Chapter Text
“Faites attention!”
“Oops sorry!”
Stiles stared at the man he had just pushed when he entered the metro. It wasn't his fault, because it was full at this time of the day and he barely had place to move. He had to force his way in because the rest of the class entered in another wagon and he was pretty sure he'd lose them if he waited for the next metro. What a stupid idea it has been to go to another wagon because 'maybe it would be less crowded'.
The man was as tall as him but wider, and Stiles could see the muscles emerging under the heavy leather jacket. Definitely not the type of guy you want to get angry with you. He tried to make himself as little as possible and hoped the guy wouldn't mind that the teenager was pushing against him every time the metro took a turn. Stiles was back to him, facing the door, and trying not to turn to look at the grumpy man behind him, to make sure that he wasn't going to get beaten up when he'd get out.
Suddenly, the metro stopped abruptly and Stiles was violently pushed backward by the shock, stumbling and falling against the man, crossing the little space there was between them. I am so going to die, he thought, and waited for a hit. But it never came. Instead, he felt a hand grabbing his arm and helping him to regain his balance. He awkwardly twisted around, embarrassed and... Oh god. He hadn't noticed that the guy was so handsome. Still grumpy looking but with a perfect jawline, and oh god, those eyes! So light and bright and Stiles was expecting to see an evil liggt in them but there was nothing at all. He just looked slightly annoyed. Stiles stared, and the man stared back. Then the teenager realized that he was supposed to say something.
“Sorry. Again... Oh god, I don't know a single word of French!”
The man kept staring at him, and Stiles swore he saw a discreet smile drawing on his lips.
“Excuse moi?” He hesitated. Lydia had taught him a bit of French when they learnt that they were going to Paris with their school. Only the useful words like hello, good bye, thank you, and also how to call the cops or the hospital because obviously he was going to have problems at a moment or another. Stiles had developed a new interest for French and had tried very hard because, for a mysterious reason, Lydia Martin had accepted to help him. Only, he was really, really bad at it. Even Lydia who had been very patient with him got exasperated and left him trying to say “Je suis perdu.” (Because she thought he would eventually get lost. They'd been here for 2 days and it hadn't happened yet, he was quite proud of himself.)
“C'est pas grave.”
The man's voice was rough but there was no animosity in it. Stiles relaxed a little and smiled. Maybe he was not going to die after all.
That's when the metro started again and was he ever going to learn anything because he lost his balance again, and he was falling against the guy but this time he was facing him and OH GOD OH GOD WHY. He could fell his cheeks reddening as his hands rested against the muscular chest. He didn't dare to look at the man's face. Stiles felt two strong hands on his shoulder and for a moment, he couldn't move, because the hands lingered a little bit too long... Right when he decided to step back, not even a minute after falling but had seemed like much more to him, the hands grabbed him and pushed him back with delicacy. The man still looked annoyed but Stiles was finding him way less scary than when he entered the metro and thought that even if it's creepy to stare at someone like that, he was still going to do it. It's not like he was ever going to see him again after all. He had the right to look creepy.
He saw the man's lips move but didn't hear what he said because there was a loud noise. The noise of a metro, Starting.
He turned back abruptly and saw Scott and Allison through the window.
“OH FUCK! That was my stop!”
OK, no more staring at the handsome-but-scary man behind him now. More thinking about how he was going to find his classmate now that he was lost. He didn't have a phone and had no idea where he was. Lydia was right after all. He should have known. Lydia is always right. He rubbed his hair, sighing. He could still take a metro in the other direction next stop, but he doubted they'd wait for him. That option would need them to notice that Stiles was missing, which never happened. He went missing twice during their last trip and the first time, they only noticed he wasn't there by dinner time, when he'd been lost since the early morning.
He was lost in his thoughts when he felt someone behind him. A hand appeared in front of him and opened the door. Stiles walked out, still a bit confused, and almost didn't notice that the handsome-but-scary man was also on the platform, and that he was looking at him.
Before thinking about what he was doing, Stiles spoke.
“I'm lost.”
There was a silence but the man seemed to understand. Stiles wasn't expecting anything so he was very surprised when he heard the rough voice.
“Derek.”
“What?”
“Je m'appelle Derek.”
Is that his name? It doesn't sound very French. But what do I know about French anyway...
“Huh. Er. I'm Stiles.” He said, trying to talk as slowly as he could (which is not very slow, obviously.).
