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Stiles rarely saw his college roommate. Not that he minded, really, because what little he saw of them, they seemed to be a fucking grump. Or, at least, not a morning person. Stiles wasn’t one, either, so he didn’t think that warranted a patented ‘Derek Hale glare’ that he got when on his way to his eight am Sociology course. He wasn’t a freshman, nor even a sophomore, but being around Derek made him feel like he was. Stiles was knee deep in research and papers, and didn’t think he had the same heir of recklessness that he knew he possessed freshman year by getting completely smashed at every party he attended. No, now he sipped whiskey, neat, while he researched, or went to beer tastings with his best friend. He no longer drank PBR or Nattie Lights.
No, Stiles didn’t think it was fair to be treated like a child in the eyes of his curmudgeonly roommate. But, again, Stiles rarely saw hide nor hair of him, so it wasn’t out of place that Stiles hadn’t seen him in almost a week. They both spent most of their time in their respective rooms, holed up studying. Stiles even ate in there, rarely using their shared living room, the TV with a layer of dust on it.
So when Stiles walked into his apartment after a long day full of four back to back classes, the last thing he expected to find was a giant dog in his living room.
“Uh, hey boy,” Stiles said, looking around the apartment for Derek. “Are you new?” He asked. The dog cocked it’s head to the side as if it understood him. Stiles put his messenger bag down, then squatted, reaching a hand out for the dog to sniff him. It didn’t move. Stiles dropped his hand, then sighed. “Did Derek seriously get a dog without asking me first?”
Stiles groaned as he walked into the kitchen, searching through the fridge for something to eat. He found nothing he found edible, then grabbed a bag of chips from the cupboard above the stove: Derek’s cupboard.
The dog growled as Stiles undid the clasp that kept the chips fresh.
“What? He won’t know,” Stiles said. “Have you been out?” Stiles looked around for a leash, but couldn’t find one. He frowned, then looked at the dog, which had to be a Tamaskan because of how similar it looked to a wolf, and found that it didn’t have a collar on.
“How am I supposed to walk you if you don’t have a leash?” Stiles asked as if the dog could answer him. Stiles watched as he walked towards the door, then sat down in front of it. “You need a leash-- don’t look at me like that.”
Stiles ended up walking around the apartment complex with the dog. He was well trained, Stiles gave him that much credit. He didn’t try to run away, and didn’t stray far from Stiles’ side. He did not go to the bathroom, though, to Stiles’ dismay.
“I have to study,” Stiles informed him as they made their way back towards the apartment. When they returned, Stiles went into his room, but left the door open. The dog didn’t come in with him, which suited him because Stiles was pretty sure if he joined him, he wouldn’t have gotten much studying done.
Before Stiles went to bed he popped his head out of his room, looking for the dog who was no where that Stiles could see. A light was on in Derek’s room, which Stiles could see from the crack beneath his door. Stiles narrowed his eyes, went back into his room, grabbed a post-it note, and wrote on it ‘I’m not taking care of your dog.’ then stuck it to Derek’s door in a passive aggressive manner.
Derek may never leave a mess, but Stiles wasn’t going to take care of Derek’s animal, especially since he hadn’t even asked if Stiles would mind if he had them or not.
The next morning, Stiles’ post-it was on top of the trash, crumpled up. At least Derek saw it.
When Stiles returned from class with a coffee to keep him energized through an evening of reading, he saw that the dog was back. This time, he was curled up on the couch like he owned the place.
“Are you even allowed on the furniture?” Stiles asked as he deposited his things on the rarely used kitchen table. “I haven’t seen any dog hair on it so I don’t think you are,” Stiles surmised, talking to himself as he checked Derek’s room. The door was ajar so he peaked into it: empty. “Where the fuck is your owner?”
Stiles checked the entire kitchen, but saw no sign of dog food, or a bowl for water. Stiles groaned, banging his head against the cupboard. He had so much work to do, he didn’t have time to deal with this. He looked at the dog, who hadn’t moved. He got down a bowl, filled it with water, then set it down.
“Want some water?” Stiles called out. He waited for the dog to come into the kitchen, then watched as he drank the entire thing. “See, you were thirsty. If he’s going to leave you out, the least he could do is put water and food out for you.”
Instead of going into his room to work, Stiles set up his study area on the kitchen table, so that when Derek got home he could confront him about everything. The dog curled up by Stiles’ feet, and every so often Stiles paused in reading in order to pet him behind the ears. Eventually Stiles moved to the couch, where they shared it until Stiles fell asleep. He woke up when Derek turned on a light, some time after the sun set.
“Hey,” Stiles said, his eyes squinting from the sudden appearance of light.
“Hey,” Derek said, his brow drawn down, his face set in a frown.
“We need to talk,” Stiles said as he sat up and looked around. “About your dog.”
“About my dog?” Derek asked, lifting an eyebrow.
