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Stiles has to do a double-take to confirm that his douche of an ex-boyfriend is here. Fuck, fuck, fuck. There he is, in his stupid smugness, with a really gorgeous woman on his arm. Fuck that makes it even worse.
In the world of who’s winning after a break up, Stiles doesn’t want to lose. He’d heard that his ex had already moved on, but he hadn’t expected him to do this to Stiles. He does a quick glance around him, and spots the brooding man he’d almost spilled his drink on earlier. It’d been an awkward moment that Stiles had felt fully embarrassed about, and the guy had made it worse too. The man hadn’t been impressed with Stiles, or stuck around to hear his apology.
The thing is Mr. Grumpy Pants is currently the only one on this side of the bar who’s alone. Couples are surrounding Stiles. Scott and Allison are making out beside him as one example. Why does that always happen to him? Not only that, but Mr. Grumpy Pants might be the hottest guy that Stiles has ever laid eyes on—and almost spilled his tequila sunrise on. He’s hotter than his ex, that’s for sure. That would help in the who’s winning game.
Stiles hesitates, because Mr. Grumpy Pants doesn’t seem like the type to help a poor soul like him out of kindness. He hadn’t accepted Stiles’ apology for the run-in a half hour ago. What could he do to make it worth his time and effort?
Mr. Grumpy Pants takes a swig of his drink, and then pushes the empty glass forward.
Doing some quick mental math, Stiles decides he can make this guy an offer he can’t refuse. He slips into the seat of the booth across from Mr. Grumpy Pants, who looks at him with a scowl. He’s not going to let that deter him though. He watches as Mr. Grumpy Pants’ eyes narrow when he speaks.
“Listen, I need you to do me a favour.”
“No.”
It’s said simply, and Stiles is positive that Mr. Grumpy Pants means it. However, he’s prepared to beg. “Listen, can you pretend to be my boyfriend for the next fifteen minutes? My ex is here, and he’s a complete douche. I’d appreciate it.”
“No.”
“I’ll buy you and whoever you’re with drinks for the rest of the evening,” Stiles offers. He could afford it…it might mean he’d be stuck eating K.D. and Sidekicks for the rest of the month. He would suffer that if it means not having to acknowledge that he’s sad, alone, and still moping about the fact that Jackson is now dating his ex-crush, Lydia. If Stiles had thought Jackson couldn’t have been more of an asshole about their break-up at the time, he was wrong. Dating Lydia is probably the worst thing he could’ve done.
Stiles glances over casually to see that Jackson and Lydia are walking towards them. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
“No,” Mr. Grumpy Pants repeats again.
“It’ll be super simple. You just have to act like you’re in love with me.” Stiles pauses. “Okay, I admit, that it’s not going to be that simple, considering your current glare, but…”
Cue Jackson and the gorgeous strawberry blonde girl that’s holding hands with him. Of fucking course. Stiles looks up at him, hoping that he doesn’t look nervous. He’s nervous though. Jackson is a dick sometimes. And really, Jackson’s just mad because Stiles got to keep their apartment. It’s a nice apartment.
“Stiles,” Jackson sneers. If there’s anything Jackson’s good at, it’s acting as though he can make a person two inches big. He doesn’t succeed as often as he thinks, and Stiles needs this particular time to be unsuccessful for him. Jackson eyes up Mr. Grumpy Pants across from him and then snorts. “Please don’t tell me you paid this guy to be your date. Even I think that’s a little beneath you. Then again, you’ll never fail to surprise me at how you can become even more pathetic. It’s a gift of yours.”
Stiles’ mouth hangs open, because Jackson is such an asshole.
“Jackson Whittemore, how nice to see you,” Stiles grounds out. He hopes his face isn’t as hot as it feels. How the fuck did he already know that Stiles had just met this guy?
“Jackson Whittemore?” Mr. Grumpy Pants asks, looking up. Stiles catches the way his interest level has shot up. Stiles wonders if he recognized the name.
“That’s me,” Jackson says with a nod. “Pleasure to meet you.”
Mr. Grumpy Pants glances at Stiles and then shakes his head. “It’s already more like a slow, painful death meeting you.”
