Chapter Text
Chaos and Stiles were always buddies, but this? This spiraled right the fuck out of control, more than any other idea he's ever had. It started innocently enough, during a discussion with Scott about the merits of some games over others, about what makes a good game, ones that they would really love to play. And okay, maybe he got a little invested in it. He just liked... Thinking about it, sometimes (most of the time) and if somewhere along the way he developed a whole universe with werewolves, hunters, kanimas, a whole freakin’ Halloween party every full moon... Well, it didn't really mean anything, did it. It was just a game, or not even that; an idea for a game.
Scott loved it, sure. He's been Stiles' best friend for the last 18 years or so, of course he loved it. Jackson, on the other hand, was nowhere near being his best friend so when he said that the idea was awesome... It was literally the first time Stiles heard him using that word. Until then he wasn't even sure if Jackson knew what awesome meant. Yeah, looking back, that should have been a red light.
But Stiles just mocked Jackson about it a bit and didn't really think anything of it, even when Jackson shared the idea with Danny. Who, of course, was a programmer.
It ought to have failed, really, one programmer versus enthusiasm, flail and definitely too many weird ideas.
But then - then it wasn't just one programmer anymore because somehow all the guys in Danny's flat seemed to get caught up in it and suddenly Stiles was getting texts in the middle of the night from unfamiliar numbers, asking about details of the game, and people he never talked to before were popping in to discuss different solutions for locations.
It looked like the game became this huge collective project, which grew happily, through wild fights and spontaneous bursts of creativity, under Danny's unofficial supervision - and much to Stiles' gleeful wonder.
There were sleepless nights and coffee, and alcohol, and endless phone calls with Danny, Scott and even Jackson, and what did it say about Stiles' life if he could spend an hour on the phone with Jackson of all the people?
Allison was the only person who publically refused to hear a word about the game; she claimed that she was already fed up with Scott babbling about it all the time, and that she knew all the details anyway because her stupid husband was shouting into the phone like a five year old that he was.
Stiles wasn't fooled: she had to be the driving force behind some of the ideas which Scott put forward. And she totally lost her temper in that three-days discussion about whether or not vampires should be in the game (and wouldn't it be hilarious if they sparkled).
The thing is, it worked. It was rough and basic, and the graphics were... Well, it was a wonder that there were any graphics at all. But it worked and people loved it, and when one day somebody came and said, hey, I know a person who's interested in this game of yours, Stiles wasn't sure if he could muster any more surprise.
Months later, holding a box with the freshly released game, all he could think was, damn, it's all Jackson's fault, I should have totally seen it coming.
(It sold, okay. It sold damn well, second only to The Sims. It was pretty terrifying.)
***
“So what are you going to do now?” Scott opens his second bottle of beer and gets more comfortable on Stiles' couch.
“Dude, I have no idea, my life is so crazy the word crazy is not enough anymore.”
“But you’re not going to move to Hawaii or Australia, right? Christmas is coming!”
“Please, what would I do on Hawaii without you guys! I’d probably fall into the ocean and a shark would eat me.”
Scott laughs, almost spilling his beer.
“You know, you could buy a house.”
“What?”
“A house! Here, in Beacon Hills. We could meet for Christmas and summer there, do Mario Kart marathons, watch Lord of the Rings on the biggest screen ever and order all the pizza in the world.”
Stiles thinks about it for a moment and he can actually see that: an enormous couch in the living room, half eaten boxes of pizza, a fucking plasma on the wall. Lydia and Jackson sitting in one corner of the couch, he and Danny next to them and Scott and Allison curled up on a loveseat, all of them watching a movie, the sequel to the Amazing Spiderman or something. Jackson keeps throwing popcorn at him until one piece gets in Lydia’s hair and Jackson goes very still, hoping she won't notice, but of course she does, and then Lydia is moving to seat next to Stiles and Jackson is looking at him as if it was Stiles' fault that the high school lacrosse captain can’t throw a piece of popcorn...
Suddenly, he wants it to happen. Hell, now, with all the money from the game, he could probably make it happen.
Scott beams at him.
“You totally should give me a room in this house, Allison keeps throwing away my stuff! Remember that huge poster with Batman and Robin you gave me like ten years ago? She made me move it to the basement!”
