Chapter Text
From this post.
Taken from bleep0bleep's prompt: au in which derek hale, professional knitter, has a popular youtube channel where he teaches everything from beginner’s stitches to complicated tutorials for all types of knitwear. his most popular video is the one where he knits a sweater for himself and puts it on to test the fit, and when he takes it off his shirt comes off with it.
Many thanks to all who participated in that post; I haven't finished a fic in quite some time (or in such short time--eight and a half days!).
--
“So, if you hold the project like this,” Hot Knitting Neighbor says, demonstrating as he moves his hands back and forth, showing the camera exactly what he’s doing, “place your right hand needle through the first stitch. Pull it through, loop it, and there! Voilà! You’ve done the first step of your bind-off! Okay, now do the second stitch. Once you’ve got two on the right hand needle, use the left hand needle to pull the first stitch over the second and off the needle. Continue like this until you’ve reached the end of your project. Now, once you’ve got only one stitch left on your right hand needle, set aside your left hand needle. You can trim down the tail of your project until it’s about fifteen-and-a-half centimeters, like so, and then loosen the final stitch. Pull it off the needle, wrap the tail around it and tuck the end through the loop. Pull it tight and there you are! If you need to trim the tail further, you can. All right! That’s all I have today. So, enjoy the rest of your day, and remember, keep knitting, your projects need you!”
Stiles stares down at the mess of yarn, a pretty green that had matched Hot Knitting Neighbor’s eyes in the first video. He sighs dramatically, casting it aside to click back to the previous link, which taught how to knit in patterns. He was trying to make a potholder for his father. And who better to teach him than Hot Knitting Neighbor, a totally chill and swell dude with killer style and sweet needle-moves?
Of course, he could have just asked the grandmotherly owner of Nana’s Knitters where he picked out the yarn with a bit of advice from said owner. She often sits at her counter and knits while she watches everyone in her store like a hawk. Although, having her teach him would have meant that Stiles wouldn’t need to watch HKN and that’s not something he wants to deal with right now.
To be honest, despite not really catching onto to the whole knitting thing, Stiles likes watching the videos of Hot Knitting Neighbor—his Youtube channel, not that he’s not, y’know, hot. ‘Cause he is, like whoa! Temperature a billion and one degrees and Stiles has seriously actually jerked off listening to HKN describe how to make a rose out of needles and yarn.
Anyway, the videos; Stiles likes them. HKN doesn’t make anyone feel like an idiot and always links back to his previous videos. Over time, nearly five years and almost two hundred videos, the camera gets better and HKN gets more comfortable, needles clacking contentedly as he explains this stitch or that pattern or his favorite movies and games and songs. Sometimes, he sings as he knits, conversing with himself and serenading a handful of pregnant (always the same one) or angry looking women (although, they only look angry, really HKN treats them as if they are pleasant as peas) as they pass through his videos. He never introduces them, just says, “I’m filming today. See?”
The oldest, and never pregnant (and almost never angry), woman often stops to watch him work before kissing his head and moving on. It reminds Stiles of his mom and he pauses the video whenever it happens, just to clear his eyes and maybe stare at the way HKN closes his eyes and leans back into her touch.
HKN’s real name is Derek, but Stiles never calls him that around his friends. He always calls him by his acronym, but he knows they’re suspicious. Especially when he starts begging off meetings on Thursdays as HKN typically uploads a new video that day.
Scott and Kira are usually the loudest protestors to Stiles skipping date-dates, but he always points out his date-less nature and points at each couple in turn. It’s actually gotten to the point where Stiles says, “Today is Thursday,” and Scott responds with, “Date-night. Have fun with HKN.”
This Thursday, he’s ducked out of a group date where he would be the seventh or ninth wheel to his friends—he doesn’t know if Erica and Boyd are joining the groupings again as he always manages to miss the group thing. He wanted to finish the potholder, before he royally screwed it up, and of course, watch the main attraction.
When he checks HKN’s channel, he finds a new video uploaded about two hours ago. If he hadn’t been at work two hours ago, he would have lamented the missing of the posting.
