Insufferable Teacher's Pet

Chapter 4

Stiles peered his eyes open to see bright light streaming through the dark blue curtains, then promptly whined and shut them again, rolling over and pulling the blanket over his head. Wait, this wasn't his bed. This wasn't even a bed. It was a couch. And this blanket wasn't his blanket. He sat up quickly, then immediately regretted it. His head was swimming, eyes blurring out. The waves of dizziness and nausea almost entirely overtook him, but he held back. The sheer shock of being in a strange living room on a nice leather couch kept his mind pre-occupied. Where the hell was he?

The place was decorated minimally; the furniture was quite nice, but there weren't any paintings or photos anywhere. There were shelves with a lot of books, and a pretty big flat screen. What happened last night? And that's when he saw it: a picture frame on one of the bookshelves. A young boy, two girls, and several adults posing in front of a house. One woman had her arms wrapped around the boy and his grin was bright and happy. They all looked happy. He recognized everyone in that photo from the obituaries he read of the Hale family, and the house was the one that burnt down 11 years ago. Holy shit, he was at Derek's house.

Had they slept together?! Did he actually have sex for the first time with a guy and not fucking remember it?! But then why was he on the couch? And where was Derek? So many questions, so much confusion, so much anxiety.

"Hey," said a familiar voice to his left. Stiles jumped, head swiveling to see his professor walking out of the kitchen with two mugs in his hands. Stiles sat upright and planted his feet on the ground, expecting Derek to sit beside him, but instead the professor just handed him a mug and sat in the recliner beside the couch.

Stiles looked down at the mug, the smell of fresh coffee wafting through the air. He took a sip, and it was surprisingly sweet. He figured his professor would take his coffee black and super bitter. Just seemed like that kinda guy. The nausea was still there, as well as the pounding headache, but the coffee helped a little. "Thanks," he said in a small voice.

"I don't know how you take your coffee, hope it's okay."

"Yeah, yeah it's good. It's great," Stiles replied nervously before taking another sip.

"Good." Derek sipped his own coffee quietly, looking away. It was so weird seeing him like this: his jet black hair wasn't combed down all professionally but instead a little messy, like he'd slept on it (which he probably had). He had sweatpants and a black T-shirt on, just looking completely...normal. When Stiles was a kid, he wondered if teachers just slept in their teaching clothes, which was ridiculous. He'd grown out of that idea obviously, but he'd also just never really seen a teacher outside of school. Aside from Derek, that is. So yeah...it was weird.

Stiles had no idea what to say. He needed to know if they'd slept together, because the last thing he remembered was kissing Derek at the bar. But how do you ask that? "Um, so..." Stiles began, trying to find the right words. "Did, uh, did we...um...I don't uh...I don't remember what happened last night..." he admitted, shrinking his shoulders as he stared into the mug.

"What's the last thing you do remember?" Derek asked.

Stiles could feel Derek's eyes on him, and for once he wished the guy wouldn't look at him. "Uh...the bathroom. When we uh, when we...Y'know..."

"Right, I got it." Thank god Stiles didn't have to say anything else. "Well, you were really drunk. I stopped it, and I was gonna leave, but you followed me to my car and climbed into the backseat. Instead of fighting you, I just drove back here and let you sleep on the couch."

Stiles breathed a sigh of relief. The idea of getting to have sex with Derek and then not even having any memory of it...that was too painful to bear. "Oh okay, that's good."