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So college. That was a thing that was currently happening in his life.
When Stiles’ dad had dropped him off and helped him move into his dorm room, he had grabbed his shoulder and told him “Find some friends. Socialize. It’ll do you good, son,” followed by a few seconds of awkward silence, before they were hugging, clinging onto each other, and Stiles had buried his face in his dad’s shoulder.
This was the first time they wouldn’t be living under the same roof anymore, and Stiles could only imagine how silent and empty the house would be, now that it was only his dad living there. So Stiles had promised to call him at least once a week, text him at least every other day, and to socialize and find some friends, so he wouldn’t be alone.
The first person he had tried to make friends with was his roommate. That wasn’t easy, because as it turned out, his roommate – his name was James. He was tall and full of muscles, a resting bitch face that could easily beat Jackson Whittemore’s – had no interest in befriending him and was never really in their room anyway.
Stiles had seen him around campus a couple of times. James was always surrounded by a group of friends he seemed close with, practically attached to this other guy’s hip. Stiles had tried to befriend him, he really had, but he quickly gave up because James obviously didn’t want to be friends with him.
Which was fine. Stiles wasn’t everyone’s cup of tea, he had learned to accept that.
But having made his dad a promise, Stiles took his search for friends to other places, friends with common interests. He took his search to the clubs around the college. Specifically, he turned to the Quidditch club.
There had been other clubs he had eyed with interest – like the mythology club that wasn’t too big – but he had taken one look at the college’s Qudditch team and headed straight over there, interest peeked.
Because hello, Hot Captain.
Or at least, Stiles guessed this guy was the captain. He certainly looked like it, being the only one standing up while the rest were sitting down and looking bored. Hot Captain had a serious look on his face, a near scowl, and he was watching the people walking by intently, obviously scouting for additions to their team.
Stiles had a pick up line ready on the tip of his tongue the moment he moved over toward them, the corner of his lips tugged back into a grin and his eyes shamelessly checking out Hot Captain. Honestly, his only intention with going over there was to flirt and possibly get a date. Because, contrary to popular belief, Stiles did have game.
Well okay, he had some game.
His only intention was to flirt, but Hot Captain’s reaction to him simply coming over changed his mind completely.
“No.”
Stiles faltered in his steps, the grin falling from his lips and his mouth opening in a gape instead. He shot the people around Hot Captain – three girls, two guys, all intimidating and looking a lot less bored now – a quick glance, before his attention returned to Hot And Glaring Captain. “Excuse me?”
“No,” Hot Asshole repeated, crossing his arms, and Stiles nearly, nearly, drooled at the sight of his biceps. “You’re not getting on the team.”
Stiles scoffed at him. “And why the fuck not?”
Hot Asshole didn’t answer. He just raised his brows, gave him a quick once over, and then gave him an unimpressed look and scoffed.
So Stiles glared at him, stalked over, signed himself up, and told him “I’ll fucking show you,” before he stormed off without even greeting the rest of the team or do what he had come over to do. No way in hell he was going to flirt with someone that big of an asshole.
The very next day, he found himself walking across the field usually used for soccer and whatever other sports were played on campus with a determined look on his face, heading toward the college’s Quidditch team stretching on the field.
He was going to prove Captain Asshole wrong. So what if the guy was shockingly attractive, he was still an ass.
Stiles was very proud of himself for not tripping over thin air when he saw Captain Asshole in a white tank top, glorious biceps on display and a bit of chest hair poking out from the neck hole. He mentally high fived himself for it and returned the glare the Captain send him.
He was no more than ten steps from the small group, when one of the girls turned to him and smiled at him so brightly, he felt like she was an old friend rather than a stranger.
“Hi,” she greeted him, leaving the group behind. She missed the way Captain I Could Rip Your Head Off With My Bare Hands glared at both of them, but Stiles didn’t. “We didn’t get to say hi yesterday. I’m Kira.”
She stuck her hand out, the friendly smile firmly on her lips, and Stiles reached out to shake her hand. “Stiles.”
He didn’t miss the way Captain Douche made a face at that, but he chose to ignore it when Kira continued.
“Well, Stiles,” she said and guided him over to the rest of the team. “We’re happy to have you on the team. This is Isaac,” she pointed at a tall guy with curly hair and killer cheekbones, “Boyd,” then a beefy dude who had his arm slung over a beautiful blonde who Kira introduced as Erica. “Braeden’s late but she should be here soon. And our captain over there is Derek.”