As it is, he feels vindicated for skipping hanging with his friends. They have him on the weekends. No one needs to see Drunk Stiles on Thursdays, especially since he works early on Fridays and can’t actually get drunk but might attempt it if he’s a seventh or ninth wheel.
Stiles puts the ruined potholder back in its box and clicks on the newest video. He sets it to his preferred settings and lets it buffer a bit while he tucks the box on his project shelf. HKN’s idea: have a space where one can keep all the projects one works on so nothing gets buried by life. Ignored, yes, forgotten, no.
The video opens with blurry focus that slowly sharpens as Derek’s opening titles—his name and the current project and date—flash across the screen.
Derek waves at the camera, grinning.
“Hi, I’m Derek, and today I’m going to teach you how to make a sweater. Now, the major difference between a sweater and a sweatshirt is that a sweater is knitted together while a sweatshirt is sewn together, whether or not those pieces are knitted. Often times, another distinction between sweaters and sweatshirts is that a sweater can be opened in the front. Usually by way of zippers or buttons. Sweatshirts are not as easily opened. But, I digress. Anyway, for this project you’ll need to select your needle size. Since I’m going for a more ‘store-bought’ look, I’ve chosen a size one-point-five needle set. You’ll also want to have the circular set. This will be especially helpful as you knit the collar. And you won’t have to stitch together two pieces of ‘cloth.’ Bonus!”
On screen, Derek scoots his chair back, showing off the skeins of maroon yarn lined up on his desk. He points to each one, a total of ten.
“Ten is maybe a bit generous,” he admits with a laugh, “but the color was so pretty! And I promised to make Laura another baby blanket with what’s left over. Also, this is the high end stuff.” He plucks an end out and shows it to the camera. “It’s really fine. Because I’m trying to make the sweater look as store bought as possible. With the baby blanket, I’ll probably double up the yarn. If you remember,” he waves at the corner of the video over his right shoulder and a link-box pops up, “I did that with the other two blankets, but with different colors. Laura has until I’m done with this project to choose if she wants another color in there. You can leave suggestions in the comments.”
He sits back, casting on easily and starting to wrap yarn in elegant fashion. He explains what he’s doing and momentarily stops so he can gesture over his left shoulder for a link back to the tutorial on circular knitting. Stiles absolutely doesn’t stare at his fingers as they move. Nope. Not a bit. After he straightens his stitches and starts knitting in earnest, he starts talking again, saying, “Now, this is going to take a bit longer than normal. My sister’s graduation is coming up, so is my parents’ anniversary. And it’s a longer project with all the intricacies. But, don’t worry. You’ll get to see every step of the project. I just might not upload all the videos right away. Anyway, excitement! There’s a surprise at the end of this project! I’ll have more details closer to the end of the project so stay tuned.”
He settles into his groove quickly, humming a bit as he keeps knitting. He’s going so fast. Already Stiles is certain he won’t take as long as he’s planning. Even with the interruptions he spoke about. Someone knocks on the door that is perpetually off screen, and Derek sets aside his knitting to embrace the (again) pregnant lady, who steps into frame.
“We’re almost ready to go,” she says, softly, like she knows he’s doing something important. “You can finish recording when we get back.”
“Yeah, that’d be cool. Let me just sign off and I’ll be there in a sec. Love ya.”
She smiles and heads off screen, the door clicking shut behind her.
“So, yeah, it’s going to take a little while to get going. I’ll talk about the type of stitches I’m using next time, and I’m really sorry to do this to you, but I’ve got to run. So, enjoy the rest of your day, and remember, keep knitting, your projects need you!”
The subscribe link flashes briefly before the video ends a bit abruptly.
Stiles sighs. It wasn’t nearly long enough to tide him to next Thursday. He really hopes Derek takes his sister (Laura, the pregnant one is always Laura. Stiles remembers Derek knitting her bouquet for her wedding in the first few videos)’s advice and uploads another video tonight.
--
True to his word, Derek uploads several shorter videos throughout the weeks of the project, and the shape of the sweater is easy to see almost immediately. Derek expounds the importance of measuring everything. He even jokes that maybe he should account for the weightlifting his (always angry) sister Cora is making him do for her graduation present. Some kind of hiking project she’s been badgering him to go on since she graduated high school. Stiles doesn’t sigh at the thought of Derek shirtless and sweaty, lifting weights and chugging water or protein shakes.
