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Derek Hale is completely insufferable. An itch that can’t be scratched, all that.
That’s why Stiles is completely bothered and undeniably annoyed when Scott and Isaac send him over to Derek’s loft along with a list of errands for him to run on this particular Saturday.
(“Why is it my job to get your stupid mail and buy your stupid - what is this? Frozen waffles, is that really necessary for me to pick up?”)
Of course, that didn’t mean Stiles wasn’t going to do all of the tasks he’d been given - he didn’t often refuse Scott’s requests (there was that one time Scott wanted to send Stiles off to lure Deucalion to the animal clinic which Stiles was just NOT ready for but other than that, Stiles wouldn’t mind running around Beacon Hills helping out his best friend). If it weren’t for the first item on the list: STOP BY DEREK’S LOFT.
The entire ride in his jeep to the loft, Stiles cursed Scott’s name grumbling to himself about shouldn’t-it-be-Isaac-going-to-Derek’s-I-mean-he-was-the-one -apart-of-Derek’s-dumb-old-pack-anyway-and-Scott-was-the one-who decided-it would-be cool-to-be-Derek-Hale’s-bff-and-I-don’t-even-fuckin’-like-Derek-Hale. Hate him.
Even still, Stiles turns into Derek’s driveway forcing himself to take deep breathes in and out and then, after a moment, tries to figure out why he’s so mad anyway. It’s Derek, and Derek’s pissed him off from the beginning.
They could be enemies, Stiles thinks, if this dummy would agree to be something more than indifferent towards him. Because that’s the killer. All he ever is is indifferent. Stiles absolutely loathes him for it. But he thinks, just maybe, based off of the way things are going he may have to get used to Derek being around. And Stiles absolutely cannot do that when Derek is so distant and passive all the time.
Which is why it has become his mission this weekend to get some kind of reaction out of Derek. Any kind of reaction.
He raises his fist to knock on Derek’s front door when it swings open.
“Can I help you?” Stiles had forgotten how intimidating Derek’s excellent eyebrows are and would never admit it, but he cowers a little at the sight.
Ignoring his irrational fear (that he’d have to decode at a later time - he isn’t about to let himself be afraid of Derek Hale), Stiles rolls his eyes and stalks farther into the loft. “May I ask you what I’m doing here right now?” He demands, shoving the paper with instructions scratched onto it into his pocket.
Derek raises one perfectly arched brow and gruffly begins, “Is that a trick question?”
“I’ve got this - this list of shit to do today so do you want to tell me why the first thing is to come to your loft?”
Derek actually purses his lips -Stiles suppresses a sound from escaping his own - and states, “You’re angry. Why?”
Stiles exhales and sloppily falls onto a bar stool. He thinks for a moment, absently rubbing his forehead the way he does. He’s about to explain to Derek that they can’t be in the same friend group and still pretend the other doesn’t exist. Well, that Derek can’t pretend Stiles doesn’t exist. Because Stiles certainly knows Derek exists. He’s about to explain all of this when he squeaks out, “Do you want to help me finish this list?”
Derek stares forward not speaking. It frustrates Stiles to no end.
“Or . . . or forget I asked. Whatever, no big deal,” he chuckles falsely, “I’ll just be on my way.” He tries to brush past Derek who holds out his hand in front of Stiles’ chest. “You don’t have to . . . I can find my way out.”
Derek shakes his head roughly, “No. I’ll come with you.” Before Stiles can react, he swivels and heads towards the jeep.
“You don’t want to take your car?” Stiles asks, following him out the door and gesturing towards Derek’s nice smaller black car. Derek looks at him for a beat and swings open the passenger door for the piece of crap vehicle Stiles drives. Stiles smirks and hops into the driver’s seat.
*
“Why does Scott want pickles? Pickles are disgusting. I am personally disgusted that Scott is having me pick up pickles for him. What brand are we supposed to get anyway?” Stiles turns and faces Derek whose hands are gripped tightly around the shopping cart.
