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"I think you'll see that if you just let go of the idea of Lydia that you'll have a lot more luck," Scott promised him. "I've learned that perfection isn't something you look for, it's something you find out about the other person over time."
"You're joking, right?" Stiles asked in a flat tone. "Do you remember what you said about Allison the first time you saw her? You said, and I quote here: 'she's peeerfect.'" For emphasis, Stiles allowed his voice to go all dreamy and a goofy smile to cross his lips. "Don't give me advice just because your dream girl turned out to want the two of you to be the dream team!"
The truth of the matter was that Lydia was perfect, she was ideal, she was everything he knew he wanted, and Stiles didn't know how to let go of that. But at the same time, he knew he needed to, for her sake and for his own.
"You’re right,” Scott admitted, nodding at him. “But the thing is, I tried. All you need to do is put..."
As if Stiles hadn’t been trying! "If you say 'put myself out there' I'm going to stab you with a spork. I don't even own a spork, I'll have to go out and buy a spork to stab you with."
Scott's face took on this horrible expression, like Stiles had just squatted all over his hopes and well-wishes for his best friend's love life and shat with extreme prejudice. That was just unfair, because it was his love life he was taking a dump on and...
Oh wow, nicely played, Scott.
"Fine," Stiles said, feeling slightly overwhelmed by Scott's ability to sway Stiles' mind with just an expression. "I'll flirt with intent. First person I see."
"Stiles," Scott shook his head.
"No?"
"No, just... next time you actually want to go for it, just go for it, man. It might work out, you never know. If you don’t take a chance, you don’t stand a chance."
x.x.x.x.
The problem was that Stiles didn't know how to want to go for it, because he'd been so focused on one person for so long that he didn't really look at the general public and think ‘do I find that person attractive.’ Stiles didn’t know how or who to check out.
He felt like he had the first time his parents took him to the big comic book store in the city, like there were suddenly so many options in front of him that he was overwhelmed by the choices and had no idea where, or even how, to start.
Did he have a type?
It turned out he might.
(Unfortunately).
"Putting yourself out there is a crock of shit. It doesn't work out, it never works out. People are assholes. Me included." Stiles had missed a lot of deliberate flirting over the years, so focused on trying to get Lydia's attention, and on occasion Danny's, but now that he was actively trying it out on different people, he was coming to the startling realization that people weren't assholes, they thought he was for his approach. Stiles was really kind of bad at this. He tried telling Scott, but Scott just patted his shoulder sympathetically.
"You'll get there," he promised with a reassuring grin.
It kind of really pissed Stiles off, because Scott's game was just as awkward as Stiles', Scott just managed to try it on Allison first and had somehow been successful. Stiles wasn't sure if that actually made Scott a pro or if it just made him crazy-lucky, but it kind of rankled to be getting advice from your best bud, the one who you figured you'd be single and alone with forever.
It was pretty much the worst.
No, Stiles decided stubbornly. He was going to learn how to flirt.
x.x.x.x.
Flirting was hard.
x.x.x.x.
Or Stiles was really bad at it.
x.x.x.x.
People actually were assholes, Stiles decided.
x.x.x.x.
No, flirting was really hard.
x.x.x.x.
x.x.x.x.
Stiles hated this.
x.x.x.x.
"Next time," Scott promised after Stiles regaled him of his attempt in complimenting a girl on her nails, and she’d immediately told him they were fake with a look of extreme judgment before walking away.
"No," Stiles said firmly. "No next time. I'm not trying this anymore. I just end up hurting people. Or pissing them off."
"You're trying too hard," Scott assured him. "Maybe they don't think you're being serious."
"Scott," Stiles answered, clapping his hand firmly over his BFF's shoulder. "I'm just not the guy people think is attractive, but full steam ahead, buddy. Barring finding a how-to-flirt-like-a-rockstar book from the 80s in my attic, which eww, dad, why? I think I'm just going to pass on giving my classmates the chance to turn me down, and coffee shops don't seem to be working for me, so I give up. I'll try again in a few years once people our age stop thinking douchebags are the best..."
"Hey Stiles," a voice interrupted him.
"Hi Kylie," Stiles said, turning to acknowledge her and then immediately focusing his attention back on Scott.
"Do you come here often?” she asked in a valiant attempt to regain his attention. “I mean, I see you here all the time. Because I’m here too, is what I mean. I really like the lemon squares but I can't eat too much sugar, do you want to share one with me?"
