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Sometimes his friends would give Derek shit, call him whipped. His mother told him it was good he was so attentive, that it would make him a good husband one day if he ever decided to get married. Derek didn’t really care what anyone said, he just wanted to make his sisters happy and be a good brother.
When Cora, Derek’s youngest and undoubtedly most needy sister, turned her big brown eyes onto Derek, he was helpless. She had just passed her driver’s education course and was the proud new owner of a learner’s permit. She was the first of her friends, and though they weren’t allowed to drive with her in the car, it definitely gave her “cool” points among the other 16-year-olds. Derek quickly gave in when she asked if she could drive to pick up their dinner that night. Talia insisted that they eat home cooked meals six days a week, whether she makes it herself or one of the other members of the family, but Fridays are everyone’s cheat day.
Derek tasked his sister with going around to ask what everyone’s order was for the local diner while he went to get ready to leave. While he was staring the bathroom mirror at his hair that just refused to lay flat, Laura, his twin sister, came in behind him and laid a big kiss on his cheek, leaving behind a bright red print of her lips.
“Gross, Laura. I’m going to get dinner and this is how you repay me?” Derek complains as he wipes the mark off with a damp tissue.
“Technically, Cora is getting dinner, you are just along for the ride,” Laura retorted as she leaned against the bathroom door.
“I am teaching our young and impressionable baby sister the ways of the road. I am educating the next generation on road safety.” Derek sighed as he turned away from the mirror.
Somewhere in the house, Cora screeched, “I am NOT a BABY.”
The town diner was almost constantly a bustling hub, people coming and going, eating in or ordering their food to go. Derek waited cautiously on the sidewalk, letting cars pass before crossing to his car. In his arms were the bags piled high with his family’s orders. Cora stood beside him holding the drinks in a cardboard carrier. She was sipping away at the milkshake she ordered, scanning the lot for familiar faces and apparently turning up empty handed as she turns back to her older brother who was preparing to step into the street and cross towards the Camaro he got as a graduation present from his Uncle Peter. Laura got a Prius and their older sister, Nora, got a Ford truck monstrosity that could practically tow all of their cars at once. It worked for the eldest Hale child with her job as a park ranger and her home up high in the mountains a few hours away. Cora had a Pinterest board filled with potential cars that she had been cultivating since she first started her account.
Derek had been instructing Cora on how to pull out of a spot in a busy parking lot when suddenly there was the feeling of the Camaro hitting something accompanied by a crash. A crash that didn’t sound metal on metal, rather the sound of a car hitting a human body.
“What the hell was that!?” Cora cried frantically.
“Shit, fuck,” Derek answered. He told Cora to put the car in park and to take the keys out of the ignition. They both got out of the car and when he saw the body laying half under the Camaro, Derek’s heart dropped. Because they didn’t hit just anyone, no sirree. They hit Stiles Stilinski, the son of the sheriff, and the person Derek had been crushing on since his sophomore year of high school when the younger boy was a freshman.
Derek took a second to assess the situation. It looked like Stiles’s head didn’t hit the concrete, at least. It was resting on a silver thermal bag. Spilling out from the bag, all around Stiles, were hundreds and hundreds of curly fries, along with the paper fry cartons from various eateries in and around Beacon Hills.
Stiles opens his eyes and looks at the carnage around him. He then looks up at the Hale siblings staring down at him and then back to the curly fries. He pulls himself up onto his knees and starts sweeping the curly fries towards him with his arms. “I can explain!” he yells.
“Stiles, what the hell are you okay!” Derek dropped to his knees beside the younger man and starts looking for any injuries.
“Fine, I’m just fine! And don’t worry, I have very sane and logical reasons for having all of these curly fries, don’t you worry! I’m not just some crazy loon who like collects curly fries or anything! No, I have a very scientifically sound reason for having curly fries from 7 different restaurants!” Stiles babbles.
“Stiles, I don’t care about the damn fries. You just got hit by our car. Are you ok?”
“These are not just fries, Derek Hale. These are curly fries- the most superior form of potato known to man and potato. And before you ask if I hit my head, you can ask my dad or Scott or anyone and they will confirm that my obsession with curly fries is a long-term thing. Not some concussion side effect.”
“Stiles, I think we need to get you to the hospital, just in case.”
“But what about my curly fries? I was trying to do science, Derek. Science can’t wait around just because of some silly automobile incident. Though simplifying your Camaro down to just an automobile should probably be a crime.”
“I’ll tell you what, Stiles. If you let me take you to the hospital you can ride shotgun in the Camaro. And then once you are cleared, I will help you rebuy all of your curly fries. I’ll even be your lab assistant.”
“Derek Hale, did you just ask me out on a science date?” Stiles stares wide-eyed at the older boy.
“Uhh,” Derek looks down at his shoes, his cheeks and ears turning red in embarrassment. He tried to ignore Cora who was probably recording the entire exchange for snapchat. “Um, yeah. I did ask you on a science date. And then maybe we can go on a history date to the museum. And an art date to the gallery. And then I was thinking maybe some coffee dates, movie dates, study dates, and even a bed date or two.”
“Derek, you should probably take me to the hospital. I think I have a concussion because I just hallucinated you asking me out on a date.”
“It wasn’t a hallucination.” Derek sent Stiles a small smile.
Stiles ended up not having a concussion, and the next day Derek drove Stiles around to the various places in and around Beacon Hills to get curly fries so Stiles could find the best curly fries around. One of the experiments was titled, “Which curly fry leaves the best taste in your mouth?” And if the methodology included Derek kissing Stiles after each and every fry, well it was all for science.