Captain Asshole Derek was still glaring at him, thick eyebrows low and slightly furrowed. There was a tense silence that Stiles wanted to break but didn’t get to, because Derek spoke before he could open his mouth.
“We don’t need him.” The words weren’t directed at him, but Derek wasn’t looking away from him, and Stiles scoffed.
“Yes we do, Derek,” came Erica’s quick response. “Quidditch teams need seven players, and no one else was joining us, so yes. We do actually need him and you know it.”
“And I’m really good at Quidditch,” Stiles added. “I may look skinny or whatever you think, but it’s all muscles under these layers, big guy.”
Derek snorted and rolled his eyes, obviously not believing him. “Fine, whatever. Let’s start training, Braeden can catch up when she gets here.”
Training, as it turned out, involved a lot of running and a lot of Derek yelling (specifically at him) and a lot of wheezing and falling onto the ground and getting the ball thrown in his face for Stiles. It was like lacrosse training all over again, except a lot worse because he had to look at Derek getting sweaty and telling him to keep up the whole time with that stupidly smug grin.
The guy was an asshole, there was no doubt about it, but Stiles still wanted to kiss his stupid face.
*
“He’s just so … infuriating!” Stiles groaned behind his hands, his fingers digging into his messy hair and his elbows on his desk. “I bet he doesn’t even know what relaxing means!”
“Why don’t you just quit the club then?” Scott asked, not looking up on the screen, too busy rewriting his notes. In hand.
Stiles scoffed and leaned back on his desk chair, grabbing his glasses from the desk and sliding them back onto the bridge of his nose. “Because, Scotty, I can’t just let him win. Stilinskis don’t quit, especially not when that’d mean some hot asshole Captain gets his will.”
On the screen of his laptop, Scott finally looked up and shrugged. “Maybe he just needs to get laid.”
“Preferably by me, yeah.”
“Then what’s the problem? Ask him out, get him to loosen up, and maybe he won’t be an asshole.”
“He hates me, Scott!” Stiles exclaimed and threw his hands up in frustration. “Yesterday he literally threatened to rip my throat out. With his teeth!”
Scott was holding back a laugh, Stiles could tell, and he was already lifting a warning finger and opening his mouth to tell him it wasn’t funny, but then his phone buzzed on the desk, the screen lit with a message from Derek.
> [06:05 PM] Captain Asshole: Training in 10. Don’t be late.
Stiles groaned loudly. “Speak of the devil himself,” he said and held up his phone. “Gotta go. Good luck with the homework.”
“Good luck with your crush,” Scott said with a teasing grin and signed off before Stiles could say anything.
*
Over the next month or so, the training was intense.
Derek was a very dedicated captain, and Stiles respected that. It would just be nice if he could be dedicated without being a complete asshole who yelled at his team constantly.
Well, it was more at Stiles than any of the others, really.
The others mostly just laughed when Derek tried to yell at them, and it made Stiles feel slightly left out. Because the others were such good friends already, and Stiles… Well, Stiles didn’t really feel a part of their friend group.
It was almost like he was back in high school and at lacrosse practice with Scott. Except instead of Coach Finstock, he had Derek Hale who actually let him play. And also better and nicer teammates.
It was just under a month of being on the team, when Derek sat them down after a practice round of Quidditch. Stiles was sweaty and gross and exhausted, as were the rest of them.
“We have a match coming up,” Derek said, tossing a bottle of water to Boyd who caught it with ease. “Saturday, 10 AM. Be here at 9 and do not be late.” He very pointedly looked at Stiles when he said that, and Stiles gave him an offended look.
Come Saturday, Stiles was stretching and eyeing the team they were about to battle.
“There’s no way they’re all Gryffindors,” Stiles said to Erica, both of them looking across the field. “I mean, is that even statistically possible?”
Erica shrugged. “I doubt it. I bet their captain just decided to have his house as their main. Good thing Derek doesn’t give a shit about that, because as much as I love him, there’s no way I’m walking around in Hufflepuff outfits.”
Stiles huffed and nodded, a grin on his lips. “I totally agree.”
When the game started, Stiles told himself to focus and show Derek that he wasn’t as bad as he liked to think he was. Because he really wasn’t. Stiles had been working hard to get back in shape over the past month alongside the rest of the team, and he almost wanted to say he was good at Quidditch.
Not Derek Hale level good, sure, but still good.
And, surprisingly, they won.
*
“To us!” Isaac started, voice raised, smile on his lips, and his glass of water held up high. Derek had shut down any requests for alcohol. “For beating the shit out of them!”
“Hear hear!” the rest of them joined in and clinked their glasses together, all of them falling silent as they drank.
