesman, having brought in more clients and revenue and shattered more sales records than any individual member of that department. He was management’s dream employee and clearly the women of the office didn’t think he was half bad.

Derek was just a few years older than Stiles and moved down to LA from San Francisco, where his family and pack were based, about seven years ago. They started at Nemeton around the same time. Derek was instantly the subject of fascination during their first week and it seemed like almost everyone had googled him in some way or other.

Derek had gone to Stanford for college and graduated with honors.

Derek was captain of his high school’s academic decathlon team in his senior year and led them to victory at Nor-Cal Regionals.

Derek played basketball and baseball and was MVP in both.

If Stiles was a more egotistical person, he would have been irritated and resentful of Derek for stealing all the new employee thunder during their first week. But Stiles was more relieved than anything that there weren’t that many people trying to pry small talk out of him.

Stiles had very limited significant encounters with Derek despite their history as colleagues. They shared the same office space and lunchroom for the better part of a decade but Stiles can’t recall any significant conversations between them, if there were even any. It wasn’t like they had any overlap in accomplishments or interests that could be proper conversation starters. Their shared experience with the company and the fact that they were both men is all they really had in common; the differences between them were like night and day.

Derek’s head perked up as Stiles was passing through and the werewolf turned, regarding the other man carefully. “Good morning,” he greeted with a friendly smile.

Stiles nodded back, “Morning,” and kept his head down as he made his way back. Derek’s toothy, white smile was blinding. And intimidating. Stiles felt inadequate.

Stiles left the trio to their conversation as he went straight for his desk. If I could just have one thing that Derek Hale has…

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If I could just have one thing that Derek Hale has…

The thought had stayed with Stiles throughout his workday up until his walk back to the nearby rail station for his commute home. Ultimately, to save himself from an evening of eating his feelings and some self-loathing, he decided to settle on a simple truth: I shouldn’t bother wishing for things I can’t have.

Stiles stopped at a nearby food truck right after getting off his stop and picked up a chicken, tater tot, and cheese breakfast burrito. And a large blended horchata. Stiles figured that not eating his feelings was one thing but he wasn’t denying himself his favorites this close to his birthday.

At the very least, if I were to learn that someone out there was in love with me… , Stiles mused to himself. He quickly dismissed this thought with a chuckle.

I’m an idiot.

Stiles stubbed his toe on a piece of uneven sidewalk and stumbled. He managed to catch himself in time, thankfully, and save both his dinner and beverage.

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Stiles’ alarm went off the next morning promptly at 7 am, as scheduled. He grabbed his phone off the nightstand and dismissed the on-screen notification.

Happy Birthday to me. Goodbye, my 20s; hello, my 30s. So far, so good.

Stiles pulled up his messenger app which had two notifications. They were both birthday greetings; one from his dad and the other from his college friend, Isaac. Stiles fired off a quick thanks to both.

And that’s it for today’s festivities.

Stiles got ready for work in record time, sparing a quick glance at his bathroom mirror to make sense of his sleep-mussed hair. He grabbed his trusty, well-worn, satchel and was out the door and in front of his favorite food truck while he waited for his train to arrive. Stiles grabbed his usual, a pre-made ham and cheese sandwich, and dug for his wallet to pay.

Stiles handed over a $5 bill to pay for his order, which the cashier reached out to receive. Then it happened.

“Alright. Same old ham and cheese for this dude. Again.”

Stiles felt the money leave his hand yet he stayed frozen with his arm extended. He was pretty sure that was the cashier’s voice but the last thing he actually said was Stiles’ total; the guy was smiling expectantly at him the rest of the time.

The cashier took the opportunity to pass Stiles’ change back. As soon as the money was in his hands, it happened again.

“It’s pretty amazing he still isn’t tired of these. I guess he’s one of those people who enjoys the simple stuff?”

“What?” Stiles blurted out before he could stop himself.

“Hmm?” the cashier and apparently the same person who prepares the food hummed in response, he himself now visibly puzzled as well.

“N-nothing. Nevermind,” Stiles replied. The cashier then handed over his purchase in a bag which Stiles warily accepted.

“Thank you! Enjoy!” the cashier called after him. Stiles figured he was a lot more excited about his thirtieth birthday than he thought he was and it was all now just getting to him.