Stiles snaps out of his thoughts.
“No!”
“Yes! She said something about how it doesn’t fit into our bedroom. I love her, but dude, my Batman poster!”
"Batman is sacred! We will have all the posters. We can build him an altar. Maybe a statue in the bathroom. And there should be a pool, too," he adds, because pools are freaking awesome and now he wants one.
“Allison loves to swim!”
Stiles just rolls his eyes, more out of habit than anything else; of course that's what Scott would say. A pool it is, then.
***
“You’re building a house,” Lydia says instead of hello and Stiles knows he’s in trouble. As if the phone call at 8 AM wasn't indication enough; Lydia knows how much of a morning person he isn't and she doesn't call unless she has a good reason or just really wants to annoy him.
“Care to explain to me why I have to get to know about it from Scott?”
“Huh.”
“That’s all you’ve got to say? I want a room.”
“What?”
“A room, Stiles. You honestly don’t expect me to sleep on a couch, do you? And I need somewhere quiet to write my thesis.”
“You want a room in my house, which doesn’t exist even on paper yet, to write your thesis in peace?” Stiles is kind of struck, because yesterday he was drinking beer with Scott and jokingly fantasizing about building a house, but now Lydia wants a room… And apparently he is actually building a house. Knowing Lydia, sooner rather than later. Like, tomorrow.
He hears an impatient huff on the other side.
“A room, yeah, okay?” Because what else could he say, really.
“Perfect! I made you an appointment with an architect, today at 9 am, I’ll text you the address.”
And she hangs up on him. Stiles stares at his phone for full three minutes. What has just happened?
***
Stiles always knew Lydia was evil but this is too much. Stiles is sure the architect she chose has to be the best (how many architects are there in Beacon Hills anyway?), but he is equally sure that when Lydia googled him, a very familiar smirk must have appeared on her face, because the guy is smoking hot. Intimidating levels of hot. Not only is he exactly Stiles' type (and yes, over the years Stiles and Lydia drifted onto the topic of men they liked more than once, usually when they were both drunk just enough to overshare but not enough to forget it the next day) — he is probably everybody's type.
Stiles likes to say that nobody is out of his league, but that is not taking into account that he is hungover, barely had time to take a shower and arrived late, tripping over the threshold.
The gorgeous (albeit frowny) guy is looking at him expectantly.
“Um, hello,” Stiles says, nervously. “I have an appointment? Like, five minutes ago. With Derek Hale, that's you, right."
The guy doesn't confirm it but he doesn't deny it either. Derek it is, then.
"Sooooo I think I wanna build a house? Sort of. Uh, no, I don't know specifically, I only thought of it yesterday? And it, well, it spiraled out of control. So. A house. I don't really know much about houses, what do we start with?"
Derek just looks at him and Stiles can almost hear him thinking what are you even doing here, this is not how houses are supposed to be planned, are you seriously just thinking it up right now and, most of all, what's wrong with you. Then there are the eyebrows.
“You want to build a house,” Derek says and is this supposed to be a question? It doesn't sound like a question, but at least Derek finally spoken up so Stiles is going to count it as a win. How is that for customer service anyway? Maybe architects don't do customer service. Maybe Derek's so good he doesn't need customer service. Maybe he's one of those guys who think that if they're pretty they can be complete assholes and get away with it. Or maybe their receptionist just got sick. Whatever.
“Huh, yeah? I mean I think I want one? I was just talking about it with my buddy Scott, but he told Lydia, and now she knows, so I kinda don’t have a choice?”
Stiles is impressed by how Derek can use his eyebrows as question marks and how he manages to look pained and a little bit confused at the same time.
“Do you want to build a house or not.”
Stiles squeezes his eyes shut for a second, trying to will away the headache and focus.
"Yes," he says. "Yes, I want to build a house. That's the plan. Only, there is no plan."
"Let me get this clear," Derek says and his enunciation gets a bit exaggerated. "You just got an idea of building a house and you don't have a clue about what you're doing."
"That… Pretty much sums it up, yeah. Hey, look, it was Lydia who booked the appointment right the next morning, I never said I was prepared for it. But I really do want to build a house."
“Where.”
"Huh?"
“Where do you want to build your house.”
“In Beacon Hills?”
