Work Text:
Derek finishes ordering, folding the menus and handing them back with a murmured thanks.
“Man, those wines were so unpronounceable,” Scott says, grinning. “I bet they’re going to be delicious.”
Derek laughs. “Words of wisdom from Stiles?”
“Allison and I went to dinner with her parents,” Scott says. “I wanted to bring some nice wine.”
“And of course Stiles is the obvious choice,” Derek says. “The clear wine connoisseur in our house.”
“I may have left it until the last minute,” Scott admits. “And Stiles was the only one free. But to be fair, he managed to pick the best wine. Even Mrs Argent smiled at me after one glass.”
“I’m glad,” Derek says, reaching over and giving Scott’s hand a squeeze. He knows how hard Scott has worked to try and win Allison’s parents over, how futile that task has seemed. “Against all odds, Stiles saved you from a wine crisis.”
“He’s not that bad at choosing wine,” Scott insists. “And he’s fun to go with. He stole Allison’s eyeliner and gave us little french moustaches.”
“I’m not sure how that is a defence,” Derek says, amused. “But you don’t need to convince me of Stiles’s good points. I am the one who married the idiot.”
The waiter returns with bread and glasses, smiling at them.
“Here’s your bread, I’ll just fetch the wine now,” the waiter says. “And would you and your date like to share the appetisers, or would you like separate plates?”
Derek frowns and Scott pulls his hand away.
“We’re not on a date,” Derek says.
“He’s married to my best friend,” Scott adds. “This was meant to be their anniversary dinner, but Stiles got sick, so Derek offered the reservations to me and my wife, but then she got sick, and we both love this restaurant so we decided to come anyway.”
“Right,” the waiter says. “Of course.”
“No, really!” Scott says, starting to sound slightly panicked. “We’re just good friends. Good touchy-feely friends. Well, Derek is more touchy-feely than me, but that’s because he’s a we- wary of touch-deprivation kind of a guy, and I got used to it.”
“I see,” the waiter says.
“I wouldn’t cheat on Allison!” Scott says. “I mean… well it’s not cheating if she’s agreed to it, is it?”
“I’m not sure,” the waiter says diplomatically.
“Either way I wouldn’t with Derek,” Scott says.
“Gee, thanks,” Derek says dryly.
“So it’s not a date,” Scott says.
“No,” the waiter says. She shakes her head. “You know, I really didn’t care about whether you two were on a date or cheating on your spouses or whatever. It’s hardly interesting to someone in my position. But I have to admit, you’ve gotten my attention. I’m curious now, what’s touch deprivation?”
“Humans need physical contact with each other or we fall ill, emotionally and even physically,” Derek says, before Scott has a chance to try and explain. “It’s a common problem in modern society, but fairly easy to manage.”
“Huh,” the waiter says. She nods and wanders off to fetch their wine. Scott drops his head onto the table.
“Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Scott says. When he lifts his head, Derek looked pointedly around the restaurant, at the other couples, the candles, the vases of roses.
“I have no idea,” Derek says, grinning. Scott kicks him under the table.