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It turns out, it wasn’t to be chalked up to plain old birthday excitement. Stiles figured as much when it continued to happen on the train. Now, waiting to cross the street among a throng of other office workers, the morning’s strange occurrence just continued to happen.

“This is taking forever!”

“My stomach hurts.”

“I wish that bastard would get fired.”

“I don’t feel like heading into work today.”

“I’m exhausted.”

Stiles stood stock still, silently freaking out. He was stuck standing shoulder-to-shoulder with other office workers waiting for the ‘Do Not Walk’ light to change. The woman in front of him shifted slightly and almost crushed his toes with her heel so Stiles took a reflexive step back. This brought him in contact with the guy standing behind to his right. Stiles instinctively turned to apologize only to find the man already staring him down.

“The hell is your problem, man?”

“Huh?” Stiles uttered stupidly, not for the first time today and most definitely not the last.

Wha-what the hell is going on?!

Stiles booked it across the street as soon as the light changed. He only stopped to catch his breath after reaching a bay of parking meters.

“What is happening?” Stiles exclaimed, mostly to himself. He was in the process of crouching down and tucking his head between his knees when he felt an authoritative tap on his shoulder.

“Everything alright, sir?”

Stiles quickly looked up to find a parking enforcement officer observing him carefully. The guy had stayed close and kept his hand on Stiles’ shoulder so he was almost unsurprised to hear a “Please don’t make me have to deal with a drunk and disorderly this early in the morning.”

Stiles jerked away from the contact. This wasn’t the brightest move since it set off a chain reaction of him ping-ponging off people who most likely had some place to be and were just trying to go about their individual days.

“Move it!”

“You’re in my way!”

“Watch it!”

It was a testament to how much of a stickler Stiles was to his routine that he still bothered to continue his commute, all the while jumpily trying to avoid anyone and everyone. As soon as he arrived at the Nemeton office, he quickly took refuge at his desk, running his hands through his hair and quietly freaking out internally. He heard some movement behind him and barely registered the arrival of Greenberg, who set his briefcase down and placed a hand directly on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Good morning, pal! Happy B-day! It’s the big 3-0, how’s it feel to finally get over that hill?”

Stiles, still shaken, could only offer a feeble thanks in return. Greenberg’s smile turned to that of sympathy as he continued to look him over. Like clockwork, he once again heard his coworker’s voice bouncing around in his head despite the man’s lips no longer moving.

“Ah hell. Looks like the doom and gloom are out in full force, even today.” Greenberg tried to offer him a final, more encouraging smile which looked more constipated than anything else before clapping Stiles on the shoulder a final time and heading back to his desk.

Thinking back to this morning’s ordeal, Stiles started to notice a pattern. This didn’t seem to happen unless he was directly touching someone. And there wasn’t quite anything like unwanted physical contact than your typical LA rush hour commute. Stiles was now determined to test his theory. Complete silence now, he noted, aside from the usual bustle as his coworkers slowly started trickling in. He raised a hand, turned, and placed his palm on an unsuspecting Greenberg’s shoulder.

“It’s been seven years and I still can’t seem to joke around with the guy. Still, he’s a decent worker and he’s good to have around seeing as he picks up my slack whenever I need him to.”

Stiles abruptly pulled his hand off. So his theory is correct; he has to be touching someone to...hear their thoughts? “Seriously?”

His outburst caught Greenberg’s attention again. “What’s up Stilinski? Feeling the birthday magic yet?”

The seemingly inconsequential conversation from yesterday shot to the surface of Stiles’ mind and he scrambled to his feet. He’s pretty sure he just drew the attention of the entire office to himself but at this time, he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Could I really have gained magic powers just by being a virgin at thirty?!

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Stiles’ alarm now went off promptly at 6 am. He got up right away to start getting ready at the risk of staying in bed, attempting to blink the sleep away and dozing back off. It was exactly a week from his thirtieth birthday and apparently, his new normal. As soon as he was dressed for the day, Stiles spared himself a very brief glance at the mirror and considered the state of his hair passable before slinging his satchel over his shoulder and leaving for work.