“And I’m guessing you don’t have any land or even an idea where do you want it?”
“Shit.” It is actually a very good question. He doesn’t have land. And it’s kind of important when you want to build a house. You have to have land to build a house. And maybe you should have land before going to see an architect and telling him, hey, I want a house, but I’m an idiot and my brain shut down after this one good idea, so don’t kill me, pretty please.
The eyebrows tell him he is an idiot. He has to agree with them.
"I want to speak with your wife," Derek says, and if Stiles had any idea what was going on in this conversation, he loses it now.
"What wife?"
There is a very pained expression on Derek's face.
"The one who told you to build a house and decided to make my life miserable by sending you to talk to me."
"I don't have a wife." Stiles says slowly, because even if there was a time (okay, a long period of time), when he was planning to marry Lydia and live happily ever after, now this thought is so abstract to him that he has problems wrapping his mind around it. And maybe it's the ridiculousness of the idea that makes him stop and actually think about what he's saying.
“Lydia, she's a friend. A terrifying friend but... Okay, no, sorry, I know this is probably unusual. It's just an idea which we came up with yesterday and Lydia apparently decided to make sure I put it into action. I don't know anything about building houses and I could really use someone experienced to walk me through the whole process. Can you - is that something you can do? I totally understand if you don't want to, but, yeah, I gotta find somebody and Lydia said you were some kind of genius, even though you're intimidating, so it would be pretty awesome if you agreed?”
Derek just looks at him with unreadable expression and Stiles actually feels sympathetic towards him; he knows he's a lot to bear on a good day, and now he is not only hungover, but also had been caught off guard by Lydia's call that set the whole plan into motion. He's overwhelmed with the idea, with how much he wants it… And Derek's face is distracting, okay. It's the eyebrows, that’s what it is. And maybe the stubble, maybe. Who is he kidding, definitely the stubble.
Anyway. Stiles really cannot blame Derek for wanting him out of here as soon as possible.
“You know what, maybe I need to think a little bit more about it. And do some research. Eat some breakfast first… Not that you care, okay, I'm just gonna come back later, yeah? Oh god." The last two words he mutters to himself, hurrying to the door, phone already in his hand, dialing Scott. It goes straight to voice-mail. Of course.
“Scott! Call me back, dude, I have to yell at you, and it's not as effective if you're not there to squirm in shame. What were you thinking! To babble about the house to Lydia, of all the people? How come you even talked to her that late at night? You should have gone to bed, not called around causing trouble. There’ll be words about that, Scott, don’t even think I’ll let go of that one. And we need to talk about the house, so call me, okay? Do not make Allison call me, I’ll yell at her too if you do that!"
He hangs up, shaking his head. His friends are the worst!
***
Derek hates Wednesdays. It’s not because everybody hates Mondays and he wants to be different, he couldn’t care less about that. Wednesdays simply are the worst. There is always something happening on Wednesday. His car broke down twice last year, both times on Wednesday. As if it wasn't enough of a reason to hate Wednesdays, there are also many other small things happening, like running out of milk or arguing with Laura, or meeting new, ridiculous clients, apparently. This day was already bad, because he forgot to do the laundry when it was his turn and Laura in her silent revenge spilled his coffee on him. The coffee was hot, it ruined his shirt and it was also the last bit of coffee they had. Because it was Wednesday so of course they ran out of it, again.
And now some crazy kid came to the office, telling him that he got drunk with his best friend and decided that he wanted a house. Or this Lydia person decided for him, Derek isn't sure what the story is here. Who does this stuff anyway? College kids are supposed to get drunk and get tattoos, which they will regret for the rest of their lives, not houses. College kids shouldn't even be able to afford to buy houses, what the hell.
But a client was a client so he had to at least listen to him, unless he wanted Laura to shout at him yet again about being rude to the customers. It's not Derek's fault that people have ridiculous demands and no knowledge about construction; they expect the architect to work miracles for them and can't even be bothered to use google to answer their stupid questions. So if Derek wasn't… Customer-friendly, it was perfectly within reason. He did try to listen though, and suffered through good fifteen minutes of the kid babbling about the imaginary house. The kid did look kind of determined and it's not like Derek could just kick him out for being ridiculous.
Thank god the kid finally realized this wasn’t going anywhere and left somewhat abruptly.
