Work Text:
Derek was not having a great day. To be fair, he hadn’t had a truly good day in a long time. But this one was worse than usual.
He had been late getting to work because the subway car he usually took was packed so full that he couldn’t even get on and had to wait for the next one. He’d spilled his coffee when someone had run into him on the sidewalk outside his office. His most assholeish coworker had been even more assholeish than usual. Work had been too busy and demanding for him to take a lunch break, so he hadn’t eaten in ten hours. He’d barely slept the night before, his washing machine had eaten the only tie he didn’t hate, his pantry was mostly empty and he would have to either go to the grocery store before he went home or order more takeout that would make him feel like shit tomorrow.
And it was the anniversary of losing his family.
Why was it always today that everything went wrong?
He had known that moving to the city, away from what little family he had left, would be hard on him sometimes. The job had seemed worth it. No, it was worth it, most of the time. He loved what he did. And he still talked to Laura regularly. She had the baby, though, and a career of her own, so her time to chat was limited. And talking on the phone wasn’t the same as having her there in person, especially on days like today when it all felt like too much.
In a fit of unusual impulsivity, Derek pulled up an app he sometimes perused when he was bored but had never actually posted on himself. It was some anonymous venting thing that let people spew their feelings out at local strangers and get equally anonymous comments back. He’d never really understood the appeal, but there was an element of schadenfreude to reading other people’s vents, and sometimes the comments were actually helpful.
Now, he opened up a new post and wrote:
It’s always the bad days that get worse and worse. I miss my family. I wish I didn’t feel so alone all the time.
As soon as he pressed “post”, he was kicking himself for it. This was so stupid. It wasn't like announcing his pitiful mood to the world was actually going to make him feel any better. He should just go home, eat greasy takeout, wallow in his misery, and hope tomorrow sucked marginally less. That was what he usually did, and it was working out so far, wasn’t it?
He was just getting onto the subway when his phone buzzed with a notification that someone had commented on his post. He considered ignoring it—comments on that app were sometimes helpful, sometimes supportive, and sometimes fucking awful, because people were people in every context and some people were always assholes—but in the end, he clicked through.
do you need a hug? i’ll come deliver it personally (not in a creepy way, i promise!! not that a promise is probably all that reassuring and there’s no way for you to verify, but if i WAS a creep i probably wouldn’t think to say i wasn’t, i’m just saying)
Derek blinked down at his phone. Then he laughed. It felt weird; it had been a while since anything had gotten more than a half-hearted smile out of him. It was probably bogus, but Derek found himself typing back:
You make a compelling argument. Come to the Astoria stop.
He tucked his phone away, still chuckling to himself, and settled in for the long ride. Maybe he should stop at the store. It would be a pain after the day he’d had, but tomorrow-him would thank him for it. He still had reports to finish, though. And he should call Laura, today of all days, even if just to say hello.
By the time he rolled into the station, he’d forgotten all about that comment. Just in time to get another.
ok i’m at the station. still want that hug? i’m in a blue stud muffin tshirt and will be waving my arms wildly
Derek stepped off the train, looked up, and immediately saw wildly waving arms. The guy the arms were attached to was, in fact, wearing a blue t-shirt with “stud muffin” on it. And he was cute. Ruffled brown hair, a turned up nose, a smattering of moles. He had a big smile on his face, dark eyes darting eagerly around the busy station like he couldn’t wait to hug this random sad person he had encountered on an anonymous app despite knowing literally nothing about them except that they were sad.
It was weird.
It was also…sweet?
Derek lingered in front of the open subway car door until someone knocked into him. Huffing, he stuffed his phone back in his pocket, ran a nervous hand through his hair, and started walking. The guy didn’t notice him at first, too busy scanning the crowd. Derek cleared his throat and the guy froze.
“Are you my hug?” he asked, arms still over his head.
Derek, unaccountably, flushed. “I guess you could say that.”
The guy lowered his arms in Derek’s direction, outspread and inviting, and said, “Bring it in, buddy!”
