Sterek Angst AU
Dec. 13th, 2021 08:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madmimSo I saw this excellent Sterek AU and gifset on Tumblr that I just had to do! I may make this into an entire fic at a later date, but for now, I'm pleased with this ^_^ I hope you enjoy it.
Derek didn't expect Stiles to be much more than just his reputation.
Plot Twist: Stiles had his doctor's degree since he was 13 in literature with a minor in biochemistry because he's a genius, and the "trouble" is him just trolling how absurd these high school teachers are.
Derek: *trying to tutor math*
Stiles: *using a collegiate professor level shortcut formula that Derek didn't even teach him with a fucking smirk*
Gif Set: Nogitsune Stiles with heavy bags under his eyes and open blue sweater over a grey t-shirt turning away from a bookshelf – hand still on one of the books – and says: These are shit.
Derek stands there staring at the camera, eyebrows raised slightly, with a primarily blank-emotionless expression.
The Story"Look, I'm sorry to burst your little he-man bubble of goodwill, but I'm only here because I was bored at home, and Scott attends this school. I have my doctorate in early modern literature with enough knowledge of chemistry to become the Paulding, but no one interesting wants to hire an 18-year-old who looks 16. So, instead, I'm stuck at home all day, and my dad's the sheriff, so he's never home, and all my friends are in high school, so I thought, why not. I only agreed to your tutoring sessions because your hot, and Scott has an after-school job." Stiles put down the book he'd pulled from the shelf and turned to look at Mr. Hale.
Derek wasn't sure what emotion was showing on his face, but his mind was reeling. He'd known there was something the young boy was hiding during their sessions. There was just too much depth to him, too much hiding behind the sparkle of those brown eyes. But this? This was not what he was expecting at all. Stiles was a genius, a registered genius.
"I understand if that means you want to give up on your mission, but I didn't tell you all that, so you'd stop trying. I do enjoy hanging out with you – you've got a neat way of explaining things, and your house is cool. Plus, we get along really well. You've just seemed extra stressed and run down lately, and I didn't want this –" Stiles gestured between them and at the table of open books. "To add to it."
Derek blinked at him. He couldn't keep tutoring the boy now; it wasn't like he could teach him anything he didn't likely already know. Something inside his chest burned at the thought of stopping their sessions, of coming back at the end of the day alone, to the empty loft. Yes, he'd been more stressed lately, but having the student over had become a source of relief and refuge. It had given him an excuse to ignore what was happening in his personal life, ignoring his history, but more than that, he genuinely enjoyed having the boy around. His emotions strayed into dangerous territory. Derek knew that he had to try to stop it, but he couldn't.
"My family died in a fire when I was younger; only my sister and I got out. We moved to New York to move on. She got married, and I got my degree. Last year she was murdered, so I moved back here to avoid it. Last week the city told me that they want me to do something with the Hale land out in the preserve – if I don't decide by Friday, then they are going to seize the land and tear the house down." Derek wasn't entirely sure why he shared that. Perhaps he was inspired by Stiles' sharing, or Derek was just tired of holding it all to himself. It was the reason he wasn't sleeping well and why he looked run down, as Stiles put it. The decision had brought up everything he had tried so hard to push away and ignore. All that grief was bubbling around and driving him mad. Derek didn't want to lose the house, to have it demolished, but he didn't know what to do with it. Should he rebuild? But for who? Nothing would feel right out there, except for the original house, but he was just one person, and that house had been made for several. He couldn't phantom selling it or renting it out. He couldn't decide, and his time was running out.
"Hmm…" Stiles murmured in response. His long fingers brushed across the spines of Derek's book collection as he pulled away from the built-in. The teacher was afraid to look up at Stiles, unable to face the calculation that was swirling in the teen's brown eyes. "My dad and I haven't touched the house since my mom passed. She was big into renovation and decoration, but the house is old, and we need to start upgrading it. But it's all we have of her. Dingy and decaying but still her." Stiles paused, his hand landing on top of Derek's. He looked up to meet the young man's eyes. "I understand that touching the house may feel like losing them again. But sometimes, the best we can do is honour their memory by taking care of ourselves the way they wanted. I doubt your family – nor your sister – would have enjoyed seeing you this way. I mean, you look like you could drop any second dude, and that's not good."