Of course Laura had to choose exactly that moment to come out of her office just in time to see the door closing behind the kid.
“Derek, how many times I have to tell you that you have to at least try to be nice! Like smile every once in a while, say more than three words at a time?"
Derek levels her with a glare. Laura sighs.
“So, who was that?”
“Some crazy kid, who has even crazier friends, who want him to build a house.”
“That’s great then?”
“Considering they came up with this idea yesterday while drunk? Not really. All he knew was that he wants a house." Derek makes a face. "Maybe, probably, okay, he does, but this girl Lydia made him and it’s all his other friend's fault.”
“Wow, you actually listened to him! He was cute, right?”
“What does my listening have to do with him being cute?” Sometimes Derek doesn’t understand how his sister’s brain works.
“I don’t recall you telling me any details about Mister Finstock's ideas when he was here last week. You just said that he had been here and that you would never work with him, ever.”
“So?”
Laura just smirks at him.
“Just let me know when he comes back.”
“What makes you think he will?”
The kid said he'd be back but it's possible that once he gets some sleep and actually thinks about it, he will come to his senses. If he has any. He probably couldn't afford to build a house anyway, not to mention the responsibility that comes with it. No, he won't be back, Derek decides. It doesn't stop him from looking up every time somebody walks past the door.
***
Stile eats breakfast first and then waits for Lydia who promised to bring some coffee. He browses through various pages on the internet and when Lydia arrives he has a vague idea about what he needs to know before building a house. It turns out that it would be much easier to buy one, but there aren’t many houses for sale in Beacon Hills and he wants too many specific things to find them in a normal house.
Lydia brings his favorite coffee, which is very rare and means that she likes this idea of building a house much more than she is willing to show. Someone else might think that she could be feeling a little bit guilty about sending him to make an idiot out of himself, but Stiles knows Lydia better than that.
“And here I was, thinking that research is something you are actually pretty decent at,” says Lydia instead of a hello and Stiles rolls his eyes.
“Thanks for the coffee, Lyds,” he says and they both know what his favorite coffee means. She had to drive to the other side of town to get it.
She glares at him and sits on the couch, taking out her laptop.
“So obviously we need a plan. Just talk to me and I’ll write down all the important facts, how about that?”
“You mean you’ll write all the things you consider important, right?”
“Which means I’ll write down all the important facts, Stiles, how many times do I need to repeat myself. Now talk. God knows this is the first and I hope the last time I have to ask you to do that. And better hurry, I have plans with Jackson at four.”
Talking is something Stiles can do. So he does and when he starts he lets his imagination run free. He had no idea he could think of so many things he would want in his house. Like a small vegetable garden or a pool, or trees near the windows.
An hour later Lydia puts her laptop down.
Stiles stops talking and looks at her expectantly.
“We have all we need for now,” she says.
“We do?”
She rolls her eyes. “Read this and you can even show it to Derek, maybe you’ll impress him with 'your' planning skills.”
“I don’t think anything could impress this guy. Maybe someone with scarier eyebrows,” mutters Stiles, getting the laptop to read Lydia’s notes.
***
So the next day Stiles, in his favorite Batman tee, enters Hell of a House and he is prepared. He has his research, Lydia's notes and even a vision of what his house should look like (he might have looked at google images for three hours, so what). He also ate breakfast and drank coffee, he is awake, full of energy and no eyebrows can intimidate him.
Of course he is not expecting to see a scary bombshell sitting behind the reception desk. She has this predatory look on her face and red nails. She also is wearing a leather jacket, very similar to the one Derek had and Stiles thinks this is some kind of gang thing. A little bit creepy, but he is wearing Batman shirt and snickers, so no judging.
She looks at him rising an eyebrow and a silent what do you think you're doing here is very clear (is the "no talking" thing some sort of a rule here?). It's not particularly inviting so Stiles doesn't even feel bad when the first thing that comes out of him mouth is not a hello or something similar to a greeting, but:
“So, do you guys go clothes shopping together?"
For a few seconds the girl seems confused but then she laughs, suddenly looking far less scary.
"No, but sexy and leather go well together," she says and leans over the desk, extending her hand. "I'm Erica."
Stiles very carefully doesn't look into her cleavage.
