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Stiles didn’t not like his glasses, he just wasn’t overly keen on the impracticality of wearing them in his day to day life of taking down evil supernatural creatures and running around in the woods with a bunch of werewolves. Okay, maybe he had a slight psychological problem with wearing them. He didn’t even need them that badly. Mostly, Stiles just used them when he was doing homework or research in the evenings now. He used to wear them in school, until one time in 6th grade Jackson broke them and got everyone in the class to tease him about them relentlessly for the rest of the year. So Stiles came back to 7th grade a changed man. Well, sans glasses but still awkward and dorky as ever. But that was beside the point. The point was that very few people after that moment actually saw him wearing them. Obviously his parents had; his mother had loved them and insisted he looked like a young Clark Kent and to a seven year old that sounded like the dream. Scott had also been honoured with the sight, but he didn’t really count either. They were practically brothers, and Stiles didn’t care what he looked like around Scott. The only other person was Lydia. For some reason, Stiles had forgotten he was wearing them when she came round to help with more translating of the Bestiary. Thankfully, she had seemed to like them, and didn’t make any further comment.
Honestly, Stiles was self conscious of his glasses. It was why he never wore them out. He didn’t care what Jackson thought anymore, especially after having to get so up close and personal with his junk and finding out he was actually a soppy git at heart, but he had some sort of subconscious aversion to it. Scott told him he was an idiot. Lydia told him he looked hot in them. Neither were as good as the Clark Kent compliment, but Stiles could make do.
He probably should have anticipated it. Stiles’ room was often a place of refuge for fugitive werewolves or angry werewolves or injured werewolves, you’re starting to see the pattern here? With all the werewolf traffic to and from his bedroom, Stiles was shocked none of them had picked up on the fact he was constantly slamming a drawer shut as soon as they entered, hiding away the evidence. One friday evening he was happily flicking through his math textbook when he heard the window sliding up. Stiles pulled the glasses off and slipped them into their usual hiding place just as Derek was climbing into the room. He hadn’t stayed long, but conversations with Derek always left Stiles in limbo between worn out, unsatisfied and sometimes even slightly on edge. Maybe it was the way Derek just seemed to stare at him sometimes, eyes fixed on his face and an unreadable expression there as if he was contemplating the questions of the universe.
Stiles sighed when Derek finally turned to leave again. His head was throbbing even though the visit hadn’t exactly been all that informative or high on content. In fact, Stiles was still trying to work out what the hell had been Derek’s point in visiting when he pulled open the top draw and pulled out his glasses again. He slipped them onto his face and sighed at the words on the page which had just become sharp and defined. Just as Stiles was reaching for his adderall container he heard a low thump and then his window slamming shut. If he hadn’t have been so tired, he probably would have worried that Derek may have caught a glimpse of his thick rectangular frames, but Stiles didn’t even manage to down the pill he had pulled out. He was asleep before his head even hit the desk.
“We’re going to need to read these books I reckon,” Stiles said as he gestured to the larger of the two piles of dusty volumes stacked up on Derek’s coffee table in the apartment. It wasn’t the same one as before, that one held too many bad memories for Derek to stay there.
After Derek and Cora had left, the pack had taken months to try and get themselves back to normal, or as normal as they could be. Stiles had found he missed the surly not-so-alpha-anymore werewolf, more so than he had even expected. And when Derek returned, sans Cora who had chosen to stay in New York where she had been hiding out before, they seemed to have come to a mutual understanding. Sure, they couldn’t be considered the closest of friends, but there was a friendship there of such. After all, who saved someone’s ass on more than one occasion without starting to feel some sort of emotional connection with them? Stiles certainly couldn’t, since he seemed to find himself getting attached to basically anything he came into contact with. He was more like a barnacle than a human being at times. It was probably why he had clung onto Lydia for so long.
