Chapter Text
If Derek had to choose anyone for his Gender in the Ancient World partnered project, he’d choose Erica, because he’s only got one friend at college so far and she’s it, but their professor has other plans. Erica gets paired with some cherubic freshman named Isaac, and Derek gets… Scott McCall. Some guy he’s never even noticed before because he always sits in the very back of the room.
Well. It could be worse. It could be Greenberg. Derek has definitely noticed him, because he makes at least two obnoxious comments every class.
The good news is that the assignment is a fifteen-minute presentation on Spartan women, which should be pretty interesting. The bad news is that today is Monday, and their presentations are due Wednesday.
“Is that even allowed?” Erica mutters.
Derek just shrugs.
Scott’s apologetic when they meet up after class–-he has to work tonight, and tomorrow he’s got a full day of classes and lacrosse practice. He could probably do it tomorrow night, though? Except Derek’s car is in the shop, Scott doesn’t have a car, and they live on opposite sides of campus, at least a twenty-five minute walk each way.
They agree to Skype.
They’re about fifteen minutes into the call on Tuesday night when this guy wanders straight out of one of Derek’s wet dreams and into the frame, wearing nothing but black boxer briefs and a tight grey Guns N’ Roses tee. He’s lithely muscled, with a cute upturned nose and some of the most beautiful bone structure Derek has ever seen. Derek can see his nipples through his shirt. He feels all the blood in his body rushing to his dick.
“There should be a note about that on page nineteen,” Scott is saying, distantly, while Mystery Guy yawns adorably, nose scrunching, and runs a hand through his messy hair. He looks like he’s totally oblivious to Scott’s webcam, or to Scott. He looks like he just woke up. He looks like something out of an underwear ad, or softcore porn.
Mystery Guy bends down, thigh muscles flexing, and starts digging through Scott’s dresser drawers for a pair of sweatpants. Scott doesn’t ever turn around. He just keeps talking about… something. Something unimportant.
Mystery Guy has a mole high up on the back of his right thigh and Derek wants to lick it.
“Derek?” Scott asks, with the annoyed-slash-concerned tone of someone who’s been trying to get his attention for several tries now. Mystery Guy wanders out of the room with Derek’s eyes glued to his ass. “What do you think?”
What Derek thinks is that he needs to get himself an invitation to Scott’s apartment, pronto.