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Derek Hale is in his last stretch of med school. Just getting off a 16-hour Emergency rotation at the hospital, Derek squints as he steps out into the afternoon sun. Sadly, his life is not a movie, thus the absence of blessed darkness. The sun is blazing, nary a cloud in the sky to shield him. But the fall chill helps somewhat.
Blearily making his way to the bus stop across the street, Derek walks on autopilot, tucking his hands into the pockets of his red hoodie, gym bag with his scrubs over his shoulder, already dreaming of face-planting into his bed at home.
Derek barely registers getting on the streetcar, tired and dazed, knowing he looks grubby with his scruff and unkempt hair. Obviously, there’s no seat, so he stands holding a handrail and dozes on his feet, a skill he’s almost mastered.
After a few stops, he’s jostled by a huge crowd, lightly knocking into someone. A cute someone. Derek smiles a bit brighter at the guy in hipster regalia, quiff immaculate.
“Sorry.” murmurs Derek.
“No worries.” Says the guy, smiling distractedly, then looking away, back to his phone.
Derek shrugs, knows he’s not looking his best, and tries not to keel over at every harsh brake of the streetcar. When a seat opens up, he gladly folds himself into it. Trying to keep himself awake, he watches the cute guy out of the corner of his eye, as the guy stands beside him, back leaning on the side of the car, instead of holding a handrail. Too cool for it, Derek muses.
Derek is momentarily distracted as a young mother and her toddler board. Making eye-contact, Derek makes to offer her his seat, but someone else does first, so he turns back to Hipster Cutie just in time to see him fold himself like a Disney princess. At first Derek thinks he decided to sit on the floor, but as his head lolls to the side, resting on Derek’s thigh, he quickly realizes that the guy has fainted.
Derek springs into action on pure adrenalin, cradling the guy’s head as he moves to crouch in front of his new patient. People around him notice, and move to give them both space.
Keeping gentle hands on Hipster Cutie’s head, Derek sighs in relief to see that he’s already coming-to, eyelashes fluttering. Derek reaches over to undo the top buttons of the guy’s denim shirt, giving him more room to breathe.
“Wha…” is the first thing he says, trying to focus on Derek’s face.
“Hey, how are you feeling? Do you know where you are?” Derek asks, taking the guy’s arm gently and checking his pulse.
The guy rolls his head from side to side, trying to focus and force himself awake.
“I’m headed to class.” He whispers softly, eyes finally zeroing in on Derek’s own. He looks confused.
“What’s your name?” asks Derek in a soft voice.
“Stiles.” Hipster Cutie replies, voice strong. He moves his hands to his face to feel his cheeks, slowly regaining colour.
“Do you know where you are, Stiles?” Derek asks, pulling a water bottle from his bag and opening it, offering it to Stiles.
“On the streetcar, heading to class.” Stiles replies after sipping the water. He begins to look embarrassed.
“Did I faint?” he grumbles, almost to himself, covering his face with his hands, then moves to feel his cheeks again, which were regaining their colour slowly.
“It’s alright, it happens. Is it too hot? When was the last time you had something to eat?” Derek asks, watching Stiles’ face intently.
“It’s fine. Just a lack of sleep and coffee in place of actual food.” Stiles runs his hand through his hair, seemingly not caring, or too frazzled by the situation to care about its styling. His legs remain under him, folded to the left in a graceful way to make it seem he was shooting some fashion cover.
Derek smiles kindly, taking the water bottle as Stiles hands it back to him.
“Don’t worry, you were out for just a couple of seconds. You even fell gracefully. It looked like you were just sitting down.” Derek added kindly.
Stiles scoffs. “On this gross floor? Not likely.” He grimaces. “But thanks…for taking care of me.”
“Derek” Derek supplies, offering a hand.
“Thanks” Stiles repeats, taking Derek’s hand in a too-close-quarters handshake.
“You should stay seated and rest for at least fifteen minutes.” Derek advises. “I can stay with you. Do you need me to walk you home?” Derek offers. Purely for reasons of safety.
“Sure.” Stiles smiles, warm brown eyes gazing into Derek’s own.
Oh no, he has dimples! Derek thinks to himself. He knows he’s smitten.