“Yeah, you’re leaving him alone too long, and I couldn’t find the dog food, or a leash.”
“He doesn’t need a leash,” Derek grumbled. “And food... is in my room. I feed him at night.”
“Oh,” Stiles said as he stretched. “Where is he now?” Stiles asked. He didn’t have it in him to fight about how he didn’t want the dog, because that wasn’t true.
“Asleep,” Derek mumbled as he walked towards his room, shutting the door behind him. It had been the longest conversation they’d had since Stiles moved in.
Stiles collapsed in bed the next day. He had research to do, almost two thousand words to write, and reading that would take him at least an hour and a half. He was exhausted, and the last thing he needed was a Derek confrontation. Instead what he got was Derek’s dog, who he called ‘Hale’. Hale jumped up onto the bed, laying down against Stiles, huffing out a sigh that made Stiles smile.
“Hey, boy,” Stiles said. “Rough day?” He asked. Hale’s tail thwaped against the bed happily as Stiles ran his fingers through his fur. “Life must be hard for you, as a dog,” Stiles sighed. He napped. When he woke up he found Hale gone into Derek’s room, where the door was shut with the light on. In the kitchen, Stiles found a bowl of goulash with a post-it note that read: for Stiles.
Stiles grinned at the gesture. He and Derek never shared food, ever, and Stiles didn’t have any groceries. It was the best goulash Stiles had ever had, better than his dad’s. But then again, his dad’s was nothing compared to how his mom used to make it, no one could compare to hers, not even Derek.
They started a routine, he and Hale. Stiles would get home from class, go for a run with Hale, then work in his room, or on the couch. If the couch, then Stiles usually fell asleep eventually. If his room, Hale usually stayed with him for awhile before wandering off. Most of the time, he curled up on Stiles’ bed, burying his face in Stiles’ pillow. Stiles didn’t mind, not really, that he got to spend so much time with Hale. It was nice to have the company.
On Friday, Stiles refused to do any work at all. He lounged on the couch with a beer and Hale while he flipped channels. Derek was no where to be seen, and Stiles’ only complaint was that Derek was probably getting some while he wasn’t.
“Derek could get it,” Stiles said after his third beer. Hale’s ears twitched as he looked at Stiles from his spot next to him on the couch. Stiles scratched along Hale’s back. “Don’t look at me like that, you know you’re owner has a nice ass. Dog’s sniff asses, they know.”
Hale shook his head, probably an ear itch, as Stiles took another swig of his beer.
“I haven’t gotten any since... since, well,” Stiles grumbled. “Whatever. It’s probably good that Derek’s out, you know? I hope he’s getting some.” Stiles was silent after that, because he found a movie on FX.
On Saturday, Stiles slept in. He loved Saturdays because he didn’t need to set an alarm. He allowed himself that luxury, and refused to feel bad when he stumbled out of his room at half past noon to find Derek in the kitchen, making eggs in only a pair of boxers with his hair rumpled from sleep. It was a nice image.
“Do you want eggs?” Derek asked. Stiles blinked, trying to register that Derek was talking to him.
“What?” He asked, looking at Derek’s abs as he turned towards Stiles. Derek’s eyebrows rose as he held the spatula in his hand. Stiles couldn’t stop staring at his crotch.
“Eggs, do you want some?”
“Yep,” Stiles said, popping the ‘p’. “Definitely.” Stiles swore that Derek smirked as he turned his attention back towards the eggs. “Where’s Hale?” Stiles asked.
“Who?” Derek asked.
“Your dog, who you didn’t tell me the name of, so I named him.”
“Oh, he’s around,” Derek said noncommittally. Derek set down a plate of eggs, with bacon, in front of Stiles, then sat down next to him instead of across, their arms touching as they ate. Stiles didn’t want to think it was on purpose, but by the look on Derek’s face, it was definitely on purpose.
“So, I hear you like my ass.”
Stiles spit eggs everywhere. The entire thing was really attractive, surely. Derek laughed,he honest to god guffawed, humming to himself. Completely amused, Derek chewed on a piece of bacon as Stiles stared at him, slack jawed.
“How-- what? I didn’t--”
“You didn’t mean it?” Derek asked, tilting his chair back so it balanced on two legs, exposing his bare torso.
“Maybe, why? You need an ego boost? Jesus, now I know what you do all the time when you’re out: work out. I’m surprised our kitchen isn’t full of whey protein powder and shit,” Stiles rambled.
“No, no ego boost. How are the eggs?” Derek asked.
“Amazing,” Stiles said, ripping a piece of his bacon off with his teeth as he narrowed his eyes. “Thanks for the eggs.”
“No problem,” Derek said. “I was thinking about taking you out later.”
“Oh yeah?” Stiles asked, grinning. “What makes you think I’d say yes?”
“I have my secrets.”