“Tu as un téléphone?” Derek asked, and Stiles was starting to think that this was one of the most absurd situation he ever found himself in. The handsome man he made angry was now talking to him. OK. Derek mimicked a phone.
“Ooooh! A phone! No I don't have one.” he shook his head.
Then there was several minutes of both of them trying to think of something to say. Finnaly, Derek took his phone out of his pocket and started typing something. Stiles tried to look at what he was typing when he almost got hit by the phone when Derek showed him the screen. It was open on a translator.
He read : “Someone picks me up in an hour by car. Can you escort to your hotel if you want.”
That was not perfect but it was understandable. Was Derek saying he could drive him to his hotel? He did have the address in a notebook in his bag. It was 4pm, and the class was supposed to be back at the hotel at 6pm before going to eat, so it was probably the safest thing to do. However, going in a car with a total stranger was against anything his father ever taught him about safety and protecting your own life and that kind of thing. But then, he had pepper spray and a knife in his bag. And he was very good at screaming. And opening locked car doors. That his father didn't mean to teach him but he learned it by necessity. So he nodded.
“Yes please.”
Stiles didn't thought the situation could become even more absurd than it already was, but someone it did because at that moment, Derek smiled.
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Stiles observed his hot chocolate in details, because it was the best hot chocolate he ever drank and he needed to know it’s probably secret recipe. He was not going to admit that the chocolate was so good because Derek had paid for it and that he was handsome and sitting in front of him right now, and he was taking his tiny cup of dark coffee to his lips and what lips!
Stiles realized that it was absolutely insane to fantasize about a guy he just met, and he wasn't going to assume Derek's sexuality but please can he be gay? Or at least bi? Or pansexual or anything-sexual-that-is-not-straight, I really don't care. And please make it that I am attractive to gay guys. Thank you.
“So yeah, I mean, Beacon Hills isn't nearly as beautiful as Paris and it's not even one tenth of its size but it's a lovely place, really. Well, when you like rain and forest and occasional mountain lions leaving half eaten bodies in the woods.”
Stiles kept talking because the silence was making him feel awkward. Not that he hadn’t felt awkward since the moment he entered in the metro, but it was only getting worse. Derek nodded from time to time but Stiles had no idea of how much he understood of what the teenager was saying.
“I have to admit I'm kind of really, really messy and Lydia warned me that I'd get lost and-. Oh fuck. DO you even understand what I'm saying? Tell me something about you Derek. I want to hear you talk. Not that I'll understand what you're saying.”
Derek's eyes lightened.
“Je n'arrive pas à savoir si tu es completement naif ou suicidaire. Je pourrais être un tueur psychopathe et tu n'en saurais rien. Personne ne t'a appris à ne pas suivre les inconnus? Enfin, heureusement pour toi je ne suis pas un tueur ou un truc du genre, et je dois être au moins aussi stupide que toi pour proposer de racompagner un adolescent qui ne comprend pas un mot de ce que je dis à son hotel...”
Stiles could only stared, smiling. Derek had stopped talking so he asked, without any idea if it was related to what Derek had said or hoping to get an answer, or again, to understand it.
“How old are you?”
There was another of the numerous silence, and Derek started searching something in his back. Stiles tried to look, curious and wondering what the bag has to do with his question when Derek pulled out a little notebook and a pencil. He noted something on it and gave the notebook to stiles.
23.
Ooooh. Stiles's smile widened.
“What is your job? Are you a student?”
He gave the notebook back to Derek who started scribbling things on it. Stiles’ mood was getting better because they've finally found a way to communicate!
He looked at the notebook. There was several drawing on it, the first one being books, the second one something that vaguely looked like a classroom with a stick-man that was certainly supposed to be the teacher.
“Je suis prof à l'université.” Derek said.
Université, university, which was close enough to mean the same thing. Was Derek a teacher? A teacher of what? Stiles’ curiosity was growing as much as his interest for Derek. Not even talking about the awfully perfect muscle and this perfectly drawn jawline and those bright shining eyes and... OK stop. Just, generally, Derek looked like an interesting person. He was going to ask more questions when Derek's phone rang and he stood up from the Café's terrace. A big back car had stopped right in front of them.
“La voiture est là, on y va.”
Stiles wanted to complain that they'd been here for only half an hour and that he wanted to talk with Derek more but a girl got out of the car and walked toward them. She was gorgeous. Tall, long black hair, red lips and sunglasses. There was something in her attitude that reminded him of Derek, so he supposed she's family.