Stiles’ willingness to roll with the punches was frightening to him sometimes. His solution to what he now maintains is a prolonged and ongoing delusion was to start getting up earlier to catch a different train and deal with less people. He started using mobile payments and eliminated the use of cash if he can help it, aside from the occasional peanut butter cups from the building vending machines. Stiles took steps and made lifestyle changes, all in the effort to minimize physical contact with others as much as possible. Stiles has also taken to changing up his routine a bit. For example: he bought a turkey and swiss sandwich instead.

Stiles had gone to the downtown public library after work on his birthday to quickly research his supposed affliction, simply out of desperation at having no other remotely possible explanation. That and he was killing time to take the later trains with less people trying to head home. Turns out, Greenberg was right; thirty year-old virgin wizards were most definitely a thing in Japan. He wondered why this would be the first time he’s hearing of it when it’s clearly not some region-locked issue. It may or may not actually be happening to him all the way out here in So-Cal.

That aside, the solution as he suspected was fairly obvious. If you had to be a virgin to gain the power, you just had to get de-virginized to lose it.

But in Stiles’ perspective, that was practically impossible.

Stiles managed to reach his office building’s lobby without as much as lightly grazing strangers in passing. There were already quite a few people milling about the elevator doors. Looked like this was going to be a tight fit.

Stiles let everyone loitering behind and around him board the lift that just arrived before he checked if he’d be safe squeezing in as well. There was space right by the doors if he just hunched into himself a little.

No, better not, just to be safe.

The elevator doors shut and obscured Stiles’ view of the people inside, most of them staring down at their phones, probably preoccupied with the day’s emails. As he faintly heard the gears and cables hum to life as the lift departed, Stiles made it a point to breathe deeply and relax his shoulders and neck.

“Good morning.”

Stiles turned to look at the new arrival who announced his presence. Derek Hale. Stiles took a step sideways to put some distance between them.

“Hi,” Stiles replied simply.

Derek stepped forward as they both faced the elevator doors and pressed the button calling the lift back. He turned his head and gave Stiles another easy smile. “You’re here early today.” There was no judgement in his tone, it was just a statement of fact.

“Oh. Right, yeah. I guess so,” was Stiles’ response, now feeling somewhat obliged to fill the otherwise dead air between them. Stiles has most often just exchanged greetings with Derek before. Inconsequential small talk aside, Stiles noticed that yes, Derek had a nice voice, as were most things about him; it was deep, mature, and reassuring. But there was a softness and gentleness to it as well.

Derek got that look on his face Stiles has seen on other weres when they were focusing on their heightened hearing. He could probably hear the people on the elevator shuffling around as they traveled further up the building. “Sounds like it barely just left,” Derek mumbled to himself before turning to Stiles with his thumb pointed above in a clear gesture. “Feel like taking the stairs?” he inquired.

Stiles considered his coworker’s question before he understood what that would actually entail. “Wait, what? We work on the tenth floor,” he stated plainly. Derek could probably make the climb without breaking a sweat and he was more than welcome to. Stiles didn’t want to be in pain before his day even started.

Derek appeared to get the hint. “Would have been a good way to get some steps in,” he replied lightly and chuckled at his own joke.

His smile is blinding.

By the time the elevator returned, there were already a few more people milling about, waiting with them. Stiles had gone in and hit the button for the tenth floor and moved against the wall to make room for everyone else. Derek Hale was right behind him, offering a very genuine thanks to Stiles before wishing everyone else who walked into the lift a good morning. Stiles managed to position himself against a wall, making sure he kept some distance between him and everyone else.

Now here’s a guy who won’t ever have to deal with this, Stiles thought to himself, staring down at his hands. Derek probably lost his virginity in his teens. Probably prom night. If not that, he’s surely not in short supply of any offers.

As the elevator slowly filled up, a late arrival managed to join the tail end of their group. Unfortunately, the man also had a large, bulging backpack and wedged himself between Stiles and the other passenger standing against the panel of buttons. This knocked Stiles back and slightly off balance, pinning him in place against Derek’s arm.

Oh crap!

Like clockwork, Stiles started to hear what was unmistakably Derek Hale’s voice inside his head.

“I can’t believe my luck. We actually managed to run into each other this morning.”

That caught Stiles’ attention. Against his better judgment, he was intrigued. Still pinned back by the bulging backpack, it’s not like he was going anywhere anyway.

“Need to play it cool though. If I stare too long, I’ll risk giving myself away.”

