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***
Stiles rushed into his fourth year anthro credit and sat down just as the professor started the lecture. Now that he was in the class, he could finally take a breath and slow down. He pulled out his laptop and bemoaned the lack of space on the foldable desk. The professor insisted on mandatory attendance, but he read information straight out of the textbook. Stiles had already read and annotated this week's chapter, so he tuned out the professor’s droning in favour of sorting out the rest of his workload for the week.
He was still a bit on edge from the race across campus, so he jumped a bit when his phone vibrated in his pocket. He pulled it out subtly, not wanting to bring attention to himself. He bit back a groan when he saw the text.
Sweetie i sat next to the nicest man at starbucks today he was very handsome and he owns a winery i showed him your facebook picture and gave him your number
Stiles really wished that this text could be a surprise, but his grandma had been doing this since he was sixteen. At least back then she’d limited it to the granddaughters of her knitting circle. Ever since he’d explained to her that he was bi, she’d expanded her pool to random strangers.
Gram, we’ve talked about this. You can’t give my number out to strangers!
But he owns a winery!
Stiles dropped his head onto his desk and internally sighed. He couldn’t bring himself to try and scold his grandmother again so he decided to ignore it. The guy would probably brush off the whole exchange as a weird old lady pimping out a desperate relative. Maybe he’d tell the story to his friends then forget about it, no harm, no foul.
He went back to his laptop while the professor recited a passage almost word for word from chapter seven. He wasn’t surprised when his phone buzzed again, but he was confused when he didn’t recognize the number.
Hey. This is awkward, but an old lady gave me your number?
Stiles blinked down at his phone. No one his grandma had accosted had actually texted him before.
Well, that wasn’t quite true, but Stiles blocked that particular series of dick pics out of his memory.
Ahh yes, coffee shop guy with a winery, right?
Does this happen often enough that you need to clarify?
Unfortunately, yes. Sorry if she made you uncomfortable.
She was fine. She gave me a cookie too.
The logical thing to do was apologize and send the guy on his way. But this class really was mind-numbingly boring and Stiles wanted an excuse to procrastinate so badly, so instead, he asked, Which kind?
I don’t actually know, but it was flaky and it had raspberry filling? It was good.
Kolaczki! She must have really liked you, she doesn’t give those out to just anyone.
Does she just carry that tin around in her purse?
Yeah pretty much. Hands them out to anyone she talks to. That’s actually kind of weird isn’t it? Why would you text a crazy lady’s grandson?
It was a really good cookie.
Stiles snickered and the girl nearest him glared haughtily. Stiles smiled widely at her until she got uncomfortable enough to look away.
Fair enough.
Between that and the picture, it was too hard to resist.
Stiles narrowed his eyes. What was his profile picture anyway? He opened a new window on his laptop and navigated to his page. “Shit,” he muttered.
Gram, did you show that guy my picture from right now or an old one?
Her response came blessedly quickly.
The current one, dear. you look so cute!
Stiles’ current profile pic had seemed like a good idea at the time. He’d gone rollerskating for the first time with Scott, Allison and Lydia. By the end of the afternoon, they were drenched in sweat, overheated, and Stiles’ hair was sticking out of the helmet at odd angles. Naturally, Lydia decided that was the perfect time for a selfie.
Ahh yes, sweaty, red faced, and out of my comfort zone. What’s not to like? He sent to Derek, his face turning almost as red as the picture.
That’s not how I would have put it, but sure.
To each their own? What’s your name anyway? Gram didn’t say.
Derek. Can you tell me yours again? I couldn’t figure out how to spell it.
Wait. What do you think the first letter is?
P?
OH GOD! FORGET YOU EVER HEARD THAT!
Forget your name?
Forget THAT name. I go by Stiles, not that Polish monstrosity.
Well, that’s certainly easier to say.
The only people who can actually pronounce the other one properly are me and my grandma. It’s a family name and I hope it dies with me.
