He was going to kill Scott.

He was hungover and running late to his 9 A.M. class because Scott thought that it would be fun to go to a frat party on a Tuesday night. After showing up at said party Stiles was left to fend for himself because Allison, coincidentally, happened to be at the same place, at the same time, and she really wanted to 'hang out'. So, Stiles did what he did best and got stupid drunk because why not? Yeah, there was no other way around it, he was going to have to kill Scott.

Those were the thoughts running through Stiles' head as he quickly made his way across campus to get to that god forsaken morning class. He didn't even have the option of slipping in late because Dr. Rodriguez believed in the Socratic method of teaching which involved not letting any students in after the class was supposed to start. So now Stiles was left with foregoing his morning energy boost in the form of coffee and praying to anybody out there that he would get to class before the doors closed.

The odds must have been in his favor because he managed to squeeze by his professor just as the clock struck 9. Stiles smiled to himself at this great feat, but his victory was short lived because of a small yet somehow big problem. There was somebody in his seat.

There was a man in his seat. There was a gorgeous strange man sitting in the seat that Stiles had worked hard to covet. It was a general unspoken rule that the seat where you sat in the first week of class was the seat that you would sit in for the rest of the semester. Yet this man, this beautiful man, decided to take Stiles' seat during the seventh week of class without any regard for this universal law. This seat was in the very back of the large auditorium. It was in the perfect spot to completely ignore the lecture while looking like you were paying attention. Stiles had to fight a sorority girl for this title and now it looked like it was claimed by a hot as fuck guy who looked vaguely familiar.

Stiles glared at the man who was currently unpacking his laptop at the seat that was definitely not his. Scott glanced up at Stiles apologetically from the next seat over. His best friend was supposed to have his back, he was supposed to protect his seat from anybody wanting to claim it. Instead, Scott had betrayed a part of the age-old bro code, which stated that he was supposed to save the seat next to him for his bro…Stiles was like ninety percent sure that this was written somewhere.

"Good morning, everybody. Let us begin today where we left off in our last class…"

Stiles stopped in his tracks when the seat thief chose that moment to look up at him. Well, probably look at the professor who was currently in the same vicinity as Stiles, more specifically the professor that was behind Stiles' back. The details did not matter because in that exact moment that stunning, unethical man made direct eye contact with him and boy, could he get lost in those eyes forever. What would you even call that color?

"Mr. Stilinski." Stiles whipped his head back to face the professor. "Would you be so kind as to take a seat? If I'm not mistaken class has already begun."

"Sorry," he muttered and quickly moved over to the closest available seat which happened to be in the front row of the classroom. So much for not paying attention.

Stiles quietly took out his phone and quickly shot a text off to Scott.

Dude, what the hell?

I'm sorry, I didn't think your spot was in danger.

You were supposed to guard it with your life. And why the hell did you not wake me up this morning?

I got a little sidetracked. Allison said she wanted to get breakfast.

Of course, he got sidetracked. Scott had a hard time not getting sidetracked these days. Ever since he got together with Allison, who was conveniently in their class, the sun could rise in the west and he would still be too preoccupied to notice the difference. Don't get him wrong, he liked Allison, she was cool and treated his bro with respect. But Scott had a short attention span to begin with and now it was completely shot to hell.

"Mr. Stilinski." Stiles head snapped up from his phone. "If you have an important personal issue to take care of, you are more than welcome to do it outside of this classroom."

Stiles mentally cursed himself. "I'm sorry, it won't happen again," he said as he quickly shoved his phone into his pocket.

The rest of the class passed uneventfully, thank god, but Stiles could barely pay attention, his mind was focused on the night before. Somehow, Isaac had convinced Scott, who convinced Stiles, that going to a frat party on a Tuesday night was a good idea. It helped that he hinted at Allison possibly being there. Stiles, being the best bro that he totally was, agreed to go along, because a bro should help his fellow bro get a ho. Not that Allison was a ho because she most definitely was not and if Allison ever asked those words never came out of his mouth. But the point was, Stiles was not going to let Scott pass by an opportunity at getting with his 'true love.' Scott's words, not his. But, unfortunately, he got absolutely smashed in the process.

In the last three years of college Stiles had figured out that he had a very difficult relationship with alcohol. He thought that as a novice it was not uncommon to not have the ability to handle your drink. Unfortunately, that inability had stayed with him every single drinking event he ever attended and no amount of eating beforehand ever helped. He paid the price every single time. The worst part wasn't even being hung over or making a complete fool out of himself. No, the not remembering the next day was the worst part. That's right, Stiles was both a lightweight and a blackout drunk. This last time, when Stiles finally did wake up, he noticed that he was sore in different places and was wearing clothes that were absolutely not his. The grey Henley was a size too big; the sweats were a little loose around the middle, and he was also very sure that he did not own that particular brand of black boxer briefs. This led him to believe that aside from getting spectacularly drunk last night he also participated in some under the covers hanky panky. Probably with a guy. He vaguely remembered a dark haired stranger with a solid chest and beautiful, thick eyebrows. And now he was getting turned on thinking about eyebrows.