Jackson looks taken aback. Stiles blinks, because whoa, Mr. Grumpy Pants has a little dry humour there. He’s trying to hold back his smile, when Jackson snaps at Stiles, “Wow, you had to have paid him. You’re not worth defending.”
Before he has a chance to say anything, Mr. Grumpy Pants growls at him. He actually growls. Stiles looks over at him, almost amused, but then he’s surprised when Mr. Grumpy Pants growls the words, “Do not talk about my boyfriend in that manner.”
“Boyfriend?” Jackson snorts.
Stiles notices that Lydia is starting to look annoyed. He wonders if she even remembers him from high school. He doubts it. Stiles had been invisible to her during their four years. She had offered him a pencil once. It’d been a good day.
Jackson looks at Mr. Grumpy Pants and says, “Please, I don’t buy that. You are far too pretty to be with Stilinski. I’ve been there. He loses his charm pretty quickly.”
“We were together for a year and a half, Jackson,” Stiles says before he can stop himself. “I’m pretty sure that’s not all that quick.”
Jackson rolls his eyes. “I was bored by month three.”
Stiles isn’t hurt by the claim.
“Then why did you stick around?” Stiles counters.
Jackson glares at him.
Stiles feels Mr. Grumpy Pants reach out and grab his hand. It almost feels familiar, as if his hand should be there. He appreciates the silent, and verbal, support. Stiles squeezes it a little and then says, “I don’t really care. You’re nothing compared to my little snuggle muffin here.”
Mr. Grumpy Pants shoots him a death glare, but then his face lightens a little. “Thanks.”
“Anytime,” Stiles murmurs.
Lydia’s frown deepens. She’s clearly uncomfortable with this little showdown, and Stiles doesn’t blame her. He wishes he could tell her that she could do better, but she wouldn’t take advice from him anyway. She tugs on Jackson’s arm. “Come on, I want to dance.”
“Just wait,” he tells her, but his tone slips into a sweeter one. Then he looks at Stiles and Mr. Grumpy Pants, who Stiles should mentally start calling Life Saver. “Do you mind if we join you?”
Stiles glances at Mr. Grumpy Pants who rolls his eyes. “Fine, but you have fifteen minutes. Then I would like to enjoy my evening with my boyfriend alone.”
Wow. The guy is really playing up this whole boyfriend thing. It’s nice. It’s almost as if it’s real. Mr. Grumpy Pants and Stiles shift down on their seats. Jackson sits down beside Mr. Grumpy Pants, and Lydia sits down beside Stiles. There had been a day where Stiles would’ve killed to be sitting beside Lydia. Now, he’s wishing he’s beside the handsome, grumpy guy across from him.
“Stiles, aren’t you going to introduce me?” Jackson asks.
“I’m Derek, Derek Hale,” Mr. Grumpy Pants responds quickly. He looks more annoyed than anything else. Jackson rolls his eyes.
“How did you meet?” Jackson asks, clearly hoping to trip them up.
“Through Danny,” Derek answers easily. That’s when it all clicks into place for Stiles. Jackson and Danny had been dating a few years back. He must have recognized Jackson and that’s why he’s on board. Stiles just feels relieved. He couldn’t give less of a shit why Derek is helping him, he’s just happy that he is.
“He thought we’d hit it off,” Stiles says, smiling.
“Only we didn’t,” Derek says. His eyes seem to sparkle at Stiles. His lips curve up to the left. “This idiot almost spilled his drink on my favourite shirt.”
“To which I apologized profusely for, but that didn’t matter to Derek.” Stiles snorts. “The dude just stormed off, and scowled. We ended up running into each other later on, and Danny had been right the whole time.”
“That’s so sweet,” Lydia says for the first time. She’s smiling at both of them. “Jackson and I’s story is boring compared to that. He just asked me out, and I said yes. Our date was pretty mediocre.”
“Lydia,” Jackson hisses. She shrugs. He says, “So you’re Danny’s friend, Derek? That means your family was—”
“Jackson,” Lydia snaps. Her eyes narrow on her boyfriend, and Stiles realizes Jackson’s entering dangerous territory. Derek’s grip tightens on Stiles’ hand. She apologizes to Derek. “I’m so sorry. He’s just mad because he was expecting Stiles to be pining over him.”