There was a longer pause after that and Stiles thought maybe Derek had gotten bored or decided Stiles was even weirder than his grandmother. When Derek finally texted back, it was with a picture message. Stiles hesitated for a minute because, if it was a repeat of the dick pic incident, he really didn’t want to open it in the middle of class. He furtively put it under his desk before he tapped it open and was relieved when no genitalia filled his screen.
Derek had sent him a picture of a cartoon tombstone with RIP Strange Polish Name written across it.
LMFAO I’m keeping that.
By all means.
So, Derek, what else did my gram tell you? Besides that which we shall never speak of again.
She said you're a student at U Davis. Wasn’t so clear on your major though.
Double major in Anthropology and Folklore.
Sounds interesting
And impractical.
Not my area of expertise, so I wouldn’t know.
So would wine be your area? All Gram told me is you own a winery.
I’m a part owner
Ooooh major difference.
You’d be surprised. I mostly focus on the grapes themselves. Not as glamorous as people imagine. They think about it differently when they find out most of my family is involved in running the place and I avoid fancy marketing parties.
Stiles had a sudden vivid memory of the city official cocktail parties he’d been forced to attend with his father. He could imagine it would be ten times worse if you threw in pretentious wine snobs.
What’s so glamorous about cocktail weenies and a crappy live band? I’d rather hang around the grapes too, I think.
That could be arranged
***
Stiles assumed that at some point Derek would lose interest in Stiles or prove to be a giant creep. He was genuinely surprised that neither of those things happened. Derek was smart and funny, with a dry humour that matched Stiles’ perfectly. He showed genuine interest in Stiles’ hobbies, classes, and friends, and he never got pissy if Stiles forgot to reply because he’d been distracted before he could hit send.
For Stiles, Derek was the perfect man. Which meant that surely there had to be something wrong. It was highly unlikely that Derek was a criminal mastermind, or a shapeshifting creature of the night, so Stiles started preparing himself to discover that he didn’t find Derek physically attractive. He figured a guy with this much personality couldn’t be blessed with good looks, too. His grandmother assured him that Derek was very handsome, but she thought Stiles was the cream of the crop so he wasn’t exactly trusting her judgement on this one.
He couldn’t confirm his theory though, because even after a solid month of texting, he still hadn’t met Derek.
First, Derek had been away at some sort of viticulture conference, then Stiles had been distracted by midterms. After that, Derek’s cousins were visiting from Italy and he’d been busy spending every evening with his whole family. By then, it was just about spring break and Stiles went home to visit his dad in Beacon Hills. As soon as he got back to campus, the weather forecast predicted some sort of mega storm, and Derek had to work longer hours preparing the vineyard so it wasn’t demolished in the high winds and heavy rain.
By the time their schedules were starting to clear Stiles was...scared. He was terrified he would meet Derek and the spark they had over text wouldn’t translate to real life. He didn’t want to face reality if it meant that he would no longer have Derek in his life.
Maybe if he’d seen what Derek looked like at the beginning of their interactions, he wouldn’t be so worried. Derek at least had the profile picture Stiles’ Gram had shown him, but Stiles didn’t even have that. Derek didn’t have a Facebook, and Stiles had felt too weird to ask for a picture. Like they were some sort of catfishing scam instead of two people getting to know each other. He also worried that Derek would think he was asking for pictures of a different kind, and that wasn’t what he wanted. Now, it was too late and they were stuck in this limbo. Stiles was invested, without any real claim on Derek.
He texted Derek first thing every morning, then fell asleep at night with his phone in his hand. If he met Derek and it didn’t work out there would be a giant Derek-sized hole in his life.
Derek obviously didn’t have the same concerns. Thursday night, he texted Stiles, Are you free sometime this weekend?
Not sure. Course work and stuff, you know?
Stiles cringed after he sent the text. There was only so long he could put Derek off before he got fed up.
Oh, yeah. School comes first.
Stiles felt guilty immediately for the lie.
Stiles, you know if you're not interested, you can just say so, right? I won’t be mad or anything.
No, I am!
Okay. I know we’ve both been really busy lately. I’m sorry I’ve had so much going on, but I’d really like to see you soon.