The two people nearest to Stiles, Scott and Isaac, groaned as they eyed up the pile. “I’ll take the top three,” Stiles reached over and hauled the three thick, heavy books into his arms. “You lot divide the rest up between yourselves. Remember, anything that mentions darkness or nightmares should be bookmarked.” Derek rolled his eyes at Stiles’ repetition, but didn’t protest. He knew he had said it at least twice before, but sometimes that needed to be done when Scott was involved.
“I’m going with Lydia!” As the squabbling started, Stiles sighed.
“I’m going upstairs,” he muttered, sure he wouldn’t be heard over the argument that had broken out between the teenagers about who got paired with who. Making his way up the modern looking white stairs, he turned left at the top and made his way down the small corridor to the end room. Inside held the unused study. Unused by Derek, but most definitely used by Stiles when ever he could. It had a west facing window right in front of the desk that overlooked all the other buildings in the area and always got a great view of the sunsets on clear evenings. One wall was completely lined with old books Peter had somehow managed to get his hands on, though some of them had a very faint smell of smoke hidden in their pages which Stiles guessed must have been from the fire. Which would make sense because although a lot had been burnt, the library in the old Hale house was one of the few places that things could be salvaged from. Stiles only knew that because it was in one of his dad’s police reports he had left open on the kitchen table one evening a week after the fire had happened. Stiles had only been 10, but he could still remember the terrible photos and words that jumped out at him. Arson. 8 dead. Fatally wounded. 3rd degree burns.
Stiles shuddered and turned away from the books. He sat down at the desk and opened the first volume to the chapter he believed would be most helpful. Pulling out his glasses, Stiles slipped them on then began to read.
Stiles was bored. He had ploughed his way through two of the three books and it felt like his brain was actually going numb. Even with his glasses on the words on the yellowing pages had started to blur. In some of the more messy sections, where the hand written notes were almost illegible, Stiles couldn’t bring himself to even try and decipher them. He leaned back in the cushioned spinning chair and pushed himself so the chair did a full circle. After doing it again, he caught sight of a particularly old looking book which hadn’t been there the last time he was in the study.
Getting up slowly, Stiles wandered over to the bookshelf and stood on his tiptoes so he could reach it. The spine held no clue as to what was inside, nor did the front cover. It was just plain brown leather, slightly marked by what could only have been accidents which were inevitable over time. Apart from those, the book looked incredibly well preserved. Stiles opened it to the first page and ran a finger carefully over the triskelion which was drawn neatly in the middle of the parchment-like paper. It was of a slightly more complex design than Derek’s tattoo, but the basis was the same. Stiles wondered if they were connected. The second page held the first chapter title, though it was written in a language he didn’t even recognise. Going by where the symbol was from however, Stiles would hazard a guess that the writing was in some form of a celtic language. One word however did catch his eye. Half way down the page, there was a list of what Stiles could only assume were names. The name Hale was neatly scrawled above all the others, and he had to push his glasses further up his nose and lean closer to make out the other names. Intrigued, Stiles pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos of the mysterious book for later analysis.
He was just putting it back on the shelf when he heard footsteps on the stairs. Dashing back to the desk, Stiles threw open one of the books at a random page and shoved his glasses into his pocket at the last minute. It was Derek who entered the room, holding his own small pile of aging books. Stiles was sure Derek had seen the frames disappear into his hoodie, but the werewolf made no comment on it. Instead, he simply sat himself down into the soft arm chair in the corner and opened one of his books. When Stiles questioned him, Derek merely said that the others had been getting on his nerves and he needed some quiet to do his reading. So Stiles gave him that.
They worked well into the evening, the sun having set hours before Stiles finally gave up trying to make out the words without his glasses. Derek seemed to notice this, and also closed his book, signifying he was finished too. They made their way out of the study, and Stiles completely forgot about the nameless book, placed back on the top shelf where he had left it, when Derek’s hand brushed against his forearm by accident.