“Laura.” Derek said, sounding even grumpier then before.
Stiles decided that they had to be brother and sister from the way they acted around each other, which was typically like a brother and a sister. Laura, if he undersstood her name correctly, was smiling and laughing and apparently teasing Derek, while he was looking very, very annoyed.
“On y va maintenant.”
“Huh OK?” Stiles sputtered as he watched Laura walked in the opposite direction of the car, waving at them.
“Elle a des choses à faire, elle va prendre le metro.”
Stiles got inside the car and noticed that it was very much like Derek. Big and dark and looking powerful but comfortable. Derek sat on the driver sit and turned the radio on. Stiles wasn't questioning Derek's evilness any more. There was no way he was going to take him to a deserted road and kill him with an axe after showing himself around Stiles in public like he did. Derek couldn't use his notebook now so they weren't going to talk a lot. Strangely, Stiles was OK with that.
---------
The only thing Stiles had learned about Derek during the drive was that Derek loved Jazz music and that he had a hard time containing his smiles when Stiles started singing when songs he knew were on the radio.
They arrived at the hotel way too early in Stiles’ opinion. He was going to say goodbye to Derek when he stopped him and indicated the receptionist.
“Je ne pars pas tant que tu ne sais pas où est ta classe.”
“You are with the Americans right?” The girl at the reception asked Stiles with one of the worst accent he'd ever heard. Those who said the French accent is cute are liars. Or maybe it's only cute on cute people. Stiles found himself thinking of a way he could make Derek speak English. He shook his head, remembering that he was not going to see Derek ever again. Maybe he has a facebook? He must have a facebook!
The girl was still talking, but she was not looking at him. Her eyes were fixed on...on Derek. She was smiling and batting her eyelashes, touching her long blond hair and basically trying to flirt with Derek. Derek was standing in the doorway, trying to avoid her looks, and looking really annoyed. His whole body was tense and Stiles saw him taking a cigarette off his pocket and lighting it anxiously.
After a disappointed sigh, the girl faced Stiles.
“They're not coming back until 10 tonight. The teacher said they were going to visit a museum or something like that.”
“WHAT?”
He heard Derek jumping in surprise, because he had just yelled. The man arrived behind him and asked the girl something with a cold and pressed voice while Stiles was trying to think how his day could be even more absurd. He was very glad to have met a nice and good looking guy, who for some mysterious reason decided to put up with Stiles without being a serial killer, and he was not missing anything if they went to a museum because Stiles hate museums, he had never been patient enough for those. He vaguely remembered their – quite cute – French teacher saying something about going out tonight and a museum was probably mentioned as she was not going to take a bunch of 16 years old teenagers to a pub in Paris.
“Si ils reviennent avant lui, prevenez les que Stiles est avec une connaissance et qu'il reviendra bientôt. Ils peuvent me joindre à ce numéro.” Derek said, giving a paper with a phone number on it to the girl who was smile and flirting again.
Then Derek put his arm on the counter and smiled broadly at the girl who was blushing and I knew he couldn't be gay...
“Je peux vous demander votre numéro de téléphone?”
“Bien sur!” The girl looked delighted and Stiles was only a tiny bit disappointed.
Derek was typing the girl's number on his phone, Stiles waiting for any of them to pay attention to him. When Derek finished typing it, he pressed a few settings and showed the screen to the girl.
“Votre numéro est bloqué sur mon téléphone. Ce n'est plus la peine d'essayer de m'appeller ou de m'envoyer des messages.”
The receptionist fell silent, looking absolutely horrified.
“Et si par hasard vous décidiez de ne pas passer mon message au professeur de Stiles, je m'occuperais moi même de contacter votre supérieur pour lui signifier votre attitude.”
Whatever Derek had just done, it was something really cool and probably evil because he was smiling and the girl was choking and looking like she's just been punched in the stomach. Derek turned to Stiles and smiled at him, a way less evil and malicious one than the one he'd shown to the girl.
“C'est bon, tout va bien. Je t'invite à diner?”