“Was not,” Jackson denies. He looks at Derek though. “I have to ask. That thing that Stilinski does with his tongue and his fingers at the same time—doesn’t that annoy the hell out of you?”
“What thing—” Stiles starts.
Derek raises an eyebrow at Jackson. “I don’t know what thing you’re talking about, but I can assure you that nothing Stiles does with his body annoys me.”
Stiles just grins. Even if it’s not true, he’s going to pretend it is. It sounds so fucking nice coming from Derek’s lips. He glances down as Derek starts to rub his thumb over Stiles’ hand.
“Cute,” Lydia remarks. “Jackson does this really odd thing—”
“Lydia, please.” Jackson sighs. He then challenges them with, “What’s Stiles’ favourite food?”
“What isn’t?” Derek responds lightly. Stiles snorts.
“He’s not wrong, you know. I’m offended that you still think we’re not together, Jackson.” Stiles rolls his eyes.
“If you want them to prove they’re a couple, just have them kiss.” This comes from Lydia, in a bored tone. She’s not paying them any more attention though, but looking out longingly onto the dance floor.
“She’s right. I want to see you two kiss.”
“That’s not necessary,” Stiles responds. He glances up at Derek. He could be straight for all Stiles’ knows. He doesn’t seem straight with the way his eyes narrow on Stiles’ lips as if he might be considering it.
“Isn’t it?” Jackson demands.
“Okay, you have your gay time. I’m dancing,” Lydia tells them as she gets up. “Jackson, don’t keep me waiting long or you’ll be single again.”
“Be there in a minute, babe.” Jackson turns back to face the two of them. “Alright, if you’re not kissing, I’m going to assume you’re not dating.”
“We have nothing to prove to you, Jackson.” Stiles hates his ex-boyfriend a little more now. It’s stupid that he’s right about the situation.
Derek shifts to stand up and lean forward, awkwardly across the table. Stiles blinks a couple times before he does the same. He leans in close, and then Derek’s lips are against his. A light touch draws Stiles in closer.
Derek’s hand is around the back of Stiles’ neck, and Stiles’ hands are in Derek’s hair. He doesn’t even care if they look obnoxious or even a bit ridiculous. Derek’s deepening the kiss by wordlessly asking Stiles to open his lips. He does, and then it’s almost as though someone has dropped a piece of melting chocolate on his tongue. That’s how good Derek tastes, how good his tongue dances around in Stiles’ mouth. How the tug of the bottom lip makes Stiles attempt to hold back a moan, but he knows Derek and Jackson can hear it anyway.
When they part, Stiles has to slam a hand down on the table so he doesn't fly forward, and they both sit back down in their seats.
“Okay, fine, whatever. Have fun with my sloppy seconds,” Jackson says as he gets out of the booth.
“I will,” Derek responds lightly.
“Fucking weirdos,” Jackson mutters as he walks away.
“Dude, that was awesome,” is the first thing Stiles’ says when Jackson’s out of earshot. “Not just the kiss, but the way you totally sold being my boyfriend. That was so fun. We should do this professionally.”
“I’d rather we didn’t,” Derek deadpans as he smiles at the waitress. Stiles looks up to see he’s wrong. It’s not the waitress, but the bombshell blonde bartender. “Can we get another round, Erica?”
“Sure,” she says, her lips curling upwards. “I’m glad Boyd finally took my suggestion and introduced you two.”
“What?” Derek reacts first.
“You know Erica and Boyd?” Stiles asks.
“They’re my best friends,” Derek responds. “You know Erica and Boyd?”
“They’re in a couple of my classes. We study together—and with Isaac, too. Sometimes Danny joins us.” Stiles recalls some stories about their anti-social friend, Derek. He starts laughing. “Oh god, you’re their Derek. I’ve heard about you.”
“I’ve heard nothing about you,” Derek murmurs. It’s not said harshly though.
“Boyd didn’t introduce you? Then why are you sitting together?” Erica asks, studying them both carefully.