Stiles was never any good at getting on with his homework in his bedroom. There were always just too many distractions; his laptop was sitting right there on the desk, tempting as always, and his supernatural books were never out of reach incase he got sudden inspiration. But with half his mind focused on all that, he couldn’t possibly get the history essay, due in on monday, done. So on Saturday morning, Stiles packed up all his books he needed and headed into town. He pulled his jeep into a nearly empty parking lot which was a walk away from anywhere interesting, but cost much less because of it. So Stiles tugged his rucksack onto his shoulder and started his trek down the quiet streets. His destination; a small coffee shop, hidden away from the main attractions of the town and around the corner from the bustling mall. He had gone there a few times to study before, when he had encounter the same predicament he was in at that moment, and it had worked perfectly. Being out of the way, it was rarely visited by anyone Stiles could know from school, so he was left in peace to finish whatever work was due in the next week. As a bonus, the coffee was always great and the staff friendly.
Walking into the small room, Stiles made his way up to the counter. There was no queue, nor many people occupying the ten or so tables dotted around the surprisingly spacious place. Or maybe it just seemed spacious because of the lack of customers. Many people prefered to go to the mainstream Starbucks or wherever so they could spend all their time instagramming their drinks and bumping into almost every single person that attended Beacon Hills High. Stiles smirked at the idea of teenagers so desperate to be cool as he reached the counter. Upon spotting him, a short girl darted out from the back of the shop and made her way over to the till. She smiled at him, white teeth flashing enthusiastically. “Hi,” she greeted him and Stiles smiled back. He glanced down at her nametag and his smile turned to a grin when he saw what it was pinned to and the name scrawled on it.
“Natasha Romanoff, or should I call you Black Widow?”
The girl, Natasha, laughed and glanced down at her Black Widow t-shirt she was wearing under her black work apron. “Just for that, I’ll give you a candy cane for free.” She leant over the counter and plucked one out of the container which was on display to all the customers. Before she hoisted herself back down again, she paused and Stiles saw, only because he was so in tune with werewolf actions, her take a sharp inhale through her nose. The Asian looking girl turned to stare at Stiles in surprise. “Are you-?”
“A werewolf? No, not quite.” He shook his head. “Part of a werewolf pack? I might be.” He was suspicious, even if she didn’t look threatening. Though at his words, her whole face lit up.
“There’s a pack here?”
Stiles shrugged. Counting a newly returned Jackson, there were still only five werewolves in their mismatched pack, four if you didn’t count Peter, who Stiles often liked to forget. But they had an Alpha in Scott to lead them, and with him, Lydia and Allison as the honorary humans, their group was up to eight which totally counted as a real pack.
“Could you get me a meeting with your Alpha?” Natasha asked excitedly, her small frame bouncing slightly as she spoke quietly so that no one else would hear their topic of conversation. “Sorry,” she took a breath to calm herself and ran a hand through her cropped, choppy hair which stuck out due to the wax she had obviously styled it with. “It’s just- I’m new here, and I was so worried I would just end up as an omega if I couldn’t find a pack and now I know there is one I’m just really happy.”
Finally Stiles cracked a smile. The girl seemed genuine, and what harm could it do to arrange a meeting between her and Scott. They could always use new members, and she seemed like the sort of person they could all get on with. Well, maybe not Derek. Natasha may be a little too spunky for his taste, but if Derek could cope with Stiles, he could cope with anyone.
They chatted at the counter until Natasha’s boss came out and told her to actually serve the damn customer before he filed a complaint form. Stiles had laughed at that, then given his Latte macchiato order and taken a seat at the table in one of the back corners. Usually, he would like a window seat so he could gaze out and people watch while sipping slowly at his hot drink, but that would completely distract him from the task at hand. The essay would not get done if he spent all his time creating backstories for every stranger that walked past.
Stiles stayed in the cafe for the whole day, bent over his work which had found its way all around him so, come five o’clock when he finally finished the essay, he was actually barricaded in on all sides by paper and textbooks. He stretched and yawned loudly while glancing around. From what he could see, there were no other customers left in the coffeehouse. Natasha was making her way around, wiping the tables down and collecting empty mugs to be washed. When she reached his nest, she smiled warmly and picked up his latest empty cup. Throughout the day she had been delivering a fresh mug of coffee each time he had run out with a simple smile. Stiles was not looking forward to seeing the bill she will have rung up for him.