The morning panic had effectively shoved those questions to the back of his mind. The rushing and lack of caffeine had taken over his prefrontal cortex concerns, because if his dad taught him anything it was that his scholarship very much depended on his grades. But he still thought that he could take this time, this ass o'clock class time, to calm his nerves down and maybe even take a nap. Instead, all the surprises of this morning came crashing down and now he thought that he was going to lose his fucking mind. His seat? He could handle. Scott not having his back? That one hurt, but he could make it out. The professor calling him out in front of the whole class? Nothing a shot or two couldn't fix. Not knowing who he spent last night with? Maybe it was time to start blogging. All these things combined? He might as well just pack up and go home because what was the point anymore. Yeah, he was definitely going to kill Scott. And no, he was not being too dramatic.

Stiles never thought he would feel this relieved for an hour of his life to be finally over. The second the professor gave the "In the next class we will discuss…" Stiles started shoving his laptop into his backpack and hightailed the hell out of the room.

"Are you a tall glass of wine? Because, damn, you are fine." Derek turned his head to the source of the shitty pickup line. Last week he had overheard some new pledges asking to throw a pre-midterm bash to help calm the nerves. How a hangover was supposed to cure not being prepared was a mystery to him, but most of them were undergraduate freshmen who were willing to drink anything resembling alcohol. Boyd was this year's chapter president and, like Derek, preferred to relax on a Friday or a Saturday. Why he approved this get together, he had no idea. So, Derek had resigned himself to an evening of loud shitty music and stupidity. He had planned to stay upstairs during most of it, but he made the mistake of forgetting to stock up his room with necessities like food. After ignoring his hunger for two hours he had decided to venture downstairs and grab a sandwich before returning to his room. But now there was a very drunk, underage-looking student leaning heavily on the kitchen counter, trying to hit on him while holding a cup that no doubt held whatever cheap ass beer Ethan and Isaac had bought that morning.

"You know, I don't think I have ever seen such…expressive eyebrows before," the guy rambled on. "I think I have a new kink now, I'm going to call it 'bushy-brow judging', because I feel you judging me so hard right now. It's okay, I still like you." He did what Derek thought was supposed to be a wink.

Derek grabbed an empty glass from one of the cabinets and filled it with water from the fridge. He pushed it toward the other man, hoping he would take the hint.

"For me?" He looked at the glass and Derek swore he could see tears in the other man's glassy eyes. He needed to have a talk with Boyd about a drink limit.

"Stiles! There you are. I told you not to wander off too far. Scott will kill me if I lose you again." Isaac came rushing over. "And you probably shouldn't have any more of this, we don't want a repeat of last time." He took the cup full of beer out of Stiles' hand, who, surprisingly, did not protest.

"Isaac, look. He got me water," Stiles said as he grabbed the glass from the counter and held it out to see, spilling some of it on himself in the process.

"I'm really glad Derek was nice enough to get you some water, but I think it's time I get you home."

"Your name is Derek," Stiles looked over at him with a dopey smile on his face. Suddenly, the elbow he was using to prop himself up against the counter slipped and Stiles, along with the glass, went tumbling down.

Stiles punched Scott in the arm the second he saw him outside. "Do you want to tell me what the hell happened?"

"Ow. What was that for?" Scott asked as he rubbed his arm.

Stiles raised his eyebrows. "What was that for? You abandoned me in there, that's what that was for."

"Are you talking about your seat or last night?"

"Both actually, but we can start with last night first because I seem to recall you completely disappeared the second we walked into that house."

"I told you that Allison was there, she wanted to hang out," Scott tried to explain.

"You should have at least tried to keep track of me." They were best bros; they were supposed to watch each other's back. Especially if one of the bros could not handle his alcohol.

"Isaac was supposed to keep track of you," Scott admitted.

Stiles stared at Scott. "Isaac was supposed to watch me?"

Scott nodded. "Yeah, he said he would."

"Isaac is literally the first one to vanish at a party. You would have had better luck asking a horse to watch me."

Isaac was a cool guy, don't get him wrong. He had a sharp mind; he got both Scott and him out of some tough homework situations. But he was also flaky as fuck when it came to him choosing between his friends and the possibility of getting laid.