Derek wanted to reach out and pull the teen to him, hold him and release all the emotions that had been drowning him. Cry, and scream, and… kiss him. He wanted to accept the concern and sympathy in those brown depths and wrap their warmth around himself. He wanted to give the reins of the decision over to this boy, trust him to make the right decision. But he couldn't. He was an adult, a teacher, and Stiles was his student, and he couldn't. So, instead, he pulled his hands from underneath Stiles' and gave him a quick, forced smile.
"It's after five; you should probably head home," Derek said, nodding toward the clock on the wall. "I'll see you in class tomorrow." As he pushed away from the dining table, he pushed his emotions away. He left in such a hurry he missed the sad and shocked expression that flew across the teen's face.
Stiles felt a sting of rejection flare in his chest. What the hell had just happened? One second, they were bonding, the sour wolf of a teacher finally opening up and letting him in. Unlike the casual smiles and soft laughs that only Stiles got to see in their tutoring sessions. This was raw and real, and for a moment, Stiles swore there was something there. Something natural, soft, warm, and possibly – and then Derek just shut down. Even worse than how he was in class, at least in class, he pretended not to be a total stoic scrooge. But that last look at his green eyes was nothing but sharp glass. It cut Stiles, and as the student cleaned up and packed up his papers, he felt the sting burn behind his nose and push against his eyes.
Perhaps he was wrong, and they weren't bonding. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. His stupid crush convinced him he had a chance. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he took one last look at the loft. Unsure if he'd ever get to see it again. "See you tomorrow," he said to the air, knowing its owner wouldn't hear him but not able to leave without the small promise. The door closed behind him, its clang cementing the pain Stiles felt. The burn followed him home across town.
As he walked into the empty brownstone, he took in the faded dingy wallpaper – that was peeling in the corners, and along the seems – and the patchwork of half-finished flooring projects – that his mother never got to complete – Stiles felt alone. Not even his footsteps echoed around him, just dead silence in the darkness. His phone pinged, a text from his father letting him know that he wouldn't be home tonight, picking up a double shift. The silence was suffocating, an oppressive air of loneliness threatening to crush him. He turned and walked back out the door. Stiles didn't know where he would go; all he knew was that he couldn't sit in that house alone.
The Inspiration:
Sterek AU: On his first day as a literature teacher, Mr. Derek Hale heard many rumours about the school's bad boy – Stiles Stilinski. Derek, who always liked to have a challenge, now wants to do what none of his colleagues ever accomplished – he wants to get Stiles more interested in school, so he starts tutoring him. Derek didn't expect Stiles to be much more than just his reputation.
Plot Twist: Stiles had his doctor's degree since he was 13 in literature with a minor in biochemistry because he's a genius, and the "trouble" is him just trolling how absurd these high school teachers are.
Derek: *trying to tutor math*
Stiles: *using a collegiate professor level shortcut formula that Derek didn't even teach him with a fucking smirk*
Gif Set: Nogitsune Stiles with heavy bags under his eyes and open blue sweater over a grey t-shirt turning away from a bookshelf – hand still on one of the books – and says: These are shit.
Derek stands there staring at the camera, eyebrows raised slightly, with a primarily blank-emotionless expression.
The Story
Derek wasn't sure what emotion was showing on his face, but his mind was reeling. He'd known there was something the young boy was hiding during their sessions. There was just too much depth to him, too much hiding behind the sparkle of those brown eyes. But this? This was not what he was expecting at all. Stiles was a genius, a registered genius.
"I understand if that means you want to give up on your mission, but I didn't tell you all that, so you'd stop trying. I do enjoy hanging out with you – you've got a neat way of explaining things, and your house is cool. Plus, we get along really well. You've just seemed extra stressed and run down lately, and I didn't want this –" Stiles gestured between them and at the table of open books. "To add to it."
Derek blinked at him. He couldn't keep tutoring the boy now; it wasn't like he could teach him anything he didn't likely already know. Something inside his chest burned at the thought of stopping their sessions, of coming back at the end of the day alone, to the empty loft. Yes, he'd been more stressed lately, but having the student over had become a source of relief and refuge. It had given him an excuse to ignore what was happening in his personal life, ignoring his history, but more than that, he genuinely enjoyed having the boy around. His emotions strayed into dangerous territory. Derek knew that he had to try to stop it, but he couldn't.