“You want another one?” She asked and he shook his head.
“I shouldn’t, I’ve probably already emptied my pockets today.”
“Oh no, they haven’t been on you. A man was in here earlier, he just left actually, and he said to put them all on his bill.” Stiles frowned. “He smelled like you so I thought it would be okay, that he was part of your pack or something?”
“Er, okay. Well, did he say why he didn’t just come over here?”
She shrugged. “He said he didn’t want to disturb you. Though I’m pretty sure he only stayed to make sure you were safe and I didn’t pose a threat to you. Cute guy, well done.” She winked then turned around. “Oh, I love your glasses by the way,” she added then disappeared around the counter.
Stiles sat in shock for a bit, not really sure what to make of his situation. His first guess had been that Scott had done it, because protecting each other was what best friends were for, but then he had remembered that Scott was away all weekend since he was visiting his Uncle with Melissa. Stiles immediately ruled out Isaac because that boy knew nothing about subtlety and would have definitely come over to disturb Stiles’ work, and Jackson would in no way have ever paid for his coffee, let alone stick around to make sure he wasn’t mauled to death by a foreign werewolf. So that only left one other person, and Stiles really didn’t want to even admit to himself that it was most likely Derek who had probably watched him slave over his work all day in his worn out red hoodie and dorky glasses.
When he saw the werewolf the next day, neither of them mentioned anything, and Stiles didn’t even see a flash of recognition when he mentioned to the group the new werewolf in the cafe who was interested in joining their pack. In the end, Stiles just decided they were obviously going to ignore the day before, and to be honest he was completely fine with that.
It took Stiles three weeks before he rediscovered the photos of the mysterious book on his phone. Once he had started thinking about it again, he couldn’t stop. After some serious online research which lead to almost nothing, his whole mind became fixed on finding out what it was all about. Stiles found a link to some old books which may hold some answered, but he saw that they were only available in the Beacon Hills Archives which were held in the public library in town. So that prompted a trip into town on a Thursday afternoon instead of lacrosse practice, since that was the only time the archives were open to the public. Stiles had to tell Scott that his dad had wanted him home, which he hoped his best friend would not go to check up on, but since Scott didn’t seem to have picked up on the lie, Stiles assumed he was safe.
The archives were badly organised, to the point where Stiles was seriously considering applying for a job at the library just so he could sort them out. He just couldn’t understand how someone would let it get that bad. I mean, who would put history books in purely thematic order? he thought in frustration as he opened yet another index book to search for what he wanted. It took him nearly half an hour to finally locate the first book and retrieve it. Of course, it probably would have taken much less time if he had asked the woman on duty for help, but he didn’t particularly want anyone knowing he was researching the family history of the Hale family along with mythology books from the 19th Century. Wouldn’t want to be taking any risks, even if they were very small.
Stiles found himself a table to spread out everything on which was hidden away from other people. The first book he opened was about the symbol he had seen at the front of the book. The second book he had open was a record of all the births in Beacon Hills since 1879. Pushing on his glasses, Stiles buried himself into his research, simultaneously reading and absorbing information from both books. He was so focused on what he was reading that Stiles didn’t even notice the person approaching his hiding place until it was too late. He glanced up at the shadow cast across the pages of the books and reacted instinctually by pulling off his glasses and shoving them into his pocket. Derek wasn’t staring at him when Stiles looked up to see who had disturbed him, but was staring at the Celtic symbols book. Stiles gulped nervously. On the page was an exact replica of Derek’s tattoo, and next to it was a notepad with all of Stiles’ notes on it, Derek’s name etched into the paper more times than he wanted to count in that moment. Derek raised an eyebrow at him and Stiles shot him a guilty smile.
