It's time to let it go, go out and start again. But it's not that easy.

But I've got high hopes…

"Derek," Stiles huffed from the seat beside him, "Hey man, could you do me a huge favor?"

Hesitating a moment, Derek reluctantly looked over at his classmate, eyebrows raised in what he hoped conveyed unending annoyance. In reality, however, Derek felt a soft swoop in his stomach whenever Stiles talked to him. Whether it was asking about the essay due at the end of the month, or discussing the current novel they were reading, or, more frequently, arguing about the current novel they were reading, Stiles and Derek were no strangers to each other whilst inside the American Lit. lecture room.

A day didn't go by where Stiles wasn't poking and prodding and shoving at Derek's well-formed opinions of America's abundance of old, straight, white guys who all had something to say. ("You do realize that one day, you'll be one of those old, straight, white guys, right?" To which Stiles had scoffed, "Um, excuse you, I will be an old, bisexual, white guy. That's loads better." Which, okay, he had a point.) They bickered non-stop about rhetorical strategies and useless exposition and never ending analogies, but… the thing was, they never actually disagreed. They just got annoyed when the other explained it better.

And dammit Stiles always seemed to explain it better.

Somehow, his rambling mess of circumlocution made sense in a way Derek could never seem to articulate.

It pissed him off to no end, the way Stiles could instantly latch onto whatever point Derek was trying to make and throw in colorful adjectives and flailing hand gestures and completely unnecessary inflection, and make it better.

That wasn't to say Derek was a worse student than Stiles, his near perfect marks could attest to that, but he wasn't arguing with Stiles for a grade.

No, as much as Derek was loathe to admit it, he was arguing because somewhere not-so-deep inside, for some reason, he was trying to impress Stiles.

Not that it worked or anything. Most of their arguments ended in Derek huffing angrily, shoving his glasses back up his nose, and turning his head to hide the embarrassed blush that was probably showing through his stubble.

And the real kicker was that even when Derek did manage to form his words better than Stiles, the jerk didn't even get mad. He would just smirk his little asshole smirk, and sometimes he would wink, as if he had still won somehow and Derek would feel a little queasy, but in a weirdly nice way, and-

It pissed him off. More than anything had in his entire life.

So the fact that Stiles was now asking a favor, after months of teasing and interrupting, pissed him off even more.

And sort of intrigued him. But only because Stiles didn't seem the type to ask for help a whole lot. Not because he was interested in possibly finding out more about him or anything.

Because he didn't even like the guy.

Obviously.

Praying for a steady and uninterested voice, Derek said, "What do you want."

Going by the slightly taken aback expression on Stiles' face, Derek figured that maybe he'd overshot his mark a bit, landing more around 'cold and detached'.

"Uh, right." Obviously that wasn't going to stop Stiles, which made Derek feel a little excited for some unfathomable reason. "So, this is a little awkward, or a lot awkward, actually, but, you see, my friend has been trying to set me up with different people she randomly meets for months now, because apparently I'm 'embarrassingly lonely and hopelessly single and pathetically pathetic', but I'm not interested in anyone she introduced me to, like, not even a little bit interested, and I just want her off my back, you know? Cause sure, I might be a little lonely when I'm the only single person in my group of power couple friends, but that does not make me pathetic, fuck her very much, and that's not even really relevant and I don't know why I just told you that… But regardless of my plausible pathetic-ness, I just don't want her shoving these uppity mouth-breathers down my throat. Not literally, by the way, I may be lonely, but that doesn't make me easy. So that's where you come in. Not in the being easy part! Uhm, actually, I was just hoping that maybe if she thought I had a boyfriend she'd stop badgering me about it. So all I'd need is a picture of us to send to her, just acting like we like each other, and presto! You can go back to hating me and I can go back to being pathetic- er, uh, single- in peace! So what do you say?"

Derek had no idea what he had expected, but that was most definitely not it.

As always, Stiles took Derek's silence as an invitation to keep talking.