Ooh! Does Derek Hale have a crush on someone in our office? Stiles attempted to scope out anyone they would both know who was in the elevator with them but he was distracted when Derek’s thoughts continued.

“Oh my god. That bedhead is so cute. Can’t decide if I want to smooth it down or run my fingers through it.”

Stiles continued to survey the other passengers. Bedhead? That kind of does sound endearing. Who? Who’s the lucky girl who ended up catching the eye of Derek Hale?

Stiles couldn’t dwell on his new inside scoop on the office gossip for too long when the elevator stopped at one of the levels just before their floor. The good news was, this turned out to be bulging-backpack-guy’s floor. 

Bad news — same goes for some person toward the very back who had to wade through everyone else to get out. He ended up knocking Derek forward in his haste to exit the lift. This caused Derek to stumble right into Stiles who had nowhere else to go except press himself further against the wall and bend his knees into a slight crouch to avoid injury from being crushed by at least 190 pounds of werewolf. 

Years back, Stiles read in a book somewhere that weres are known for their balance, agility, and quick reflexes, among other things. Of course, dispensations would have to be made when they are crammed into a tiny, metal box with a handful of other warm bodies. Thankfully, Derek did manage to catch himself mid-stumble by planting an arm against the wall right above Stiles’ head. The problem Stiles found himself in now was that they were in much closer proximity now than before.

Stiles made eye contact with the werewolf. Derek clearly also noticed the position they found themselves in when he offered Stiles a small, tentative smile, a hint of awkwardness creeping into the edges. “Sorry. You okay?” Derek asked.

Stiles remembered also reading that werewolves tended to run hot and the book was right. Derek was in fact a warm presence against him. “Umm, yeah.”

“Oh god, he’s so close!”

What —?

“I don’t know what I did in a previous life to deserve this first thing in the morning… my heart feels like it’s about to beat right out of my chest!”

Stiles could now feel as well as hear the rapid tha-thump, tha-thump, tha-thump of what would have to be Derek’s heartbeat.

No. No no no no no. This isn’t possible. There is no way that Derek Hale was referring to —

“Stiles can’t hear my heartbeat, can he?”

…

…what?!

With the number of people that stepped off the lift, Derek had some space to move away from Stiles, effectively cutting off their contact and giving the human the chance to get himself upright. Though, the way Stiles’ legs felt like they were made of jelly, it was a miracle in itself he didn’t just collapse right there.

Soon enough, the elevator arrived at their destination where they and a number of other people piled out. Stiles walked forward in a daze, still processing the bombshell that was dropped on his life. He lifted his gaze to learn that Derek had lingered nearby, regarding Stiles carefully, despite everyone else having gone into their respective offices. Derek flashed a small smile and gave Stiles an encouraging nod.

“Let’s get to work then. I’ll see you inside.” With that, Derek strode through the entrance of Nemeton, Inc.

Hopelessly confused and unable to handle this level of stress at such an early time, Stiles reached up to scratch behind his ear nervously when he felt it. Tufts of hair, still obviously sleep-mussed and sticking out at odd angles.

Bedhead. Bed… head?

At that point, Stiles figured that very recent events can only allow him to arrive at one possible and very obvious conclusion:

“ME?!”

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A trip to the restroom to fix his hair and several hours of mindlessly plugging data into a spreadsheet later, Stiles was still on a low-simmer freak-out. To stop himself from being consumed and overwhelmed by the day’s events, Stiles had to keep telling himself just one thing:

The one thing this proves is that this whole reading minds thing is definitely all in my head! Like, an auditory hallucination. It’s probably a sign for me to finally go back to therapy!

Stiles swivels around in his chair, easily spotting Derek deep in conversation with a colleague. There’s absolutely no way in hell that Derek Hale would like someone like me.

Turning slightly, Stiles spotted Greenberg in conversation with Rafael McCall, their Sales Ops Manager. By the look and sound of things, there’s been another deadline mix-up. Stiles’ suspicions were confirmed when Greenberg left the conversation with a sheepish smile and a thick wad of binders and folders that looked full to bursting with sales data that needed to be compiled. Being all too familiar with what comes next, Stiles focused his gaze back onto his own work at hand, trying to look preoccupied or even busy.

As expected, Greenberg fell into the nearby seat, heaving a great, big sigh within the same motion. Stiles kept his gaze unmoving on a single cell in the spreadsheet he was working on. He could now feel Greenberg’s gaze on him.