He also doesn’t sigh at the figure Derek cuts sitting in his chair knitting in a blur as he tries to cram an hour’s work inside of twenty minutes while he discusses the proper way to frost cupcakes for one of his nieces kindergarten classes.
“Frozen,” Derek advises with a twinkle in his eye. “Definitely Frozen. It’s got plenty of stuff boys and girls like. Cora would disagree as she’s the one who actually has to do the decorating since I’m busy.”
Stiles misses several more get-togethers with his friends, including one on a Saturday (that Boyd proposes to Erica at…while no one’s looking of course) because Derek promised (and fulfilled that promise) to live stream nearly an hour of uninterrupted knitting. “Derek-time, my dad calls it,” he confides, winking at the camera. “I think, when I get to the cuffs, which should be really soon,” he laughs and demonstrates how he’s got one arm almost done, “I might do something special. I like thumbholes. Thumbholes are good.”
--
Three weeks later, Derek shows the camera the finished project. It’s beautiful, and if Stiles hadn’t spent the past month watching him knit it, he wouldn’t have believed human hands had made it. It really does look store-bought.
“Put it on!” he chants through Derek’s bind-off process. “Please, dear God! Just let him put it on!”
Derek finishes his bind-off calmly, trimming his tail neatly and setting his needles and the scissors off screen. Then he grins wickedly and shoves back his chair. He leans forward slightly, pulling the material over his head and sticking his arms out into the arms. He looks ridiculous and hot and adorable and maybe a little flushed when he finally pokes his head out through the neckline.
His hair is mussed and a bit static-ky, but his smile is soft and he looks good in maroon.
Then, Derek sticks his thumbs through the little thumbholes he’d made. He’d explained his choice to include them as, “Sometimes your hands get a bit cold. Now, you can just slide your thumbs through here and voilà, warm hands!”
Stiles’ heart flutters at the figure Derek cuts as he stretches his arms above his head and out to the sides, testing the give of the sweater.
Derek scoots forward again and shrugs. He laughs softly. “It’s a bit of a tight fit, eh? Knew I should’ve accounted for all those days weightlifting!”
He spends a few minutes talking about how the project went for him, what he’d like to change, and how it might be easier for beginners to try this way instead of that. Stiles drinks in the cadence of his voice, the waving of his hands. Then Derek stops and settles his hands in his lap, grinning at the camera. “So anyway. It’s actually really warm, so I’m going to take it off now. Hang on a sec.”
He grabs the edge of the shirt and pulls it off over his head. Unfortunately for him, and way too fortunately for Stiles, his t-shirt sticks to the sweater and peels off with it. Almost immediately, there’s a loud bang off-camera (Stiles identifies it as the door) and someone shouts, “Mom! I told you he was stripping for attention!”
“Cora!” Derek shouts back, his face panicked and thoroughly red. Stiles hates Cora for him right then. Derek pulls his t-shirt free from his knitted sweater and pulls it on as his mom comes on screen.
“Derek?” she says, a bit concernedly, and Derek refuses to make eye contact, staring at his lap morosely and smoothing his thumbs over the sweater. “I’ll get Cora to apologize to you. Now, wasn’t there something you wanted to do with the finished project?”
Derek perks up a little at his mom’s words, turning back to the camera, still blushing hotly. “So, you remember when I first started this project, I said there’d be a surprise? Well, it’s a little contest! Here it is: you could win this sweater! All you have to do is follow the link in the description below to my friend Jordan’s Facebook page where you’ll take a quick HKN quiz. First thirty people to answer all questions correctly will get their screen names entered for a chance to win. When I put up the next video, those thirty names will be entered into a random drawing—which my friend will facilitate. At the end of next week’s video, we’ll announce the winner. The sweater will be mailed soon after that. So, there!”
Stiles pauses the video and quickly clicks on the link to the Facebook so it opens in a new tab. If only thirty people get to register for a chance to win that sweater that was actually on HKN, then Stiles isn’t wasting any more time.
