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The Trash Monster

Summary:

Stiles doesn't get it. Most of the time he's a well adapted adult. So why is it that his neighbor The Most Beautiful Man In The World always catches him in the most awkward situations? Why does he always have to look like a Trash Monster in front of the most perfect human being on this earth? Sometimes he looks nice you know? Sometimes he's completely sane and normal, sometimes he's even attractive. But it's not like The Most Beautiful Man In The World will ever find that out.

Notes:

This is my first fanfiction ever and the first thing I have written in english in years. There will be grammar mistakes and stuff like that, for that I am sorry. (Man I wished this was my first language sometimes.)

Based on a tumblr post that you can find here :http://deadcatwithaflamethrower.tumblr.com/post/144983371839/the-most-beautiful-man-in-the-world-who-lives-in

Work Text:

It was that time of the month. Before you jump to any conclusion, it was not about the monthly period. Actually, scratch that. It was laundry day. Of course it would include blood and pain. And possible embarrassment. 

Stiles looked down at the hoodie in his hands. His favorite, all covered in blood. The clothes he was wearing was not that much better. It was time to do laundry and for Stiles that meant that he had waited to the last possible minute. So he was left with old sweats that looked like he had picked them up from a dump and that smelled like he had dig through some serious trash. He was freeballing because the chose had been between that and wearing that thong in the very back of his underwear drawer. To top it off he was wearing a very colorful unicorn t-shirt that said “totally straight”. Honestly though, Stiles kinda liked that one.  

He had a plan not to be seen though. If you did your laundry in the middle of the night when you lived in an apartment building with basically just old people and families the chances was not that big that any of the neighbors felt the need to do their laundry at the same time as yourself.

That said, Stiles plans didn’t always work perfectly.

Stiles was just about to empty his last machine when the door to the laundry room swung open and HE was standing there. The Most Beautiful Man In the World. Stiles froze in the spot while holding his Spiderman boxers for the world to behold. The Most Beautiful Man In the World, also known as his neighbor Derek Hale, stared at him. It was dead quiet except for the dryer doing its thing in the background.

“I don’t usually look like this. You know that I don’t.” Stiles said and gestured toward his outfit. “Or I do but only when I do laundry. This is my last resort clothes you know. I don’t actually wear…” Stiles felt his face heat up.

Dereks mouth just twitched like he was about to smile before he turned around and left without even making a laundry room appointment.

Stiles laid his face down on the washing machine and whined.

“Whyyyy…”

 

*

 

The Most Beautiful Man In the World always seemed to catch Stiles in the most horrible, awkward situations. It was like their first meeting set the tone for every other interaction between them.

 

*

 

Stiles were running and he was running late. He was originally on time, he was even a bit early. Then, halfway to his meeting, Stiles felt his pocket and realized he had forgotten the USB which held his presentation. So he ran. All the way back home. Because of course he had left his wallet right next to the USB in the hallway so he didn’t have any money for a taxi. He was wearing a gray button down, a black vest and beige chinos and they were showing every drop of sweat that was forming on his body. His hair that was gelled and styled to perfection when he left the apartment laid flat against head and he was out of breath.

Just as Stiles entered his apartment building he saw the elevator closing.

“Hold the elevator! For the love if god, hold that elevator!” It was like a miracle when the doors opened again and Stiles almost fell in to the elevator.

Stiles desperately tried to catch his breath slightly bent over with his hands on his knees. It may have sounded like he was dying. Damn, he really needed to work on his cardio.

When he looked up he saw him for the first time. The Most Beautiful Man In the world. Black, thick hair. Gorgeous greenish hazel eyes framed by deliciously “almost too much” eyebrows. A well groomed stubble that fit right into Stiles every sexual fantasy ever including beard burns. But that was not all. Of course it wasn’t. The Most Beautiful Man In The World had a absolutely banging body. Stiles wished he got to bang that. But he knew his limitations. Broad shoulders, chest and biceps on display in a tight white t-shirt and jeans that showed off the result of actually doing your squats.

