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Summary
His intense, pale eyes scrutinize every aspect of Stiles.
Stiles has never been the sole target of Derek Hale’s gaze before. They’ve glared at each other in passing, or whenever they make barbs at each other, but Derek has never full-on stared at Stiles. The weight of Derek’s gaze makes him tense and fidget. Stiles is the one who has to break eye contact by turning his head and clearing his throat. “Okay, let’s just start over,” Stiles says, shaking the tension out of his hands. “Fresh start,” He grabs his backpack and turns in a circle until he’s facing Derek again.
“Hey, I’m here to tutor you, dickhead,” Stiles says, a fake smile plastered on his face.