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That was the best thing Stiles had ever eaten. Seriously. The fish was perfect, but he really lost it at the pie. Derek even bought him a glass of wine, and only smiled when Stiles said he was sixteen. The glass was really small and the wine really good, and even if Derek spent the biggest part of the evening staring at Stiles while Stiles talked, making faces and moving his hand and mimicking some things, and he almost started to sing when he saw the waiter giving him a deadly glare. Sometimes, Derek smiled or laughed. He taught Stiles how to say 'santé!' correctly and they drank their wine. But mostly, he stared, and Stiles was doing everything he could not to meet his eyes because every time he did, he blushed like a teenage girl on her first date with the most popular guy in the school. But really, those eyes, they were just so... Blue. Stiles could almost feel them on him. He didn't dare think about why Derek was looking at him like that, so deeply. He was in a good mood, it was easy to tell. His shoulder weren't tense anymore; even the muscles of his face were relaxed.
“That was so awesome! I'm so glad I've met you! I'm not even sorry for pushing you in the metro earlier.”
Derek kept starring in silence, but his eyes were smiling.
“You know, I still have no idea if you understand what I'm saying, and I sure don't understand what you're saying, but I like hearing you talk? So you can talk. I just told you my whole life story, and we've only met a few hours ago, but I think you're really nice. Like, you're grumpy. You're scary. But you're really nice. You've helped me when I was lost and you've invited me to a luxurious restaurant. And I'm feeling really useless and ridiculous right now so I really hope you don't understand what I'm saying.”
And he was blushing and there was no way Derek hadn't noticed.
They stayed silent for a while, just looking at each other. Or more, Derek looking at Stiles and Stiles trying to act as if Derek wasn't looking at him and certainly not looking at Derek because he could feel it, his eyes on him, stopping on his ear, on his mouth, on his hands, his neck, then coming back on his mouth and staying there. Oh god why did he kept looking at his mouth. He bit his lips and saw Derek moving on his seat, but still staring at Stiles’ lips. And he was starting to get hard, for god's sake, what was he? A horny teenager? Wait, I'm exactly a horny teenager. Fuck.
“Voici l'addition.”
Derek's eyes left Stiles as soon as they heard the waiter's voice as if he was doing something forbidden and got caught in the middle of it. Hopefully Stiles would have a minute to stop his growing arousal while Derek was paying. He stood up and started putting his coat on way to early. Stiles was still blushing from head to feet but at least he had taken care of his boner. Thinking of Scott and Allison making out had helped. They were so sparkly with heart and flowers and enveloped in a pink aura of love that they were quite disgusting.
“Je vais te ramener à l'hotel, il est tard et ils doivent être rentrés.”
There was nothing else to do then except following Derek to the car. Stiles walked as slow as he could because he didn't want to leave Derek just yet. Strangely, Derek didn't say anything and walked next to Stiles in silence. Paris by night was really beautiful. It had been a sunny day and it was a clear night. There weren't any stars in the sky, but the city lights were bright and at this moment, Stiles felt like he was in a postcard, in the deserted street, the muted sound of the city coming from behind the old Haussmann buildings and the closed book shops and Cafés, and sometimes a laugh coming from one of the open windows. Stiles hadn't noticed that he had gotten closer to Derek until his shoulder brushed against Derek's. He stepped aside but Derek didn't react and Stiles was starting to be really really confused because this day was too surreal and it was probably a dream. It definitely couldn't be real.
Derek stopped abruptly.
“What?”
Stiles followed Derek's eyes and saw they were in front of the car.
“Oh.” He said, disappointed.
And because things had to get even more surreal then they were, Derek opened the door and held it for Stiles.
“T-thank you.” Stiles whispered, still not daring to meet Derek's eyes.
They were not far away from the hotel and it was late in a week day so the roads were empty. Stiles was wondering if he was going to get punished for getting away like that. It's not like he intended to in the first place but still. Scott was certainly going to be angry at him too. Scott was the kind of people who worried for anything, but if he had been busy with Allison... Well, no matter what happened and how many people were angry at him, he'd made a friend and he was forever grateful for it. Stiles didn't believe in love at first sight, but Derek was nice, and he wanted to know him better and god knew if he was attractive! Maybe it was because he was in another country, he felt even more crazy than usual, and that’s certainly why he'd followed Derek in the first place. In this instant, he was feeling almost drunk, savouring the last minutes he was going to spend with Derek.
The car stopped, but Derek did not move. This time, he was looking right in front of him. Then he spoke, and Stiles could feel the hesitation in his voice.