Derek blinks at him blankly. “You don’t like pickles.”
Stiles frowns, “You do?”
Derek shrugs and reaches for the nearest jar of dill pickles and places it in the cart. So far they’ve fetched from the grocery store frozen waffles, orange juice, spinach, lemons, pasta -
(“Why does Scott need noodles? Can Scott cook? This is so annoying. Grab the cheapest brand. Scott does not need high quality noodles.”)
- and now pickles. Stiles is frustrated because Scott refused to explain any of the tasks on the list so here’s Stiles and Derek wandering around Beacon Hills doing his errands trying to come up with what the combination of items could possibly mean.
They continue the debate over a selection of tomato sauce.
“The thing,” Derek slowly observes, “is it’s not for just one meal. Because you don’t drink orange juice with spaghetti.”
Stiles nods along, “But it’s weird because - like, doesn’t Scott’s mom get the groceries?” Without waiting for an answer, he continues, “She does. So either-”
“Scott doesn’t want his mom to know about this-”
“Right. Or just . . . or this is just extra stuff his mom forgot to pick up.” Stiles sighs and puts a jar of sauce in the cart.
Although it’s hard to tell, Stiles feels like he’s getting somewhere. Derek-wise. Of course, it’s not like they’ve hugged or something, and it’s not like Derek has hit him or anything. So Stiles can’t tell which way it’s going to be. But it kind of - if Stiles allows himself to believe this - it kind of feels like Derek is trying. Which is important. He’s talking to Stiles - briefly, and not much, but he’s talking and contributing. Which is really all the progress Stiles could ask for for one days work.
“Um, Derek?”
Derek looks up at Stiles.
“Scott just wrote ‘meatballs’ but you don’t buy meatballs, do you. I don’t know how the hell to make meatballs. Do you know how the hell to make meatballs?”
“One can assume they’re made from balls of meat.”
*
“What did you just say?”
“Florist,” Stiles repeats, handing the list over to Derek for him to see for himself.
“Stiles. Tell me why Scott is sending us to get him flowers.”
“Well they’re probably not for him . . .”
“Call him.”
So of course Stiles pulls out his phone and calls Scott.
The conversation goes something like this:
“Stiles?”
“Dude.”
“How’s the list coming?”
“Oh, great. Just calling to ask why the hell we’re getting you flowers?”
“We?”
“Me and Derek. As I recall, you don’t have a love interest in your life. Why the flowers?”
“They’re for my mom. So you and Derek? You decided to pick him up and bring him along?”
“Only because you had me going to his house first! Why is that, by the way? Because he had no idea I was coming.”
A sound on the other line that sounds something like a chuckle and then some mumbling in the background.
“Is that Isaac? Does he know why you’re getting me all this weird shit?”
“Bye, Stiles. Have fun with Derek.” There’s a sense of smugness in his voice which Stiles absolutely detests. He puts down his phone and shakes his head, breathlessly.
Derek raises an eyebrow in Stiles’ direction. He’s always doing that - raising his eyebrow. Stiles doesn’t hate it, but he tries to.
“The flowers are for his mom.”
“I’d like to think you’re smarter than to believe that for a second.”
Stiles whips his head around and looks at Derek. It’s just a side comment, really. It doesn’t mean anything. But Derek Hale doesn’t make side comments - especially to Stiles. And everything Derek says is thought out and constructed. Stiles hates that and - and . . . Derek thinks he’s smart? Okay. Yeah, okay. So they can maybe be friends then. Okay.
*
“Umm, hi, ex-excuse me. Yes, hi. Err, I think we have a pickup for-,” Stiles clears his throat, “Scott McCall.”
The lady working at the front desk at the florist - Stiles wants to spit at the fact that he’s standing in a flower shop with Derek Hale (a werewolf, by the way) picking up flowers for some mystery girl for his “best friend” who won’t even say who they’re for - smiles and heads off to the back.
