
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/5597587.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Underage
  Category:
      M/M
  Fandom:
      Teen_Wolf_(TV)
  Relationship:
      Derek_Hale/Stiles_Stilinski
  Character:
      Stiles_Stilinski, Derek_Hale, Lydia_Martin, Scott_McCall, Sheriff
      Stilinski, Coach
  Additional Tags:
      Alternate_Universe_-_High_School, Alternate_Universe_-_No_Hale_Fire, Bad
      Boy_Stiles_Stilinski, Idiots_in_Love, Romance, Car_Sex, Fluff_and_Angst,
      Fluff_and_Smut
  Collections:
      The_Sterek_Secret_Santa_Collection
  Stats:
      Published: 2016-01-01 Words: 2968
****** "Poor Derek" ******
by write_light
Summary
     Summary: For high-scoring, scholarships-and-a-bright-future Derek
     Hale, the worst thing that can happen is to stop thinking. Rule-
     breaking, trouble-on-two-legs Stilinski has exactly that effect on
     just about everyone.
     Written for tsumi-noaru, an amazing artist, who requested a High
     School AU for Sterek Secret Santa 2015 on tumblr.
Notes
     Warnings: underage (but same age), very versatile boys
     Author Notes: Sterek High School AU, pre-bite!Scott, no Hale tragedy,
     brainy jock Derek and wild boy Stiles in high school.
     Betas: koshweasley and wings128 – many thanks to both of you!
     Crossposted: On AO3 || LJ || DW || tumblr
     See end note for link to some perfect art by xkxdx!
See the end of the work for more notes
 
***
"Poor Derek."
That's what they were going to say when his grades slipped, when he missed
application deadlines, when his scores were more like, well, like Stiles'
scores.
"Poor Derek."
It's exactly what they did say, especially Derek's AP study partner, Lydia
Martin. She said it sarcastically the first time, but after she heard Stiles
was involved, it was mournful, like she was losing a friend to drugs. Scott
said it with deepest pity.
***
"Poor Derek," said Stiles, watching the new kid flip through his binder to find
the map of all the classrooms.
Stiles said it like he didn't care; he'd led more than a few guys at BHHS
astray and Derek looked like an easy mark. This time, though, something inside
him twinged even as he tried to be bad.
Derek, for his part, never felt self-pity or regret, not even as his GPA ticked
downward. He did feel one thing very clearly from the start and that was the
ache in his chest when this kid – this lithe brown-eyed guy with a staggered
line of tiny moles across his cheek and neck – slid himself into the seat next
to his in Health Ed and lifted his eyes slowly, all the way up Derek's body,
pausing to bite his lip somewhere around Derek's crotch.
Derek ached for those eyes, for the mouth that curved up at one corner, and the
long, widespread muscular thighs. Lightly hairy forearms gripped the edge of
the desk as he lowered himself smoothly into place facing Derek. Derek whined
audibly and it was like prey sounds to this predator in the next row. The long
nimble fingers were reaching out now to tap on his desk and Derek's eyes
flicked up and down – fingers, eyes, lips.
"Be my partner," said the lips, and the eyes more than backed that up with
their own winking promises. The fingers tapped impatiently.
"The most important thing you'll learn in this class," barked the teacher, "is
how to control your filthy sexual urges…"
"Stiles Stilinski," said the lips in front of him, where Derek's eyes had
finally settled, and between them the fingers formed a hand for him to shake.
"…perfectly 'normal' though they may seem to you,…" the voice from the front of
the room said, far off in the distance, "…even irresistible."
"Derek Hale," said Derek too loudly, and Stiles took his outstretched hand.
"Hold that until the end," said the teacher. "Stilinski! Are you back?"
"Yeah, Coach. I didn't pass last semester, remember?" said Stiles, not letting
go of Derek's warm hand.
The coach developed a second facial tick right then and there.
"You're going to be fun," Stiles said to Derek softly, as he grinned, his eyes
roaming Derek's face. "We have to do a sex project."
"What?" Derek said, his voice hushed.
"Unless you want to do one about addiction or diseases or something really
boring like that," Stiles explained, letting his fingers slide slowly out of
Derek's hand and leaning back, legs still spread wide, eyes still locked on
Derek's.
The ache grew more intense.
***
"Your partner is who?" Lydia asked, sounding very concerned.