"No thanks," Stiles answered. "Lemon isn't really my thing. Maybe you could just eat half and freeze the rest?"
"I... uh... Sure. Yeah. Yeah, I can do that." She gave him a half-hearted smile and walked away.
"Awesome," Stiles said, turning away and feeling really great about solving the problem for both of them. He looked at Scott, ready to continue his tirade, only his best friend was staring at him with something akin to horror.
"What?" Stiles asked.
"You just..." Scott said in a weak tone as though he was still processing things. "Stiles! She was flirting with you!"
"She was not," Stiles scoffed. "I think I’d know.”
"Oh boy," Scott answered, putting his head in his hands. "This is a completely different situation from what I thought it was. I'm bringing Allison in on this."
"No, not Allison," Stiles answered in mock horror.
“Yes, Allison,” Scott answered in grave tones, raising his hand towards the barista and then pointing at Stiles.
“I’m sure she’s busy,” Stiles said, even though both of them could see that Allison was already taking off her apron for her break. The two of them were sitting in the café just because Scott liked to be available for the fifteen minutes Allison was, but didn’t enjoy sitting alone while waiting.
Young love.
x.x.x.x.
"Some people you just know you shouldn't flirt with. Take Derek for example. Watch his body language," Allison said, gesturing towards Derek Hale. Derek had always been untouchably hot, but there was just this way he was standing as a girl approached him that was both defensive and offensive, like he knew what was coming and tensed up, not wanting to deal with it. Stiles could read it from where he was sitting.
"Wow. You have beautiful eyes," the girl was saying.
"No." He shut her down brutally and efficiently.
"Wow," Stiles said, turned in his seat, practically hanging off it in order to see the crash and burn in front of him. It was kind of beautiful in that crystalline frozen brutality of dry ice. Like, you touch it and you’d probably lose some fingers.
"Yeah, you can tell right away that he's not receptive. Watch him, watch the way he reacts to people. You'll find it educational, because if you see those same avoidance techniques when you try to talk to someone, you know that they're not interested. That’s never been your strong point."
Ouch, thanks for the pointed zing, Allison.
"I think I need to talk with him myself to see it in person," Stiles decided as Derek took his coffee from the barista and moved to the side. "He can be the control group I measure all my failures against. The ultimate challenge!" Stiles crowed. "I'm going to flirt with Derek Hale!"
Scott facepalmed.
"Right now!" Stiles declared, getting to his feet and giving his friends a thumbs up. Scott's smile was more of a grimace, but he returned the thumbs up. Allison just shook her head in warning, because sometimes Allison was better at telling him to back off than Scott was. Stiles ignored both of them and moved towards Derek. Derek was back to drinking his coffee and looking bored, alone but not with the kind of open body language that suggested he was looking for conversation. His head was tilted down, and he wasn't making eye contact. It was obvious he was waiting for someone, because every few seconds he looked towards the door impatiently, and his shoulders tensed. He was kind of stupidly gorgeous and not at all approachable. Even Stiles could see that.
Take that Allison, he could read body language!
Derek looked up at him, eyes narrowing as he realized it looked like Stiles was approaching him.
Stiles swerved away at the last moment, tripping into the hallway where the bathroom was, his heart beating really quickly because he couldn't do it. He couldn't go through with flirting with someone like Derek Hale, who was not only fantastic looking, but who also looked like he wanted to tear the next person who tried to talk to him in two and eat their innards. Challenge? No thanks. Stiles didn't have the guts.
x.x.x.x.
Despite the failure to even try, Stiles still thought flirting with Derek would probably be a good learning experience.
Except, he couldn't do it. He couldn't bring himself to walk up to Derek Hale with the sole purpose of getting turned down. He saw Derek at one of Cora’s basketball games and stared at him from across the bleachers. Scott nudged him, probably to tell him that he was giving Derek the intense evil eye, but Stiles took it as a prompt for him to get up off his butt and go over there.
He made it three steps before returning to his seat and not looking at Derek again.
He saw Derek again shortly after, talking to his sister at the Farmer’s Market. The family owned a booth and it looked like Laura was trying to talk Derek into taking over for her. He was leaning forward over the table, arms braced as he glowered at her, and his shirt riding up slightly in the back.
