Written for the following prompt: The house party me and my friends threw kinda escalated and after throwing out everyone I found this half naked person passed out in my bed but I can’t be bothered to wake them up now so I’m just gonna go to sleep and deal with it in the morning, they are kind of cute anyway AU
“Erica,” Derek says calmly—very calmly, he thinks, considering the situation. It’s two in the morning, he just trudged back from the library with a pounding headache behind his eyes, and he comes home to find their apartment the site of a raging house party, with drunk undergrads everywhere.
“Hey, Der,” she says, with that wide grin that only comes out when she’s had one drink too many.
“You didn’t tell me you were throwing a party,” he says, his jaw clenched, and she scoffs.
“This? This isn’t a party. This is a, uh, just a little get-together.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s finals, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to bed, at least turn the fucking music down.”
He pushes through the crowd—accidentally hitting some of them with his backpack, oops—and finally seeks refuge in his room. The noise is dulled, blessedly, when he shuts the door behind him, and he exhales, letting his eyes fall shut. His momentary calm evaporates, however, when he opens eyes and notices the very important fact that someone is currently asleep in his bed, sprawled out on his stomach like he owns the place.
All Derek can see is broad bare shoulders, messy brown hair, and half of a mole-dotted face, pressed into the pillow and currently slack with sleep. Huh.
Derek sighs. He’s fucking exhausted, he doesn’t want to deal with babysitting some drunk kid right now, and he really doesn’t want him to wake up and then throw up in Derek’s bed or something.
Plus, the traitorous little voice in his head says, he’s really cute.
Derek shakes his head, irritated, as he drops his backpack on his desk chair. He strips down to his boxers and skips brushing his teeth—he’ll do it twice in the morning, and people are probably fucking the bathroom anyway, Jesus Christ.
Derek pulls back the comforter and gently slides into the bed, trying not to disrupt the mattress before he realizes that he’s being ridiculous. Why is he even considering a stranger’s comfort? It all seems for naught, anyway, because this kid apparently sleeps like the dead.
He takes a quick peek under the blankets, and at least the guy’s still wearing briefs, thank god. Derek doesn’t want to have to worry about accidentally sexually assaulting someone in his sleep.
He flops over onto his other side—thanks to the king size bed, his only grad school indulgence, there’s plenty of room—and closes his eyes. He’ll deal with this shit in the morning.