"Just one quick picture. It'd be on snapchat, so it's not like it'd be preserved on either of our phones for the rest of time or anything. Ten seconds of confusion and awe that Stiles could land a boyfriend as gorgeous as you, and then it's gone, and then I bullshit my way through an angry conversation later about why I didn't tell her sooner where I come up with a sappy story of how we really hit it off in my American Lit. class and decided fate put us together for a reason and went on a bunch of super cheesey dates before I inevitably put out. Easy. And effective."

Still not quite sure what to say to Stiles' proposal, Derek instead said, speaking much slower and collected than Stiles had, "And what happens when they ask to meet me?"

Stiles didn't miss a beat; "You're obviously out of town visiting family for a few weeks in Indiana. And if they keep demanding, I'll tell them how you dumped me because I'm too clingy and annoying and how I don't want to talk about it and they'll totally believe me because it wouldn't be the first time it's happened. Or the second. Or third. So really, there's nothing to worry about. None of my friends even go here, so that's not a problem either."

Derek still didn't know what to say, so he raised an eyebrow instead.

Stiles let out a loud, incredibly melodramatic sigh and sat forward in his chair, leaning closer to Derek.

"Listen," he began more seriously this time, "Either do it or don't do it, but don't drag it out okay? I know you hate me and probably don't want to do anything for me, ever, but I figured I'd ask anyway. So just say no if you're going to, will ya?"

When Derek finally spoke, what came out was not exactly what he intended.

"I don't hate you."

Stiles' eyes widened as Derek's fluttered shut in embarrassment. "You… You don't… Hate me? What? Since when?"

Well, there was no going back now.

"I've never hated you," Derek huffed out, annoyed at himself. "You're just very… frustrating."

Stiles nodded, as if he understood, but his eyes were still wide in pleasant surprise that matched the small smile adorning his slightly parted lips.

Stiles' face and neck were splotched with red as he cleared his throat and stuttered, "That's. Uh- that's good to know. So, since you don't hate me, would you mind pretending that you like me?"

Derek looked at the hope and desperation in his eyes and knew that he couldn't say no.

Stiles realized this as well as Derek heaved a sigh of resignation. A grin broke out on his face and he fist pumped, exclaiming, "Yes, thank god! Dude, you have no idea how much this means, seriously."

Before Derek could so much as blink, Stiles was scooting closer, right up against Derek's side, and holding his phone up in front of them. The camera was already focused on them, and Derek couldn't help but think that they looked good together.

"Alright," Stiles began. "Just smile and try to look genuinely happy I guess."

Derek took a deep breath and tried- really, really tried- to smile, but the face that stared back at him looked like a wolf baring its teeth.

He tried to make it look less aggressive. But then it just looked like a grimace, so he closed his mouth, but then he just looked constipated...

The phone lowered down to the desk, and Derek closed his eyes and lowered his head in embarrassment.

"Okay, so that's not working…" Stiles stated.

"Obviously."

It was silent for a moment, and then Stiles snapped his fingers and exclaimed, "I have an idea! I'll kiss you on the cheek and you barely have to smile. Just, like, smirk sexily or something! You can totally smirk sexily, I can picture it."

Derek didn't know if he was actually able to refuse anything at this point. He would probably do whatever Stiles asked him without even putting up a fight.

Just so that this would end.

Derek cursed himself for habitually going to class ten minutes early. He could have avoided this.

"Fine. Just get it done."

Stiles smiled and lifted the phone again, centering Derek on the small screen.

"Alright, so. I'm just gonna… You know. Now?" Stiles blurted and then cringed, blushing.

The sudden shyness and embarrassment was definitely not like Stiles, and Derek didn't know what to make of it. So he nodded.

Derek's eyes were fixed to the screen as Stiles scooted even closer, leaned his head in, and then hesitated. He could feel warm breath on his cheek and could see Stiles' eyes flickering over his face from the screen.

Derek was thinking about saying something, giving the go ahead maybe, but then Stiles surged forward and planted his lips firmly against Derek's cheek.

It wasn't perfect, and Stiles' nose bumped into Derek's glasses, and his finger shook as he pressed the button. But it also lingered, and Derek could feel burning imprints of where his lips had been after he pulled away.

Neither reacted for a brief moment, but when they did finally put a respective distance between them again, Stiles let out a laugh as he looked at the picture.

Derek was most definitely not smirking sexily. Or smirking at all.

