Chapter Text
Stiles was sure that the universe, or whoever was running this show, hated him.
He couldn't even begin to theorize what he had done in his life to deserve it. Maybe he was a complete asshole in a past life? Trying to figure it out or find an explanation was useless, as it only made his thoughts go in circles.
He had finally settled into college life, a year in and he was hopeful that he could graduate early, in another year and a half or so. He knew a couple people from his classes, got his work done mostly on time, and his grades weren’t too bad.
All in all, everything was going well for Stiles.
That was until he walked into his first Folklore and Anthropology class of the semester.
Derek Hale was sitting at the front desk, the professor's desk.
Stiles really thought he had left everyone and thing back in Beacon Hills, where it belonged, when he moved to college. He was hundreds of miles away, escaping his past should have been easy, a walk in the park even.
Obviously not.
Why couldn’t it have been literally anyone else that showed up? He’d take Jackson, before he turned, over Derek Fucking Hale.
Why did it have to be the guy that hated him so much he kicked him out of the pack? It felt like a cruel joke.
Stiles had sworn his father, Scott, and Lydia to secrecy when he told them where he was going to school, so how did he find him?
He wasn’t hiding, per say, but he wasn’t actively telling the whole world where he was studying!
Stiles decided that he would forgo the class he was most looking forward to as he found a seat.
Stiles was genuinely looking forward to this class. He hoped that he might have been able to do assignments on werewolves and creatures he knew about, just so he had one less thing to worry about when it came exam time.
Either way, he sighed to himself, he would go to the administration and try to change classes as soon as he had a free period. He would probably have to do math's, or something else he hated, but Stiles knew that he wouldn’t last the semester with Derek Fucking Hale as his professor.
The bell rang, signaling that there was 5 minutes until the class started. Why the college still used the bells, Stiles didn’t know, but he appreciated it nonetheless; especially when it reminded him that he needed to race across campus to his next class.
He looked up on instinct as it rang, eyes flicking to the clock, then the werewolf.
Derek was visibly on edge; the bell probably half shattered an ear drum. Stiles winced on his behalf, feeling bad for the guy. Briefly.
The sympathy quickly slipped away as he recalled how badly it hurt to be kicked out of the pack, how alone he felt. Beacon Hills hadn’t felt the same since his ties with the Hale pack got shattered.
Stiles blinked back to the moment, a flicker of red eyes catching his attention. He met Derek’s gaze and put on the biggest shit eating grin he could manage.
He was the alpha again, Stiles thought. Interesting.
Derek growled low in his throat, not loud enough for anyone to hear. But Stiles had picked up on quite a few habits the wolves had, from spending so much time with the pack when he was a teen.
That’s how he befriended Isaac, a freshman, from knowing how to spot a werewolf from miles away. He had seemed jittery, flinching at the slightest noise, avoiding others. Stiles had just slid right over to him, handing him a pair of earplugs with a smile.
“Take them, they’re new, promise. It’s pretty overwhelming here, with the bells and all the people. I’m Stiles,”
Isaac had been weary of him, rightfully so, he had no pack left, no family, and humans were the reason why.
That was until Stiles whisper explained everything in the library a few weeks later, sensing the panic crawling up the poor guy's spine.
From there, they'd become pretty good acquaintances, maybe even friends. Stiles helped him study, and Isaac helped him stay in shape. It was a win-win situation really.
“Don’t worry, Woflie, I won’t say anything.” Stiles whispered, just enough for him to hear. Derek snarled in response, probably a threat. Stiles just rolled his eyes in response and moved to pull his notepad and laptop from his bag.
He was so fucking screwed.
Derek, it turned out, was a pretty good teacher. Everyone was paying attention to him and everything he was saying and actually writing notes.
Stiles assumed it was because they all took one look of the werewolf and got a metaphorical, and maybe literal, hard ons for the guy. Not that he could blame them, Derek was built like a god.
Jokes on them though, Stiles had had a crush on him since he was 16, and he knew just how emotionally unavailable he was.