Since he’s been obsessed, and okay, yeah, trying and failing at knitting despite Derek’s stellar instructions, he aces all the questions perfectly. A .gif pops up after the last question, Derek smiling at the camera and flashing a thumbs up. Stiles saves it to his hard drive, in the shameful little folder that houses all Derek’s videos and as many screen caps of him from his friend’s Facebook that he can access.
Hey, at least he doesn’t have porn anywhere (that his dad can find) on this computer.
Jerking off over that one shirtless picture Jordan posted of Derek when they were at the beach about a year ago totally doesn’t count as porn. And, yes, Stiles does feel extremely guilty about using an innocent, totally sandy and grinning Derek for masturbatory purposes.
He also feels guilty about acting upon the arousal Derek’s voice inspires in him some (most) days.
He thinks about the short show of bare, well-defined abs and pecs and licks his lips. He’ll grab a couple screen shots to add to his not-porn folder. Another surge of guilt over using Derek’s body that way washes over him. He buries it. It’s not like Derek’s a real person at this point.
Objectively, Stiles knows that Derek is a person, but it doesn’t feel the same as if he were jerking off over pictures of Isaac or Jackson.
Once he’s done with the quiz, making sure to use his official “Stiles” username, and staring at Derek’s perfect everything, he reads some of the comments, finding that approximately sixty thousand girls have decided to simultaneously spam Derek’s friend with “Ur so hott!!1!!1!!” messages.
He also discovers that only the ones who answer all questions correctly get the .gif.
He counts how many people have posted so far about that .gif, and realizes that he’s the twenty-eighth. Hope blossoms in his chest, and then is so ardently dashed when someone else, the twenty-ninth by the timestamp, declares that he (Matt Daehler is a guy’s name, isn’t it? And why is it so familiar?) received another .gif in addition to the smile and thumbs up. Something about Derek and confetti.
At least six of the other finalists also claim to have received that .gif.
Stiles logs out of Facebook dejected and sad and goes back to the video, noting that there’s about thirty seconds left before it ends. Predictably, it’s Derek’s sign off, “So enjoy the rest of your day, and remember, keep knitting, your projects need you!” Unpredictably, his mom stays with him and kisses the top of his head as she usually does.
The video ends and Stiles sits back.
He has no doubt that Derek will be back to posting on Thursdays. Cora has graduated and dragged Derek on that hike that he showed a few pictures of a couple of weeks ago. The anniversary has come and gone. And Derek’s already started matching colors with the maroon for the new baby blanket. So far the general consensus is plain maroon or even a suggestion to mix burgundy.
Well, he ventured a chance on the contest, and that’s all he’s going to say on the matter. Now, he really needs to make it up to his friends for skipping out on last Saturday.
He hears Lydia and Jackson also got engaged.
--
The bowling alley is packed.
Apparently, there is a birthday party and a sort of bachelor party (and Stiles really hopes Scott lets him choose something low-key like this for his inevitable bachelor party. Jackson and Lydia have already chosen a fancy restaurant hardly any of them can afford. Boyd and Erica are just going to order pizza and host a gaming tournament).
There’s a skeevy-looking fella running around taking pictures of the birthday party—too many people for Stiles to really see whose it is.
Skeevy-guy snaps a picture of their group before Boyd can scare him off, and Jackson threatens litigation.
“Easy, man,” the man says, grinning crookedly at them. “I’ll send you the pics if you want them.” He sneers at Jackson before offering a kiss to the hand of all the girls. All of them look grossed out and uncomfortable.
“What’s your name, asshole?” Jackson spits. “I’ll call my dad right now and we’ll start drawing up the charges.”
“Matthew Daehler,” the man says. “Would you like me to spell it?”
Daehler? Stiles thinks. Like that guy from Derek’s friend’s Facebook quiz? Can’t be a coincidence. Not too many Daehlers running around, much less with the first name “Matt.”
“Nope,” Jackson smirks at him, “I got it. Now buzz off, asshole. We’ll be in touch with the subpoena for your arrest.”
Daehler laughs uproariously at that, running off to circle the birthday party again.
“Hey, so we’re not actually going after him, are we?” Stiles asks the group at large. No one answers him. They, uneasily, go back to bowling, finishing quickly. The couples opt to go to a hole-in-the-wall diner while Stiles heads home and out of habit checks HKN.