"'Stiles' – is what I think he said," Derek mumbled, trying very hard to make
his brain focus on actual thoughts, or even on the lunch in front of him. He
was also hoping that his hard-on was going to disappear before the bell rang.
"That kid's trouble," said Scott, punctuated by a deep inhale of his asthma
medicine. "He's the Sheriff's son. Knows how to pick any lock, where to get
liquor, never gets arrested. He can talk anyone into anything."
"You should know," Lydia observed cryptically, to Scott's pleading look and
'cut-it' gesture.
It all seemed like a show he was watching, starring himself, Derek thought.
Some part of his brain was already shutting down all the pesky inhibitions,
reliving how Stiles stretched at the end of class, his shirt lifting just
enough to reveal a dark line of hair leading into his jeans.
"He's cute though," Derek blurted out, to Lydia's look of horror and Scott's
slowly shaking head. "What? I can handle it. It's just health class – he's not
in any of our AP classes."
***
"Poor Derek."
That one he heard, just as he was leaving Lydia and Scott behind. He was moving
slowly across the lunchroom, his backpack sliding back and forth against his
hard-on, a result of his ill-conceived plan to cover up his arousal. His mind
turned it into Stiles' hand sliding up and down his cock, while he muttered
things both appreciative and filthy.
Within the week, it would be Stiles' hand, rough and deliberate.
***
The Stilinski house, two days later
"I think we should do masturbation."
"Wh- -uh.. huh?" Derek choked out.
"For our first project. Coach is all about self-control, so I say we give him
what he wants. We can give up jacking it for a month, keep a journal about it.
Help each other when it gets hard."
He laughed at his own joke, a wide, free laugh.
"Starting when?" Derek asked as the ache in him grew stronger watching Stiles
laugh. He didn't like when the ache in his chest and his cock started
conspiring.
Stiles kept looking at Derek's mouth, and at his hands, pressed together over
his crotch like he was praying, which he sort of was.
"You need to pee?" Stiles finally asked.
"No – no, I… yeah, I'd better go."
"Down the hall, the last on the left."
A minute later, after testing the lock three times, Derek was furiously fisting
his cock, the loudest sound in a silent room. He imagined Stiles' mouth on it.
Too late, he realized he'd overlooked one key point.
It got everywhere, and Stiles was knocking, and the toilet paper was almost
out, and Stiles was saying something about having toilet paper, and it got
everywhere.
"We can start tomorrow," came a cocky, confident voice from just outside the
door, inches from Derek's grimacing face, pressed against the door to hold it
shut.
"Oh, I'm not…" Derek's voice gave out and he wiped his hand on his thigh and
tugged his jeans up over his still-hard cock.
"Sorry about the TP. Open up and I'll hand you a new roll."
Derek's flushed face appeared in the crack; he opened it just wide enough to
see the roll of toilet paper Stiles was holding out for him, wide enough to see
Stiles wink at him and turn to walk back down the hall to his room. Wide enough
to see that Stiles was hard too.
***
It took a while to clean up but Derek left the Stilinski bathroom cleaner than
it had been in months and made his way slowly back to Stiles' bedroom to talk
about not masturbating. He was breathing way too fast.
They made it three more days before calling the project a failure, officially,
and that was only because the blowjobs they gave each other the next afternoon
were not technically masturbation. They were really careful not to use their
hands at all.
The next time someone said, "Poor Derek," it was Stiles, wiping the drool from
the corner of his mouth, cheeks flushed bright red and pupils still wide with
lust. Derek had dug his nails into Stiles' ass as he sucked that long cock and
inhaled the deep scent all around him, fueling the ache he now felt day and
night.
The pain of those nails was…oddly pleasurable, Stiles thought, and it sent him
over the edge, leaving Derek choking.
***
A week later
"I'd heard of him," Derek said to Scott as they passed each other at lacrosse
practice. He finished the thought as Scott moved forward with him toward the
goal – "but that was when we were in ninth grade and he was this crazy legend
that kids talked about, the untouchable sheriff's kid at BHHS."
"You went to Academy Prep though?"
"My mom's kind of protective. She has her reasons."
"But you knew about him, even there?"
"And I pictured him differently. More leather jacket and much less attractive.
Definitely uglier."
"Dude."
It was a pity 'dude' and only the bell spared Derek from justifying why he
ditched Scott after they'd agreed to see a movie on Sunday.