Stiles tripped over a display of handmade jewellery and retreated to the other side of the market so he could buy his dad the fresh vegetables he actually enjoyed eating. Stiles wasn’t sure if his dad actually enjoyed fresh vegetables or if he enjoyed the fact that in order to obtain them Stiles had to wake up early on a Saturday morning. He suspected the latter.
Flirting with Derek for science? There was a catch.
A huge one.
It turned out that Stiles was kind of attracted to Derek Hale and wanted to flirt with him with the intent of getting a date, and that sucked. That sucked because he’d now witnessed Derek turn down about seven people. Derek had this way of just freezing someone out the moment they opened their mouths or batted their eyelashes, and Stiles wasn’t special, ok? He wasn’t special in a way that would make someone like Derek Hale take notice. Maybe it was a defeatist attitude, but Stiles didn’t think so. Stiles thought it was prudent. Things would have to be way different for Stiles not to be just one of the random people who approached Derek on a regular basis, spurred on by his dark good looks and his disapproving, challenging stare.
Stiles dropped the idea of flirting with all that.
The next time he saw Derek, he saw just a normal guy. A normal guy who had to put up with a lot of people having certain perceptions of him because he had muscles and a symmetrical face that was very appealing to look at. It was weird to think that people thought Derek was obliged to be nice just because they wanted to get all up on that. Like, Derek was the asshole for saying no.
Holy shit.
Stiles was never going to be able to flirt again. He’d observed too carefully and now he was second guessing all his interactions with anyone. He’d never be able to look Lydia in the eye again. He’d gone through the rabbit hole and came out the other side, to a place where he didn’t like what he saw in the mirror.
“I’m a monster,” he moaned to Allison.
She just patted his hair and gave him one of the cake pops that had crumbled before it could be put in the display case. She wasn’t really allowed to give too many of those out, so the fact that she made an exception in this case really spoke volumes. “You’ll be better for it,” she promised.
“How do you even talk to someone you’re interested in?” he asked, banging his head against the café table. He could feel crumbs smear against his forehead, which was awesome. Just awesome. Just the icing on the cake, as it were.
“Earnestly. You just… you talk to them, Stiles. Like they’re a person. Attention isn’t always a bad thing, so don’t treat it like it is. Just realize that not everyone is receptive to it and respect that. The best flirting is… it’s hard to explain,” she said, with a soft smile. “It’s a conversation catered directly to the person receiving it. No cheesy pick-up lines, no hubris. Just ‘I see you, and I like what I see’. Not ‘I’d like to see more of me in you.’ Does that make sense?”
That was when Derek Hale walked in.
Stiles took one look at him and just banged his head against the table again. Allison reached over and drew his wallet out of his pocket and took out five dollars. “I’ll bring you a coffee. It looks like you need it,” she said, hand on his shoulder as she rose out of her chair to go back to work.
It looked like Stiles was tapped out on the amount of freebees Allison was willing to give out.
Including advice.
x.x.x.x.
Stiles, unfortunately, couldn’t avoid Derek forever. There wasn’t even a reason for him to try, except that he found that he might actually like Derek as a person from all the creepy watching he did. That was a catch Stiles hadn’t anticipated.
The second catch was that he actually needed something from the Hale stall at the Farmer’s Market. The Hales specialized in homemade salad dressings, among so many other things, including wares from their winery. His dad was obsessed with the Bistro Bacon vinaigrette, and Stiles thought it was a decent compromise to make him eat salads and veggies without complaint. His dad thought he was eating bacon and getting one over on Stiles, and Stiles wanted to encourage that as much as possible. Laura Hale had compared the family recipe to what it would be like if his dad poured mounds of bacon bits on his salad, and Stiles was actually the one coming out ahead here.
So of course Derek was working the stall the Saturday morning after his dad had run out and started slopping Kraft Ranch dressing everywhere. Then, to add insult to injury, his dad woke him up two hours before he intended to get up with a reminder that he wanted salad for lunch.
Stiles’ dad was a total troll. Stiles didn’t inherit that from his mother. As if his dad actually wanted salad, he just enjoyed torturing Stiles. Well, the joke was on him because Stiles was going to make him a massive salad and then force him to eat it all.