“Uh, school project?” He tried but already knew Derek wouldn’t take the bait. Stiles sighed. “Okay, so this isn’t what it looks like. Well, it is, since it looks like I’m trying to find out your family history, which is exactly what I’m doing. But not in a creepy stalker way I promise. Talking about stalking, I’m beginning to think you’re following me or something dude because you keep popping up.”
Derek gave him that exasperated expression which Stiles knew meant he was irritated but not close to actually ripping his throat out with his teeth.
Taking that as a good sign, he continued. “I’m sorry dude, I know I should have just asked you about that book instead of doing all this.”
Derek nodded. “Yes, you should have,” he agreed.
Stiles huffed. “It’s not like you would have told me anything though.”
Derek shrugged. “How do you know that?” he asked then pulled out the chair opposite Stiles and sat himself down. He rested his hands on the wood and clasped them together. “What do you want to know?”
Stiles gaped. “Wait, what?”
Derek just gave him an expectant look.
“Are you actually going to answer with real words and full sentences and everything?”
“Not if you keep being a sarcastic little shit I won’t.”
Stiles grinned.
“Also, don’t call me dude.”
“Sure thing, dude.”
Derek actually did answer almost all of Stiles’ questions. They were mainly about the Hale history, which was surprisingly rich and insightful. Turns out they were actually a pretty powerful family years ago, but Talia was one of the last remaining descendants and when she had died in the fire, the Hale history was almost burnt with her. Derek held no desire in trying to rebuild the name, as it was doing a good enough job of keeping out any seriously crazy hunters or something like that, and if he really did want to make the name strong again, he would have to take a mate and Stiles guessed Derek wasn’t down for that since he had quickly glossed over that question.
Stiles didn’t realise until his phone buzzed in his pocket, but he had actually sat with Derek for two hours in the little hidden area of the library. “It’s Natasha, I promised I would study with her after lacrosse and I guess I’m late.”
Derek had an unreadable expression on his face. “It’s good you’re dating her,” he finally said. “It’ll help her integrate with the pack easier.”
Stiles couldn’t help but laugh and Derek frowned in an almost adorable way which Stiles would never utter out loud incase he was actually murdered. “I’m not dating her du-Derek. I mean, I’m pretty sure she swings the other way if you get what I mean. If the way she checks Lydia out all the time is anything to go by.” Stiles paused. “Not that I blame her, I mean I’m pretty sure you can be into either gender and still find Lydia Martin attractive.”
Derek had that unreadable expression back on his face. Another text came through, but Stiles ignored it. He didn’t want to leave, didn’t want to part with Derek just yet. They had managed to spend two hours in each other’s company with no imminent threat and had actually had a real conversation. It was nice, being able to talk to Derek properly with no real intent behind it. So often they only conversed because Derek needed Stiles to do something, or Stiles needed to warn Derek about some supernatural crap going down, but having a topic of conversation which had nothing to do with that was refreshing. Derek sighed when the third text interrupted their silence with it’s buzzing.
“You should go,” he said. Stiles nodded and stood to start taking the books back but Derek stopped him with a hand on his arm. “I’ve got these, you go.” They stared at each other for a long second before Derek dropped his hand and Stiles cleared his throat.
“Right, yeah, okay. I’ll- er- I’ll see you later then?” It was supposed to be a statement, but it came out as more of a question. Derek nodded and Stiles waved awkwardly while walking backwards into an edge of a shelf. That made Derek crack a small smile and roll his eyes, and Stiles had to retreat before the werewolf saw his extremely red cheeks blush even darker.
It wasn’t until Stiles had gotten home and set out his homework with Natasha that he realised he didn’t have his glasses with him.