"How was I supposed to know that Isaac wouldn't take care of you?" Scott whined.

"I'm sorry have you been absent this whole college experience? Because if I remember correctly Isaac has never been known to be the nurturing type. He once downed like half a bottle of vodka when we were trying to decide on a designated driver."

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? What do you want me to do?"

He didn't have the heart to make Scott suffer, even though he really wanted to. And at the end of the day he knew that had Stiles been in real big danger he would have come to rescue him. But it didn't mean that he couldn't take advantage of a situation. "I want you to get me the biggest coffee and breakfast this campus has to offer."

"Fine," Scott answered in defeat.

"How much did he have to drink?" Derek asked as both he and Isaac knelt to pick Stiles off the floor.

"I don't know, not that much probably. He's only been here for like an hour."

"Guys, I'm fine. Really, I can get up by myself." Stiles struggled against the arms that were trying to hold him up.

"I somehow beg to differ," Derek muttered in response. "Hold him, I'm going to get a chair."

Just as Derek had taken a couple of steps toward one of the chairs in the kitchen, he heard what was unmistakably the sound of retching. He closed his eyes in frustration and took a deep breath, instantly regretting when the smell of vomit hit him like a brick wall. All he wanted was to get some food and go back to his room. Was that too much to ask for?

"That's so fucking gross," Isaac said as he shifted Stiles' body away from himself but in that instance, Stiles lost his balance again and went face down right into his own mess.

"God damn it, Stiles," Boyd said as he walked into the kitchen.

"You know him?" Derek asked.

"Yeah, I know him. We were in a group together in one of my undergrad history courses. We ended up doing a project on the history of male circumcision."

Isaac stood looking dumbfounded. "How?"

"It's a long story."

"I'm okay, I can get up," Stiles interrupted from the floor.

"Alright, let's get him cleaned up." Boyd motioned at Derek. "Come on, we need to get him to the shower. Isaac, clean up the floor before it dries up."

"What? No 'please'?" he asked as Stiles was unceremoniously dragged up to his feet. Boyd gave him a hard look. "Okay, fine. I'll go get the mop."

Stiles was not five minutes into making a study guide in the quiet area of the library when he was interrupted by the same stranger that had stolen his seat in his psych class the day before.

"Is this seat taken?" the seat thief asked.

Stiles opened his mouth to answer but coming up short for words just shook his head. The man started unpacking his laptop and took a seat in the chair opposite of him.

Stiles continued looking at the man, he might as well take the opportunity because holy hell, what a man he was. He considered himself to be an equal opportunity kind of guy, though sometimes he leaned a little toward one side of the field… if you catch his drift. What could he say? Sometimes he wanted to get manhandled. This guy was tall, dark, and looked like he could bench press Stiles and then some; given the right surroundings he would have tried to climb that like a tree. But midterms were coming up and Stiles had wasted valuable time already, so he really needed to concentrate.

He tried to get back to work, but he caught himself sneaking glances up at the strange man. He wondered what made him select this exact table to set up shop considering there were plenty of other tables available in the room. Maybe the quiet area was too barren of life, too silent. If that was the case, he should have probably gone downstairs where it was no talking restrictions. Eventually, though, Stiles got sucked back into his work and forgot all about the distraction sitting right in front of him. Quiet tapping and clicking sounds filled the space around them and it continued like that for about two hours until Stiles' stomach gave a rumble and he realized that it was already past dinner time. Stiles looked up from his laptop and saw that he was covertly being watched. He gave the man a tight lipped smile and decided that this was a good a time as any to go get something to eat. So, he packed up his laptop and other notes and muttered a quiet "Have a good night" before getting up and leaving.

He decided that this whole experience was on the side of a little too weird. Maybe he needed to change up his study locations. The science building had some nice study nooks, maybe he needed to give those a try.

"I am so sorry. I really am."

Stiles kept mumbling apologies as Boyd and Derek were half dragging/half carrying him up the stairs to the shower. This was what they got for living in an old, shitty frat house – no showers on the first floor. Who the hell designed this house?

"I hope you guys aren't mad at me…but I totally get it if you are. I would be mad at me, too...probably. I'm, like, really sorry."

"Stop saying that," Derek grunted in response. He was being no help at all, just dead weight hanging in between him and Boyd as they tried to navigate around other party goers and the narrow stairs. Who needed to lift weights when you could heft drunk people around the house?

"I'm sorry…fuck, I did it again." His head lolled to the side facing Derek. "I was wanting to impress you, you know. But I probably fell short. Get it?"

"Wow," Boyd commented.

"And made a mess…and that probably didn't make me look so good. But you know what does look good? You. You look good. Derek, you look so good."

Boyd tried to cover his laugh with a cough when Derek threw him a glare.