Panic and dread welled in Stiles’ stomach. This was it. Derek going to insist they meet or they’d stop texting. Words tumbled onto his phone screen and were sent before he could stop and filter them.
But what if it ruins everything?
What? Stiles, why would you think that?
Stiles dropped his phone onto his bed and buried his head under his pillow. He could hear the phone buzz with incoming texts, but he didn’t look at them. He didn’t know what to say.
His ringtone surprised him enough to emerge from his pillow. Derek had never actually called him before. He stared down at the phone and took a bracing breath. There was no going back anyway, might as well face the music.
“Hello?”
“Stiles?”
Stiles closed his eyes. He’d never heard Derek’s voice before, and it was nice. Mellow, but higher than he’d expected, for some reason. “Hi,” he said softly.
He heard Derek sigh over the line and he didn’t know if it was out of relief or frustration. “Did I do something wrong? I didn’t mean to pressure you into anything.”
“No, no, you’re fine. You’re great, actually, that’s the problem,” Stiles said, flopping onto his back. “It won’t make any sense.”
“Explain it to me.”
Stiles squeezed his eyes closed. What was he supposed to say?
“Please?”
Derek sounded so confused it made Stiles want to cry. “It’s stupid, I know it is, but I don’t want to finally meet you, and then find out we aren’t compatible. I didn’t want to stop talking to you , so I didn’t want to ruin it by meeting and then I fucked it up anyway.”
Derek listened patiently until Stiles finished. “Stiles, why wouldn’t we be compatible?”
“I don’t know! Physical attraction is weird and I don’t even know what you look like! It's all well and good to flirt over text, but what if we can’t find our rhythm in person?”
Derek snorted.
“That’s not funny, Derek. I wasn’t making a sex joke. But that too, okay?” Stiles said.
“Alright. One at a time. Let’s back up a bit. I don’t want to stop talking to you either, which is why I want to actually meet you. I can’t just go back to how it was before and pretend this conversation never happened. So, we move forward, okay?”
Stiles hummed noncommittally.
“What was first? Right, you’ve never seen me, but I’ve seen a picture of you. I could send a picture to your phone, but that doesn’t help much because I could just send something photoshopped or whatever.”
“That’s real reassuring, Derek,” Stile snarked.
“Hush. Oh! I know, go on your facebook.”
Stiles grabbed his tablet while he listened to Derek’s footsteps echo over the line.
“Search for Laura Hale. The one with the sun hat, that’s my sister. The fact that I refuse to get facebook doesn’t stop her from posting pictures of me.”
Stiles selected Laura and sent a friend request. It was instantly accepted, so he tapped on her profile. “How do I know which one is you?”
“Her cover photo right now is me, her and our other sister. Start there, I guess.”
“Shit,” Stiles whispered. Laura and her siblings were supermodel hot. At first glance, he’d thought the guy she was draped over was her boyfriend, because his mental image of Derek didn’t match that at all. He’d been setting himself up for a let down, not someone miles and miles out of his league. He tapped on Laura’s pictures and started scrolling through. Derek was in plenty of them, frequently glaring at the camera, at parties, on christmas morning, or out in their vineyard.
Derek’s scowl was hot enough but when he came across a picture of Derek smiling out in the sun, Stiles was completely fucked. “What the hell, Derek?”
“What? Are they that bad?”
“You’re fucking gorgeous, you asshole! Why are you wasting your time talking to me?” Stiles gripped his phone tightly.
Derek laughed. “I like talking to you.”
“Jesus, is your memory faulty? Did you even look at that picture my Gram had?”
“I remember it just fine. I can see your profile too, Stiles, I’m not surprised but I am pleased,” Derek said. “But I already knew you were beautiful.”
Stiles gulped. “Derek,” he croaked.
“Well, then that’s settled. Physical appearance is fine. Then what was it? Talking right? Our rhythm?” Derek teased.
“Flow of conversation,” Stiles grumbled.
“We’re talking fine now aren’t we?” Derek asked. “Is this flowing enough for you? Do I need to step up my conversation game?”
Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. It did feel just like when they texted, only he could hear Derek’s teasing tone instead of inferring it himself.