Sensing that they were now heading into phase two of this dance they did when Greenberg had work he didn’t want to deal with, Stiles heard and felt said coworker sidle a bit closer to him. Another big, put-upon sigh. Then —

“The wife is gonna be  so  pissed. Can’t believe we have to cancel our anniversary plans.”

Stiles dropped his gaze to the ground to find that, yep, Greenberg’s foot was just about touching his. Forgetting that he was pretending not to notice, Stiles lifted his head to look right at his coworker who was already staring at him hopefully.

Ah, crap.

“Stilinski…” Greenberg started tentatively with a pathetic pout.

Feeling himself cave, Stiles resigned himself to his fate. He lasted a lot longer this time around so there’s that. “Should I go ahead and take care of those?”

Greenberg nodded gratefully. “You’re a real one.”

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The data had to be compiled for tomorrow . This was going to be a late night for sure. Stiles was somewhat peeved when Greenberg ended up ducking out, uttering more of his thanks along the way, at 5 pm on the dot. But if it was between work and his relationship, he understood where Greenberg is coming from. Stiles couldn’t go home at his usual time with a clear conscience if there was some way he could help.

Stiles had been plodding away at the data for what felt like hours. The office was empty. It was dark out and the office lights were switched to only turn on when they detected motion. The bullpen was dark save for the lights around Stiles’ desk.

Stiles allowed himself to grumble in frustration. “There’s no end in sight! Why did I think I could take on more work?” He ran his fingers through his hair then crossed his arms on his desk so he could rest his head briefly and released a groan that was itching to come out.

Stiles let himself sit a little too long in his emotions so he had not heard the presence behind him approach until the person made themself known by speaking.

“Hey. You’re still here.”

Stiles turned and noticed the new arrival and their gentle smile. “Derek.”

Derek suddenly looked a little… playful? Or even mischievous? And Stiles didn’t know what to make of that. He was also now drifting closer. Stiles definitely did not know how to handle that. He then noticed that Derek had both hands hidden behind his back. Oh no. Oh god.

Derek extended one arm towards Stiles, offering the item he was clutching. “Surprise!” he declared then chuckled at his own behavior.

Stiles involuntarily flinched away then carefully considered the item Derek was holding out to him. It was a bottle of cold brew iced coffee. In fact, it was Stiles’ favorite brand of cold brew.

Stiles may have taken too long to react, since Derek shifted subtly and offered an explanation. “Our team meeting ran a little long so I got everyone some drinks from the machine down the hall. We had one left over so I thought you might like it.”

Stiles carefully reached for the proffered bottle, the coldness and condensation on its surface momentarily distracting him from how his and Derek’s fingers overlapped as he grasped the item more firmly.

“I actually bought this just for Stiles, though.”

Stiles managed to keep a good grip on the bottle as he recoiled from the contact.

Okay, I shouldn’t panic. This is a hallucination, remember? I’ll make my excuses to end this conversation then get back to work.

Stiles turns back toward Derek. “T-thanks,” he replies belatedly. He didn’t quite have anything else to say so he lamely adds, “Okay. Well, see you later. Get home safe.”

Stiles thought he was in the clear, getting back to his data sheets and documents. He had input a couple of new values when he realized he didn’t hear any footsteps or movement that would mean Derek left.

Stiles turned his head minutely and sure enough, Derek was still lingering in his periphery. At the same time, the werewolf chose that moment to move even closer and bend over to peer interestedly at Stiles’ work.

Stiles could feel warmth radiating from Derek all along his side. Stiles released the breath he had been holding in a shudder.

“Are these our numbers for Valet Publishing?” Derek inquired interestedly. 

“Uhh, yeah. I was asked to compile our past transaction data with them, so,” Stiles threw his hands out in a loose shrug, “here I am.”

Derek briefly glanced between Stiles and the information on his monitor. “Wouldn’t it be better to have more data than just from the past five years?”

“What? But —”

“I’ll help you.” It sounded both like an offer and a statement of fact. “I’ll be right back with some files.”

With a nod of finality, Stiles watched as Derek glided off, presumably to the records room, to search for the documents in question.