"Thank you, I guess."

Stiles, of course, did not change his study locations. He was a creature of habit and once he found the perfect spot to concentrate, he could not let it go unless a natural disaster made it unreachable. The strange man also continued to show up, much to his surprise, and on their third meeting he finally learned that the stranger's name was Derek.

Derek did not like to talk, at all. In fact, the question from the first day and his name were the only things that Stiles ever heard come out of the man's mouth. He wasn't unfriendly, per se, but he also didn't partake in polite conversations about the weather. Derek also continued to sit at the same table as Stiles even though there were multiple other options available.

"Hey, so why do you keep sitting here?" Stiles had not meant to just blurt that out like that. He meant to work his way up to that conversation, show Derek that he cared about his well being and then navigate toward...well, that question.

Derek looked up from his laptop but stayed silent.

"I mean there are other tables around here that are free, and you would have more room to work with. Not that I'm saying that I don't want you sitting here or that you take up a lot of room, you are really efficient with your space. Like, your organization skills are my goals. It's just you keep on coming over here and you don't really talk so I'm not sure why…" Stiles trailed off.

Derek continued looking at Stiles before getting back to his laptop screen.

"Or you can just ignore me, that's fine." Well, at least he could say that he tried. So much for trying to get Derek to open up.

Stiles turned back to his own work, trying to concentrate with little success. It went on like that for another hour until Derek all of the sudden up and left to go god knows where. Since he left all his stuff at the table, Stiles took a wild guess that he would most likely return.

Derek did come back after about fifteen minutes, but he didn't come back empty handed. He came back carrying a bag of what Stiles soon found out to be bagels from the cafeteria. Derek handed over one of them along with a packet of cream cheese, a plastic knife, and some napkins before getting the other one out for himself.

Stiles was rendered speechless.

"You usually get hungry around this time," Derek said as an answer.

Stiles opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before making out a "Thank you."

"Your stomach is not as quiet as you think it is," Derek explained as he took a bite of his bagel.

Yeah, this whole situation was just getting more and more weird.

"You know, when I imagined getting undressed with you in the room, I was imagining you undressing along with me."

After finally making it to the upstairs bathroom Stiles was unceremoniously deposited on the toilet before Derek and Boyd had started to carefully remove his clothes without touching anything wet.

"Did you imagine being covered in vomit?" Derek asked as he gave his pants a sharp tug before throwing them into the pile of other dirty clothes by the door.

Stiles gaped at him. "You are kind of an asshole, you know that?"

"He is and he knows," Boyd muttered under his breath.

"Really?" Derek asked with a glare.

"That's okay, I forgive you," Stiles said as he patted Derek's shoulder as if to console him.

"I'm glad."

Stiles suddenly gasped and looked at Derek with wide eyes. "I just thought of something."

"What?"

"I think that maybe my…flirting was not welcome," Stiles said with a frown. "You didn't even reply to my pickup line. That should have been a sign…a sign that you weren't interested and that I should have stopped-"

Derek sighed.

"Instead, I went on talking about your eyebrows. How is that supposed to woo anybody?"

"You were trying to woo me?" he asked.

"Well, yeah. I want you to fuck me…or fuck you, I'm not really picky. "

"Jesus Christ," Boyd said as he turned on the shower.

"I am open to anything, and I mean anything. Your fingers alone look like a religious experience and you look like you could hold me up against the wall and really rearrange my guts."

"What the fuck, Stiles?" Isaac asked as he walked into the bathroom.

"Isaac, you're here!" Stiles swayed from where he sat on the toilet.

"Oh, good, you can help us with this now," Boyd said as he and Derek hefted Stiles up and started dragging him towards the shower.

"You could have just sprayed him down with a hose. That would have been faster, and he probably would not have noticed."

"Too late for that now," Derek muttered under his breath.

It was a Sunday night and Stiles had decided to stay home instead of going to the library to study. A bad decision on his part probably, but he didn't have a test until that Thursday which meant that it was a problem for Wednesday. So now here he was, wasting time on the dirty floor of the dorm while Scott was trying to soak up every word from his notes because he had a test the next morning.

"I'm going to fail this test," Scott moaned in distress.

"You'll be fine."

"I feel like I have retained nothing."

"You probably retained something."

"Why did I pick a class with only tests and no homework?"

"Because you thought the professor was hot," Stiles helpfully supplied.

Scott groaned and let his forehead drop unto the desk. "Never let me pick a professor based on looks."

"Hey, do you think Derek likes me?"

"What?" Scott asked without picking his head off the desk.

Stiles sighed and sat up. "Do you think Derek likes me? Like in a romantic way."