Their eyes met and Stiles opened his mouth but for maybe the first time in his life nothing came out. He ended up looking like a dying goldfish on land, gasping for air.

The Most Beautiful Man In the World just looked at Stiles and raised one perfectly wild eyebrow.

“I forgot my thingy…” The Most Beautiful Man In the World raised his other eyebrow.

“For work.” Stiles added like that would magically explain everything.

“Right.” The Most Beautiful Man said.

“Right.” Stiles repeated.

He forced himself to control his breathing and stood up straight. “So… I haven’t seen you. Here. Before. And like not just in this elevator but you know. In general.” Stiles wanted to hit himself in the face.

“I moved here last week.”

“Oh. Okay. Did the landlord tell you about the crazy sensitive fire alarm? And the extremely cold warm water? You have to like really plan your showertime man, I’m telling you. Once I had to shower and shave my entire body in ball freezing water because I didn’t have time to wait for it to turn hot. Nightmare dude.”

The Most Beautiful Man blinked and looked like he had just been run over by a truck.

“I mean of course I don’t know if you shave or not.” Stiles continued and just wished he could put himself on mute. “I guess you have to shave your face but the rest is anyone’s guess really.” Stiles blushed and fiddled with his hands.

“And never take the left elevator because it gets stuck sometimes. And we get cheap beer at the bar next door if you complain about any sound disturbance. Not that I actually hear anything because I live so high up in the building but they don’t know that.” 

Stiles took a deep breath. “I’m Stiles.”

The Most Beautiful Man smiled. He had dimples. DIMPLES. He reached his hand towards Stiles.

“Derek.”

Derek left the elevator one floor below Stiles and smiled as he said goodbye. Stiles barely resisted the temptation to smash his head against the elevator mirror when he saw how he looked like. Flushed, sweaty and awkward. Like a trash monster.

 

*

 

The next time Stiles met Derek it wasn’t much better. He was carrying a pizza box in one hand and a bag filled with ice-cream and chips. It had been a hard week and Stiles really needed some comfort food. He looked fine, he wasn’t sweating and he wasn’t wearing a unicorn t-shirt. But of course he was sporting a big, fat, juicy and red pimple on his nose. He would be home soon though in the safety of his own home. That was when Derek showed up.

“Hi Stiles!” Derek looked down on the pile of junk food Stiles was holding. Stiles was kinda shocked Derek remembered his name. “You having a party?”

“Yeah!”

“Oh can I-“

“With myself!” Stiles interrupted before he realized what he was doing. He put his hands in front of his mouth like it would keep him from being quiet. It didn’t.

“I mean I might not eat ALL of this alone. Because it’s a lot of food. And no functioning adult would eat all of this. But… It’s been a long week and-“

“I’m not judging Stiles.”

“Liar!” Stiles yelled after Derek when he left the apartment building, probably on his way to the gym. Derek just laughed and waved. Stiles sighed dreamingly. That ass really was something else.

 

*

You would think Stiles could catch a break after that but apparently life had something against him and some deity really didn’t want Stiles to look at least normal in front of Derek. He was forever doomed to be the trash monster.

This time it was the flue. Every opening on his body was leaking, he had a fever, he looked and felt miserable. But he still had to eat and to eat he had to do some grocery shopping. Plus he was out meds.

Stiles was standing in front of the canned soups looking like a snot monster when someone touched his shoulders. Stiles turned around and sneezed. Right in Dereks face. Derek used his sleave to wipe his face and Stiles wished he was dead. He just got his germs and snot and spit all over The Most Beautiful Man In The World.

“I’m SO sorry dude! I hope I didn’t give you anything. Not a STD although I don’t want to give you that either. But then we would have to have sex and I’m like a Germ Monster so that’s crazy. Keep your distance Derek.”

Did Derek just blush or was he already getting sick?