“So, that leaves the Other kind of rhythm.” Derek stopped teasing when he said, “I’m not worried about that, because I already want you any way I can have you.”
“Derek.” Heat coiled in Stiles stomach, edging out the anxiety.
“Fuck, Stiles, every night we talk, all I can think of is how good it would be to have you next to me.” Stiles shivered at the husky desire in Derek’s voice. “Do you have any idea what I would do to you if you were with me right now?”
“Tell me?” Stiles whispered. This was quickly moving into dangerous territory, but somehow it felt long overdue. He waited for the panic to raise at the thought of continuing down this line of conversation, but he found only anticipation.
“I would hold onto you so tight. I’d drink in the feel of you, and when I had my fill of that, I’d kiss every inch of you. What do you think you taste like, Stiles?”
Stiles let his tablet fall from his hand onto the bed. His pajama bottoms were already going tight so he started pushing them off his hips. “Then what? What would you do to me?”
“Every inch, Stiles, I mean it. If you were here, I’d use my mouth on your cock,” Derek said, and Stiles moaned. “Would you like that, Stiles? Would you let me suck you off? I love giving head, and I bet you’d feel so fucking good.”
Stiles put two fingers in his mouth and sucked hard before reaching down to start stroking himself. He imagined how Derek’s mouth would feel, slick and warm around him. “So good,” he echoed.
“Should I make you come like that? Do you think you would come from just my mouth around you or would you want more?” Stiles could hear the hitch in Derek’s voice and wondered if he was touching himself yet, if his rhythm was faster or slower than Stiles’.
Stiles didn’t think he said anything coherent, but Derek choose to interpret his low “mmmm” as “More.”
“I could give you that, if you were here. I could finger you, work you open, make you light up inside, til you came down my throat.”
Stiles turned to rest his phone on his shoulder so he could reached down and brush a finger to his entrance. The brief contact and Derek’s smooth voice combined to drive him crazy, and he came over his hand, with a gasp and a whimper.
“Jesus Christ, did you just come?” Derek panted.
“Mmhmm,” Stiles said, glowing his euphoria and contentment.
“Fuck, I bet you look so beautiful right now.”
Stiles bit his lip, considering. “If you were here, do you think you’d add to the mess I made? I bet you’d cover me in your come, wouldn’t you?”
He revelled in the guttural moan that punched out of Derek and listened to him through his own release.
They stayed on the line, just breathing together, basking in the afterglow.
When Stiles skin was starting to chill, Derek whispered, “God, I want to hold you right now.”
“Me too,” Stiles said softly.
“Do you really have course work this weekend?” Derek said carefully.
“Yes, but not that much,” Stiles admitted. “Do you still want to--”
“God, yes”
“You didn’t even hear what I was gonna say,” Stiles chided, playfully.
“Anything, everything, yes, as long as I can see you.”
“Saturday? Dinner or something?”
“Okay,” Derek agreed immediately.
“Okay,” Stiles echoed. And it was. His dread and worry had disappeared, and left quiet anticipation in it’s wake.
***
Stiles stood outside the restaurant, chewing his thumb nail. It was one thing to say he’d meet someone when he was blissed out from orgasm and lulled into a false sense of security. Here in the light of day, it was a different story and he was growing more nervous with every minute that ticked by.
He was highly considering bolting when Derek came up behind him.
Stiles spun around at the tap on his shoulder and was met by Derek’s cocky grin. His eyes were sparkling, his hair was artfully tousled and his Henley stretched across his shoulders deliciously. Most importantly, he was right there.
Stiles grabbed on and latched their mouths together without a second thought. Derek responded immediately, wrapping his arms around Stiles waist and pulling them closer.
Stiles ran out of breath and pulled away gasping.
“Hi,” Derek said.
“Hi.” Stiles smiled sheepishly.
“That was way better than a cookie,” Derek said.
Stiles laughed while Derek pulled him into the restaurant.
The next day Stiles told his Grandmother to stop giving his number to strangers, because she’d snagged him the perfect guy.