He’s surprised to see a new video. He’d thought for sure Derek would definitely head back to his Thursday posting as he’s started looking rundown and ready for a break from constant knitting. He clicks on it, pausing it so he can set it on the highest resolution available and sitting back to let it buffer a good few seconds so he can watch Derek’s announcement of a new project without interruptions.
When he clicks play, he notices that the camera is a handheld model that sort of shakes as it skims around the room. Stiles feels his chest seize as he recognizes the bowling alley he and his friends go to at least once a month. The one they were just at. And there, squished into the opposite corner from the camera, he can just make out Lydia’s red hair and Allison’s bright pink sweater Isaac gave her last Christmas.
He pauses the video again to hyperventilate for a moment. He was in the same town, the same building, as Derek HKN and didn’t go say hi?! What’s wrong with him?! Also, why was Derek even in Stiles’ town? Doesn’t he live somewhere else with his family? He recalls Derek mentioning something about Chicago once or twice.
Derek waves at the camera, holding up three fingers and folding each one down slowly. “So, you remember my sister Cora, right? Well, today’s she’s the birthday girl, and she’s made a special request.”
“Demand,” Cora cuts in. “Never mistake my demands as requests, Derek. You might start not obeying them.”
“Demand,” Derek amends with a fond if a bit pinched smile at his sister. “Well, her demand is that we announce the contest winner here and now. So, Jordan, if you would?”
Jordan waves at the camera, pulling out a ball cap from a bag next to his pregnant wife, Laura. For her part, Laura passes him a stapled stack of papers and a bunch of strips of colored paper.
The camera focuses back on Derek, who accepts the stack from Jordan and starts reading from it: “So, the contest rules were posted on Jordan’s Facebook, right above the big button for the quiz. Rule number one: no cheating. This was a bit hard to enforce at the top of it, but an immediate disqualifier was to post any answers in the comments. So that means the first six people to answer all questions were removed from consideration.
“Rule number two: no posting what comes at the end. So, out of all who answered the questions, only one didn’t do that. It seems a bit unfair, and if I had more energy, we’d do the contest again.” Derek shares a weary look with Jordan who shrugs and smiles weakly. Derek turns back to the camera. “As it stands, the winner of this maroon-colored, hand-knitted sweater is user name Stiles Stilinski.”
“Stiles, please enter a private chat with me on Facebook, and we’ll get your sweater shipped out as soon as possible,” Jordan says.
“Stay tuned for more news,” Derek says, setting the papers down and shrugging with that same weariness. “So, enjoy the rest of your day, and remember, keep knitting, your projects need you.”
Stiles falls out of his chair. He finds the link to Jordan’s Facebook page and sees that he’s still online. He’d sent a friend request within the first two weeks of watching Derek’s videos. He opens the chat and quickly types, Hello.
It takes a few minutes, but Jordan responds with, Hi.
Before Stiles can think of anything else to write, Jordan types, What’s your address? We’ll get the sweater out to you in the next couple days or so. Before we move.
Actually, Stiles types, maybe it would be better to hold off on it until after the move? You guys must be busy and you don’t need any added stress right now.
Five minutes pass before Jordan responds, simply, Thank you.
A few minutes later, Stiles switches to his email and notices that he has another notification for a new video for HKN.
Derek must have just posted it.
He loads it up quickly.
It opens on Derek sitting in his knitting chair, staring listlessly into the camera. Over his face, his name, ‘news’ and the date cross the screen.
“So, you’ll remember at the end of last video, I said I had some news. Well, here it is: I’m moving. My nana is retiring, after sixty years in the same business. If you remember all the way back in my 100th video, you’ll recall that my nana’s the one who taught me how to knit.”
Derek leans back from the camera and runs his hands over his head, combing his fingers through his hair. “So, I’m exhausted. It’s been a busy month and a half. I don’t think I’ll be able to start a project—the baby blanket for my new niece or nephew—until I’m settled again. There will still be weekly videos, but it might be more like check-ins than anything else.
“I really do appreciate all of you for all the support you’ve given me over the years. So, until next time, enjoy your day, and remember, keep knitting, your projects need you.”
