allboxedup | New York State of Mind

New York State of Mind

The thing about New York that was probably the most annoying was the price of apartments. While the Hale's had money after the fire, most of it was sunk into education and Laura's restaurant. So, they all lived together in a big multi-unit. It was nice for the wolves in them but not so much for being siblings.

"Come on, Derek, please." Cora sounded really pathetic through the phone. "I've got to go to this class and I'm going to be late if I stop and if I don't go someone's going to steal all my clothes."

Derek wished his sister could see his glare through the phone but sadly they weren't video chatting at the moment. "Why don't you ask Jackson?"

"He's actually in class right now. Don't you know his schedule? Come on, you're going right by the laundromat. Pleeeeease."

"Fine, fine, which drier?" He asked with a heavy sigh.

This was typical of his sister. She couldn't schedule her way out of a paper bag. It was a wonder she actually could make it to class on time at all or remember when she had to beat what time. He shouldn't be the one she took advantage of just because he was done with classes for the day. He still had work to do.

Yet, here he was with a bag borrowed from the laundromat, emptying a drier of his sister's clothes. This was his life.

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After re-reading the same sentence around five or six times (and just staring at the words without actually reading them for a touch longer) Stiles chanced another glance at tall, dark, and brooding. Only to find him unloading a machine that-- yeah. That was women's underwear. Of course it was. Because there was no universe in which a guy like that was that perfect and also still single. Geeze.

She scribbled down some code, that didn't really match anything else she'd been working on, in an attempt to make it seem like she was doing some work and not being an unsubtle weirdo. She couldn't begin to imagine how many people just eyed him up like this but, damn. Those pants. She was only human.

Cora totally owed him. He was handling his sister's underwear which was just too much. She was going to take a shift for him for this. At least he didn't have to change the load and wait.

He shoved the last of it into the bag and swung it over his shoulder. Laundry task done he grabbed his stuff, took a look at the cute girl who was completely engrossed in her studying and then headed for the door.

Stiles assumed it was safe to get up and remove her own laundry, as soon as the guy made his way for the door. She picked up her basket, walking over to the machine-- which was already empty. Stiles could have sworn that that was the machine she'd used. The one next to it was also done, and she opened it to find...

Not her laundry. Oh. Oh god. Had the guy--

She pulled everything out as quick as she could, shoving it into the basket, before making a hasty move for her bag and textbooks. She gathered everything up and booked it out the door, looking frantically for the guy. She spotted him in the distance and started jogging for him.

"HEY. Uhhh. HEY. Excuse me. Stop, stop. Wait."

This was New York. Someone was always yelling about something. Derek kept his head down and ignored the shouting for someone to stop.

Except it sounded really frantic and Derek couldn't really ignore that. It went against his nature. Kate had killed it for awhile but therapy and Laura's careful guidance had helped.

He stopped and looked over his shoulder to make sure that maybe it was someone else telling someone else to stop. It was the cute girl from the laundromat, though, and she was running straight for him.

"What?" he asked, scowling slightly.

Oh god, Stiles really, really needed to start running again. She was out of breath by the time she reached the guy, her bag hanging off one shoulder and her laundry basket felt like a lead weight. "You-- you took my laundry. That's my stuff."

And she really couldn't help the flush creeping into her cheeks, all the way to the tips of her ears, because right on the top of the pile was her bra. The only nice one she owned, with lace-y bits, but-- there it was. "And I'm pretty sure this is uh. Well. Yours. Or not yours yours. Your... girlfriend's?"

He was a little worried the girl was going to pass out before she reached him. He reached out and steadied her when she doubled over just for a moment.

"What?" he said, a little confused by her words for a moment. He got the wrong clothes? Derek looked at the clothes she was carrying and then the bag. He took a subtle, small sniff to check and yeah, there was no lingering scent of Cora on the clothes he had. Shit. He was really distracted to miss that.

"Oh. Sorry, no, those are my sister's. She must have told me the wrong dryer," he said as he held out the bag of clothes he had.

Stiles really, really did not need any more fuel for her rampant imagination, but the steadying hand on her arm was definitely going to do that. Add fuel. A lot of it. His hands were soft and warm, but strong and fuck her life.

She adjusted the basket against her hip, as she took the bag from him, laughing a little breathlessly. "I really wasn't expecting to do any cardio today," she said, setting the bag down by her feet, and handing over the basket. "Any chance I could get that back when you're all done?"

"I can have my sister bring it back. She's here every Friday," he said as he adjusted the basket on his hip. "Is that okay or will you need it sooner?"

He would make sure Cora brought it back and faced her mistake. She almost got the wrong clothes because she couldn't remember which dryer was hers.

"And I'll need your name." Cora needs to know who she had almost wronged.

"Friday is good," she said. She could always use the bag that her clothes were currently in to bring a load down next week. Not that it was a huge deal either way, but. Damn. She was hoping that asking for the basket back might have given her an opening to see him again.

No such luck.

She offered her hand to him, so they could shake, flashing the guy a grin. "I'm Stiles."

"Derek." He shook her hand, flashing a brief, short smile. "I, uh, I'm thinking I should get your number so if you can't make it or Cora forgets we can let you know."