“I almost spilled my drink on Derek,” Stiles starts. He frowns at Derek and then adds, “My ex is here. Jackson.”
“I can get him kicked out, if you want,” Erica suggests. She glances around as if she’s looking for him.
“It’s fine,” Derek tells her. He glances back at Stiles. “It’s fine, right?”
“Totally fine,” Stiles says, a little more wishful than he means. He smiles at Erica. “I appreciate the offer though. Anyway, Derek saved my ass. Pretended to be my boyfriend so Jackson would lay off.”
“That was him laying off?” Derek shakes his head. “He sucks at laying off.”
“Tell me about it,” Stiles says, finding himself amused.
“Cute. You two will have to tell me about it later. I’ll send over your drinks.” Erica smiles and then heads back towards the bar.
“Small world,” Stiles comments.
“Definitely,” Derek responds. Stiles presses his lips together, and tries to think of what to say next. For once, he’s not sure how to proceed. Derek finally breaks the awkward silence by saying, “Do you often go up to strangers and ask them to be your boyfriends without introducing yourself?”
Stiles laughs. “Definitely not. But I have to say, I have great choice in fake boyfriends.”
“Oh yeah?” Derek says, amused. “Good to know. I guess you’re not bad yourself. Your taste in actual boyfriends is definitely questionable.”
“Oh god, I know. I think Jackson and I had more of a hate-fuck relationship. There wasn’t a real foundation between us, but I thought there was. I guess nice abs can really blind a guy, you know?” Stiles thanks the waitress who sets down their drinks. Derek does the same. Stiles takes a sip of his tequila sunrise and then adds, “I doubt Lydia will stick with him long.”
“I hope for her sake, she doesn’t.” Derek takes a sip of his drink. “A year and a half, really?”
“Really, really,” Stiles tells him with a shrug. “It wasn’t all that bad. He can be really sweet. It’s the taking him out in public thing that’s tough.”
“I see that,” Derek says, laughing. “Well, I can’t judge. Bad past relationships aren’t new to me.”
“They should be,” Stiles says, nodding. “You’re way too pretty to—”
“Did you just call me pretty?” Derek interrupts.
“Uh, yeah, but I mean,” Stiles starts tripping over his words. He waves a hand around. “Is that bad? I mean, I guess, it’s generally a feminine—”
“It’s different. I like different,” Derek interrupts him again. He’s smiling this time.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“Erica, I need Derek’s number,” Stiles says when he enters their booked study room about three weeks later. She looks up from her textbook and gives him an expression of confusion. “I need it now.”
“Uh, why didn’t you two exchange numbers?” Erica asks, pulling out her phone.
“Because,” Stiles says, impatiently. He waves his hands in the air as if that explains anything. She just recites Derek’s number and Stiles saves it into his phone. He starts stabbing at the keys. The truth is that he's panicking. He should have known that Jackson would pull some shit like this. It's not going to be simple to explain to Jackson that he had been right if Derek doesn't agree to do this for him again. It's not as though he'd really wanted to do it the first time either.
STILES: hey it’s Stiles. the guy you were fake boyfriends with in front of Jackson. I need you to be my boyfriend again.
“I need him to be my boyfriend again,” Stiles explains when Erica presses him for a better answer.
Before she can say anything, the study room door swings open. Danny walks in and announces, “I hate Jackson Whittemore. Did you get invited to his stupid dinner party?”
“Yes,” Stiles whines. “And the invitation said that it’s couples only.”
“Right. So if I don’t show up with a date, he’ll know that I’m not serious with Ethan.” Danny slumps into his usual chair. “But I don’t know if I want to ask Ethan to take it to the next level with me. He’s just doing this because we ran into each other last week and I was with Ethan and I didn’t use the word boyfriend. I just don't think Ethan's that serious about me, and it sucks.”
“If you don’t ask Ethan, do what Stiles is doing. Get a fake boyfriend,” Erica suggests. She’s laughing, but Stiles doesn’t care. She doesn’t know what pressure that Jackson puts on a person after a break-up.
DEREK: sure, when?
“I have my date secured,” Stiles says. He looks at Danny who’s frowning at him. “Just tell Ethan that you want to save face. You two don’t have to make it serious until you’re ready.”