Before the camera quite cuts out, Stiles hears Jordan ask something, and Derek responds, “Just tired, I think.”
It worries him that Derek doesn’t just look exhausted as he’d said, he looks like a steady breeze could knock him down, drag him all over the world with a single blow.
In fact, ever since the hiking trip for Cora’s graduation, he’s looked progressively more rundown. Stiles is glad, then, that he opted not to have them worry about sending him the sweater.
Maybe he can convince them to re-do the contest. He’d like to win fairly next time instead of through disqualifications.
Although, he can’t help the smug feeling he gets from Skeevy-Daehler’s DQ.
He shuts everything down and collapses on his bed, tired enough himself not to change out of his jeans and button-up shirt.
At least he doesn’t have work tomorrow.
--
A few weeks later, Jordan sends him a private message requesting his address again, and Stiles assumes, with video evidence, that the move has happened, and Derek is almost settled.
He types it out quickly and forgets about it.
He’s got Scott’s impending nuptials to plan now that his best friend has confided that he’s getting ready to propose to his girlfriend.
Kira has also confided to Stiles that she’s planning to propose to Scott.
He’s trying to set it up so they propose at the same time. He’ll laugh his ass off forever if it works out.
Now, he just needs Allison and Isaac to get over their fear of commitment and all his friends will be as-good-as-married.
--
Stiles is running late for a lunch date with his dad. They live in the same town, but their schedules are so different that it’s hard to meet up any more since Stiles moved out after college.
It’s his dad’s birthday tomorrow, and the potholder is finally done—and it looks like Derek knitted it, if Stiles does say so himself.
He flies out the door and crashes right into a solid wall.
He groans in sort of pain and sits up to stare at what he hit.
It’s HKN.
It’s Derek.
It’s HKN!
It’s Derek on his doorstep!
And he’s impossibly hotter in person than on camera. Wow!
“What?” he stutters intelligently.
Derek smiles shyly, ducking his head and blushing slightly.
He’s holding a plain brown package. “It’s the sweater,” he says, and his voice is a lot softer than in his videos. He hands it to Stiles and then helps him stand up.
“So, I moved to town a few days ago.”
Stiles nods. “I saw,” he says. “You posted the video of the apartment yesterday.”
Stiles resolutely, by the skin of his teeth, didn’t take a screenshot of Derek’s bed during the quick tour of his apartment. He doesn’t need to actually see where Derek sleeps and maybe jerks off.
Derek nods too, blushing more, almost as if he knows that Stiles is now imagining him naked on his bed. “I noticed that your address wasn’t too far from my nana’s store, so I decided to walk it over. I hope you don’t mind? I know it’s kind of creepy, and I can totally forget your address right now.”
“No, no, I appreciate it. It’s really kind of you to bring it to me.” He unfolds the flaps, staring down at the maroon shirt. He strokes a finger over it. It’s so soft! Most of Stiles’ projects are hard and lumpy. He’d worked so hard on the potholder to make it perfect.
“Maybe you should keep it?” he ventures, watching as Derek blushes again. “I mean, it fits you pretty well.” Like, orgasmic-well, Stiles means. He’s jerked off a lot in the past few weeks over the various pictures he’s saved of Derek. He’d even rubbed one out over a perfectly innocent picture of Derek eating bacon-wrapped crudités.
Having the man standing before him makes his guilt triple, and suddenly, he doesn’t want anything more to do with him than to obsess over his videos and wax poetic about his skills as a professional knitter. It’s a bit much that the man is truly standing in front of him, blushing and stuttering adorably. Frantically, Stiles tries to rein in his thoughts as he wonders what Derek would sound like in the midst of an orgasm.
“Look, I’m late for an important meeting,” Stiles says, a bit sharply, watching as Derek’s face shifts from shy to sad and then closes off entirely. “Maybe you can come by another time? I’m usually free on Saturday mornings.”
“Okay,” Derek says, nodding. “Keep the sweater.” He all but runs off, disappearing around the corner as Stiles just watches him go.
He fucked up. He knows he did. But, he hasn’t had a great track record with encountering objects of his affection, much less one he’s fantasized about almost constantly.