It's a reasonable excuse. Derek is not being a creepy asking for her number even though they've just met.

She's cute. He can take a chance on that. Maybe it would get Cora and Laura off his back about socializing.

"Yeah, sure, uh-- let me just..." She shrugged her bag off her shoulder, wincing as her textbook fell out from where it was sticking out of the zipper. That's what she got for not closing her bag properly before running out after Derek.

She crouched down, picking the bag up, before taking her phone out and holding it out for Derek. "Here. Put your number in there, and I'll text you so you've got mine."

Derek almost caught the book before he remembered human reflexes and it wouldn't be possible for him to catch it. He kept his hands to himself then until she offered him her phone.

"Sure." He programed in his number under Derek from the Laundromat. That way she wouldn't forget where they met and who the heck he was.

Stiles stuffed the textbook back into her bag, zipping it shut properly this time -- she really did not need to drop everything on her way home again. Yes, again.

She opened up a new message when Derek handed her phone back, and sent him a smiley face. That was cute, right? Cute and uh. Not forward or anything. It was just a normal, smiley. "Aaaaand... there you go. Now you've got my number too."

"Stiles, right?" Derek typed the name into his phone and tucked that back in his pocket.

Okay, now he had a girl's number, Cora's laundry and neither of his sisters could claim he was studying too hard or working too much.

He had met someone. That counted.

"Well remembered," Stiles said, her lips quirking into a grin. What could she say? Ridiculously attractive or not, she couldn't help but tease him regardless. "Derek."

And hey. When she got back to her dorm and Skyped Scott, she could tell him that she'd got a guy's number and it wasn't a fake. Which, y'know. Was a step up. A definite step up. Sure, it was because of her laundry basket, but she was putting it firmly in the 'win' column.

"Well, have a nice rest of your day," he said with a bit more awkwardness in his voice. This was the part he didn't really know what to do with.

He shouldered his bag, made sure the laundry basket was safe against his hip and headed towards home.

If Stiles lingered a little longer to watch him leave, well-- she was only human. And that was one very, very fine ass.

She picked up the bag with her laundry in and started off in the opposite direction. She pulled her phone back out of her pocket, and sent him a quick message, a grin playing on her lips.

'don't study too hard, laundry thief ;)'

It was two days later when he was studying and not paying attention to his phone that Cora snagged it off the table and strolled away without him noticing.

She dropped on to the couch and typed out a quick text message to the girl he met and had totally not contacted again. As if Cora was going to let him get away with that.

u free Fri night?

When Stiles picked up her phone, she was expecting a message from any number of people. Scott, Allison, Kira. Her Dad. The one person she hadn't been expecting to hear from was Derek. From the laundromat. At least, not since getting her laundry basket back -- which had been done via his sister, like he'd said.

She didn't reply straight away, not sure how to or what that even meant. It was so out of the blue that-- well. What was she supposed to think? Should she even think anything? The answer to that one was probably no. She'd be stupid, however, no to answer. Even if he was asking for some mundane reason and not anything she should get her hopes up over.

don't have plans. why?

Cora was so frustrated at how long the girl took to respond. Maybe Derek hadn't done a good job of charming her which was totally like her brother. He failed so often to notice when girls were interested.

The text made her jump but she was quick to reply.

u wanna have dinner?

Stiles had to look twice at the message, because-- well. That was an unexpected turn of events. Dinner? Yeah, that was something that she could read in to, probably. Unless he wanted to be friends and wouldn't that be just her luck. Not that she'd say no to more friends, she didn't really know many people around New York, except for the other people in her classes, so having someone to hang out with from time-to-time would be nice.

sure! where were you thinking?

Cora did a quick fist pump of victory before she answered.

The Den. 7.

She gave the girl the address and the table Derek always sat at on Friday nights while he studied after his late class. It would be the perfect opportunity for a surprise date.

Derek would totally thank her.

To say that Stiles was nervous when Friday came around was an understatement. She hadn't dressed up, not really, but she'd spent a ridiculous amount of time in front of the mirror making sure she looked "casually chic" as Lydia like to call it. Lydia, who Stiles had called for advice as she was getting ready.

Derek hadn't messaged her again after giving her the address and the table he'd be at, but-- well. They were both busy during the week and they didn't really know each other well enough for random, casual, ridiculous texts.

She walked into The Den, and spotted Derek across the room -- exactly where he said he'd be -- with his nose in a book. She crossed the room and took the seat opposite him, flashing him a grin. "I'm not late, am I?"

He started studying in The Den on Fridays as a way to be social and not be social. When he had his nose in a book no one but family bothered him.

He was really surprised when Stiles sat down across from him. They hadn't spoken since he arraigned for her laundry basket to be returned to her.

"I'm sorry?" he asked, confused by her wording. "Late for what?"

Stiles' brow furrowed at Derek's expression and... well. That didn't bode well. There wasn't any way she could have misinterpreted his messages, right? Because they'd been pretty explicit. Down to the table that he'd be at.

Maybe she shouldn't take her coat off just yet. "Dinner. You said to meet you here for 7."

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