Stiles almost stopped short when he saw Derek. He was having an unpleasant conversation on the phone, his back turned to the customers looking at the wares at the Hale family Farmer Market stall. One of them picked up the bottle of homemade vinaigrette they'd been eying while Derek wasn’t paying attention and moved to leave. Before they could even take a step backwards, Derek turned and glowered at them with his eyebrows. The person put the bottle down and practically fled.
Stiles didn't blame them. Derek’s eyebrows were frightening.
Approaching Derek was so much easier when Stiles had no intention of doing anything but a monetary transaction. Or, it should be easier, if the scent of patchouli from the vendor stall beside the Hale one didn’t make Stiles feel like he was bathed in the scent of moldy bread. He took the long way around the Market just to avoid that (really, that was what he was avoiding), and by the time he reached the stall, Derek looked like he’d just swallowed his mother’s lemon zest vinaigrette on its own.
Stiles opened his mouth to lead with a biting observation about Derek's crime prevention security system. He stood there in front of Derek for a minute, nervously picking at a splinter on the corner of the counter as Derek used his security system to judge him. It was super effective. Stiles didn’t feel secure at all. What came out of Stiles’ mouth was: “Has anyone ever told you you have a magnificent brow?”
Aww damn.
x.x.x.x.
"So I flirted with Derek Hale. I think," Stiles told Scott, still feeling a bit shell-shocked. He had no idea what had just happened. Well, Derek had been kind enough to fill him in, but still. He hadn't even meant to flirt with Derek. At least, not in that moment. He didn’t get it. How was this happening to him?
"Oh Stiles," Scott answered with a sympathetic expression. "Was it bad? I'm sorry. Don't take whatever he said too personally, it won't always be like this. I said focus on someone less like Lydia, and if anything Derek Hale is MORE Lydia than Lydia is, because at least Lydia has hidden facets besides her pretty face and scathing wit. Derek Hale is just kind of flat."
Stiles had no idea why they were referring to Derek by both first and last name like it was a title of some sort. They’d always done that. Derek Hale, basketball star. Derek Hale, lacrosse star. Derek Hale, popular guy who is a senior and is way too cool for school.
"Yeah," Stiles answered, sighing gustily. "I remember his abs, and by the look of his shirt, they've only gotten better." Would he get to touch them? It might not be a real date, but Stiles wasn't sure what the rules would be on that.
Probably no touching. It was for the best, anyway. If Stiles didn't know how to flirt, then he really didn't know how to casually feel someone up.
"It's ok, buddy, obviously he's only gotten more picky since high school and kind of disdains anyone who stayed in Beacon Hills. You saw him, he says no to everyone. I knew it was a bad idea for you to try with him, I should have tried harder to stop you. You can't feel bad about it... learning experience and move on, right?"
"What are you talking about?" Stiles asked in confusion, breaking out of his buzz of thoughts concerning how confusing the whole conversation had been. He ACTUALLY HAD A DATE WITH DEREK HALE.
Had he not said that? He’d been screaming it in his head for the last thirty minutes with varying degrees of horror, excitement, and nausea.
"Derek Hale turning you down."
And ok, so Derek hadn't really asked him out for real, but the opportunity was too good to resist. "We're going to a movie tonight."
"WHAT?" Scott yelped and fell off his chair.
x.x.x.x.
“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Allison said, looking surprised as he hurried through the door of the café with a shirt clasped tightly in his fist.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” he told her wildly.
“I’m at work,” she said pointedly, but then her features softened. “Did something happen?”
“It’s the worst!” he said, pulling at his hair, the shirt in his hand obscuring his sight for a moment as the material draped over his eyes. He collapsed on the counter, his face narrowly missing a display of breath mints.
“Stiles?” Allison questioned, moving to take off her apron.
“I have a date with Derek,” he moaned piteously, almost missing the way Allison paused in alarm. “And I don’t know whether I should wear what I’m wearing – I mean, he asked me out in this top, so obviously there’s something to it, right?” Stiles looked up hopefully.
“Is this the other option?” Allison asked, prying his clean button-up out of his fingers. “Wear this, but only if you have the time to iron it. Your sweaty death-grip gave it a weird wrinkle pattern.”
“Euuuuughhhhhgrrrr,” he moaned against the plastic of the protective sheet over the counter.
“Get up,” Allison hiss, pulling on his hair so sharply it made his eyes water. “My boss is coming and there’s a line behind you.” She pressed a brownie into his hands. “That’ll be $3.55.”
