Work Text:
Stiles glares at the bathroom mirror, scrunching his nose. His glasses slide down to the tip of his nose.
Ugh. He kinda hates them.
He's glad he chose to grow out his hair because these would definitely not work with his old buzz cut. At least they're a pair of normal black glasses, but they're also big and bulky and make him look incredibly nerdy. Like, why couldn't his insurance cover one of those nice unnoticeable frameless glasses?
In hindsight, he thinks, he should've made Scott, or better yet, Derek, pay for his prescription. They're the reasons he even needs the damn things now. All those nights staying up to look through ancient faded books and terribly designed websites (red text on a black background, just why) for grains of useful information, and also probably his new job at the library, but more of the researching, have taken a toll on his vision. He would've just dealt with it because it's not like he really needs to take notes in class but all the blurriness was making his head hurt and having less than stellar vision probably wouldn't help his already poor limb coordination.
He takes the glasses off with a relieved sigh before going back to his room. Thankfully, it's the end of the day and he's home, so he doesn't have to wear them.
Well, that's what he thought.
"Stiles."
Stiles' annoyed gaze drifts toward the corner of his room. "Derek," Stiles groans, "what the hell are you doing here?"
Derek raises an eyebrow, probably amused by Stiles' clear and present suffering. "Got something for you to take a look at," he says. Stiles collapses in his chair and casts a withering look at the large book in Derek's hand.
"About the wards?" Derek nods. Stiles makes tired grabby hands. "Gimme."
Derek hands him the book and Stiles sets it on his lap, cracking it open. And it's ant-sized text, of course. Stiles squints, but to no avail. He can't read shit.
"Are you okay?" Derek asks with hesitation as he watches Stiles' face fall closer and closer to the book. Stiles sits upright and lets out another sigh, rubbing his eyes. Derek's concern warms his heart for about two seconds before the agitation sets in again.
"I need my -," he pats the top of his head, the collar of his shirt, swearing because he can never remember where he puts his glasses, " - a-ha, here they are," he announces triumphantly as he yanks his glasses out of his jacket pocket. "Thanks to you and your werewolf shenanigans," he jams the glasses onto his face, "I had to go and get these stupid things."
Derek makes an odd noise - maybe a laugh or perhaps a chortle, he probably thinks the glasses look ridiculous too - but Stiles doesn't pay much attention, instead focusing on reading. "You don't need me now, right?" Derek eventually says after a long silence, sounding unusually strained. Stiles waves him off, eyes still glued to the book.
"Yeah, I'll call -," a gust of wind hits Stiles as the window opens and closes with a loud bang, Derek nowhere in sight, "- you. Huh."
Weird.
-
"We need to put these all around the house and also on a few trees outside the house too. I made a copy of the county records and made marks on where we're putting the wards so they should be able to cover all of the Hale property." Stiles looks up from the map, pushing up his glasses.
Derek blinks, seemingly snapping himself out of a daze. "What?"
"...Did you hear anything I said?"
Isaac snickers beside them.
-
"Uh, Stiles."
Stiles drags his eyes away from the ancient computer that is his work computer, trying to blink the decimals and letters out of his vision. "What?"
His co-worker, Dan, points discreetly over his shoulder. "There's a guy with some serious serial killer eyes staring at you," he whispers worriedly.
Stiles leans forward, adopting a fearful expression. "Does he have really angry eyebrows? A leather jacket? Broody expression?"
Dan nods vigorously, leaning forward in a sort of frightened excitement. "But it's not a broody expression. More like," he gulps, "a hungry one - oh god, is he like one of those canniballistic serial killers?"
Stiles snorts loudly, trying not to laugh, before turning back to the computer to quickly finish up the rest of his cataloging. "Yeah no, I know him," he reassures. But really, there is no way to reassure Dan. He lifts his glasses to rub his eyes before standing. "I'll go deal with him."
"You don't understand, Stiles," Dan hisses from behind the counter. "His eyes were actually red, I swear! I organize the true crime book club, Stiles, you should listen to me!"
Stiles dismissively waves his hand as he strides over to the - romance section? "Derek?" He calls quietly, poking his head out to look down the aisle. Empty. He hears skittering a few aisles down and, this being his library, manages to cut Derek off before he can escape. Derek stares at him like a trapped animal, which will never not be hilarious.
"Do you need help finding a book? Because I think you're lost," Stiles teases, resting his arm on one of the shelves. "Unless you wanted to read," he grabs a random book off the shelf and attempts to read with a straight face, "Bound to a Highlander." He is unsuccessful.
Derek looks around and eventually, wisely, chooses to just look at the ground. "The romance section here is really...extensive," he mutters with embarrassment.
Stiles laughs, mostly at Derek's discomfort. "Yeah well, love sells. A broken heart running for many editions and all," he shrugs, pushing up his glasses. "So what, are you picking up a book for Erica or something?"
"I uh was looking for a," Derek clears his throat, "history book."
Stiles casts him a disbelieving look. "So you walked in and completely missed the giant sign hanging above the history section that says 'HISTORY'?"
Derek looks like he ate a lemon. "...Yes," he answers, complete with a resolute nod.
Stiles purses his lips. "What kind of history book are you looking for?"
"Roman," Derek replies quickly. A little too quickly. Stiles doesn't need werewolf senses to tell that he's lying.
"Y'know Derek, there's no shame in wanting to read a romance novel every once in a while," Stiles says consolingly, idly looking through the books on the shelves. Derek scowls at him but it looks more pouty than angry. "I'm sure I could find you some werewolf-themed ones -"
"I don't want a book," Derek interrupts with a growl.
Stiles stops, looking at Derek's angrily embarrassed expression. "Then what -," he trails off as the title of the book he happened to stop at catches his eye.
My Bespectacled Beau.
Oh.
"You really aren't here for a book, are you?" Stiles repeats, slowly holding up the book for Derek to see.
The angry embarrassment on Derek's face morphs into terrified mortification. "It's - I - it's not -," Derek stammers.
"You have a thing for glasses?" Stiles says, his voice cracking a little because oh my god his glasses are making Derek hot and bothered.
Derek pins him with an intense look before apparently giving up, visibly deflating. "No, just a thing for you wearing glasses," he murmurs, sighing with frustration. Sexual frustration, Stiles reminds himself with glee. "I have a lot of things. With you. But the glasses are new. And I like them. A lot."
"Oh really?" Stiles tries not to sound too excited. He tosses the book on the shelf and slinks forward in what he hopes to be a seductive move. Derek flushes. Who would've thought Derek flushed? It's fantastic. "What other things do you like?" He leans in close. "With me?"
Derek's gaze flits to his mouth. "Everything," he whispers hoarsely. They're almost chest to chest now. Stiles feels Derek's hands brush against his hips and grins. Thank god Derek has good timing for once. All the middle-aged women who frequent this section are picking up their kids now.
He adjusts his glasses. "Take me now," he breathes dramatically and Derek groans and does exactly that, slotting their mouths together and pushing Stiles against the bookcase in one smooth motion. A few books are falling off the shelves and his glasses are pushing somewhat uncomfortably against the bridge of his nose but Derek is making some lovely noises and Derek's tongue is in his mouth and his hands are under his shirt and yes, he is totally turned on by all of this and so Stiles really couldn't care less even if the bookcases started falling over like a row of dominos.
"Oh god," Stiles hears Dan call feebly from down the aisle a few minutes later, "is this the good eating or the bad eating?"
Stiles takes a second to pull his hand out of Derek's hair to shoot Dan a thumbs up.
Glasses are the greatest invention on the planet.