Scott raised his head and turned around in the chair to face Stiles. "I don't know, I've never actually met him."

"Well, yes," Stiles agreed, "but, I have told you everything that you need to know about him."

"That's probably not the same."

"The point is he keeps on showing up to the library and sits at the same table as me. And he keeps getting me food, he got us Italian yesterday."

Scott kept looking confused.

"That's like one of the most obvious ways to tell somebody you like them," Stiles explained.

Scott still looked skeptical. "Maybe, but I have gotten you food in the past, too, and that doesn't mean that I want to sleep with you."

"Okay, yes, but when it's a complete stranger getting you food then it's a little different."

"But he's not a stranger to you. You guys have been hanging out for a while now."

"Yeah, but half the time he doesn't even say anything so technically speaking I don't really know him. So, therefore, he is a stranger getting me food so it's different."

"Okay," Scott agreed and went back to looking at his notes.

Stiles sighed in defeat and just let the conversation drop. Scott obviously was not getting it and Stiles didn't feel like he had the energy in him to defend his point.

"You are so beautiful, but there's got to be more to you, right?" Stiles asked.

Derek was trying to wrestle on some clean boxer briefs on Stiles while trying not to get an eyeful. Easier said than done. The shower had been an experience to put it lightly. Stiles was no help at all and made things much more difficult than they had to be. Now, after washing away most of the vomit, their next task was to clothe him again, which proved to be more trouble than the actual shower.

Derek stayed silent in response, focusing more on the task at hand.

"You're probably like super smart, you have to be. At least I think so. I could be wrong; I've been wrong before."

"He's not dumb," Boyd answered as he grabbed a shirt from one of Derek's drawers. Derek's room happened to be the closest to the shower where they dragged Stiles to, so now his clothes had to be sacrificed for the greater good.

Stiles smiled. "I knew it."

Derek rolled his eyes. "Raise your arms up."

Stiles complied with a dopey smile on his face. "You're probably like a super genius. I wouldn't be surprised if you were."

Boyd, thankfully, didn't respond.

"Alright, you fucks, who's ready to take his ass home?" Isaac asked as he barged into the room.

"Hey, isn't that the Derek guy that you always go on about?" Scott asked as they were walking to their next class across the campus together.

Stiles looked over to where Scott was pointing, he recognized the unmistakable chiseled jaw and beautiful eyes that accompanied their owner. But this time there was an attractive blonde woman glued to his side.

Stiles normally wasn't a jealous person; he didn't believe in anybody belonging to any one person based on relationship status or lack thereof. But in that one instance, seeing the man who he was very much interested in with a woman who was so much out of Stiles' league made him want to run away. Because this proved that Derek was definitely into women and Stiles never stood a chance.

Derek appeared to be fully immersed in the conversation with the woman, looking almost angry. Stiles found himself turning away and pulling Scott along with him in case that conversation led to anything more, like public display of affection. He found it funny how it hurt seeing Derek with another person when they never had anything in between them to begin with. It was stupid of him to assume that Derek continued sitting with him at the library table because he wanted something more, people hung out with other people all the time without wanting romantic relationship. Maybe Derek just really liked that table at the library, and he was willing to put up with Stiles if it meant that he could continue sitting there.

"You okay?" Scott asked.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" Stiles asked back a little too quickly.

Scott gave him a meaningful look but kept silent, for which Stiles was thankful. It wasn't like he was completely heartbroken over this. Derek was never his and he never even voiced an interest in guys, at least as far as Stiles knew. This was a different sort of heart break, the 'what if' heart break that hopefully wouldn't stick around for long. He shouldn't have been surprised. Derek was on another hemisphere when it compared to himself, why wouldn't he have a girlfriend? But Stiles thought that since they spent so much time together, maybe, just maybe, it meant something. But that's what Stiles got for assuming. Derek was never his, and he probably never would be.

"How the fuck is he so heavy?" Isaac asked as he helped Derek drag Stiles across campus to his dorm. Neither one had a car or wanted to waste money on uber so now here they were, hauling Stiles along to their destination. Derek took a deep breath to calm himself. He was still trying to come to terms that what was supposed to be a semi-quiet night was ruined because a drunk college student was left unsupervised.

Boyd had decided to stay behind and keep watch on the party, stating that the other students were getting a little rowdy. To Derek this was just an excuse out of actually helping, but at least he had Isaac, who would not stop complaining.

"Scott owes me so much for this."

"Who the fuck is Scott?" Derek asked as he adjusted Stiles to keep him from slipping down.

"He's friends with Stiles, he's the one who asked me to babysit him," Isaac answered.

"Where is Scotty? We were supposed to have fun together." Stiles slurred in between them.