“How do you feel Stiles? You look kinda bad.”

“I know I’m not pretty Derek. You really don’t have to tell me.” It was a joke. Mostly. Stiles was fine with making fun of himself, he liked it. But sometimes, like right now, he really wasn’t in the mood for a amazingly beautiful person calling him ugly. Even if he knew it wasn’t meant like that.

Derek sighed. “I meant, how are you feeling?”

“Like shit”. Stiles picked up a can of soup and put it down again. “Like germ covered shit.”

Way to go Stilinski! That’s how you attract a guy.

“I could cook you something.” Derek was suddenly very interested in the floor. “Only if you want to.”

Stiles looked at Derek, surprised. He slowly put down the soup he had in his hands. “Yeah sure! Awesome! Your place? Mine looks like a pigsty. No surprise there!”

Derek smiled and nodded. Stiles tried to ignore the warm feelings in his chest (and his dick) that had nothing to do with Dereks homemade soup. Because there was no way The Most Beautiful Man In The World could ever be interested in The Trash Monster. At least he would get some soup.

 

*

 

This was a disaster. A true disaster. Stiles should have listened to Lydia. You could believe he would have learned that after all the years they had been friends but NOPE.

He was sunburned. So sunburned. His entire body was red and sore, he looked like a tomato and his skin was peeling off. Literally. Stiles was going crazy. CRAZY. Everything hurt.

“Derek! Derek! Open the door! I’m dying! Dying Derek!”  He knocked on the door like his salvation was on the other side. The door swung open and almost hit Stiles in the face.

“Stiles?! What’s going on? What’s happening?!”

“Third degree burns! Look!” Stiles gestured towards himself. “I need to be naked. In your tub. Because I don’t have a tub. And I need cold water all over my body.”

Derek stared at him for a couple of seconds, Stiles could just hear the crickets playing. Then Derek moved aside without a word and Stiles wasted no time and went through the doors towards Dereks bathroom. He pulled his t-shirt over his head and threw it on the floor.

“Thanks buddy! I will just be in there for a bit. Naked.”

Derek looked like he lost all brain function.

 

*

Stiles jerked off three times before falling asleep in his own mess. He might have thought about Derek once or twice… Okay fine he thought about Derek through the entire self indulgent two hours he spent jerking it. Which was actually not that much time spent thinking about Derek, hell just two hours? He regularly thought about Derek more than two hours a day.  Dereks lips, Dereks beard, his ass, his eyebrows, his scent, his humor, his compassion, his protectiveness, his warmth. Just everything.

Stikes jerked awake by the firealarm. Of course he was. Of course. He rolled from the bed down to the floor in a heap of limbs and pillows and blankets. With a disgusted noise he tore a pillow from his face. It had some dried jizz on it.

Stiles was tempted to stay in bed because he knew it was probably Mrs Thompson smoking inside AGAIN. But he didn’t actually wanted to risk getting burned alive so Stiles threw on his dumpster sweats over his cumstained Superman boxers and left his apartment. He walked fast down the stairs to the assembly point outside of the apartment complex. His neighbors where there talking among each other. Apparently it was another false alarm.

Mrs Thompson caught Stiles face in her hands and said: “What’s that on your face darling?” Stiles blushed. He strongly suspected what he had all over his face. Dried cum.

“I have a… eye infection?” Stiles said hesitantly. Mrs Thompson smiled at him and sighed. “To be young again.”  To distract her Stiles steered the conversation another way. “Have you seen Derek? I can’t find him.”

Mrs Thompson face fell, her eyes full of worry. Stiles stared at her, his heart was suddenly beating very fast. “He’s over there.” She pointed towards the side of the building. “He won’t let anybody help him. I guess he really doesn’t like fire.” She at least was sensible enough to look regretful.

Stiles found Derek sitting down holding his knees close to his body. His face was between his legs and he was rhythmically swinging back and forth like he was trying to calm himself. Stiles crouched down next to him.