It turned out not even advice was free, but at least it came with sugar.
x.x.x.
Of course, the date was kind of a disaster and Stiles didn't know how to tell Scott that he went out with Derek with the full knowledge that Derek wasn’t into him and didn’t want to be there. He didn’t know how to say that he knew about that, and still thought that maybe things would turn around, because this whole situation was already a high school dating movie cliché, so of course Stiles kind of thought that maybe this was Derek’s chance to get to know him and like him.
Obviously Stiles had been mistaken about that. Stiles had been mistaken about a lot of things, including treating his date with Derek as being real so that it made Derek feel so awkward that he’d felt obligated to offer a second one, as though going out a second time absolved him of feeling so shitty about Stiles showing up in a nice shirt.
It turned out Stiles’ type might just be assholes, because Stiles said yes.
(It didn’t help that his dad was acting weird, like he was slowly morphing into a foodie. Friday night, he’d emptied a whole bag of store-bought thyme into the garbage and said: “I need fresh thyme! Pick some up for me tomorrow, and none of that freeze-dried stuff.”
Stiles wasn’t sure either of them even cooked with thyme. He thought that bag might be an ancient relic that came with the cupboard when they moved in.
And earlier that week, he’d sent Stiles to the café for a latte, even though his dad hated coffee that was more milk than caffeine, and it had been weird to go in there when Allison wasn’t working.
His dad had even forced Stiles to go for a walk in the preserve while he cooked supper, and Stiles hadn’t seen anything interesting. There hadn’t been a single animal sighting, which was what people claimed to go to the walking trail for, nor a Hale-in-running-shorts sighting, which was what people really went there for.
So Stiles was pretty suspicious. His dad had either started to date someone new or was trying to hide a big case from him. There was no way all of Stiles’ prodding and shoe-horning had actually turned his dad into someone who appreciated things like lattes.
Right?
The weirdest thing was when Cora Hale came up to him and said ‘look, my brother may be a lay barge, and you might have a mouth that makes people weep, but I will shank you if you take advantage of that.’ Stiles didn’t know how to answer that, so he went with ‘I rarely try to make people cry deliberately? Usually I’m accidentally an asshole?’)
Stiles didn't tell Scott about the second date. He made it a point not to even think about it. He was so far in denial that the date snuck up on him without him worrying about it even once.
Fool him once… and all that.
Stiles paused Netflix to send his grandmother a link to a shirtless picture of Brad Pitt. She immediately sent back exclamation points, because his grandmother was awesome and enjoyed torturing his dad as much as he did. She'd taken to Facebook like she'd taken to looking out her window at the neighbours, with curiosity and a complete disregard for people who were too stupid to protect their privacy from prying eyes. It was just a bonus that one of her side hobbies also included trolling his dad with Brad Pitt pictures, because his dad had brought his mom to Thelma & Louise on their first date, and his dad would never, ever, ever live that one down.
Turned out that maybe that level of trolldom was hereditary. This was at least third generation, so possibly it was a dominant trait.
By the time he finished chatting with her, the doorbell was ringing and he had to cut it short, telling her that he had a hot date with an even hotter guy, though he felt in his gut that only half of that statement was true. This was the very definition of pity dating if he'd ever heard of it. Derek Hale was just trying to assuage his own guilt, and Stiles figured he may as well use the opportunity to learn how to go on dates without being awkward. Not that Stiles actually believed he had any chance of learning that, but it might help him feel less nervous when the real thing came along... ok, flawed reasoning, but Derek Hale was considered a catch, maybe if someone saw the two of them together, they'd think Stiles was a catch too.
Stiles pulled open his front door, expecting that he knew what way was up and where everything stood between Derek and himself, but then he got a good look at Derek, his hair a little too perfect to be anything other than the product of standing in front of a mirror obsessing about it, and a nice blazer pulled over his shirt and sinfully tight jeans.
"Uh," was Stiles' reaction, staring down at the t-shirt he'd been wearing all day. It wasn't a terrible choice for casual, but this time he'd put zero effort into impressing Derek, the exact opposite of their first date, and it showed. If anything, Derek could tell too, because he took in Stiles' appearance with a sweep of his eyes and then awkwardly focused on the mailbox to the right of the door.