“Stiles, nice to meet you. Actually I’m looking for this grumpy looking guy with very expressive eyebrows?”
He hears a snicker and turns around to see a very beautiful women wearing, surprise surprise, a leather jacket.
“Someone mentioned my baby brother?” asks the woman, apparently Derek’s sister, coming closer. “I’m Laura Hale, what can I do for you?"
"I'm Stiles. Stilinski. I was here yesterday and made a bit of an idiot out of myself but I actually do want to build a house, so I did some research and hopefully today I'm a little more suitable for human interaction. Could one of you take a look at what I have and tell me whether it's something to work with?"
"Ah, Stiles the man with very enthusiastic friends? I was wondering if you'd be back."
Stiles snorts.
"The man with enthusiastic friends, is that what he told you about me?"
"Well." Laura grins. "He might have worded it a little bit differently. But I'll be happy to help you if you really are serious about this."
"I am. I know it sounds sudden and insane but I want to do it."
"Okay. For us it's even better if we don't have to work with anything pre-set, it gives us more room to breathe. Would you like to sit down and talk it through? And then you can make your final decision."
"Yeah, that would be great."
“I have an appointment in twenty and I won't be able to squeeze you anywhere in the afternoon. Does tomorrow work for you?"
***
When he enters Hell of a House (he's not sure who came up with this name, but he wants to congratulate them, because it is a hell of a name) there is some guy behind the reception desk and Stiles starts wondering how many people actually work there and why every time he comes there he sees someone new, and why the hell all of them are so hot. And wearing leather. Maybe he was right about shopping.
“Hi, how can I help you?” Stiles stares a little because this guy not only has the cutest smile and a British accent, but he's also the first person at this desk who seems to know the basic rules of customer service.
“I have a meeting with Laura at 11?”
“Ah, sure, Stiles, right? I’m Isaac, nice to meet you.”
“Huh,” Stiles mutters to himself, shaking Isaac's hand. He has a leather jacket but none of the “sexy aggressive” vibe. More like a whole new level of adorableness. Mysterious.
“Nice to meet you too. Is Laura here?”
“She will be here in five, she told me to let you in her office.”
Laura comes in three minutes later, apologizing for being late.
“It’s actually good that you came across me yesterday, normally I speak with clients first, we discuss some general points, draft the budget, and only then we talk to Derek about what the house is supposed to look like.”
“Smart move.”
“And why is that?” asks Laura, raising an eyebrow, and Stiles has a feeling that she already knows the answer.
"I just have a feeling that if he was the first person the customers talked to, there would be fewer houses in Beacon Hills. Customer service isn't really his forte, is it? Though looking like this, he can probably make unfriendly work– oh shit," he says suddenly, realizing it's Derek's sister he's talking to. And the person who is going to be in charge of his house. She can probably build deathly traps in his bedroom and he would never notice. Laura looks like she’s trying very hard not to cackle.
"Oh my god, sorry. I didn't… Okay, yeah, I meant every word, but I guess me being an idiot two days ago didn't help. Silence was probably the best way to bring me back to my senses. Ugh, sorry, can we just forget about that and start over?"
Laura does laugh, but it's not malicious.
"Absolutely. So, you said you're more prepared today?"
Stiles grins and hands her the notes.
Twenty minutes later Laura looks a little bit impressed.
“Looks like you did some nice work yesterday,” she says."The last thing we need to cover is money. I hope you do realize that this is going to be very expensive?"
"I have an idea, I've looked at some costs online. The money is not an issue."
Laura looks at him questioningly. Stiles smiles sheepishly; he's still not really used to the whole being-rich thing, and he sure as hell doesn't look like a millionaire in his cartoon shirts.
"Yeah, I know, I look like a college kid. I should probably thank you for working with me so far and not just kicking me out. I... Might have invented a computer game, which got quite popular. I'm trying to keep it quiet right now, I've got a pseudonym and stuff. It got... A bit out of hand at the beginning. You could say that I have experience with things getting out of hand. Which means that there might be some hope for the house!"
Laura smiles and allows for the change of subject.
"Of course there is! We are the best in town."
"You are the only one in Beacon Hills."
"Only because we feel sentimental towards this town. We could be taking New York by storm this very moment, so consider yourself lucky that we decided to stick around."