His face had turned- and probably still was- beat red. His eyes were wide behind the lenses of his glasses, and his lips were slightly parted, showing the tips of his front teeth.

Stiles was also quite a few shades pinker than usual, and his eyes were shut, brows raised in something akin to… Surprise? Pleasant surprise, maybe? Derek couldn't quite tell, but it sent a rush of warmth through his core.

For some reason.

"Well. I think we both did sort of a shitty job, huh?" Stiles brought the phone closer to his face. He tried to save the picture discreetly, but Derek saw it anyway.

Stomach churning, cheeks burning, and breathing heavy, Derek simply nodded his head in agreement.

Clearing his throat, Stiles nervously asked, "Take two?"

Another nod.

The second kiss was just as oddly intense as the first, but this time, after many deep breaths, Derek managed to relax and even let the corner of his mouth tick upward a bit. He could feel Stiles' mouth pressed into his cheek in a smile, and the sensation made his lips twist further up.

This picture looked much better. Their blushes weren't quite as obvious, and they actually looked comfortable in the position. Natural. And Derek didn't quite know what to think of that.

Neither of them spoke as they stared at the picture, and then Stiles was sending it to someone nicknamed 'Strawberry Goddess'.

And that was that.

The professor walked into the room, not even giving a greeting before she started rattling off authors of the mid-1800's transcendentalism movement, effectively cutting off all conversation in the room.

Derek was trying to focus when Stiles elbowed him lightly in the arm. A scrap of paper slid over to him, on it the word 'Thanks' with a smiley face. Another smile threatened to break free on Derek's face as he dipped his head in a nod.

They didn't speak, not even to argue, for the rest of class.

That night as Derek was reading some novel by Thoreau, his phone dinged with a text message.

Derek sighed heavily. Just one night undisturbed. Was that too much to ask?

Apparently Laura thought so, seeing as the message was from her. He opened the text and was immediately greeted with a picture.

Of him.

And Stiles.

And Stiles kissing him on the cheek.

Shit.

He watched through the fingers of his free hand as Laura sent message after frantic message.

YOURE DATING STILES?!

YOURE DATING?!

SINCE WHEN?

WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME?

DEREK EVAN HALE WTF

WHY DID I HAVE TO FIND OUT FROM MY GF?

YOU HAVE SOME EXPLAINING TO DO MR!

There was a break in the influx of texts for a moment, and then the three dots flashed again. Derek held his breath in some horrible anticipation.

And then,

Even though you didn't tell me, I'm happy for you Der. You deserve this, and I really hope you're happy with him. I've met him a few times, and I think he'll be good for you. But you already figured that out I guess. I love you baby bro.

Derek scrubbed a hand over his face, not knowing what he could possibly say that wouldn't completely crush his sister.

Because of course this would happen to him.

It'd been… a long time since he'd dated. The last had been Paige, almost seven years ago. He'd thought she was the one; maybe she was. It didn't matter, though. Not after she was murdered the week after their one-year anniversary.

He'd secluded himself for the next year, and never tried dating again.

Needless to say, his family was worried. Worried that he was damaged beyond repair. They wouldn't be wrong; he'd spent the past seven years believing that himself.

But… he didn't feel guilty thinking about Stiles. And that was new.

He didn't feel a sense of impending doom when he looked into the man's eyes. He didn't feel fearful when Stiles leaned over his shoulder to point out the allusion that Derek had missed. He didn't feel apprehension when Stiles touched his shoulder as he explained how the author just really loved nature, or anxiety when he convinced Stiles that the whole thing was actually an allegory about renewal and redemption and finding peace, and Stiles grinned at him as it all clicked into place...

Derek gazed down at the messages in his hand, shook his head, and shut off his phone. He'd deal with his sister tomorrow.

He'd deal with everything tomorrow, he decided and went to bed.

Stiles was already in his seat, twiddling his thumbs, gnawing on his bottom lip, jiggling his leg when Derek entered the classroom, once again about ten minutes early.

As he approached the nervous boy, Derek took in the way Stiles was hunched over the table, eyes fixed firmly on his hands. When he cleared his throat, Stiles jumped about a mile and then stood quickly, almost knocking over his chair in the process.

