That Escalated Quickly

Chapter 6

Miracle of miracles, Stiles gets through the presentation with only one comment from his boss about his attire. Most everyone graciously ignores the very obvious stain, which he's grateful for. He tried not to look at Derek during the meeting, but he couldn't help but have his gaze pass over him a few times. He likes to think Derek looked impressed, but really who knows?

With his part of the presentation over, he slips out of the conference room while the others continue to discuss agenda items he's not needed for and heads to the bathroom. He whips off his shirt to get it wet but thinks it's probably a fruitless endeavor. He might just have to call it a loss and throw the shirt away.

The shirt is probably worse than it was before, so he gives up on it and hangs it over the counter. He thinks he might have better luck with the gum on his pants, so he slips out of his shoes and tugs his pants down.

The thought occurs to him that maybe he shouldn't be standing out in the open in the office restroom in nothing but his boxer briefs, but decides that this particular bathroom is seldom used, so he's probably safe for at least the next fifteen, twenty minutes.

He runs cold water over the gum on the back of his pants and starts to scrape at it with a nail when he freezes at the sound of the bathroom door opening. Stiles is about to tell the dude to buzz off and use the other restroom, but he turns to find Derek.

"Here to ruin something else of mine?" Stiles says bitterly. He can't help it; he's angry and he's tired of this guy showing up to make things worse.

Derek steps more fully into the bathroom and lets it fall shut behind him. "I..." Derek starts, and Stiles can practically feel Derek's gaze travel all the way up and down his body. Stiles flushes and wishes he had locked the door before stripping down to his underwear. He desperately wants to cover himself up in embarrassment except for the fact that after Derek's eyes return to his face, there's a look of... something, want maybe, in them? But that's ridiculous.

"Look, dude, I'm sorry for pulling those... pranks on you," Stiles starts because maybe that's what Derek's waiting for, an apology. If it's not, he's not quite sure why Derek hasn't already fled to leave Stiles partially naked in the bathroom.

The other man nods, seriously, and locks the main door to the bathroom. Shit. Derek is probably going to kill him. Why else would he try to ensure no one else would come in? Stiles is so dead.

"I said I was sorry. I can pay to have your suit fixed, probably. I mean... you just have to give me an estimate and I can try--" Stiles starts, but cuts himself off when Derek takes a few steps closer, his features firm.

"Are you apologizing because you now know who I am or because you are actually sorry?" Derek asks. His eyes are narrowed, and he's staring Stiles down like he can force Stiles to be honest in his answer. Which, hey, it's working.

"Uh... both?" Stiles replies, voice hesitant and a little higher in register than normal because Derek has stepped closer so now they are only a few feet apart.

Derek seems to consider this and his face relaxes a little like he's been given an acceptable answer. "I'm sorry, too. For what I did." Derek gestures to the wet pants Stiles still has in his hand and to his destroyed shirt laying on the counter.

"Are you saying that because you know who I am or because you mean it?" Stiles snarks back because he can't help it, and he's kind of a little bit of an asshole himself. It takes one to know one.

Derek smirks. "Both," he replies, slowly closing the distance between them, so much so that Stiles is unconsciously backing himself up against the counter, can feel the edge digging into his back. "I'll buy you a new shirt and pants to replace the ones I ruined."