“I guess,” Danny says with a sigh. “I hate Jackson.”
“Me too.”
STILES: this Thursday, at 7pm, at the Whittemore Estate
STILES: wish I was kidding, but Danny will be there too!
DEREK: do I have to wear a suit?
STILES: dress shirt and maybe a bowtie?
DEREK: you’re buying me alcohol
STILES: deal
DEREK: send me your address so I can pick you up at 6:45pm
He has an excellent date. And they get comfortable via text very fast.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
DEREK: what if Asshole asks some more questions about us, what should we agree on?
STILES: I don’t know, he’ll probably ask about our sex life in detail
DEREK: we fuck like rabbits, because you drive me crazy
STILES: no, you drive me crazy
DEREK: we rotate who’s on top and who’s on bottom
STILES: wow, okay, so kissing, how often do we kiss?
DEREK: often, very, very often.
DEREK: I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that kiss
STILES: good, me neither
DEREK: I asked you to be my boyfriend over coffee
DEREK: and bought you a brownie to celebrate
STILES: I’d like that
STILES: I like to take you to dinner and the movies on Sunday nights when everything’s quieter
DEREK: I’ve taken you to the arcade
DEREK: kicked your ass on multiple games
STILES: except air hockey—I’m exceptional at air hockey
DEREK: except air hockey
STILES: sometimes I call you on your lunch break
STILES: where do you work, by the way?
DEREK: I work at Best Buy right now while I work my way through college
DEREK: Erica, Boyd, and Isaac have asked me to join the study group but my classes are during the times you meet
STILES: too bad, we could’ve met sooner
STILES: I’m working at that bookstore on Queen and Carlton
DEREK: I love that place! how could I have not bumped into you before?
STILES: maybe you just don’t remember.
DEREK: I would remember those moles and eyes of yours
DEREK: and ass
STILES: yeah I’d notice Mr. Grumpy Pants too
STILES: I really should’ve nicknamed you Mr. Get Out of Those Pants
STILES: it was too long though
DEREK: you’re a fucking nut
STILES: remember, you’re madly in love with this nut
DEREK: yeah I remember
♚♞♚♞♚♞
Thursday rolls around and Stiles finds he’s not that nervous. He’s been texting Derek ever since he’d asked him to be his date. The guy is intense, but he’s interesting too. He’s got a humourous side, and he’s pretty thoughtful too. It’s been fun getting to know him. And Stiles feels as though they have gotten to know each other. They've been texting non-stop. So when Derek knocks on his door, Stiles finds it exciting to get into the car with him. The conversation flows easy between them, as they discuss things they'd been texting about on the way to Jackson's.
When they pull up to the Whittemore Estate, Derek groans. “You should’ve stayed with him for his money.”
It catches Stiles off guard, but he laughs and he’s still smiling as they ring the doorbell. Derek reaches out and intertwines their fingers. Stiles gives him an appreciative smile when Lydia opens the door. “Hello.”
“Hey Lydia,” Stiles says.
“I hope you have a great evening,” she tells them.
“Uh, thanks?” Stiles says, giving her a strange look as she passes them to exit it the front door. That’s when Stiles realizes she has her purse with her, and she’s leaving Jackson’s party already.
“Tell Jackson we’re fucking done,” she shouts over her shoulder.
“Well that didn’t last long,” Stiles mumbles, but he shrugs. Whatever, Lydia deserves better anyway. They slip into the house. It should feel familiar to Stiles, but it doesn’t. They make their way into the living room, where Jackson’s sitting on the couch, his arms crossed.
He’s wearing a fucking suit.
“Party’s cancelled. Go away, Stiles.”
“Lydia dumped you, huh?” Stiles says, trying to keep the amusement out of his tone. He fails miserably. There’s something nice seeing Jackson rejected like this.
“Yep,” Jackson says. He tugs at his tie, and then yanks it off. He throws it on the floor. “We were only dating for two months.”
“Still sucks,” Stiles says, easily. He knows Jackson’s mainly pissed off because he had been dumped. “Listen, if the party’s cancelled, we’re going to head out.”