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Stiles shifted uncomfortably in silence while Derek worked. The werewolf was seated at the empty desk adjacent to Stiles’, papers spread on its surface while he carefully sorted them into piles. For the past ten minutes, it’s just been the two of them. Here. Alone.

Stiles found himself observing Derek and the sureness in his movements as he worked. Derek looked up from shuffling papers around and met Stiles’ gaze with a questioning smile. “What’s up?”

“Oh. Um,” Stiles turned the slightest shade pink, feeling guilty he was caught staring. He attempted to explain, “I was just thinking… you’re pretty amazing, Derek. You know?”

Derek chuckled. Stiles wasn’t sure why, but the werewolf seemed to find his explanation amusing. “What do you mean?” Derek inquired, returning to working on the papers in his hands.

“Well,” despite still feeling very self-conscious, Stiles found himself plowing on, “you’re great at your job. You’re dependable so everyone here can trust you to come through.” Stiles fidgeted slightly in his seat before he stated with certainty, “I actually really admire you.”

Derek appeared to consider his words for a second. It might have been the limited fluorescent lightning around their area, but it looks like the tips of Derek’s ears were turning a shade pink as well. “I have to admit, I wasn’t expecting that,” replied Derek,his answering smile crinkling his eyes. “Thanks Stiles. That means a lot.”

A beat passed in silence as they continued to consider each other carefully. Stiles found himself smiling at the other man, which made Derek’s grin grow bigger before he turned back toward the data they would be adding to Stiles’ report. “Alright, let’s focus,” Derek stated determinedly. “Eyes on the prize.”

Oh, right. For a moment, Stiles forgot why they were both even there. “Yup, sorry,” he replied and scooted closer to the sheets in Derek’s hands. ‘Uhh, where were we?”

Derek hummed thoughtfully, moving his index finger down the list of table elements and numbers. “Here, I think,” he tapped the line item to draw Stiles’ attention to it.

“Ah, right.”

Stiles could hear Derek barely mumbling to himself. Curiosity got the better of him and Stiles moved closer, causing their arms to touch across their arm rests.

“Stiles smells really good right now. I mean, he always smells amazing. But until today, I don’t think I’ve ever been close enough to properly take in his scent.”

Stiles’ brain was screaming at him to pull away. But to be fair, he was under a little too much stress at the time for his mind and body to have a good working relationship. So he was kind of a captive audience for now.

“There’s something there that’s mixed with his natural scent that’s just about to drive me crazy. Is it his shampoo? A fabric softener?”

Stiles couldn’t help it. He sniffed himself in what he thought was a subtle way.

“I don’t know if I want to hit up a Target and start sniffing bottles or if I just want to bury my face into the collar of his shirt. Actually, the choice is obvious… just not appropriate.”

Stiles finally mustered enough willpower to lean closer to his monitor and break the contact. “Um… uhh… where…” he cleared his throat nervously, “where were we?”

“Isn’t this what goes next?” Derek tapped the next line on the page, clearly none the wiser of what Stiles was going through.

“Oh, um… yeah.” Stiles cautiously leaned closer again, making sure his arm was out of reach as he peered closer at the sheet Derek was holding out to him. Stiles felt his companion’s eyes on him for a second before shifting his gaze back to their work. Out of the corner of his eye, it looked like Derek was now chewing on his bottom lip. Stiles felt their knees touch.

“That mole below his ear. That is the sexiest thing I have ever seen. I can’t have been the only person who’s noticed it. 

Stiles decided that thirty years for him was a life well lived and he wouldn’t be too fussed if death came for him right this second.

“I can’t get my mind off that mole. Oh god, I want to lick it.”

Stiles stood up abruptly. His office chair skidded back about a foot. “Wait!” Stiles exclaimed.

Derek was staring curiously up at him. Stiles had to get out of there. “Umm, restroom,” he quickly uttered before he walked away from his desk without another word. He thought he heard Derek reply with “sure” but he was already out the door and more concerned about putting some distance between them for now.

Stiles bolted down the hall and threw himself bodily against the men’s restroom door. Once inside, he went straight for the large wall of mirrors above the sinks. It took some time, angling his head just the right way, and trying to focus while looking out of the corner of his eye when he finally spotted it. Sure enough, below his earlobe and close to where his jaw met his neck, there it was.

