Work Text:
Derek knows that walking your dog at 2am isn’t exactly normal. But he likes the quiet and the fact that he can let Ghost run around without having to worry about cars. At night, he can hear them coming a mile away, which gives him more than enough time to call the dog back to his side.
They’re almost back home when Ghost suddenly takes off at a run. Derek raises his eyebrows, but he’s not worried. It’s probably just a cat.
‘Oh my god!’ someone shouts. It’s coming from the direction of his house.
Derek sprints after his dog, hoping that he didn’t hurt anyone in his enthusiasm. He gets to his front yard and huffs out a laugh.
There’s a young man sitting in the middle of the yard. He’s obviously intoxicated, swaying from side to side a little and petting Ghost, who has his head in the guy’s lap.
‘Who’s a pretty boy?’ the guy whispers. ‘You are! Some people say I am too, though.’ He giggles at his own joke. He must find himself extraordinarily funny, because he can’t seem to stop and hides his face in Ghost’s fur to muffle the laughter when it gets louder. At least he’s still considerate, despite being drunk as hell.
Ghost must sense Derek standing right outside the yard then, because he gets up and trots over to him. The young man topples over and lies on his back in the grass.
‘Oops,’ he giggles.
That’s when Derek see the guy’s face. It’s Stiles. One of the barista’s at his favourite coffee shop. His favourite barista. Stiles always smiles at him and leaves him messages on his coffee cup.
At any other time than three in the morning Derek would’ve been delighted to have Stiles in his yard, but it is three in the morning and he’d like to get to bed.
He walks over to where Stiles is making what appear to be grass angels. He grabs him under his arms and hauls him to his feet. The man sways a little, but stays upright.
‘What are you doing here, Stiles?’
Stiles catches sight of Ghost and a smile stretches his mouth wide. ‘Dogs are awesome.’
Derek agrees, but Stiles should be going home to sleep it off. He’s about to say so when the guy suddenly turns an alarming shade of green. Derek barely has time to grab Ghost’s collar and step back to avoid the spray of vomit.
‘Oh god, I’m so sorry,’ Stiles whispers, sounding horrified. He sways a little more and Derek quickly steps forward to catch him. Stiles promptly passes out.
~
Derek is flipping pancakes the next morning when he hears a groan from the living room. He can’t even imagine how Stiles must be feeling.
‘Fuck,’ the guy curses loudly. ‘Where the fuck-‘
There’s thump and another curse. He should probably check and make sure Stiles hasn’t seriously injured himself. He appears to be fine, though, because the moment Derek steps into the room he jumps up, looking a little wild eyed.
‘Derek? What happened? Oh my god, did we have sex? Please say no.’
‘Thanks,’ Derek says wryly. He’s flattered that Stiles remembers him. He must see a hundred people a day in that shop.
Stiles seems to realize how that last statement sounded. His eyes grow wider and he starts waving his hands around. ‘Not that I wouldn’t want to, have sex with you, because holy shit. But I’d like to remember how I managed to get you into bed. For future reference.’
The image of Stiles in his bed flashes through Derek’s mind. He feels his ears warm up and quickly starts talking to cover that he doesn’t know how to react to that.
‘I found you in my yard, last night. You threw up.’
‘I threw up in your yard? Fuck, I’m so sorry. You know what I’m just gonna go, because I feel like if I stay I’m going to embarrass myself even more.’
He turns, but goes down again when he trips over Ghost, who is lying next to the couch.
‘What the- You have dog? He’s so pretty.’
‘So you kept telling him last night.’
‘What else did I do? If it’s worse than throwing up, please shoot me.’
Derek laughs. He can’t help it. Stiles sounds so pained. And when he walks over to where he’s lying on the floor, he sees that he’s covered his face with his hands. But that might be less embarrassment, than the fact that Ghost is attempting to give him a bath.
‘You tried to make grass angels.’
‘That’s it? Thank god. I once streaked all over campus when I was drunk,’ Stiles sighs in relief. He pushes the dog off him and gets up. ‘Thanks for not leaving me out in the street. Coffee’s on me for the rest of the month.’
‘Or you could stay for breakfast,’ Derek counters. ‘If you want to.’
‘You want me to stay?’ Stiles repeats him looking stunned. ‘You realize I stink, right? I don’t know why your dog was trying to lick my face. I think his olfactory senses must be busted.’
‘You can clean up in the bathroom and borrow some of my clothes.’
‘You’re serious.’
‘I made pancakes,’ Derek says. He can’t help the hopeful smile that starts to tug at his lips and ducks his head to hide the blush that’s creeping onto his cheeks.
‘You made me pancakes,’ Stiles sighs. ‘You saved me from a night in the gutter, you have a dog and you made me pancakes. You’re also really hot, but at this point that’s like one of the least important things about you. You do realize I’m never leaving, don’t you?’
Derek turns and walks back to the kitchen.
‘I wouldn’t mind,’ he throws over his shoulder.
There’s the sound of a crash and a muffled ‘fuck’ as Stiles goes down again.