"I don't know how to show my appreciation for getting a second date with a guy," Derek said, hands in the pockets of his jeans, spreading open the front of his blazer in a way that made him look like he was on the cover of GQ. Jesus Fucking Christ. This guy. "Usually, flowers, but, uh... you don't seem like you'd appreciate them. I thought maybe a bag of candy, but... I... uh... here," Derek finished, shoving a card into Stiles' hands.
"Uh," Stiles repeated, looking down at the $10 gift card to iTunes. "Thanks? I'll just go put it in water?"
"You wanted flowers?" Derek questioned, sounding so unsure and like he'd made a complete faux pas that Stiles didn't know how to answer him.
"No, I didn't expect anything," Stiles answered, pulling on his hoodie. It wasn't even his good hoodie, it was the spare hoodie he kept in the hallway closet for days he was running late and darted out of the house to find it was raining. "Seriously, you've already gone beyond my expectations, considering last time."
If anything, the expression on Derek's face turned even more displeased, like he was trying to swallow a lemon that was coated in mold.
Derek’s mom’s lemon vinaigrette and patchouli. Gross.
Don’t bring up the clusterfuck of their first date. Noted.
Their second date went worse. It went worse because Derek was trying, and Stiles spent the entire time pushing him away, already mentally preparing for being let down.
When Derek said: “Thank you for saying yes,”
Stiles responded: “Yeah. No. Do you like fish tacos? I think they taste awesome but the name always makes me feel a bit vomity. It sounds slang for… never mind. I’ll have that.”
When Derek said: “You look nice,” and smiled at him,
Stiles responded with: “I didn’t even change” and didn’t follow up by complimenting Derek in return.
(Even though Derek looked really good).
When Derek said: “Would you like to get some ice cream” as he fiddled with his keys,
Stiles answered: “Nah, I’m stuffed. Just drive me home.”
When Derek pulled up in front of his house, Stiles said: “Thanks for supper” as he opened the car door,
Derek answered: “Thanks again for agreeing to it” and he paused just long enough for Stiles to get his leg out the door.
Stiles left with: “No problem, dude.”
Derek’s face had been permanently etched in a pained expression the entire evening, as though he didn’t know how to fix the air between them because Stiles wouldn’t allow it. So the fact that neither of them brought up the possibility of a second date wasn’t anyone’s fault but his own.
Stiles understood that.
In retrospect.
x.x.x.x.
Stiles and his father weren’t very let’s-talk-about-our-feelings with each other, not constantly anyway, but Stiles sometimes needed someone to talk to, and his father was the only blood relative he had. They fumbled through it like idiots until both of them wished Stiles had just asked Scott.
Stiles had no intention of talking to his dad about his failed date with Derek, but he felt the need to get it off his chest, and something, some kind of weird mental conditioning or something, made him feel like it would be comforting to sit across from his dad for an hour not talking about it.
Stiles never went empty-handed. “Hey, Allison,” he said, trying not to look around too carefully for Derek. This was his favourite café! Derek could just find somewhere else to brood. “I need the milkiest, frothiest latte you can make. Very little espresso. In fact, hold the espresso!”
“So you want a cup of steamed milk?” Allison asked in an unimpressed tone.
“Yes!” Stiles answered happily. “Non-fat.”
Take that dad.
“Aw hell, son,” his dad said with a grimace upon drinking his latte.
“I know you like them, now,” Stiles answered with glee, putting his feet up on his dad’s desk and settling in for the lunch hour.
“I just wanted you to put the poor Hale boy out of his misery, not make me miserable.”
“What?” Stiles asked in a daze, because that couldn’t be right. How did his father know about Derek Hale? Stiles had thought he’d have to build up to the part of the story where they had gone on a date. “How did you… did he ask permission to date me?”
“Not really,” his dad, the man with the Sheriff badge adhered to his uniform, responded as he paged in Deputy Parrish. “I’m the Sheriff, I notice things.”
“It’s weird and archaic, is what it is. What’s next, dowries? Human sacrifices? Public stonings?”
“Sir?” Parrish questioned, sticking his head in the door.
“Stiles brought you a drink,” his dad answered, passing over the latte. Yes, the Sheriff took his badge very seriously.
“Thanks, Stiles,” Parrish answered, clapping Stiles on the back awkwardly. He took a sip and then held it in his mouth with a sour expression.
“No problem!” Stiles answered cheerfully, watching as the Deputy hurried out of the office and towards the washroom. Then he shot his dad a disbelieving stare. “He’s gonna think I like him, now.”