“Fuck you,” Jackson mumbles.
Stiles glances up at Derek, who shrugs. He frowns and then says, “You know if you treated her better in public, she’d probably stick around.”
“Don’t tell me what to do,” Jackson says but it comes out weak. “It’s not a big deal. I’m everyone’s type. I can find something better.”
“Except?” Stiles prompts gently.
“Except I want her.”
Stiles nods. “Oh wow. You actually cared about her, didn’t you?”
“Fuck you!” Jackson says. This time it’s a pathetic attempt. He doesn’t even look like he believes it when he says, “I hate you, Stilinski.”
Stiles hasn’t seen Jackson look so pathetic, that he can’t help but want to offer some advice. He'll probably regret being nice to Jackson, but he has to admit. The guy could be cute and sweet. He could be less of an asshole in public. He's too insecure, and that's why he lashes out.
“I know. Why don’t you chase after her? Promise her that you’ll work on changing. That you’ll stop belittling her in public, and ignoring her, and that you’re going to make her feel like the queen she deserves to be. And then you’re going to keep those promises.”
“Fine.” And then Jackson’s gone. It’s the first time that Jackson looks desperate and it suits him.
“That was…interesting,” is the only thing Derek says. “Think she’ll take him back?”
“Who knows?” Stiles says, with a shrug. “But I smell food. We should eat anyway.”
“That’s ten kinds of rude,” Derek tells him, but he’s laughing as he follows Stiles into the kitchen. “I like it.”
Stiles grins. They decide to sit at the table, and help themselves to the catered food that Jackson had gotten for them.
When Danny and Ethan arrive a few minutes later, they catch them up on Jackson’s chase after Lydia and the fact that they’re enjoying the food anyway. Danny and Ethan are both down to sit around Jackson's empty house and have dinner. It puts less pressure on Derek and Stiles, for sure, but Stiles is wishing they hadn't shown up. It might have been nice to hang out with Derek alone.
Derek and Stiles bicker lightly about different topics, while Danny and Ethan talk quietly. Then, Stiles watches Danny and Ethan closely, before he decides that the way Ethan’s looking at Danny he’s in love. He’ll have to remember to tell Danny later. It might make him happy.
The night goes smoothly, and Stiles finds himself enjoying Derek’s company a lot. Maybe too much. It could become dangerous, having a crush on his pretend boyfriend. He doesn't exactly have a shot in hell with Derek...does he?
“How long have you been dating?” Ethan asks curiously, while Stiles starts serving out the cheesecake for dessert. Bless Jackson and his caterer ordering skills.
“Actually, we’re not dating.” Stiles frowns at the words. He doesn’t like that idea very much. He wishes he could say they're dating. Stiles glances over at Derek, who's frowning a little too. Maybe it's not as one-sided as Stiles had thought?
“Oh god, sorry. It’s just you seemed like a couple.”
“It’s okay—that’s the point,” Stiles explains. “He’s my pretend boyfriend because Jackson’s a dick.”
“Oh.”
That oh echoes around the room until Danny starts talking about Breaking Bad. Neither Derek nor Stiles has seen it, but Ethan’s a fan so they hold the conversation for a while.
Stiles glances over at Derek, and wonders what it would be like to actually date Derek. Nice, he bets.
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“Tonight was fun,” Derek says as they pull into Stiles’ driveway. “It was nice being at the Whittemore Estate without Jackson Whittemore. When he stormed back in, I'm surprised he didn't kick us all out. He didn't seem happy that Lydia told him to work harder.”
“Right?” Stiles says, in agreement. “I had fun too. Thanks, for you know, being my fake boyfriend again.”
“I was wondering,” Derek starts carefully. “Would you want to get coffee sometime?”
“Would it be a real date?” Stiles asks, hopeful.
“Yeah.”
“Yeah, I'd like that.”
♚♞♚♞♚♞
“Are you getting me a celebratory brownie?” Stiles asks, two months later.
“Maybe. Shut up.”
“I told you that it’d be simple being my boyfriend,” Stiles tells him. “Just feed me and I’m happy as a clam.”
Derek snorts. “Nothing about you is exactly simple, Stiles. But I like it.”