"How often do you have to babysit?"

"This is like the second time. I usually try not to because Stiles always gets like this. I don't think he has ever been to a party and not blacked out."

"That sounds like a problem."

"Maybe," Isaac shrugged. "But it's not my problem."

"It is your problem if you have to watch him. In fact, it is now an even bigger problem because I have to be a part of this babysitting posse."

"He's fine," Isaac said as they dragged him across the street to the dorm building. "He's just going to sleep it off, like always, and he won't even remember a thing in the morning."

"How is that good?" Derek asked. He took on Stiles' full weight as Isaac opened the door, mentally thanking whoever was listening that it was a little after ten in the evening and the building was still open.

"You…are sooo…pretty…" Stiles commented as he nuzzled into his neck.

Derek ignored him in favor of hauling him across the threshold. "Please tell me that their room is on the first floor."

"I think it's on the third," Isaac answered.

"Fuck."

"Think of it as a workout," Isaac helpfully supplied. Derek glared in response.

The next time Stiles saw Derek at the library he stayed deliberately quiet and tried to focus on his work. For all he knew the woman in question could be a friend or a sister or...fuck. Concentrating was not easy considering he kept on getting distracted every time Derek moved, that included breathing.

"I can hear you thinking." Stiles was momentarily startled by Derek's sudden statement.

"What?"

Derek glanced up from his laptop. "Your thoughts are loud, it's distracting."

Stiles took a moment to come up with some sort of believable excuse. "First of all, how can you hear thinking? Second of all, I'm dealing with a complicated homework problem that requires a lot of energy and contemplation," he said pointing to the blank sheet of paper sitting next to his open textbook. "This question is really…puzzling and the thought process that needs to go into answering such an inquiry is very complex and extensive…"

Derek nodded along as Stiles continued to ramble.

"I wouldn't expect you to understand."

"You don't have anything to write with," Derek stated with a smirk.

"I don't appreciate that tone," Stiles replied with a tight lipped smile as he scrambled to get a pencil out of his backpack. He was trying to bullshit out of the situation. Why was Derek being so dense?

"Just keep your 'thought process' down, this is a library," Derek replied as he went back to typing on his laptop.

Stiles huffed and went back to his work too. He knew that he was not a quiet person; it just wasn't in his DNA. Everything about him was loud and at times, according to several sources, obnoxious. While he wasn't the little heathen that used to drive every adult, including his parents, insane he wasn't a quiet picnic in the park either.

Stiles looked up from where he was staring at his textbook after feeling like somebody was watching him. He wasn't wrong, Derek was watching him, with a very annoyed look.

"What?" he asked.

Derek raised his eyebrow in reply.

Without realizing, Stiles had started tapping his pencil on the table to the beat of his inner monologue.

"You could invest in some headphones, you know, if it bothers you that much." Was he being petty? Probably. But Derek had been sitting with him for weeks now and he knew that sitting still for Stiles was not an option.

Derek rolled his eyes and went back to his work.

"Where is the key?" Isaac asked when they finally made it to the dorm room.

Stiles rolled his head over to look at Isaac and said, "Up your ass."

"We will leave you in the hallway," he threatened back.

"Check his pockets," Derek said as he adjusted Stiles in a way that would make it easier for Isaac to access.

"I wouldn't mind if you checked my pockets, Derek," Stiles commented as Isaac started patting him down. "You could go through my pockets as much and as hard as you want."

"That makes no sense," Isaac said as he finally located the key and pulled it out.

"You make no sense," he answered back.

"Just, open the door, please. He's getting heavy," Derek said in a hurried tone.

Stiles looked up at him and frowned. "Are you trying to say I'm fat?"

"Yes, you are so fucking fat," Isaac answered.

"No, you're not fat," Derek interjected and glared at Isaac.

"I've been trying to work out and shit-"Stiles rambled on.

"Stop."

"I thought I looked pretty good. Maybe not as beefed up as you-"

"Oh my god."

"But I was making progress-"

"Isaac, how long does it take to open a door?" Derek asked with a little desperation. Stiles was being too loud and he didn't want to attract an audience.

"Calm down," Isaac said as he swung the door open.

"And, like, I think my ass is the best part, it's a real snack, if you know what I mean. Best desert you will ever eat. And I have always had an oral fixation," Stiles continued.

"Jesus, Stiles, shut the fuck up," Isaac interrupted. Derek mentally agreed with him, no matter how tempting some of those ideas would be under different circumstances.

It was two weeks before the end of the semester and Scott and Stiles had decided to waste the remainder of their free time on some violent video games.

They were sitting on the floor with intense looks of concentrations on their faces when Isaac came barging into their room. "So, Stiles, when are you finally going to return the clothes?" he asked as he deposited himself on Scott's bed.

