Sterek one shots

Busy Drawing Hearts

Sorry for another nerd!derek
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There's a guy in Stiles' class that's driving him insane.
Stiles only has one class with him and there's no way that Stiles should be as infatuated with him as he is, but god, he is. And badly, too. Actual Lydia levels of infatuation.
Stiles first noticed him at the beginning of their second semester. He only chose European History because he already knows pretty much everything about it and he needed another subject, but is he glad that he did.
The guy – Derek – always sits in the front row, glasses perched on his nose and books spread out in front of him neatly. He likes to wear these cashmere sweaters that look like hugs made out of fabric and he blushes when the teacher praises him and dear god, Stiles wants to kiss him.
His favorite thing about Derek though – apart from the glasses – is the way his hair seems to curl a little at the ends, towards his pointy ears and it makes him look so adorable that Stiles is torn between wanting to fuck Derek into the desk and patting him.
Yeah, he has a problem.
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The first time he sees Derek at the library his breath catches in his throat. It's not like he thought Derek didn't visit the library, because Derek looks like and is one of those goody two shoes 'I submit every paper a month before the deadline' people. In Stiles' opinion, it makes him even hotter.
At first, he's breathless because Derek is wearing Stiles' favorite sweater – the dark green one that makes his eyes seem dazzlingly blue – but then, Derek glances up at him with a small smile on his face and oh. Oh. Isn't that the most adorable thing Stiles has ever seen.
Stiles smiles back and waves, his heart pounding in his chest as he notices that the tips of Derek's ears are red and shit, Stiles wants to ruin him.
Instead, he sits down at the opposite end of the library because he actually does need to finish his paper on Human Behavior. That doesn't mean he doesn't pick a strategically placed chair that lets him glance at Derek every so often without fear of being seen.
Derek's immersed in his writing as usual – the nerd, Stiles fondly thinks before he catches himself and turns back to his paper. Right. Sociology. Very interesting.
Not as interesting as watching Derek though, his brain unhelpfully supplies and halfway through Stiles just gives up all pretense and starts watching Derek like the true creeper he is.
Derek's not typing on his laptop anymore and the sight makes Stiles frown. Has Derek given up on writing as well? Because Derek definitely doesn't seem like the type to just give up on a paper when things aren't going his way.
That's when he notices the little notebook Derek's writing in. It looks like moleskin though, so maybe he's drawing? Stiles doesn't care – as in, it doesn't really matter because he definitely does care – because his eyes are transfixed on Derek's face.
Derek's smiling softly to himself, his mouth open in concentration and eyes soft. Stiles doesn't think he's ever seen a more beautiful sight. Then Derek reaches up to wipe one of those curls behind his ears and Stiles just about has a heart attack.
He's sure his own mouth is hanging open right now; Derek's face is a mirror of what he's writing – or drawing – frowning before smiling again, the little lines in his skin shifting. Stiles wants to trace them with his fingers – or his tongue, maybe. Anything Derek would give him, really.
-
It becomes part of Stiles' routine after that, watching Derek in the library. It's probably less romantic and more creepy than Stiles thinks it to be, but he can't stop. Derek's just so cute with the sweaters and the blushing and the glasses and the hair.
Stiles has never really had an obsession with someone's hair before, so it's kind of a first. Sure he'd liked Lydia's hair, but with Lydia was more of a general thing. He'd never been able to pick out any special things about her because everything was special.
With Derek though, he has a whole catalogue in his head. He can see the way Derek pushes his glasses up his nose if he closes his eyes, the image imprinted in his brain. He's done studies on Derek's hands, broad palms with long, capable fingers.
And he's totally stared at Derek's ass before. Hey, he's technically still a teenager. Might as well take advantage of it for as long as it lasts.
It's only when Scott confronts him about how much time he spends in the library that he decides to change things. Because if Scott 'I'm oblivious to everything except Allison' McCall notices something is up, things are getting kind of extreme.
So here Stiles is, standing in the door way to the second floor of the library. He knows Derek's here - so he memorized Derek's schedule, sue him - and he takes a deep breath to steady himself before he walks in.
As expected, Derek is sitting in the back near a window. Too much artificial light probably hurts his eyes, with the glasses and all, and Stiles resists the urge to whimper because damn it, why is Derek such a cute nerd?
Derek's wearing a brown sweater vest, and it makes him looks so soft and cuddly that Stiles has trouble resisting the urge to run over to him and hug him. He looks like a giant teddy bear.
Instead, he forces himself to walk over slowly, because the longer he can keep Derek's attention off him the less nervous he'll get. He thinks. Or hopes.
Derek's writing again, probably a paper for EH. His wrist moves precisely as he deftly presses keys. Stiles takes a minute to stare; the tendons of Derek's forearm flexing, his fingers moving as he pushes his glasses up his nose.
"Hey! Are you a hobby writer, or something?" Stiles asks, trying for casual as he leans onto the table right next to Derek's laptop. His proud that his voice doesn't tremble. Derek raises an eyebrow. "I've just seen you writing in a notebook?"
"Oh," Derek says, the tips of his ears growing red as he pushes his glasses up his nose. "I didn't think anyone had seen me use my notebook."