“Hey Derek.” Stiles said softly. “It’s okay. You’re safe. It’s not burning anywhere. Mrs Thompson just decided she needed a late night smoke.” Derek didn’t answer. He continued to rock his body.

“Derek.”

Nothing.

“Derek look at me. Can you do that?” Derek lifted his face so he could look at Stiles. “Good. Now breath. Deep and slow. Follow my breath okay? In. Out. In. And out.” Derek obeyed. “It’s no fire. Everyone is fine. You did a good job coming out here though.”

Derek bit his lip. Hard. Tears was starting to run down his face and in to his beard. He looked devastated.

“Can I sit next to you for a bit?” Derek nodded. Stiles sat back against the wall and looked up at the sky, trying to see stars even though it was impossible in the city. Derek leaned against him and Stiles put one arm loosely around him. He didn’t want Derek to feel trapped

“They all died.” Derek whispered. “They are all dead.” The tears was flowing freely and Derek was shaking. Stiles just held him and didn’t say anything. He didn’t even care about the jizz in his face.

 

*

 

Stiles really needed to get over his crush on Derek. It was starting to become a problem. Derek was amazing. Nice and caring and funny and beautiful and just… perfect. He was perfect. And he had never seen Stiles looking decent. He had only seen Stiles looking like the trash monster and that was not a good foundation for a romantic and/or sexual feelings to build upon. So Stiles tried to drown his sorrows in tequila. And more tequila. And even more tequila.

The plan had been to get drunk and get laid. The first part of that the plan had worked perfectly. The other part not so much.

A really pretty girl reminding an awful lot of Felicity Smoak had against all reason decided she was attracted to him. She was nice, intelligent, sexy and ironically enough really in to Marvel. They had made out for a bit in a booth, her lips leaving behind pink marks on his face and neck. It didn’t feel like it should. He wasn’t into it. It felt more like he was sitting off time. Needless to say he didn’t go home with her. He considered asking for her number purely because of the potentially awesome Marvel discussions but he ended up not doing it. Instead he was standing outside of Dereks apartment looking like a mess (what a surprise) and with his keys lost in the taxi he had come home in. Because of course his attempt to forget Derek for a bit would end up with Stiles on his doorstep. It was just his luck.

He knocked on the door several times but Derek didn’t open. He rung the doorbell. Still nothing. Stiles sunk down to the floor with his back resting against the door. How did he end up here? Suddenly the door opened and Stiles fell back, head hitting the floor hard. He moaned and rubbed the side of his head. Great. Just what he needed. More headache.

“Stiles what the hell? What are you doing here? Did anything happen?” Stiles looked up and saw Derek standing above him, shirtless and messy hair looking like one of his fantasies.

“Lost my keys.” Stiles mumbled. Derek looked him over and his face got stern, hard.

“I guess you had a wild night out.”

“Oh stop it DAD. “ Derek pressed his lips together.

“And you couldn’t sleep there?” Stiles sat up and turned around to look at Derek.

“Where exactly? I told you. I lost my keys.” Derek just sighed and stepped aside, letting Stiles in.

“Dude, don’t sound so enthusiastic. No really, don’t be such a bundle of joy.”

“Shut up. I was asleep.” Something was off. Maybe he interrupted something more than sleep.

“Do you have company? Because man, I’m sorry, I just didn’t want to call the landlord. He hates me enough already.”

“Whatever Stiles. Take whatever you need. I’m going to sleep. You know where the couch is.”

After that Derek closed the door to his bedroom behind him. Stiles laid down on the couch and stared at the ceiling. Derek had someone. Of course he did. And that someone was in there in the bedroom and not alone and drunk on the couch. They where probably naked and satisfied and soft and beautiful and everything that Derek deserved. With their life together and not total trash like Stiles.

He tried to listen, searching for mumbling voices. He heard nothing. Stiles left early after barely any sleep.