Derek had invited the team over to his place in celebration, had let them raid his fridge or cabinets for beverages but had refused to give them any alcohol. He had left them to themselves shortly after, though.
“So,” Stiles started after lowering his glass, wiping his thumb under his bottom lip. “What’s with Derek not celebrating with us? I know he’s an ass, but really?”
Erica shrugged, leaning back against the arm of the couch, her feet in Boyd’s lap where he was massaging them and her shins. “He’s not very social,” she explained. “And he’s not an ass. He’s just…” She shrugged. “He’s been through a lot.”
“And that gives him an excuse to treat me like shit?” Stiles scoffed. “I don’t think so.”
“He’s mean because he likes you, Stiles,” Erica said teasingly.
“Don’t give me that bullshit, dude.” He pointed at her. “That whole pulling pigtails thing is stupid and you know it.”
“Yes, it is. What I meant is,” Erica pause, shifting where she sat. “Derek’s been through a lot, he’s closed off. It’s not really my story to tell, but basically, the last person he liked… It didn’t go well. And he likes you, so he’s scared.”
“Wait, hold up.” Stiles sat up straighter, shooting Kira and Braeden a look, both of them grinning widely at him. “Likes me how, exactly?”
“Like he wants to make out with you and hold your hand and touch your butt,” Isaac said from where he was laid out on the floor, an arm thrown over his eyes. “It’s not that hard to see.”
“Wha- No, he doesn’t!” Stiles spluttered. He knew his face was going red, but what could he do aside from ignore it and hope no one else noticed?
“He totally does,” Kira muttered from next to Braeden who nodded in agreement.
Stiles blinked at them, then huffed and got up. “You guys are clearly drunk. Delusional too. How did you even get alcohol? Whatever, I’m getting all of you some water, so you can stop being ridiculous.”
They didn’t stop, and Stiles’ face burned red when Derek came down for something to drink an hour later.
*
Even with the mere possibility of Derek being slightly interested in him, training continued to suck.
Derek still yelled at mostly him, still pushed him harder than any of the others, but Stiles had started paying more attention now.
For one, he noticed that when he teased Derek, the tips of Derek’s ears would go red. For another, Erica and Derek often had hushed conversations with careful glances in his direction, Erica with a teasing grin and Derek obviously blushing but trying very hard to hide it behind sharp glares. She never seemed to care about that though and kept doing whatever she was doing.
For a third, the bickering became less hurtful and more playful. Stiles liked to think it was flirting, but he didn’t want to get his hopes up too much.
“Okay, guys!” Derek called out from the sideline just as Isaac threw the ball to Stiles, Stiles catching it with no stumbling or fumbling. “That’s it for this time. Drink some water.”
The ball under one arm and his broom in the other, Stiles headed over to the cooler with water bottles along with the rest of the team. He was only slightly, but pleasantly, surprised when Derek held out a bottle for him, but he didn’t hesitate to grab it and quickly down at least half of it.
“You did good today,” Derek said after a moment, eyes not on him but his voice lowered so the comment could only have been to him.
Lowering the bottle from his lips, Stiles turned to look at him, eyes wide. “Was that a compliment?” Derek replied with a glare, one that wasn’t as sharp or angry as his glares used to be.
Stiles held up his hands in surrender and grinned. “Sorry, I won’t point out your sweet side again,” he said and gave Derek’s shoulder a friendly punch. The wink he threw him, however, was definitely not friendly. “Thanks, though.”
Derek huffed at him and walked away, but Stiles still managed to see the way his ears turned red.
*
When it happened, it was in the middle of a friendly practice game. Stiles didn’t even see when it happened, but he heard it.
He heard Kira’s sudden and pained yell and he heard someone fall.
The ball was still in the air, but the game was forgotten when all of them turned around to see Kira on the ground, clutching her foot with a pained expression on her face.
Derek was the one over by her first, running quickly, his broom left on the middle of the field.
Stiles watched as he carefully picked her up and carried her to the side. He watched as Derek examined her ankle, wrapped it, and gave her a cold bottle of water to press against her injury.
And maybe Stiles fell a little bit in love with Derek that day.
*
“You’re in love with him?”
Stiles groaned, didn’t move from where he was laid out on his desk chair, his head thrown back and glasses sliding up his forehead. “I think I might be, yeah.”
“Wow.” Scott whistled, the sound choppy from Stiles’ laptop. “That went from a crush to love really quickly. Does this mean you’re finally gonna ask him out?”