Derek absently taps his fingers on the desk and Stiles can’t help but think that Derek doesn’t seem like the type of person to do that. He doesn’t seem like the type of person to do anything absently. But then, Stiles thinks, Derek doesn’t seem like the type of person to go grocery shopping with him and attempt to decode Scott’s plans with him. Stiles concludes that he just doesn’t know what type of person Derek is, but for some reason he really wants to find out.
“Here you are! One bouquet order for Scott McCall. Blue roses. All set?”
Stiles and Derek look at each other suspiciously. Blue roses.
“Are you sure the order was for blue roses?”
The receptionist frowns and slides behind her desk and starts clicking on her computer. “I’ve got the order right here. Scott McCall - one bouquet of blue roses. Placed last week. Do you think there’s a mistake?”
Derek speaks up, “No. I’m sure you haven’t made a mistake.”
The boys pay for the flowers and leave the shop speechlessly.
When they get in the jeep, Derek comments that the roses are ugly and Stiles agrees, but he secretly thinks they’re actually sort of nice.
*
“The thing is you don’t get a girl blue roses.” Stiles starts, shoving a handful of fries into his mouth. He’d convinced Derek to let them stop at McDonalds before they continued on the journey. It didn’t take much of convincing, though, as Derek really didn’t protest.
Derek hums a bit as he takes a sip of his Dr. Pepper - Stiles couldn’t predict what drink Derek was going to order, because all he could really picture Derek drinking was, like, whiskey or something mean and tough, but, Dr. Pepper.
Obviously Stiles has a very distorted idea of who Derek Hale is.
“How would you know? You’re a virgin who, as far as I’ve heard, hasn’t had a girlfriend since . . . forever.” He doesn’t say it rudely, just noting. Still, Stiles coughs and squirms in his seat cursing the amount of conversations about his virginity with Scott he’d probably let Derek overhear.
“That is . . . not the point. An-and what about you? Your only girlfriend to my knowledge turned out to be a serial killer. So. What kind of flowers did you get her?”
Derek looks thoughtful for a moment before his mouth turns up in something that might resemble a smile if he’d ever done it before.
Whatever it is, it’s something in between smirk and smile and Stiles takes it as the greatest thing he’s achieved throughout the entire year.
As quickly as it comes, it fades away. But Derek speaks again, “Anyway you’re right. So we’re back to the beginning - who are the flowers for?”
Before Stiles can launch into another theory, Derek adds, “I’m not sure I get why you care so much, though.”
Stiles shifts in his seat. Why does he care? Because Scott is meant to be his best friend and he has some sort of mystery girl who he likes enough to give flowers to and Stiles had no clue! He’s not mad at Scott for not telling him - it’s not like they always told each other everything. He’s more mad at himself for not noticing, he realizes. He’s been a little too caught up in why did Derek say that and what is Derek thinking and would Derek want to help me with this for the past few weeks to notice Scott having feelings for someone. So that officially makes him the worst best friend.
Especially since he’s been obsessing over someone he doesn’t even like! He could really, really, hate Derek. If he could just figure Derek out. Because right now he can’t even figure out what Derek’s all about. So he has to break him, and that’s what he’s been trying to do all day.
“I dunno, like, Scott’s my best friend and I always know when he likes someone, and he knows for me too, but now I don’t so it’s like . . . I don’t know, I let myself get distracted. I’m an awful person!”
“Distracted how?”
Stiles looks at Derek across the booth they’re sitting in and Derek just stares back. It’s the first time Stiles notices - well, allows himself to admit that he’s noticing - how attractive Derek is. Okay, look, Stiles isn’t stupid, he knew Derek was attractive but he didn’t ever look into the details of that. Because everything about Derek is attractive.
Stiles especially likes the waves in his dark hair, the newfound softness in his eyes that only shows through when he chooses to let it, the crinkle under his eyes and his scruffy beard that Stiles suddenly craves to feel against him.