He puts Derek out of his mind and shoves the box with the sweater in his backseat. He keeps his mind blank as he drives to the restaurant where his dad is probably waiting.
When he gets there, he finds his dad in their booth, already halfway through a stack of potato pancakes. At least he has the decency to flush in shame when Stiles glares at him. He barely makes it three seconds before he sighs tiredly and sits with a thump in the seat across from his dad.
“What’s the matter, son?” his dad says when Stiles slumps across the table and clutches at his head.
“You know that Youtuber I really like?”
His dad nods, laying his silverware down. “That knitting fiend.”
“Dad, he’s not a fiend…Never mind. Anyway, turns out he moved to town here. He’s taking over his grandmother’s store.”
“Oh, yeah, Nana’s Knitters. So, your Youtube crush is Derek Hale, huh?”
“Nana’s Knitters?!” Stiles mutters. He glares at the wrapped potholder. He got the yarn from her. The needles. The recommendation of the color after he described what he was after. Oh, God! The woman knew—she knew!—that he was after her grandson this whole time. That’s why she always had a sly smile and a sharp barb for him.
She must have guessed that Stiles wanted to bend her grandson over his kitchen table and fuck his brains out.
Stiles moans in embarrassment. He’s so dead the next time he goes to Nana’s Knitters. Although, vindictively, he hopes Derek changes the name. Something more appropriate for a twenty-something year old man.
“So, what’s with the box?” his dad asks, and for a moment, Stiles thinks he means the sweater Derek gave him. Then he looks up and notices his dad side-eying the potholder like it’s about to engage in an armed robbery.
“For you,” he says, pushing it over. While his dad meticulously peels off the tape and unfolds the garish paper Stiles bought at the dollar store, Stiles steals the rest of his pancakes, almost inhaling them while his father digs through the multicolored tissue paper.
“A potholder,” he finally says, and Stiles tries not to feel hurt at the dismissive way he says it. “In the shape of a—what is this, Stiles?”
“It’s a frog,” Stiles says sullenly. It looks exactly like the potholder Derek knitted in video #133 for his cousin Marta’s birthday. Marta loves frogs. Apparently, his dad doesn’t. “Look, if you don’t like it, I’m sure I can find someone else who will.”
“No,” his dad says. “That’s not it. I just don’t know why you would give me a potholder. I mean, Stiles, I don’t cook.”
“You could,” Stiles says. “Or I could. You know, if you really don’t want it, I can get you something else.”
“It’s not that,” his dad says again, a bit of anger bleeding into his tone. “Stiles, it’s really not that. I just thought you were making me something with all the hints you were dropping. How much did you have to pay Hale to get him to give you this?”
What? Stiles’ mind blanks. His dad doesn’t think he made it himself? Seriously, what?
“What?” he says. “I did make it. I watched those videos over and over again until I finally got it. It took me forever to get the stitches right, never mind that I had to adapt with different needles and yarn and everything and that the first dozen didn’t look right.”
His dad doesn’t look like he believes him, but at least he puts it back in the box and sets it on the seat beside him.
“So, since Hale’s in town, are you going to pursue him?”
Stiles glares at him. “No,” he says shortly, shoving the empty plate back to his dad’s side.
“Why not?”
“Why should I? If he hadn’t come here to take over his grandma’s store, I wouldn’t have met him. I see no reason why I should ‘pursue’ him if our paths wouldn’t have naturally crossed anyway.”
His dad shrugs, conceding Stiles’ point. Then he glances down at his watch and winces. “I’ve got this new deputy to show around, so I’ve got to run. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay, kiddo?” He reaches out and runs his hand through Stiles’ hair, messing it up and grinning when Stiles splutters at him. “Thank you for the potholder even if I don’t cook.”
“Yeah, see ya.”
They both drop a five to cover the pancakes and then Stiles is on his way back home. Halfway there, he decides he’ll make another potholder to go with the frog. Nana’s Knitters is the only yarn store in Beacon Hills, so despite not wanting to ever run into Derek again, he’s got little choice.
When he pulls up to the quaint building, still atrociously splashed with red and yellow paint made to emulate strands of yarn, the parking spaces out front are absolutely empty. An oddity to be sure.