***
"He missed practice on Saturday too," Scott revealed.
"And he cancelled our study session for tonight," Lydia sighed, frustrated. "I
just know Stilinski is behind it. He's not good for Derek," Lydia said with
authority.
"You're totally right, but he and I only have lunch together. I'm not taking
all these AP classes like you and Derek are."
"You keep working on him during lacrosse practice; Derek and I agreed to study
for the PSATs together, and we sit next to each other in AP Chem."
"I could just ask him, bro to bro, you know."
"Ask me what?" Derek said, appearing beside them.
"Did you and Stiles-?" Scott started to ask, then stopped, looking closely at
Derek's very wrinkled shirt and strangely moussed hair.
"Oh my god you did," Lydia finished the horrifying thought as she took in all
the clues. "You were wearing that outfit last night at the library before you
ran out on me."
Derek looked down at the rumpled evidence of a fierce mutual JO session on
Stiles' bed, where they'd both eventually fallen asleep. When the Sheriff
banged on the door a half hour before school started, they awoke entangled,
Stiles in a panicked flailing of limbs, Derek more slowly.
"I fell asleep in them," Derek offered, hoping the truth would suffice.
"And your hair," Lydia concluded. "No one uses that much product except Stiles
Stilinski."
"What are you talking about?" Derek asked, running his hand over his head to
flatten his hair.
"Dude, were you with Stilinski all night?" Scott asked, and Lydia elbowed him
for the approval in his voice.
"No, I-"
Lydia gave Derek a disapproving stare that burned into him.
"Okay yes. He's- We're-"
"This has got to stop," Lydia declared.
"Dude, way to get some. Even if itis Stilinski…" he added softly, retreating
out of reach of Lydia's fist.
***
"This isn't me," Derek confessed to Lydia that night at their hastily un-
cancelled study session. He was in the library, highlighting the chapter on
calculating moles, but he was already distracted by the memory of running his
fingers from one mole to the next, down Stiles' neck and across his back. It
seemed to confuse Stiles, the affection without sex, and that gave Derek the
sense that he was briefly in control.
"Derek?" Lydia asked from across the table, seeing his eyes glaze over.
"I mean, I'm just – I play basketball and lacrosse, I'm taking two AP classes –
as a junior –, my math is already college level, and all I want to do is…." He
added an explicit gesture about his true desires.
"Stop! Please –" Lydia had her hand up as if to protect herself from even the
thought. "We can get you back on track. College essays, an unblemished – well,
slightly blemished – GPA; you can be me, in other words. But you cannot give in
to his influence. Did you know Stiles once let a prisoner out of the jail
because he'd done his own investigation and decided the guy was innocent?"
"Was he?" Derek asked, a concerned eyebrow raised.
"What does that matter?" Lydia said, exasperated.
"Well it means he's got a big heart, and a big brain too-"
Lydia smacked Derek on the side of his head.
"You stop thinking about what big things Stiles has and get to work on the
chapter summary for tomorrow."
***
The library fire alarm rang before Derek could finish the summary. When an
actual fire was discovered, panic sent everyone running for the front doors,
out into a cold night and into the parking lot where Stiles almost ran Derek
over with his jeep in all the chaos.
Derek wasn't stupid; he knew instantly the fire had been Stiles' plan. He could
smell the butane accelerant and he could smell the arousal as well; most of
all, he could see the smug, over-confident grin on Stiles' face as he nodded
for Derek to get in the jeep.
Days later, Derek would make a valiant effort to obscure this key information
when the deputy interviewed him about the fire, his head still reeling with the
feel of the leather seats under Stiles' sweaty thighs, and the smell of 2 a.m.
donuts frying just a few feet away from where Stiles had parked them in plain
view of the street, just before shucking his jeans and underwear all the way
off in one quick motion.
***
This freedom that Stiles lived with – it did things to Derek. Seeing him naked
from the waist down broke the studious exterior and the lonely interior, and
the zipper on Derek's jeans, in roughly that order. Derek reveled in the pale
skin and dark hair, the things he'd tasted before and the parts of Stiles that
were new to him.
By 3 a.m. they'd done it twice, once with Stiles under him, begging Derek to go
deeper, once with Stiles on top, pounding relentlessly even as they both
watched a cop car cruising by, Derek wide-eyed, Stiles grinning.
