Chapter Text
I must be standing on your left
Wtf Stiles it's two in the morning why are you standing on my left
Because you're my Mr Right ;D
And don't lie to me. I know you were awake, doing what sourwolves do at 2AM.
Fine, I was awake.
VICTORY!
Yeah, yeah, congratulations :(
Turn that frown upside down, mister. No being Mr Grumpy-Pants at 2AM.
):
I intensely dislike you right now.
That's rough, buddy.
Anyway, what's up with the pickup line?
Oh, I found a huge list of the fuckers online and decided to test one out.
It was awful.
Sorry not sorry :P
Your leather jacket looks nice.
I'm not wearing a leather jacket.
Bet you own one, though.
I'm imagining you now.
Super biker Derek.
No.
Very very tattooed Derek.
Stop.
Heavy metal Derek. Gangster Derek. Derek with one of those little triangular flags you can put on the back of a motorbike.
NO.
I bet you're part of a secret Leather Jacket Cult.
If anyone's a part of a secret leather jacket cult it's my sister.
Cora would.
Definitely. Anyway, I'm almost too scared to ask, but why did you bring up my theoretical leather jacket in the first place?
Well, your jacket looks nice on you.
But it would look even better on my floor.
. . .
[EXTERNAL IMAGE]
Why is there an old lady
Is she here to help me recover from your innuendos
"HELP! I'VE FALLEN FOR YOU AND I CAN'T GET UP"
IT'S SO BAD NO
[EXTERNAL IMAGE]
. . . Nemo can't be turned into an innuendo, can he? Even you can't do that to him, right?
TRY ME.
"I know which butt I want to touch ;)"
My childhood is ruined.
Star Wars or Doctor Who?
Ummmm. . .
. . . Star Wars?
Honey, you've been looking for love in Alderaan places!
OH MY GOD
Okay, okay, now I'm curious about Doctor Who.
Are you a Tardis? Cause when I look into your eyes I feel like I'm flying around the universe.
Awww.
HARRY POTTER
If you were a Dementor, I'd become a criminal just to get a kiss.
But you'd die.
Missing the point, dude.
OH MY GOD THERE ARE A LOAD MORE DISNEY ONES
Nooooooo
You must be Cinderella, because I see that dress disappearing by midnight.
I'm a man.
Just pretend you're DERderella, and that your dress is actually a leather jacket.
I don't want to be Derderella, Stiles.
To quote someone else who's awake at 2AM, "that's rough, buddy."
Ugh.
Call me Pooh, because all I want is you, honey.
HE HAS JOINED IN THE FESTIVITIES
ONE OF US, ONE OF US
Who's the us?
Are you the ring? Because you're precious to me.
Never mind
The fires of Mount Doom aren't as hot as you are.
Are you done?
Never. I last longer than Boromir.
That's a no
I bet your licence got suspended for driving all these guys crazy
C'mon, Der. You already did it once.
And I'll never do it again.
Liar. If you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right?
JOIN ME, MY LOVE
You're so mean to me :P
. . .
I'm not a photographer, but I can picture me and you together.
AAAAYYYYYYYY
Stiles pauses, his fingers hovering over what would be the next couple of keys on his phone screen, and tries to figure out if he's got enough guts to send what he wants to.
The brunet types it out.
Erases it.
Types it out again.
Deletes it.
He closes his eyes, quickly taps it out, and hits 'SEND' before he can rethink it.
Well, if you insist ;)
Stiles freezes and stares blankly at his phone screen for a second. He can't believe he actually sent that, that that text has already been up to the satellites in space and back down to wherever the hell Derek lives.
Well, there's no deleting it now. It's gone, and if the friendship Stiles and Derek have formed over four and a half (ish) months of texting each other goes with it then at least Stiles knows he's going to be grateful in the end that he never had to regret not telling Derek about his stupid, stupid feelings.
Stiles has already halfway convinced himself that this is it, it's the end - Derek's going to hate him forever and their friendship is ruined - when the text comes in.
It's a date, is all it says, and Stiles isn't ashamed about the gleeful whoop he lets out, even when Scott comes to his room to ask who he's texting and then complains at him for interrupting his and half the street's night's sleep.