Before Derek could think better of it, he did.
He couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged. If he had to guess, probably Christmas two years previous when Laura had come to visit, but she’d been heavily pregnant at the time and it had been an awkwardly angled embrace that had ended in her groaning about her back. He didn’t have any other family, and none of his friends were really that kind of friend. He didn’t ask for hugs, and they didn’t offer, and he didn’t know which of them had started the pattern but he certainly wasn’t going to be the one to break it.
But this random man wrapped his arms around Derek without any hesitation. It was one of those tight, all-encompassing, full body hugs that threatened to squeeze the breath right out of him. His chin was hooked over Derek’s shoulder, their cheeks brushing together, and his hand made sweeping motions over Derek’s back.
It was…a little overwhelming, truth be told.
It also felt so good, Derek sort of wanted to cry. He brought his own arms up belated to return the embrace. His fingers fisted into the guy’s t-shirt of their own accord. The guy didn’t seem to mind. He just patted Derek’s back again.
“Mmm, this is nice,” he said, his voice a low rumble in Derek’s ear. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”
“Derek,” Derek mumbled into Stiles’ shoulder. He didn’t want to come out.
“Nice to meet you, Derek,” Stiles said politely, as if they were shaking hands in a business meeting instead of wrapped around each other in the middle of a subway station. Derek snorted and Stiles’ chest vibrated against his with laughter in return.
“No, I mean it,” Stiles said insistently. “It is very nice to meet you, dude, and even nicer to hug you because you’re extremely huggable and comfy.”
Nobody had ever said that about him before.
“Thanks?”
“You’re welcome.”
Stiles didn’t seem in a hurry to let go. He was apparently perfectly content to let Derek cling to him, swaying gently from side to side as people passed them by. This whole thing was so weird. A part of Derek was mortified, but the rest of him was screaming at him to stay in Stiles’ embrace for as long as Stiles would consent to it. The second he let go, he would have to go back to his empty apartment—his empty life—and who knew how long it would be before he could have something like this again.
He couldn’t stay here forever, though. Stiles undoubtedly had a life of his own, things to do, places to be, people who cared about him and probably got hugs like this from him on a daily basis. Derek had taken up enough of his time already.
It ached to let go, but Derek made himself do it. He untangled his fingers from Stiles’ shirt, hoping he hadn’t stretched the material out beyond repair, and unburied his face from Stiles’ shoulder. The station seemed brighter, louder, busier than before. His apartment, he knew, would feel darker and quieter.
He cleared his throat. “Thanks. I needed that.”
Stiles smiled at him. It didn’t even look pitying, which was a minor miracle. He stuffed his hands in the pockets of his jeans, rocking back on his heels, and said, “No problem, man. Like I said: extremely huggable.”
Derek shook his head, fighting a wry smile. “If you say so.”
“I do say so,” Stiles told him. “I’d be down to hug you anytime! Also, you’re, like, super-duper attractive—I don’t know if you know that—so if you happen to be interested in men, I’m also available for other things, like kisses and dates and stuff. It’s okay if you’re not, though!” he hastened to add. “Platonic hugs are totally cool too and I’m still available for hugs even if you don’t wanna date me, and, you know what, I’m totally making things weird now, sorry, I’ll shut up.”
He shoved his thumbnail in his mouth to stop any more words from coming out. Derek was grateful for it; he was still working through the first ones. When they all sunk in, he flushed again (god, Laura would laugh at him so hard for that). A lot of possible responses flew through his head very quickly. But the one that came out of his mouth was:
“Okay.”
Stiles’ disbelieving noise was muffled around the thumb in his mouth. He spit it out to say, “Wait, really? Seriously? To the dating thing?”
Derek shrugged, ducking his head against the force of Stiles’ smile. “I think there’s a diner around here somewhere,” he said. “If you wanna keep making my bad day better.”
“I will take that as a challenge,” Stiles declared. “Gonna turn it into the best day, just you watch me. Lead the way, dude.”
Stiles offered up his hand and, laughing, Derek took it.