“Are you insane?” Stiles sat up, his glasses falling down to the edge of his nose, but he didn’t push them up, too busy staring wide eyed at Scott on his screen. “I can’t just ask him out!”
Scott’s brows furrowed in obvious confusion. “But… wait… I thought you said he liked you back? Didn’t you say Erica told you so, the rest of the team too?”
Stiles scoffed, rolling his eyes. “They were obviously just messing with me. They were probably drunk too, so they couldn’t have been serious.” With a sigh, he leaned back and pushed his glasses up. “Besides, he’s not gonna wanna date me. I’m, y'know, me and he’s… him.”
“Stiles, stop,” Scott interrupted before he could continue. “You’re great and anyone would be lucky to date you, so just ask him out. If he says no, I’ll come punch him.”
Stiles huffed a laugh and shook his head. “That’s sweet, Scotty, but he’d beat your ass.”
Scott shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I gotta defend my best friend either way.”
“You’re the best, man.”
“I better be your best man. At your wedding with Derek.”
“Oh my God, I’m hanging up on you. Right now. Bye.”
*
Kira still wasn’t able to play by the time their next game rolled around, and they spend several days trying to find a replacement for her. She was their best player after Derek though, so no one could ever really replace her. They just needed someone to fill in the spot, so they could play.
Stiles tried to ask his roommate if he or any of his friends had a couple of hours free to play a game of Quidditch, and for a second he thought he was finally going to have a connection with his roommate.
But then James had said no with a shrug and left Stiles to groan at the empty room.
Boyd had more luck and had managed to get a boy named Kurt – he had a strong accent, he was nice and easily charmed his way into the group – to play the game with them.
They still lost though.
Derek praised them anyway, told them they did a great job, and even gave Stiles a pat on the back.
Which… yeah, that was new and surprising.
*
“Stiles!” Derek called from across the field when the ball, yet again, fell out of Stiles’ hands. “That’s the third time today! Focus!”
“I am focusing!” Stiles shot back, irritated. He hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, and he had almost not shown up for training. Now he wish he hadn’t forced himself to go anyway.
“Well, focus better,” Derek continued, now much closer. Close enough to grab the ball from him. “You’re slacking.”
Stiles scoffed at him and let go of the broom between his legs. “Slacking?” He stepped closer, stepped into Derek’s space and pushed a finger at his firm chest. “I have not been slacking, Derek. At all. Not once since I joined this team. Hell, if it wasn’t for me, there wouldn’t even be a team!”
Derek bared his teeth at him in a humorless grin, and he roughly pushed the ball against Stiles’ chest. “Whatever you say. Just stop sucking and focus.”
“I’ll suck you, fucking asshole,” Stiles muttered bitterly, mostly to himself, as he bend down to pick up the broom again.
Derek, having only taken one or two steps away, turned to look back at him, brows drawn together. “What did you just say?”
“I said,” Stiles looked at him, heart pounding but face calm, “that I’ll suck you. Fucking. Asshole.”
There was a choked laugh from behind him, but he didn’t look away from Derek. He only grinned slightly but smugly when he saw Derek’s ears turn bright red and his eyes widen, and Sties raised his brows in a silent challenge.
Derek cleared his throat after a moment of silent staring. “Just… focus. We’ve got another game in two weeks, and I can’t have-”
“Oh my God!” Stiles interrupted him, flailing his arms shortly. “Will you just shut up and kiss me already?”
The moment that followed was silent and long. For a second, Stiles thought he had fucked up. Majorly.
But then Derek was striding forward, grabbing the back of his neck, and bringing him closer. When they kissed, despite Derek giving him plenty of time to prepare for it, Stiles’ eyes widened and his breath hitched. But there wasn’t a second of hesitation before he grabbed the front of Derek’s shirt and kissed him back with all he had.
Someone wolf-whistled around them, Stiles didn’t know who and he didn’t really care either.
Because Derek Hale, the asshole captain he had dealt with and crushed on for months, was nipping at his bottom lip and stroking his jaw with his thumb and kissing him so sweetly, Stiles wanted to laugh at his past self that thought Derek was ever capable of hating him.
They kissed for another short while, before Derek pulled back, their eyes meeting and both of them smiling softly at each other.
Derek leaned in for another quick kiss, and then he stepped back. “You still gotta focus and play better.”
“If I get kisses as rewards for playing good, I’ll definitely try.”
Derek looked at him over his shoulder, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Let’s see if you get better first.”
Stiles didn’t, because his body was still exhausted and he was still sleep deprived and grumpy, but he got plenty of kisses regardless.