“Not with that drink, he isn’t,” his dad answered smoothly. “About Hale, I think he just realized I was starting to notice every time he pretended to tie his shoelace on the sidewalk when you walked by him with Scott, or that his car was sitting outside the house for fifteen minutes and he never got out, or that he called out your name in the grocery store while you had your big headphones on.”
What?
“He’s been trying to get your attention for weeks. Could you just friend him on Facebook or something so I can stop seeing that disappointed hounddog expression he gets every time you blow him off?”
“Bad choice of words, old man,” Stiles said automatically, though his heart wasn’t in it. What disappointed expression? When did Stiles walk by Derek on the street? When did Derek park in front of the house?
“You don’t have to respond to his overtures if you’re not interested,” his dad reminded him. “I can make his life a living hell if he’s making you uncomfortable or if his fumbling attempts at getting you to date him make you feel like he’s pressuring you, but I know how obtuse you are about these things, so I assume you just didn’t notice.”
“Not interested,” Stiles sputtered. “I don’t know if you know this dad, but Derek is like the unattainable hot guy in town.”
“I don’t care how much like the Fonz he is, if he’s pressuring you, I’ll…”
“Oh god,” Stiles moaned. “The Fonz, dad? I hope I’m not making completely irrelevantly ancient pop culture references when I get to be an old man. But I fear it.”
“Son…”
“Don’t worry about it,” Stiles answered, waving his dad off. “Derek has been fine. We went out again last night and it was horribly awkward and stifled. You think he likes me, but I think he just keeps taking me out because he doesn’t want to fail.”
His dad was quiet for a moment, observing him. “Son, it is my duty as your father to support you no matter what. But you’re an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Stiles sighed, letting his feet fall from the Sheriff’s desk. “I’m getting that. I gotta go do a guy about a thing.”
“And Stiles!” his dad called out as he went to leave. “No getting stoned in public!”
x.x.x.x.
If Stiles was smart, he would have dealt with that knowledge head-on. Instead, he went home and did everything he could to ignore it. He played video games. He did half the chore list. He went for a jog. He ate his weight in Doritos while watching the Avengers movies.
If he thought that was going to tire him out, he was fooling himself, because the moment his head hit the pillow, all he could think about was the fact that Derek had actively spent time trying to date him. That may or may not mean that Stiles was a huge dillbag of a douche, but the jury was still out on that.
So Stiles did what came naturally to him these days, he went and talked to Allison.
And by ‘went and talked to’ he meant he showed up at her front door at 7:30 in the morning on a Saturday with the brand of cream soda she liked and a bribe of breakfast sandwiches for her whole family. Chris looked like he was ready to murder him when he found out he was there for relationship advice. Murder and/or laugh. Those two expressions were difficult for him to tell apart.
“I fucked up so badly,” Stiles told her, hugging the throw pillow on the Argent couch. He didn’t even want to think about it, but telling Allison came naturally. Allison didn’t see the best in him and Allison didn’t really try to help. Scott was always in his corner, but right now he didn’t need someone entirely on his side.
“Yeah, you did,” Allison told him, not pulling her punches. “It’s a natural part of dating. So what are you going to do about it? Are you going to suck it up and find a way to work things out or are you gonna run away like a big baby?”
Stiles paused and thought about it. “Run away,” he decided.
Allison nodded once, like she expected that from him, which ouch. Thanks Allison. “Then you’ll have to live with that.”
“If you say this is a good learning experience I’m not bringing breakfast sandwiches next time,” Stiles answered bitterly.
“I like the ones with sausage better,” she told him, shutting the front door behind him, though Stiles didn’t even remember getting up off the couch.
Allison was stealthy and kind of scary. Maybe all this time when he thought she was laughing at him, she was really trying to murder him.
It might be better if she put him out of his misery.
x.x.x.
If Stiles really thought about it, Derek looked lonely sitting by himself at the table for four. When Stiles entered the café and took his usual table with Scott, Derek looked up, freezing when his eyes caught Stiles’. He then looked back down at his drink, looking acutely awkward, like he was thinking about leaving the café and never coming back.
So they had a bad date or two? That didn’t mean Stiles was entitled to the café in the divorce.
“He’s such an asshole,” Scott said, the picture of bro-solidarity as someone stood in the line-up for coffee and eyed Derek like he was a piece of meat. If anything Derek just got more uncomfortable, his shoulders hunching protectively over his cup.