Stiles goes so far as to let his mind wander into thinking about how cozy Derek looks. In general. Stiles has seen Derek fight and hurt but even through that, Stiles can see now how comfortable Derek might be. Stiles drifts into the daydream of crawling into Derek’s lap and then he shakes himself out of it and can’t figure out why he even wanted that. Wants that.
It doesn’t make sense and now Stiles has a headache. He angrily takes a bite out of his cheeseburger.
“Oh. Distracted like that.” Derek laughs. Derek laughs. Somehow Stiles managed to get a smile and a laugh out of him in one day. His eyes widen and looks up from his burger and there it is. The most beautiful smile in entire universe. It’s much wider than he’d expect and his teeth are extremely white and straight. Stiles thinks, for a second, he might’ve actually been dreaming.
But then Stiles realizes actually how embarrassing the situation is. And that Derek is laughing at him. No matter how beautiful his laugh is, it’s directed at Stiles. Which hurts. Which is important.
At the beginning of the day, Stiles didn’t even know whether Derek wanted to rip his throat out or not. It could still be possible, but now Derek was laughing at him which is an even scarier thought. Also at the beginning of the day, Stiles didn’t care how Derek felt about him either way and now he was hurt by Derek laughing at him. So. That’s something.
“What? I wasn’t - oh, you thought . . . ha! No, I’m . . .” Stiles barks out messily. He clears his throat once more and looks down at his tray. Derek couldn’t have known Stiles was making some idiotic breakthrough about how good-looking he was, could he? Although he does know Derek could detect Stiles’ heartbeat rising when his eyes fell over his jawline . . . no, Stiles isn’t going to freak out about this. Not know. They’ve been having a perfectly decent day bonding and he isn’t about to screw it up. Except . . . yes he is.
“I have to,” Stiles announces looking around frantically, “go to the bathroom.” He stands up awkwardly and brushes past the table where Derek is eyeing him curiously. Bolting into the restroom (and knocking over a wet floor sign in the process), Stiles struggles to catch his breath.
He leans against the sink and scolds himself. No, he begins, no. You are not about to have a panic attack and totally freak him out. You’re not allowed to. Then, after a beat of not being able to breathe like a normal human should, god, why do I totally suck?
About ten minutes and fifteen splashes of water in the face later, Stiles has calmed down enough to pretend nothing ever happened. He swivels away from the mirror and starts to stride out of the bathroom when he bumps into something hard. He palms in front of him to feel what’s stopping him.
“Are you finished groping me?”
Stiles cringes and looks up at Derek frowning down at him. “Yes, I-” Stiles looks down again at his own hands which are still latched around Derek’s shirt. He reluctantly untwists his hands from the fabric and wipes them on his jeans. Hopefully he isn’t visibly sweating right now, that’s the last thing he needs. “Yes I’m finished now.” Stiles chuckles with a weak attempt at acting casual.
“I thought we should head out. It’s like 6, so if it is a date Scott’s planned we should probably get back to him.”
Stiles frowns. Derek frowns. They stand in the doorway of the bathroom at McDonalds frowning for a minute.
“Yeah I guess we should.”
*
“Is it agreed then? You’ll beat Scott up until he admits what he’s been planning?”
Derek chuckles, Stiles swoons. He could get used to the sound.
“Something like that. If I must.”
The boys unbuckle their seatbelts and knock on the McCall’s door.
“Oh! Hi boys. I didn’t realize you were joining Scott and Isaac tonight. I’m on my way out - night shift. Come on in,” Melissa McCall greets at the door and swings it open for Derek and Stiles to step into.
They look at each other warily but enter the house. Stiles is all too familiar with this house, but Derek has just started coming here. More and more recently, but still he has to be shown around to find his way. So he follows Stiles up the staircase and into Scott’s room.
