Chapter Text
Stiles took a deep breath to steel himself before opening the lid on the tub full of mooncalf dung. He grabbed a handful, grimacing at the chill that seeped through his gloves, and plopped it into the stone basin on his workbench before slamming the lid back down to keep the smell from spreading any further into the greenhouse.
“I don’t get why we have to do this at night,” Scott whined from his perch on the tabletop.
“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just ask me that for the third time,” Stiles replied. Seriously, how difficult was it to put together the idea that mooncalf dung was most potent when the moon was out. “And you don’t have to be here. It’s my extra credit project.”
“Which you only have to do because I spilled all of your bubotuber puss in class.” Scott handed over the trowel that he’d been holding. Stiles dug out a generous portion of bagged potting soil instead of saying anything. He wasn’t angry at Scott about it, exactly, but he was upset that he hadn’t gotten full marks on the assignment when he’d been the first one to finish extracting liquid from the ugly worm like plants – even before Lydia, who finished a full three minutes after him.
Stiles was adding clumps of rich compost to the basin when a shadow along the frosted glass wall. He wiped his gloves off on his apron and pulled out his wand to check the time, only to frown when he realized Professor Longbottom was early by half an hour. Stiles was nowhere near ready with the mixture. The whole point of the assignment was so see the effects of muggle charcoal powder in magical fertilizer recipes and he hadn’t even put any in yet.
“Scott, go tell Longbottom I’m not done yet! He can’t take us back to the castle till -”
“I should have known it was you two.”
Shit. Not Professor Lonbottom then.
“Derek Hale, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Stiles asked as sweetly as possible. Hale had it out for Scott and him, always showing up just in time for the situation to look its worst. So many points had been sacrificed to the guy's permanent scowl. Okay, so maybe they shouldn't sneak out so many times or try to set off so many dungbombs by the professor's lounge, but seriously, the guy was just always there. It was creepy.
“You’re out of the castle after curfew, what do you think?”
“Aw, come on Derek, Stiles has per-”
“Perfectly good reasons for being here,” Stiles cut in, elbowing Scott in the ribs. Nobody was supposed to know that Professor Longbottom was letting him work in the greenhouse unsupervised. It wasn’t exactly in line with the rules. But some muggle show that the professor loved was on that night and Stiles had the grades to prove he knew what he was doing with the plants, so they’d come to an agreement – Longbottom would get to watch his program in his office in Greenhouse Three while Stiles and Scott worked in Five.
“I don’t really care, Stilinski. Twenty points from each of you, get back to your dorms before I get a professor to add on detention.”
“Hey now,” Stiles brandished trowel at him in what he liked to pretend was a menacing manner, “don’t you think that’s a little excessive?”
“Not when it comes to you two idiots,” Derek grabbed the tool roughly from Stiles. “I can make it fifty.”
Scott started protesting and Stiles looked down at the soil with a sigh. He was just so sure that the charcoal would help solve the root rot problem on dirigible plums by helping to keep excess moisture from building up like it usually did with mooncalf dung. Maybe if he just added it in before leaving he could –
“Stilinski!”
Right. He grabbed Scott by the sleeve and pushed roughly past Derek. How the guy had ever become prefect was a mystery to Stiles. He’d had completely missed the fact that Stiles and Scott hadn’t broken in and that Professor Longbottom’s lights were still on. Whatever. He would talk to the professor in the morning about what had happened and ask for a second shot at the project.
--
“Stilinski! Wait!”
Ugh, seriously? Stiles thought as Derek’s voice rang down the Charms corridor. Professor Longbottom had been understanding about what had happened and offered Stiles as many chances as he wanted to get the right mixture of soil, but he didn’t have any time to supervise for the next two weeks, meaning Stiles had to sit on the anticipation. It was driving him up a wall even more than his usual racing thoughts did.
“What have I done this time, Derek? Is my tie too crooked? My wand improperly stored?” He turned around as Derek fought through the stream of students going in the opposite direction.
“No, I just – I wanted to give this to you,” Derek said, holding out a brown package. A very poorly wrapped, oddly shaped brown package.
“What?”
“Just take it,” Derek shoved the thing at Stiles until he had no choice but to take it. “Open it.”
Stiles tugged at the twine knot until it fell apart and pulled the paper away. It was a trowel like the one he’d forgotten about in his haste to get out of the Greenhouses the other night. Only where his was second hand, rusted on the back, and cracking in several places along the handle, this one had a blade that was so shiny Stiles could see his face in it and a handle of finely polished dark wood.
“Um?”
“Professor Longbottom explained why you were out of the castle the other night.”
“And you’re giving me a trowel because?”
“I’m apologizing for jumping to conclusions.”
“Aren’t you supposed to actually say the words ‘I’m sorry’ when you apologize?” Stiles asked. Derek simply let out a low noise and crossed his arms over his chest defensively. He looked resolutely over Stiles’ shoulder with a frown.
“What I mean to say,” Stiles hurried to add, “is thank you. This is very nice. I’m going to go now, since you look like you’ll throw up if I make you say any more words and I might throw up from the strangeness of all of this.” He turned tail and walked as quickly as possible towards the stairs.
“You know, I don’t hate you,” Derek called when Stiles had reached the top step. “Professor Longbottom said you think I do.”
“Well you sort of act like it,” Stiles called over his shoulder. He didn’t want to turn around and let Derek see the flush on his face. Scott was the only one who knew that Stiles didn’t exactly mind that Derek was always dogging their steps. Stiles had always had a bit of a crush on Derek since first year when Derek had helped him pick up his things after his crappy second hand bag had split. Clearly that act of kindness had been a rare occasion if the years following that were anything to go by.
“I take points when you deserve it, idiot. You do something stupid, prefects take points, you learn a lesson that your life is valuable and that there are consequences to your actions.”
“You think my life is valuable?” Stiles asks. Derek just huffs in response and when Stiles hazards a glance over his shoulder, Derek is walking in the opposite direction. Huh. Derek Hale, creepy lurker who had no business having such a nice jawline, was a big old softy who cared about the kids he was in charge of. Stiles grinned stupidly to himself as he leaped over the trick step. Derek Hale cared.