 

*

 

Stiles cried. He cried and cried and cried. Then stopped for a couple of hours. Hours when he sat in the shower, staring at the tiles. He sat there until the water was freezing cold. It left him shuddering, freezing, hugging his knees.

He had these moments. These ugly, disgusting moments where it all fell apart. When he fell apart and it felt like he was nothing. Worth nothing. Not to anyone. Least of all to himself. A pile of dirt. The lowest dirt that deserved nothing better than being stepped up on. Maybe that was why he tried to wash it away, to wash himself away down the drain. That’s what you did with dirt. You got rid of it.

Dirt didn’t deserve friends or happiness or love. Dirt just deserved this. Cold water trying and failing to wash it away.

Suddenly the water was turned off and Stiles looked up. He didn’t understand what he saw. Derek was there, talking, but Stiles didn’t hear anything he just saw his mouth moving. Dereks hands where shaking as he crouched down next to Stiles. He covered Stiles with a towel and dried him carefully, stroking Stiles hair from his forehead.

Derek said something and then lifted Stiles into his arms like Stiles was something, like he was someone.

“Stiles, Stiles please. Tell me what I should do, what do I do?” Stiles just clung to Derek, pressed so close he could. He hold on to Derek so tight it probably hurt.

Derek carried Stiles to bed and put Stiles under the covers. He was still naked. Still freezing. But Derek wrapped him up like he was inside a cocoon and he was quickly warming up. Derek stood up and Stiles felt like he couldn’t breathe.

“Don’t go. Don’t go, don’t go, don’t go.”

“I’m not.” Derek laid down on the bed next o Stiles and pulled him close. He kissed his temple and put Stiles hand over his heart. Stiles closed his eyes and drifted off to sleep.

 

*

 

This was it. Stiles had to do this. He had to ask Derek out, he had to tell him. Stiles had this feeling of now or never. If he didn’t tell Derek now something would happen. Derek would move or get married or forget about Stiles existence. Or Stiles would do something else that would make him look even more like an idiot, like having another breakdown. But Derek had been so sweet, so careful and so warm towards him. Maybe there could be something there? Stiles had to do something about it.

He decided to cook Derek something as an excuse to show up outside of his door. Again. The only thing he was really good at was spaghetti and meat sauce and everything be damned he was going to make the best meat sauce of his life. Everything was going to be perfect. The food was going to taste amazing, he was going to look good, nothing was going to go wrong. Yeah about that…

Stiles was balancing a bunch of pots and bowls at the same time he was trying to figure out how to knock on Dereks door. Before he even touched the surface the door opened and Stiles dropped everything on his white shirt. Spaghetti and sauce was dripping down his tummy and legs and a giant pile of food lay just in front of Dereks feet.

“FUCKITY FUCK SHIT! Derek what the hell?” Derek stared at the food and then at Stiles. Stiles groaned and tugged his shirt away from his body, let it go just to hear the wet smack of it hitting his skin again.

“No. No there is no way. I’m officially giving up.” Derek raised his eyebrows.

“What.”

“This.” Stiles gestured between them. “Every time you see me I look like a mess, I look like total trash.” Derek shook his head like a displeased teacher. “And you, you are like perfect. So. I’m giving up.” 

Stiles started to pick up the fallen pots and bowls and turned around to leave. Derek touched his arm and Stiles stopped his movement, he looked back at Derek.

“What are you saying. Are you not… going to see me?” Dereks eyes looked big and wet, he bit his lip and looked away from Stiles gaze.

“Well YES I’m going to see you. It’s kinda hard not wanting to see you. It’s just that I’m… I have this giant crush on you and I always end up looking like a fool in front of you. So I’m just saying I’m giving up. 

Derek took a step closer and stepped all over the pasta on the floor. “You’re ridiculous.”

Stiles sighed. “I know.”

“You idiot.”

Derek kissed him. The Most Beautiful Man In The Word kissed The Trash Monster. Oh dear.