“Hey you crazy kids,” Scott beams. Stiles thinks Scott is an actual ray of sunshine. “Got that list done for me?” He stands from his position on his bed next to Isaac and approaches the two who have just entered the room.
“Yes, we got your groceries and your stupid fl-” Before Stiles can finish his sentence, Scott pushes the three of them out of the room and closes the door behind them.
“Okay, let’s go bring in the groceries. Derek, grab the flowers and put them on the table? You guys are the best! Don’t forget it!” He’s already halfway down the stairs and out the front door by the time Derek and Stiles get the instructions.
They glance at each other before running after Scott and yelling goodbye to Mrs. McCall as she pulls out of the driveway.
“Alright so put the groceries in the fridge and then, umm, then you guys can leave!” Scott grins, attempting to carry two Whole Foods bags in each hand.
“You had us run around Northern California chasing after your ridiculous list and now you’re telling us to leave?” Derek speaks up as he looms over the kitchen table pondering whether the flowers can be left as-is or if he has to find a vase. And does Mrs. McCall own a vase? Derek doesn’t think she would.
Scott limps into the house with his arms drooping to the floor from the heaviness of the groceries and he pauses. “Oh. Is that a dick move? I don’t mean to be an ass ‘cause I, like, so appreciate you guys. Dude, I didn’t mean - I just have plans . . . but we can-”
“Plans?” Stiles asks, joining into the conversation with the remaining bags in his hand as he swings the front door closed behind him. “With who? Isaac?” He snorts, making his way to the fridge.
Scott whips his head around to face Stiles. “N-no. Why do you say that? I don’t-”
“I was just joking Scott. But now that you’re all flustered, hot date with Isaac?” Stiles can’t tell if he’s joking or if he really thinks it’s a possibility.
Scott doesn’t say anything for a minute.
Derek’s eyebrow pops up. As it always does.
“Can you guys just leave?”
“Nooooo, tell us. If it is, it’s cool. But I’m your best friend and I want to know who you have a date with damn it.”
After more prompt, Scott reveals that it’s his first real date with Isaac tonight and he, like, really wants it to go perfectly. So he’s making him dinner - spaghetti of course, though Stiles still can’t piece together why Scott wanted pickles, lemons, and spinach to go with it so he decides that Scott’s just really awful at planning meals - and they’re going to spend the night watching movies. Stiles watches Derek make the connections in his head and they giggle to each other telepathically when they remember the frozen waffles and orange juice which must mean Scott is planning for Isaac to spend the night. Well, okay, maybe Derek wasn’t giggling in his head (he was probably throwing up in his head) but in Stiles’ head, Derek was giggling.
So Stiles congratulates his best bud and Derek shakes his head fondly and the two leave Scott and Isaac alone.
The entire car ride back to Derek’s loft to drop him off, the two make jokes about Scott and Isaac and Derek admits he is disgusted by the fact that his two betas have the hots for each other -
(“Actually, they’re not your betas. Because Scott is the alpha now. Oh my god, which means Scott is dating one of his betas and he chose Isaac not you. That’s hilarious! How does it feel to be dissed like that, man?”)
- and even though Stiles makes stupid little Stiles comments, Derek just shakes his head and smiles along with it.
And when Derek lingers at the car when they’ve parked in his driveway, Stiles doesn’t say something snarky about what he’s waiting for.
And when Derek shyly asks if Stiles wants to come in and watch some movies with him, Stiles doesn’t make fun of the way he fiddles with his thumb and avoids eye contact. And when Stiles replies yes too eagerly, Derek suppresses his eye roll.
And Derek and Stiles spend the rest of the night sitting on Derek’s couch stuffing their faces with popcorn and candy and insisting they could play the parts better than the actors in whatever romantic comedy they’re watching.
And at the end of the night when Stiles falls asleep scooted up close to Derek’s thigh with his right leg wrapped around Derek’s left knee, Derek lets himself grin in the darkness and hold his hand.