[Sterek] He Blinded Me With Library Science (boyxboy) (complete)

Chapter 5

After that Derek comes in every week, always at the same time. He must have a busy schedule or something, because if Stiles had werewolf senses and the dweeb at the reception desk had a boner for him he would try and figure out when that kid wasn't working. But Derek doesn't - he's always in when Stiles is on-shift, and he always comes to Stiles for advice first.

"Selkies, sure," Stiles nods, "I know a few good books about selkies. Are you getting a Masters in Magical Creatures or something?"

If he didn't know better he'd almost think Derek flushed a little. Leaning forward over the desk to get a better look at Stiles' notepad, Derek shakes his head. Their faces are practically side by side, and this close, he has an up-close and personal view of his stubbled jaw, the way his adams apple bobs when he speaks, the breadth of his shoulders under his leather jacket. It's distracting.

"Maybe I just like the library," Derek replies, glancing up from the paper to make eye contact again. Maybe Derek is part Veela - it would explain the way Stiles can't look away when that happens, how his hand stills on the paper. The edges of Derek's eyes bleed bright blue again before he looks back at the paper. "Just these two?"

Stiles startles, his pen scratching a messy line trailing off the end of Selkies and Sea Serpents of the South Pacific. "Uh, no, one more. I mean, you can take a look, see if you like any of these better than the others." He jots down one more title and sits up straight, leaning back out of Derek's space and taking a deep breath before handing it over.

Derek takes the list without even looking at it, keeping eye contact with Stiles. His heart speeds up a little. "Thanks," Derek says lowly, inhaling. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

"Hey, that's why I work here. I mean that and I'm a not very secret nerd, but you know." He just has to act normal. Totally, Stiles-normal.

Humming, Derek nods. "Yeah, my family's in the registered breeder business," Stiles also has to keep his mind super out of the gutter, "Dragons, pixies, the basics."

"You call dragons the basics? Are we talking about the same creatures? Vicious, fire-breathing giant class-five lizards that can fly? Where do you even keep them?!"

"Well," Derek shrugs, "With floo powder and apparition it's not that hard to get back and forth between here and upstate New York, so that part's easy. The hard part," he says casually, shrugging one shoulder as if it's not really that difficult at all, which is ridiculous, "is getting the eggs away from them. They don't really like that part."

Stiles can't help but laugh a little, relaxing. "Yeah, I can imagine. Or, no," he says after a second, "I can't imagine. Do you--" he laughs a little "--do you collect them every morning before breakfast like chicken eggs or what?"

Derek explains the basics of dragon breeding, from matching dragons up correctly to when it's actually the right time to take the egg away from the mother and how to safely transport it.

"The magical creatures division of the Fish and Wildlife Service is big on paperwork, so we only have a small window of time after they've said the documentation is good to get the egg before it's due for delivery. If you don't get it right the first time, the second attempt will be twice as dangerous."

He shrugs again, like it's no big deal. "So it must really help, being a werewolf, right?" Stiles asks, unable to help himself. Derek doesn't seem offended, so he keeps going. "I mean, better speed, faster healing..."

"Sometimes," he agrees, "but it's harder to hide our scent from a dragon than it is to hide the scent of an ordinary wizard. The hormone sprays they sell don't work as well on us."

Derek shivers a little like the spray is something distasteful, and maybe it is - werewolves have a much more advanced sense of smell than most other people. Stiles has seen Derek's eyes half-close when he inhales, sometimes, like his sight might interfere with whatever he's picking up from the air around them. All Stiles can smell most of the time is dust and old books; sometimes the astringent whiff of cleaning products from the janitorial staff.

"Stiles," Lydia cuts in coolly as she steps behind the desk, "You have to take your break now before the rush. I'll watch the desk."

He almost falls off the chair trying to stand up properly. "Right, sorry, I got--" Stiles gestures haphazardly at Derek, who suddenly seems to be standing back further than he was before, looking over the list. "--caught up." Managing to make it back out onto the floor proper without embarrassing himself further he smiles at Derek. "See you next week?"

Derek's smile as he ducks his head is wide and somehow almost a little shy, endearing. "Definitely," he agrees.