"I did," Stiles says, maybe a little too fast, he thinks as he watches Derek's eyes widen. "You don't have to answer or anything, I was just curious. I can go if you want me to?"
Honestly, going is the last thing on Stiles' mind right now because he's finally worked up the courage to talk to Derek – maybe ask him out on a date, he doesn't know. And wow, he really didn't think this through, did he?
"No, no," Derek says. "It's okay, I don't mind."
"Okay then," Stiles says, smiling. He sits down in the chair next to Derek's, willing his heart rate to slow down. "So are you?"
"A hobby writer?" Derek says. Stiles nods in confirmation. "No. I like to draw, sometimes."
Which, Stiles had given it some thought, sure, but he'd really thought that Derek was more a writing kind of person. Though Stiles has to admit that he based that on stereotypes, so it wasn't exactly accurate. Derek just looks and acts like a writer, with the goodie two shoes and blushing and all that.
"Oh cool," Stiles says, smiling. Derek nods, eyes wide. Stiles wonders if he's maybe feeling overwhelmed or something. "What do you draw?
"Nature, mostly," Derek says, rubbing at the hair behind his ear. Stiles zones out for a moment – because those curls are so freaking adorable – before he narrows his eyes, recognizing the gesture for what it is; Derek's lying.
"Cool!" he says, plastering a fake smile on his face. It's none of his business anyways, so he isn't gonna call Derek out on it. "Can I see? I mean, if you don't want me to that's fine. I'm just-"
"Curious," Derek finishes with a small grin. Oh god, are those bunny teeth? Stiles thinks he might die. "It's okay, you can see."
Derek leans down to grab his notebook from his bag and Stiles resolutely does not look at the way it makes his sweater stretch over his broad shoulders, highlighting the play of his muscles underneath his skin. God, Derek is fucking beautiful.
Derek makes a noise of victory, putting his notebook on the table with the utmost care. Stiles thinks he might be a little bit in love; Derek handles books in general like they're his babies. And now he's thinking about Derek with a baby, a tiny smile on his face as he cradles them against his chest.
Dear Jesus, he needs to stop.
When Derek draws back the string and opens it, he glances at Stiles from the corner of his eye but Stiles is too preoccupied with Derek's drawings because oh my god. Derek could like, make money off of this.
The first drawing he sees is a watercolor of a waterfall, and it looks so real that Stiles is convinced it's a picture before he looks closer and sees the grain of the paper under it but other than that it's absolutely perfect.
"Wow," he breathes, watching as Derek flips a page. "Derek, these are really good."
"Thanks," Derek says, and when Stiles manages to tear his gaze away from the paper he sees a red flush spreading over his cheeks. "This one's my favorite."
Derek skips a few pages, until he comes across one that has a small crease in it, but Stiles holds his wrist, stopping his progress. It couldn't be, Stiles thinks, swallowing. It couldn't. But that drawing looked like-
"Is that-" he says before he can stop himself. The line of Derek's shoulders tenses. "Was that me?"
He softly turns the pages back to the one he glimpsed, careful not to tear any of them. There, staring back at him, is his goofy face in about a dozen different positions from a dozen different angles.
He turns a page, transfixed. Derek's drawn him with light pencil strokes, softly shading his jaw and making him seem more delicate than he is, long eyelashes and curved lips. Derek's favorite - judging by the worn feel of the paper - is one of him where he's smiling, eyes lit up.
"I'm sorry," Derek whispers, firmly keeping his eyes fixed on his palms, his entire face red. "I'll stop, if you want me to. I realize it might be a bit creepy but I just – I couldn't help myself."
The last part is said so softly that Stiles almost doesn't catch it. Stiles kind of wants to cry; that's so far from what he wants that it's sad. He reaches out to put a hand on Derek's shoulder before he stops himself. He's not actually allowed to do that. Shit. Derek flinches.
"No!" Stiles says. "No, oh my god, it's so fine! It's more than fine, I'm actually kind of honored. It's just – well, I might've come over here to you ask you out? On like, a date?"
Derek's heads shoots up, his eyes wide. Stiles' heart is pounding; he's pretty sure it's kicking into overdrive. Derek's doing nothing but stare at Stiles, gaze flickering from Stiles' eyes to his lips to his again.
"You would-" Derek starts, swallowing before he continues. "You would want to go on a date with me?"
He looks so small, curled in on himself with his hands fisted in his sweater that Stiles feels kind of bad for him. He wants to wrap Derek in a hug and drape himself over Derek like a safety blanket and just kiss him and tell him that yes, I want to go on a date with you.
"Of course!" Stiles says, motioning towards Derek with his hand. "Have you seen you? You're freaking adorable."
Derek suddenly glowers, pushing his glasses up his nose as he straightens his spine. Stiles knows it's all play though; he can see the way Derek's cheeks grow redder. Like Stiles said: adorable.
"I'm not adorable," Derek says, eyebrows drawn down. He looks like a pouting puppy. Stiles bites his lip to stop himself from bursting out into laughter.
"Of course you're not, big guy," he says and he does slap a hand on Derek's shoulder this time. "So is that a yes to the date?"
"Yes!" Derek says, eyes wide. Stiles grins at him, his heart pounding when Derek smiles back.
"Cool!" he says and Derek nods shyly. The blush has spread down to his neck now and Stiles has to swallow his way past the sudden urge to bite.
"Cool," Derek echoes, pushing a curl behind his ear.
"Adorable," Stiles murmurs, and he laughs when Derek punches his shoulder. The librarian glares at them and tells them to shut up and Derek immediately apologizes, turning bright red.
Adorable indeed.

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