“There really is a mole there after all,” Stiles mumbled to himself. He already has quite the constellation of moles and freckles across his pale skin so he hadn’t really bothered to catalogue and keep track of each and every single one. But the fact that he heard Derek. Through what should be this hallucination. And yet…

“This isn’t all just in my head.”

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These are his real, actual thoughts. That I am somehow hearing.

After splashing some cold water on his face and heading back to a waiting Derek, they managed to power through with the remaining data. Stiles was somehow able to keep the rest of their physical contact scarce. And the times he did graze or brush by Derek, he was thankfully thinking of the task at hand.

They were back in the elevator, the same place where the day’s ordeal began, as they made their way down to the ground floor. Derek was clutching his bag easily at his side, yawning at some point and twisting his neck from side to side, earning a satisfying crack from his efforts. Stiles turned away discreetly.

He thought back to about a week ago. If I were to learn that someone out there was in love with me… he really had the audacity to consider even briefly. Was this some kind of sick joke the universe was now playing on Stiles? He’s had these abilities for just about a week and now apparently the office heartthrob, the man who can have his pick of any of the beautiful women in their staff, only had eyes for an unremarkable data-stooge wallflower?

This is too much for me to handle. I just want to go home, bundle up under the covers and hopefully wake up and all of today was just some elaborate, unrealistic dream.

Both men exited their office building into the nippy fall air. Stiles was vaguely aware of Derek remarking as much about the climate but he was too lost in his thoughts to come up with a response.

“Stiles?”

Why me of all people anyway? Maybe he’s just working too hard and the stress is slowly driving him crazy! He should go on vaca —

Stiles interrupted his own internal rambling with a loud and sudden sneeze. It was definitely starting to get much colder.

“Are you okay?”

Stiles turned around to face Derek who had stopped a few feet behind him. The werewolf had a look of concern on his face.

Stiles felt the need to reassure Derek. “I’m okay,” Stiles stated, currently feeling anything but. If the werewolf could hear the lie in his heartbeat, he was gracious enough not to call him out on it. Stiles briefly wondered if that would still even qualify as a lie. He’s fairly used to brushing off other people’s concern; he was not at all comfortable with causing any inconvenience or taking up too much space. “It really is getting cold though, isn’t it?” Stiles intoned, trying to pick up some semblance of conversation.

Derek was preoccupied rummaging through his bag and soon produced a scarf. There was a large, solid red stripe running down the center with alternating black and white stripes on either side. It looked really warm and soft.

Derek moved closer and was now holding the scarf out for Stiles to take. “You can use this,” he offered.

Stiles felt himself take a half step back. “I’m good, Derek! You should use it though. I’m pretty sure the whole office will come to a standstill if you get sick… if that’s even a thing that happens to you.”

Derek’s mouth was a thin, resolute line. “You’re taking this,” he stated firmly, stepping even closer and unravelling the scarf to drape each end over Stiles’ shoulders.

Derek began to busy himself with wrapping the scarf snugly around Stiles. As Derek wound and adjusted the soft material to make sure the human was warm and cozy, his thoughts were continuously running through Stiles’ mind.

“Stiles has too little self-esteem.”

“He’s always pulling away; I see him read a situation then just withdraw into himself. Most often than not, he smells of anxiety.”

“I saw him as I came in this morning. He let everyone around him into the elevator until there was barely enough breathing room for himself.”

“I know Greenberg is constantly passing his work off to him. But he never complains, he just buckles down and completes his task.”

Stiles couldn’t help but look right at Derek, who was too preoccupied with his task to notice. Sales was stationed at the other end of the bullpen. How could he know that?

“In all the time I’ve lived in this city, I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone as patient or as kind or as decent as Stiles.”

“His work is usually the most accurate and well-compiled; shows how careful and meticulous he is.”

Derek appeared to be satisfied with his work as he gently pat the scarf in place across Stiles’ shoulders.

“That’s just a few of the things that I…”

Derek pulled away, effectively silencing his thoughts from Stiles as well. “All set.”

Stiles couldn’t keep his gaze on Derek. “Thanks,” he mumbled meekly. Stiles tended to keep to himself and concentrate on the job, partially because he was shy but also because he usually tries to stay considerate and out of people’s way. Most of his coworkers tend to think he’s a bit of a pushover loner. But apparently not Derek. Stiles had never quite felt so seen; so… acknowledged. He didn’t know how to process his feelings.