"I'm so sorry!" Derek couldn't even get a word out, to tell him that it was okay, that he wasn't mad, he wasn't upset, that he hadn't felt as at ease as he was in that classroom in seven years.

"I had no idea that Laura is your sister and Lydia saved the picture cause she knew who you were and she showed it to Laura and they were both so excited and happy that we had 'found each other' and 'saved each other' or something and I couldn't tell them that it wasn't real. I know I should've, and I will today, I swear I will. I'm so sorry, Derek. I never meant for this to happen."

…

"Are you done?"

Stiles took a deep breath and then deflated, falling back into his chair. His meek 'yes' was muffled by his jacket sleeves as he buried his face in his arms. Derek felt himself smile affectionately at his dramatic behavior.

And it all clicked into place.

Stiles made him feel like he could be better. Like he would be better. Stiles made him feel like he could take all the happiness left in Derek, throw in some genuine words, some persistent encouragement, some love, and make him better.

And most of all, Stiles made him feel as though he felt the same way.

Derek sat down in his chair next to the defeated man and nudged him with his elbow.

"It's okay, Stiles," he said gently.

Stiles just grunted.

"I'm not upset," he continued, more firm in his words this time.

Still not moving, Stiles muttered dejectedly, "Why wouldn't you be?"

Derek sighed in frustration, because of course Stiles was going to be difficult about this. Of course he was going to make Derek use his words.

Well, Derek thought, not necessarily.

"'It is unwise to keep the head long on a level with the feet.'"

At first there was nothing. Then, slowly, Stiles' head shifted in his arms until one eye was peaking out at Derek. "Did you just quote Thoreau to me? How the hell does Thoreau relate to any of this?"

Derek took a moment to collect his thoughts before trying to speak them. Stiles didn't push.

"I've spent a long time with my head and my heart down," he began hesitantly. "Years. It wasn't until this year- this class, that I started to pick myself up." Stiles had picked his head up off the table and was paying attention intently to Derek. "It wasn't healthy. I knew that. But I just… I couldn't bring myself to want to get back on my feet."

He risked another glance at Stiles and saw that his wide, beautiful eyes were full of so many emotions, swirling with sympathy and confusion and curiosity and hope, and he couldn't look away- didn't want to look away. So he didn't.

"I've been getting better, standing up again. And I owe most of it to you."

The pool of feelings in Stiles' eyes melted into just one, awe. His mouth fell open, floundering for adequate words that, for once, wouldn't come.

The professor walked into the room at that moment, and Derek forced his eyes to look forward, unlike Stiles who continued to stare- his gaze making Derek feel warm and tingly and not scared in the slightest.

It was as the woman in the front began to speak that Stiles reached out and pulled Derek's face back towards him, sealing his lips firmly, lovingly, surely over Derek's, without hesitation or fear.

It wasn't perfect. Stiles' nose bumped into Derek's glasses, and his thumbs shook as they caressed Derek's cheeks. But it also lingered, and Derek could feel Stiles' smile against his own, and it felt so right.

A pointed cough brought them apart, albeit reluctantly. The professor was staring with a raised eyebrow at them, tapping her foot against the ground. However, a small smile flickered on her face as she said, "While I do believe that it's about time, I do not believe that it's the place. Either hold it off or take it elsewhere, boys."

Stiles grinned and replied, "Sorry, Professor. But you know what Thoreau said: 'They hesitate, and they regret, but do nothing in earnest and with effect.'"

"I think we both know how wildly out of context that quote is, Mr. Stilinski," she scolded, even as her smile grew. "Now, I believe we've wasted enough time…"

As she turned her attention back to the now snickering class, Derek covered Stiles' hand with his own and squeezed before sliding a familiar scrap of paper over to Stiles.

Thanks.

He didn't have to look in order to sense the smile taking over Stiles' face once again.

And it felt amazing.

End

This was a gift for demisexualhale on tumblr for last year's sterek secret santa gift exchange, but I'm just now getting to upload it here for some reason. It just slipped my mind I suppose.

As always, I love feedback, and I'd especially love some for this piece, as I slaved over it for months to get it close to how I wanted it.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed

(Title is from Kodaline's song of the same name)