"My family died in a fire when I was younger; only my sister and I got out. We moved to New York to move on. She got married, and I got my degree. Last year she was murdered, so I moved back here to avoid it. Last week the city told me that they want me to do something with the Hale land out in the preserve – if I don't decide by Friday, then they are going to seize the land and tear the house down." Derek wasn't entirely sure why he shared that. Perhaps he was inspired by Stiles' sharing, or Derek was just tired of holding it all to himself. It was the reason he wasn't sleeping well and why he looked run down, as Stiles put it. The decision had brought up everything he had tried so hard to push away and ignore. All that grief was bubbling around and driving him mad. Derek didn't want to lose the house, to have it demolished, but he didn't know what to do with it. Should he rebuild? But for who? Nothing would feel right out there, except for the original house, but he was just one person, and that house had been made for several. He couldn't phantom selling it or renting it out. He couldn't decide, and his time was running out.
"Hmm…" Stiles murmured in response. His long fingers brushed across the spines of Derek's book collection as he pulled away from the built-in. The teacher was afraid to look up at Stiles, unable to face the calculation that was swirling in the teen's brown eyes. "My dad and I haven't touched the house since my mom passed. She was big into renovation and decoration, but the house is old, and we need to start upgrading it. But it's all we have of her. Dingy and decaying but still her." Stiles paused, his hand landing on top of Derek's. He looked up to meet the young man's eyes. "I understand that touching the house may feel like losing them again. But sometimes, the best we can do is honour their memory by taking care of ourselves the way they wanted. I doubt your family – nor your sister – would have enjoyed seeing you this way. I mean, you look like you could drop any second dude, and that's not good."
Derek wanted to reach out and pull the teen to him, hold him and release all the emotions that had been drowning him. Cry, and scream, and… kiss him. He wanted to accept the concern and sympathy in those brown depths and wrap their warmth around himself. He wanted to give the reins of the decision over to this boy, trust him to make the right decision. But he couldn't. He was an adult, a teacher, and Stiles was his student, and he couldn't. So, instead, he pulled his hands from underneath Stiles' and gave him a quick, forced smile.
"It's after five; you should probably head home," Derek said, nodding toward the clock on the wall. "I'll see you in class tomorrow." As he pushed away from the dining table, he pushed his emotions away. He left in such a hurry he missed the sad and shocked expression that flew across the teen's face.
Stiles felt a sting of rejection flare in his chest. What the hell had just happened? One second, they were bonding, the sour wolf of a teacher finally opening up and letting him in. Unlike the casual smiles and soft laughs that only Stiles got to see in their tutoring sessions. This was raw and real, and for a moment, Stiles swore there was something there. Something natural, soft, warm, and possibly – and then Derek just shut down. Even worse than how he was in class, at least in class, he pretended not to be a total stoic scrooge. But that last look at his green eyes was nothing but sharp glass. It cut Stiles, and as the student cleaned up and packed up his papers, he felt the sting burn behind his nose and push against his eyes.
Perhaps he was wrong, and they weren't bonding. Maybe it was just his mind playing tricks on him. His stupid crush convinced him he had a chance. A deep sigh escaped his lips as he took one last look at the loft. Unsure if he'd ever get to see it again. "See you tomorrow," he said to the air, knowing its owner wouldn't hear him but not able to leave without the small promise. The door closed behind him, its clang cementing the pain Stiles felt. The burn followed him home across town.
As he walked into the empty brownstone, he took in the faded dingy wallpaper – that was peeling in the corners, and along the seems – and the patchwork of half-finished flooring projects – that his mother never got to complete – Stiles felt alone. Not even his footsteps echoed around him, just dead silence in the darkness. His phone pinged, a text from his father letting him know that he wouldn't be home tonight, picking up a double shift. The silence was suffocating, an oppressive air of loneliness threatening to crush him. He turned and walked back out the door. Stiles didn't know where he would go; all he knew was that he couldn't sit in that house alone.
The End
I'd love to hear what you guys think and if you would be interested in seeing the full fic.