I’m sorry for thinking you’d gone crazy. Stiles definitely felt guilt and remorse for simplifying and making light of Derek’s thoughts and feelings.

Derek continued to survey Stiles, particularly how his scarf looked wrapped around his neck. “It looks good on you,” he stated with genuine approval.

I never imagined that there would be anyone who would pay this much attention to me. For most of Stiles’ life, he mostly ever felt like an afterthought to other people then soon enough to himself. He could feel the prick of tears as they threatened to well up. Stiles dropped his gaze in the hopes that Derek wouldn’t notice.

“Well, I’m gonna go. I’ll see you tomorrow,” said Stiles, already turning to head down the steps of their building’s small courtyard.

“Stiles?”

At the mention of his name, he turned back toward Derek. “Is the Metro still running to your stop?”

“Oh,” Stiles failed to consider that. He pulled out his phone and checked his maps app. “Ohhh man. No, it isn’t.”

“Thought so.”

“I’ll be okay though,” Stiles stated, feeling the need to reassure Derek. “I can see how close to home the buses that are still running can take me. That or I can just get a Lyft.”

Derek looked like he was about to protest but Stiles didn’t want Derek to feel obligated to offer him a ride home. The werewolf already lived within the area and driving Stiles to his suburb was out of his way and definitely an inconvenience. So Stiles decided to change the subject. 

“Thanks by the way. For today. For, you know, helping me out and keeping me company.” With a final nod and a “See you later,” Stiles turned once again to head for the nearest bus stop.

“Wait.”

Stiles turned back to regard Derek curiously. The werewolf looked nervous, a bit hopeful, like he was ramping up toward something in his head. Derek stepped forward purposefully. “Stay the night at my place.”

“Huh?”

Derek let out a little laugh at Stiles’ surprise. “Yeah,” he stated resolutely, “come stay the night. I have my car and it’s like four blocks away.”

“Uhhhhhh…”

“You’ll probably get home even later if you take a bus and miss out on more sleep,” Derek explained, “plus, I can’t imagine it would be ideal getting into some complete stranger’s car and letting them drive you home.”

Stiles had to admit, these all sounded like very valid concerns. “I really wouldn’t want to be a bother —”

“It’s no bother at all,” Derek stated earnestly. “Come on. I’ll be much more at ease knowing you’re on my couch rather than wondering if you got home okay.”

Looked like Stiles’ evening wasn’t quite over yet. He could vaguely hear himself making noncommittal noises, out of his comfort zone and unsure how to respond.

Derek seemed to think he was now in agreement though. “It’ll be great! Come with me,” he requested, clapping his hand down on Stiles’ shoulder along with his invitation.

Stiles had all week to get used to hearing other people’s thoughts. But this was something else. Several unbidden images suddenly flashed through his mind’s eye.

Stiles could see himself in an unfamiliar kitchen, sitting at a table and cupping a warm mug in his hands. He had clearly made himself at home, shrugged his jacket off, and loosened his tie. His shirt sleeves were rolled up and, despite having a soft, shy look on his face, he was the picture of comfort.

Stiles was now lounging serenely on a couch. He looked fresh and ready to wind down for the night. He was using a large fluffy towel to dry shower water out of his hair.

Finally, Stiles was yawning and drifting off in a large bed. He was in a pair of silk pajamas and burrowed under a thick duvet. He had a small, content smile on his face as he slumbered peacefully, curled up on his side and hugging another pillow to himself.

Derek broke their contact with an encouraging “Let’s go” and Stiles snapped back to reality, reeling from seeing Derek’s innermost but surprisingly wholesome fantasies. Stiles was overwhelmed by the onset of a new facet to his power as well as the realization that, aside from Derek’s apparent feelings for him, he didn’t fantasize about Stiles in various states of undress, looking debauched. Rather, Derek wanted to see Stiles in his space, looking cozy, unbothered, and content.

Derek was already at the entrance of the attached carpark when he turned back to see Stiles still rooted to the spot. “Stiles?” he called out.

Stiles turned to face Derek, not sure if the alarm he felt was fully visible on his face. Derek flashed him a reassuring smile and jerked his head in the other direction, silently beckoning Stiles to follow.

Stiles could not be held accountable for the bewildered noise that came from his throat.