Derek grunted in his semi-conscious state as they clung to each other
afterward, shielded from the world in a warm jeep with steamy windows.
"Why here?"
"Best donuts in town. And they start selling fresh ones at 3:00 a.m. Get your
pants back on and we'll go grab a couple dozen."
***
What happened next was legendary, at least to Stiles Stilinski, who already
thought he was pretty legendary.
It started with the yellow glowing eyes Stiles saw staring back at him. He took
it for a trick of the light, the yellow glow of the Argent's Firearms sign
behind them, but the longer he looked, the more he was sure the glow came from
inside Derek.
That yellow fire blazed through Derek's lunging kiss as he pushed Stiles hard
against the door. The kiss was so deep and real it nearly made Stiles cry. It
all ended quickly in the cold blue-white light of the Sheriff's flashlight
tapping on the window behind Derek.
Derek leaped back from Stiles, not fully human any longer, and Stiles' mouth
was a round 'o' of true surprise. Derek buried his face in his hands as the
Sheriff slowly moved around the front of the jeep to the driver's side. Stiles
knew doom was closing in, but Derek was – changing the shape of his ears, for
one thing. When it was over, Stiles rolled his window down fast.
"Son."
His father was tired, of many things.
"Dad."
"So you are gay," the Sheriff countered.
"I told you I could be."
"And this is…"
"Miguel," Stiles improvised.
"Miguel?" said Derek and the Sheriff at the same time.
"You look like a good kid," the Sheriff started to say, giving Derek a hard
stare.
"I am," Stiles insisted.
"Not you. 'Miguel' over there."
Stiles slid down a bit in his seat.
"Now, 'Miguel,' I'm going to ask you once. Only once. I strongly suggest you
tell the truth. I'll know."
"He will," Stiles said under his breath.
"What are you doing in this jeep, with my son, at three in the morning, windows
all steamed up, outside the donut shop?"
"We were making out, Sheriff," Derek said calmly, startling both Stilinskis.
"Dad, he's… - clearly."
"Shut up, Stiles. Keep talking, Miguel."
"But only because we've been spending so much time together studying."
Stiles flinched away, staring at Derek in surprise. He marveled at how that lie
came out sounding so true.
"Really," said the Sheriff, clearly not yet convinced.
"I'm his partner in health class and we're going to get his grades up to where
they should be, just like mine."
"Eaaaaaasy, big guy," Stiles whispered, just loud enough for Derek to hear.
"And we're going to do our college applications together. And he's taking AP
English with me next year, so..."
Derek's voice implied top scores, private colleges, all sorts of astounding
things the Sheriff had only dreamed of.
"What the fuck are you-" Stiles hissed, only to have Derek grab his hand
tightly.
The sheriff looked at their hands on the seat between them.
"I'll hold you to that," he said and Stiles whipped around to face him,
panicking.
"Dad, we – it's late, let's not make any crazy promises at this hour."
"Take him home, Stiles, then get your ass back in bed. Your bed. You have
exactly- Where do you live, Miguel?"
"Over near Hale House," Derek said calmly.
"You have twenty minutes, Stiles. Drop him off, get home. You can study
tomorrow afternoon," the Sheriff said as he left.
They watched in silent unison as he strode slowly up to the front of the jeep,
across the front where they could only see a vague shadow of him, and back to
his car, some 10 feet away.
"My dad's the Sheriff around these parts," Stiles said, eyes lowered.
"Yeah, I know," Derek said, smiling at Stiles' unstoppable humor.
"You are terrifying."
"I can explain that," Derek said quickly, his smile vanishing.
"You can explain the eyes and ears and the claws and … whatever that was, it
was awesome. But there is no way you can get my scores up high enough to make
it into AP. It'd be easier for me to hack into the-"
Derek kissed him again, just as intensely as before, and Stiles kissed him
back, feeling an ache spreading through his chest. There were tears this time,
and he blinked them away fast.
The Sheriff flicked his high beams at them and Stiles had the jeep in gear in
seconds.
 
THE END
End Notes
     By total coincidence, the amazing artist xkxdx created this_beautiful
     (and_slightly_NSFW)_Sterek_art, and it looks exactly the way I
     imagined Stiles and Derek in this fic!
     Have a look and give her some love!
Please drop_by_the_archive_and_comment to let the author know if you enjoyed
their work!