“Any questions about the syllabus, or requests on topics we cover before I confirm everything on the online class?” Hale addressed the students in the room, a few hands rose.
“Yes, miss...?” He said, pointing to a girl that Stiles had never met.
“Just Sarah,” she said with a smile, “what kind of assignments will we get?” She bit her lip, twirling a piece of hair around her finger like she was the main character in a romcom.
Stiles just rolled his eyes, focusing back on the board at the front of the room to make sure he hadn’t missed anything.
“I can’t tell you yet, you’d all drop this class,” Derek joked with a smile, making all the girls giggle. He moved back behind his desk.
Stiles decided to play along, see how far he could get. He genuinely wanted to ask about lycanthropy, it was just funny to him how his professor turned out to be a werewolf.
Stiles put on his best innocent look and raised his hand.
Derek pointedly ignored him until he had answered everyone else’s questions, even if they had put their hand up after Stiles did himself.
“Yes, Mr Stilinski?” He sighed, keeping his expression neutral.
“I was wondering if we would be covering the history of lycanthropy at all? It’s kind of a special interest of mine,” he smiled, showing teeth, knowing it pushed the alphas buttons.
“I can look into it,” Derek ground out, and oh, if looks could kill. “Whether we cover it or not depends on if anyone else in the class has any interest in it,” he turned his attention to the rest of the class.
There was a resounding wave of agreement from the students, the frat guys chattering about ‘what if they’re real, dude’, the girls all nodding and whispering to each other.
Stiles smirked, sitting back in his chair with his arms crossed. “Is that a yes then?” He mumbled quietly in question.
Derek didn’t bother to respond to him, so he tried again, “Does that mean we will, teach?”
“Yes, it does. And Mr Stilinski? It’s professor.”
Stiles just winked in response.
The bell rang; everyone took it as their leave. Chair scraped, bags zipped open and closed, groups walked out, all talking to one another.
Stiles packed his laptop and notebook into his messenger bag, waiting to sneak out of the lecture hall when the narrow walkway was free.
“Stilinski, hang back, please.” Derek called out over the chatter, just as Stiles was about to slip out of the door.
Stiles sat in the nearest seat, a front row abomination in his opinion, and pretended like the wooden desk was utterly captivating until the rest of the students left.
“Stiles,” came the familiar voice.
He looked up from the desk, to find Derek leaning on the desk to his left, arms crossed, features showing no indication of what he was thinking.
“Derek,” he countered, netting his eyes.
“When it’s on campus, it’s professor, or Professor Hale.”
“When you’re pretending you don’t know me, it’s Stilinski.” He shot back.
“Are we on the same page?” Derek asked, well, growled.
“Yeah, yeah, don’t get your tail in a twist. You don’t know me, I don’t know you, you’re not an alpha werewolf, etcetera.” Stiles sighed, getting up to leave. “You think so little of me, huh? I wouldn’t do that to you, Hale.”
Stiles slung the strap of his messenger back over his shoulder and looked back at the other man. “Are we good?”
“One more thing,” Derek cut in.
Stiles looked at him expectantly.
“Why lycanthropy?” He asked like he expected it to have been a joke on the younger man’s behalf.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Because if it’s lycanthropy then I don’t have to think too much, I already have some pretty good firsthand experience. I was going to ask about it anyway, no matter who was teaching this class. I was going to try and just skate through, I know enough about witch trials and shit, so it may as well be werewolves I rant about. At least with you as the teacher, I might learn something helpful,”
He took a breath, turning and leaning over the desk he was just sitting at. “And you wouldn’t argue that ripping out a werewolf's throat doesn’t kill them, in theory. And if it’s lycanthropy we study, maybe I can get some more hours at work so I can afford to eat, without worrying about failing a class. Can I go now?”
Stiles was defensive, all muscles tense, heart hammering in his chest. He didn’t know why he said that, why did he tell Derek that? He needed out. “I wasn’t being a dick, just lazy.” He muttered before he left the class, his thoughts swirling and spiraling between his ears.