“Je sais que tu ne comprends pas un mot de ce que je dis mais je préfère te le dire comme ça avant que j'hésite trop. Je ne sais toujours pas pourquoi je t'ai proposé de t'aider. J'étais énervé contre toi au début. Tu avais l'air tellement décalé, tellement dans ton monde, j'avoue que ça a attisé ma curiosité. Et après, tu avais l'air tellement désespéré, on aurait dit un chaton. Je ne regrette pas de t'avoir aidé, parce que j'ai passé un excellent moment. J'ai l'impression d'être un vieux pervert alors que je ne suis pas si vieux que ça mais la manière dont tu bouges tes mains qui tu parles, quand tu mords tes lèvres, quand tu... Tu n'as pas idée du nombre de fois où tu lèches tes lèvres! Au début j'ai cru que tu jouais à l'innocent, mais en fait non, et je peux pas m'arrêter de penser à quel point tu es adorable et --”
Stiles put his hand on Derek arm and looked at him with worried eyes reflecting the street light in front of the car. Derek turned to face him and his face was fully red, which made Stiles wonder about what exactly he had been talking about and blushed in the idea that it was about him, buy before he could push his theory further, Derek's lips were on his.
Stiles almost pushed Derek in surprise but thankfully his reason reacted before his instinct and now he could only think of how Derek's lips were warm against his, how Derek's put his hand around Stiles’ neck to bring him closer. The kiss was wet, rushed, hurried, but no less amazing. Stiles arms where resting on Derek's shoulder, and they were kissing like it was the first and last time they could. Derek was exploring Stiles’ mouth, breaking contact only to let Stiles breathe. When he bit Stiles’ lips, the teenager let out a moan he didn't take the time to be embarrassed about.
“D-derek.” Stiles muttered when they finally break apart after minutes of frantic kissing.
His cheeks were red with heat, and his lips swollen and the only thing he could think about was that the kissing had been so fucking perfect and also way too short. His jeans were feeling too tight already. Derek's hand moved from his neck to his cheeks and stayed here while they looked into each other eyes, waiting to see who'd talk first.
“I want to see you again.”
Stiles’ mouth opened in shock because it was Derek who'd talked.
“What?”
“I had a really nice time today.”
“No wait, you... You speak English?”
Stiles didn't know if he had to feel upset or happy, because he could finally understand what Derek was saying. And wow, he almost didn't have an accent. His English was fluid and right, his accent was fucking sexy.
“I like to hear you talking. I thought if I started talking in English, you'd stop.”
“What the hell man? What kind of excuse is that? God it means you understood all the... Oh god. But that's not fair because I really don't speak a word of French. What were you saying before... Before...”
Derek smiled, a truly, really happy smile. And Stiles didn't see when Derek had put his hand on his but he was ready to kiss him again in a second if he didn't say anything.
“I was saying that you are absolutely adorable and that we'd better see each other again very very soon. Now can we go back to kissing please?”
Stiles had no intention of resisting that tone so he did as he was told.
Somehow, Stiles had ended up half laying on Derek, his arms around the muscular waist, one hand trying to find its way under Derek's shirt, while Derek's hands were already all on Stiles, and there was no way that Derek didn't feel his erection in this position, but they were not going to fuck in a car in front of a hotel anyway. Thankfully it was a small street with few chances of people noticing them. Not that they cared. This time, they were taking their time, tasting each other, Derek biting Stiles lips, kissing Stiles’ neck, his jaw, the corner of his mouth, and Stiles panting and digging his nails in Derek's back. It was not a first-date-kiss, it wasn't shy, or tender, it was hot, and they were not going to waste time because each time they break apart, they couldn't wait to be against each other again. Derek was obviously not the romantic type, and Stiles, despite being young and innocent looking, liked it a lot more then he should. They ended the kiss slowly, hands not daring to move because it'd mean they had to get out of the car and go. They stared at each other, both eyes glowing with lust.
Maybe we could go in the hotel and Scott'd go with Allison so we'd have the room and we'd f... If it was possible to be even redder, Stiles blushed again. He threw away his fears in a movement of his head. I don't care that I'm a virgin, I'm horny and he's hot and that was the best kiss ever and OF COURSE we're seeing each other again!
“You're free tomorrow?” Derek asked after a moment.
“I'm not supposed to be free. It's a school thing. I'm supposed to follow the teachers.”
“Do you want to follow the teachers?”
“I'd rather be with you if that's what you're asking.”
Derek smile maliciously and after a moment of hesitation, Stiles finally got it.
“Well, I suppose I could get lost tomorrow too.”
Fin!