“Scott, you’re being ridiculous.” Stiles leant against his best friend’s locker and rolled his eyes. Scott had just suggested that perhaps Stiles shouldn’t be at Derek’s that weekend while the full moon was taking place because, in his words, ‘it could be dangerous’. “I don’t get why this time is any different,” Stiles added. Scott shot a not so secretive look at Natasha who was standing with Allison just a few lockers down. Stiles rolled his eyes again. He was starting to wonder if his eyes could actually get stuck if he did that too often. “She’ll be fine Scott, its not like its her first full moon or something.” Scott still didn’t look convinced. “Nat, back me up here.” The spritely girl skipped forward and grinned up at Scott while linking arms with Stiles.
“I’ll be fine Scott, we used to have humans around almost every full moon in my old pack.”
“But it’s your first time with us, it could be different.”
She shrugged. “I don’t think it will be, but if you are really worried then you can chain me up or something and see for yourself. I don’t want Stiles to miss out just because of me.” Stiles squeezed her arm affectionately then glared at his best friend for putting her in that position. Scott seemed to realise and sighed.
“Fine, you can come Stiles. But I want you sticking close to Allison just incase.”
Stiles rolled his eyes yet again but gave his friend a clap on the shoulder.
“Come on, let’s get out of here. I say we have a video game marathon tonight at yours Scott so I can thrash you two again,” Natasha tugged lightly on Stiles’ arm so they would start making their way out of the school. Stiles was surprised by how well Natasha had fit in with their group, and he smiled to himself as he listened to her playfully tease Scott about the last time she beat him in Mario Kart.
Natasha was the first to realise Derek was there. She nudged Stiles who came to a stop when his eyes’ found Derek’s. The man was leaning against the Camaro’s passenger door, feet crossed at the ankle and arms folded so his leather jacket was pulled tight against his muscles. Stiles very nearly drooled. People around them were giving Derek looks, most lustful and curious, but Derek paid them no attention. His eyes stayed fixed on Stiles. “Erm, I’ll meet you guys by the jeep,” Stiles muttered to his friends and detangled himself from Natasha’s grip. She giggled as he stumbled slightly but he didn’t look back. He just made his way over to Derek, careful to ignore the whispering happening around them.
“You secretly love all this attention don’t you?” Stiles said once he had reached the aloof werewolf. Derek cracked a smile at that, the corner of his mouth turning up so Stiles got the briefest flash of teeth.
“You forgot something yesterday,” Derek said instead of answering his question. Stiles frowned then realised what he must have been talking about. Derek pulled out the black framed things and Stiles looked at them with a faint blush on his cheeks. Derek pushed off the car slowly and stepped forward. Stiles felt his heart spike and knew Derek would have been able to hear it. When he looked up, Derek was inspecting the glasses carefully. “I don’t know why you hide them,” he said, almost quiet enough to be to himself.
Stiles shrugged awkwardly. “I don’t know,” he answered, but the lie would have been as detectable to Derek’s sensitive ears as his nerves a second ago. Slowly, very slowly, Derek leant forwards and carefully slipped the plastic up Stiles’ nose so they rested on the bridge. Stiles held his breath, perfectly aware at how close Derek’s face was to his own and how Derek’s hands were still either side of his head, gently resting on the temples where they brushed the tips of his ears.
“I think you look good in them,” Derek breathed out and Stiles inhaled sharply, his heart going slightly crazy. Then, Derek stepped back to lean on the car and all of a sudden Stiles could see how everyone around them had stopped to stare.
“How the hell did Stilinski manage to bag that guy?” One girl muttered to her friend and Stiles winced.
“Pretty sure he didn’t, they’re probably just friends or something,” another commented but Derek didn’t seem put off by it. In fact, he smirked at the girl quite openly before hooking his fingers into Stiles’ belt loops and tugging him forward so Stiles was resting between his thighs. Stiles waited with baited breath as Derek took his time to lean in close again.
“Definitely like the glasses,” he muttered with his lips lightly brushing Stiles’. Stiles could hear nothing but the blood rushing in his ears and the thumping of his heart as Derek finally pressed their lips together.
They pulled apart after a few seconds and Stiles chuckled almost silently. “So no more hiding the glasses?” He muttered and Derek growled playfully.
“No,” he replied then kissed Stiles again.