"I'm sorry, who's clothes?" Stiles asked, not looking up from the screen.

"Derek's clothes." Stiles' character on the TV screen died as he lost his concentration. Because as far as he knew he never had any access to any of Derek's clothes. He would know if he had. On second thought, no he would not have.

Scott paused the video game and looked over at Stiles. "Why do you have Derek's clothes?"

"I don't have his clothes. Who said that I had his clothes?"

"I did because I helped drag you back home when you were wearing them," Isaac stated with a smirk.

"When was I wearing Derek's clothes?" Stiles asked.

"At the pre-midterm bash my frat hosted," Isaac answered.

"See, I told you Isaac was watching you that night," Scott said with a reassuring smile. "And you said I should have left you with a horse."

"What?" Isaac asked with a confused look on his face.

Stiles eyes widened in realization. That was the morning he woke up wearing clothes he didn't recognize. He had no recollection of the night before, as per usual, so he just assumed that he grabbed the wrong clothes after a one night stand.

"Dude," Scott said as he smacked him in the arm. "Does that mean that you slept with Derek that night? I thought you said he had a girlfriend."

"Derek doesn't have a girlfriend, he is perpetually single," Isaac interjected. "And no, he didn't sleep with Derek. Although, he was offering. Very loudly."

"Oh, my god." Stiles groaned as he dropped his head into his hands. He was secretly happy at the knowledge that Derek was apparently single, but he didn't know how good of a source Isaac was when it came to these things. Further investigation would still be needed.

"Some of your suggestions were very explicit. If I ever become curious, I might hit you up." Isaac winked at him.

"Not even in your dreams," Stiles replied.

"So how did he end up wearing Derek's clothes?" Scott asked.

"Because he vomited everywhere and then fell right into it." Scott scrunched up his face in disgust.

"Oh, my god." The level of embarrassment that suddenly hit Stiles felt like a train. Here he was, thinking that Derek knew him as the guy who he studied with sometimes at the library. A guy who more or less looked like he had his shit together and made decent choices most of the time. Instead, his first impression of Stiles must have been of a belligerent drunk who made a complete fool out of himself and then required assistance to get back home. No wonder Derek rarely struck up or participated in any conversation with him.

"Yeah, Derek and Boyd had to wash you. Be thankful that it was them and not me, I wanted to spray you down with the hose outside."

"I'm sorry, but why are you going into nursing again?" Stiles asked.

"Anyway, Derek's room was the closest to the shower, so we just used his clothes. After that I helped Derek drag you back to your dorm and we stayed for a little while to make sure you wouldn't drown in your own vomit."

"Dude," Scott said as he shook his head.

"Hey!" Stiles exclaimed. "None of that would have happened if you had stayed by my side."

"No, you still would have gotten into something, you're too sloppy," Isaac said with a smirk.

"Nobody asked for your input," Stiles snapped back.

Wrestling Stiles into bed was thankfully the easiest task, considering how much work everything else took. He happily allowed himself to be tucked into bed without putting up a fight. Just as Derek had finished pulling the blankets over him Stiles grabbed his hand and pulled it toward himself.

"Stiles, you need to let go," Derek said as he tried to tug his hand back.

"Please don't go," he muttered with sleepy eyes.

Isaac sighed across the room and dropped himself down onto the other bed. Derek raised one eyebrow in question.

"Just settling down for a while. Stiles likes to get clingy," Isaac answered with his eyes closed.

Derek nodded to himself and hesitantly sat down next to Stiles who still had an iron grip on his hand.

"I'm sorry that I ruined your night," Stiles said quietly as he interlaced their fingers.

"It's okay."

"No, it's not okay," he disagreed. "It totally wasn't fair to you."

"Well, what's done is done."

"I wish I could make it up to you."

"You already offered to…with your body," Isaac mumbled from across the room.

"Isaac-"

"Why are you such a dick?" Stiles asked with an annoyed look.

"Focus on me, Stiles," Derek said as he tried to redirect his attention.

"Hi," Stiles said with a soft smile.

"Oh my god," Isaac groaned.

"Will you stop instigating and shut up? I'm not here to babysit you too."

Isaac mimed zipping his lips and turned to face the wall.

"I really am sorry for not being appropriate," Stiles said with a frown. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."

"I forgive you," Derek answered.

"I was interested in more than your body, you know," he admitted. "I am very much interested in taking you out on a date." Stiles' face was illuminated by the soft light coming from the bedside lamp. Derek allowed himself to really look at him. The truth was Stiles was exactly his type, mouthy and charming in his own way. If they had met under different circumstances, preferably when sober, he would have flirted back and maybe even seen where things could go. But Derek didn't feel comfortable taking advantage of Stiles in this state and he knew too many cases just like this one that ended in regret.