He slips inside, glancing around like he’s a spy because it feels so wrong that it’s quiet. At least Nana is still in charge, he notes when she pins him with an angry stare from her stool. Stiles returns the glare, pointing toward the wall of colors.
“Don’t pick green again,” she says, nastily.
“Wasn’t planning on it.”
“Nana,” a familiar voice says, and Stiles ducks around a corner quickly before Derek sees him, “how are you still in business if you treat all your customers like criminals?”
“That one is a criminal. A thief. Keep your eye on him, boy.”
Derek snorts and says, “Nana,” warningly.
Stiles finds a burgundy skein that might actually match with the sweater Derek gave him. Oh well. It’ll make another great frog.
He turns around to head to the register and comes face to face with HKN.
Derek looks shocked for a brief moment before he schools his features into a blank mask. “Sir,” he says politely, while his grandmother snorts loudly. “Are you finding everything okay?”
“Yeah-yes,” Stiles stutters, clutching the skein to his chest. God, Derek’s even more gorgeous now than he was standing on his front porch. “Uh, so I need to pay for this?”
Derek smiles, and waves him toward the register. Then, he gently nudges his still-snorting grandmother away and hits a few buttons. “It’s four-thirty,” he says.
Stiles wordlessly passes over his debit card, staring at the way the fluorescent lights make little green highlights pop in Derek’s eyes. His skin is washed-out looking, but Stiles had noticed that in his videos too, so he decides not to hold it against the store. Yet.
“Your receipt,” Derek says, handing back the card and a slip of paper.
“So my dad thinks I should ask you out,” Stiles says, and promptly clamps a hand over his mouth. That was not what he wanted to say!
Derek looks confused. “You brushed me off earlier,” he says.
Nana stabs a finger at Stiles’ chest and says, “See? Thief!”
“Okay, I give,” Derek says, turning to her with a frosty expression. “What did he steal?”
“Your heart!” she chirps and then cackles.
“Nana!” Derek blushes. Hard. His face turns so red Stiles fears blood is going to come rushing out of his nose.
“Do you want to?” he says through his fingers, cursing inwardly as that was another thing he didn’t want to say.
“Want to what?” Derek asks. He blanches just as fast as he blushed and he sways on his feet. Stiles grabs his arm and holds him from across the counter while Nana shoves herself under his other arm. “You want to date me?”
“Hmph, thief,” Nana mumbles, but she stops glaring at Stiles and pushes Derek onto the stool.
“Uh,” Stiles says, rubbing the back of his head with the hand not still holding Derek’s arm. “Yeah, I wanna date you.”
“Okay,” Derek licks his lips nervously, blushing lightly again, “how?”
“In all the ways.”
“That’s not very descriptive.”
“See,” Nana says, and Derek shushes her quickly.
“Dinner tonight?”
“Yes,” Nana says, a glint in her eye. Stiles gulps while Derek blushes again.
“Yeah,” Derek confirms, ducking his head and peeking up at Stiles through his lashes. “Hey, Nana,” he continues, smiling sweetly. “I guess Stiles isn’t the only thief in your store.”
--
Dinner is fantastic. Derek is sweet and kind and shy with everyone they encounter, from the waitress who recognizes Derek from his videos (“My mom loves the dishtowels I make her. You’re so talented!”) to the annoying couple who insist on having him autograph a pattern they randomly have.
The next day, his dad stares woefully at the burgundy frog Derek knitted quickly for his birthday, setting it on the microwave with the one Stiles made him.
Time marches on, and before Stiles knows it, they’re celebrating their third anniversary. (And all his friends are celebrating their first wedding anniversaries. Stiles plans not to be too far behind them—he’s already pestering Derek to teach him how to knit “jewelry” so he can propose.)
The store gets renamed. Obviously. Now people can actually purchase their knitting needs from Hot Knitting Neighbor: The Store! and Stiles gets an honorary name badge too.
He never does delete his secret stash of not-porn of Derek, but he doesn’t use it anymore. Not when he’s got the real deal in his bed, waiting for him with a pair of needles and a bright smile. And the maroon sweater with adorable thumbholes.
~ Fin ~