"Where would you take me?" Derek asked.

Stiles brought Derek's hand up to his face and nuzzled into it. He seemed to be lost in though for a moment before replying, "Well I don't have any money, so our first date would be at the school cafeteria. I would let you use my meal plan card."

Derek chuckled. "Thank you."

"And then for a second date," Stiles continued, "I would know better and I would try to save up some cash. You seem like a classy guy so I would take you to Linguini's."

"The Italian restaurant downtown?"

"Yeah, that one," Stile clarified. "And we would get some pasta and some wine."

"White or red?"

"Does it matter?"

"Probably not."

"And then I would suggest we go for a walk at that park that's by the school."

"So soon after a big meal?"

"There's benches there, we could sit for a while. And I would tell you all about my hopes and dreams and ask you about your hopes and dreams."

"What about the third date?"

"For the third date I'll let you take me out."

"Where would you want to eat?"

"Hmmm. I like that Chinese place on main street. I think it's called Mr. Liu's."

"Then for our third date I'll take you there for dinner."

"I can't wait for our third date," Stiles said with a yawn.

"Me too." Derek let himself brush Stiles' hair back with his other hand. "Go to sleep."

"Goodnight, Derek."

"Goodnight, Stiles."

"Where you ever going to tell me that I stole your clothes?" Stiles asked one evening at the library as he was packing up his laptop and notebook. He had debated all afternoon about whether or not to ask Derek and ultimately decided to just rip the bandage off.

Derek stopped typing and looked up from his screen. "Where you ever going to give them back?" He smirked as Stiles' jaw almost hit the ground in disbelief.

"You knew!" he exclaimed.

Derek sighed. "I helped Boyd clean you up after you got vomit all over yourself. It would be hard to forget."

Stiles, much to his chagrin, could feel himself start to blush. "Was that why you stole my seat the next morning?"

Derek scratched at his scruff. "No, coincidentally, my seat was taken and yours was the first one that I saw. Was that why you were glaring at me so much?"

"I was not glaring at you," Stiles denied. "I was very sleep deprived and hungover. I look a little intense when I'm tired."

"Okay."

"I'm serious."

"I believe you."

He finished up zipping up his backpack and stood up. "So then why did you decide to start joining me here? Was that your way of asking for your clothes back or did you want to get to know me better after that fun night?" Stiles teased him.

Derek stayed silent but Stiles could see his face start flushing. Holy shit.

"No way."

"I wasn't sure how to approach you," he huffed. "You weren't sober when we met, Isaac told me you probably wouldn't remember anything the next morning. I didn't plan to come near, but then I saw you at the library and I wanted to get to know you."

Stiles stopped in his tracks and felt his face break into a smile. The revelation made him feel giddy, but what to do now? This opened up so many possibilities because now he knew for sure that Derek was at least a little bit into him. Did this mean that he should ask Derek out on a date or would he want to only 'hang out'. Either way he was pulled away from his thoughts when Derek suddenly stood up and started packing his stuff away into his backpack.

"Alright, let's go," he said as he put his backpack on and pushed the chair in.

"Where are we going?" Stiles asked.

"Mr. Liu's." Stiles was taken by surprise again because was Derek taking him out for dinner? Was this a date or was he overthinking it and this was just sharing a meal between two friends.

While Stiles was having a mental breakdown, Derek walked over to him and, placing a hand on his cheek, pulled him forward until their lips met for a kiss. Stiles froze, eyes wide, and grasped at Derek's shirt just to hold on to something. Derek tilted his head in such a way that made Stiles part his lips and close his eyes with a sigh. This was the best turn of events he had ever experienced.

"You're thinking too loudly again," Derek muttered as he slowly pulled away.

Stiles smiled at him. "I don't know what to tell you, people say I'm generally a loud person."

"I think I'm starting to understand that."

Stiles cleared his throat and nervously asked, "So, I'm not overthinking this?"

Derek shook his head. "You're not overthinking this."

He let out a big breath. "Great, because I was getting worried there for a second. I have been wrong about people being into me before and it never gets any less embarrassing-"

"Stiles," Derek interrupted.

"Yes?"

"Are you going to keep spiraling or are you going to let me take you to dinner?"

"I don't know, I thought I could keep going and see if I could actually reach the panic attack threshold and-"

Derek rolled his eyes in exasperation and shut him up with another brief kiss. After breaking away he took Stiles by the hand and started leading him out of the library. Stiles smiled to himself. He needed to thank Scott for dragging him to that frat party.