Stiles felt a pang in his heart. It felt a lot like guilt and fondness.
Or a side-stitch from not stretching properly before his run.
"He's not so bad," Stiles said, looking over at Derek. And he wasn’t that bad. He’d really tried on the second date, and Stiles was horribly embarrassed by how dismissive he’d been. Hindsight made it easier to see that maybe Derek had been trying and Stiles hadn’t needed to be so defensive. Maybe he’d been trying and Stiles was the asshole.
“Look at him,” Scott responded, waving his hand towards Derek.
Stiles rather wouldn’t. He probably should have done more to fill Scott in on the first date than just shrug (and he probably should have mentioned there had been a second). He felt like he needed to defend Derek, because Derek didn’t deserve whatever kind of loyalty Scott was projecting over Stiles. “I have, and he’s not so bad.”
"Not so bad? I bet you wouldn't go over there and flirt with him again." Then Scott's brain caught up with his mouth and he gave Stiles this alarmed look, like he knew exactly what was about to happen. "I didn't mean..."
Wow, amazing wording, Scott. A bet.
Was it weird that Stiles thought that might even the playing field a little?
Stiles pushed up his sleeves and cracked his fingers. "You'll lose that one," he promised, winking at Allison as she cleaned off a table a few feet from Derek. "Derek... heeeey. Come here often?"
"Is that a line?" Derek asked, looking up from his coffee. He looked… well, he looked like he hadn’t expected Stiles to come over. "Did you really just say that to me?"
"Yeah, I did," Stiles said stubbornly, licking his lips and kneeling on the nearest free seat at Derek's table, so he had added height over Derek. It worked well when he was able to lean across the table, bracing his elbow in the middle. "Maybe I'm just trying to establish what you like for our next date."
"You think there's going to be a next one?" Derek asked in a flat tone.
“I think I’d like to try,” Stiles said. “Third time’s the charm, right?”
“You’ve been clear about what you think of me. You’re probably right,” Derek shook his head, picking at the cardboard sleeve over his coffee before his eyes darted back up to Stiles’.
Yeah, Stiles was really obtuse, because who could mistake that for anything other than what it was?
Derek was adorable and wore his heart on his sleeve. When his defenses were down, he was terrifyingly open.
Stiles smirked in return. "I usually am, and you know what else I think? I think you're going to kiss me in about thirty seconds."
"Why do you think that?" Derek was now looking directly at him with a curiosity that was a marked improvement over self-flagellation.
Stiles lowered his voice as he moved closer to Derek. "Because I really, really want you to," he said, maintaining eye contact and then allowing his gaze to drag down to Derek's mouth.
Maybe Stiles could flirt. Maybe he just needed motivation.
Derek huffed slightly, one corner of his mouth curling up in what didn't seem remotely like a smile unless one had spent a good deal of time studying Derek Hale's face. Derek was really good at pretending things annoyed and aggravated him, but he had his tells. "I don't give into threats," Derek answered, leaning forward across the table.
It took Stiles a moment to realize that Derek was leaning in with purpose, but expected Stiles to finish the last quarter of the distance between them. Maybe Stiles really was shit at picking up cues, because that one should have been easy. Stiles started smiling before he even leaned forward until his mouth was brushing, just slightly, against Derek’s. It was a tease that he maintained for a moment, a promise of a kiss that had his mouth tingling with the need for more.
Derek did it himself, his fingers curling into the hair at the back of Stiles’ head, pushing his face forward a little too sharply to be intentional. Their chins jabbed together in a moment of uncoordinated movement, but they both kept moving with each other until it evened out. Stiles could feel Derek’s mouth against his – there was a concentrated amount of touch receptors in a person’s lips, Stiles knew that. He’d highlighted it in his textbook at school like it would be on a test later, and in a way it was because Stiles felt like Derek was igniting each and every one of them.
But more importantly, he felt Derek’s sincerity take root as he effortlessly kissed Stiles in the middle of their favourite café in front of all the regulars. Stiles hadn’t realized he needed a kind of declaration, especially after their two public dates, that Derek wasn’t just doing this because of a bet, but it turned out that he did.
"Mmm," Stiles hummed, pulling away from Derek. "Damn. We’re doing that again, right?"
Derek opened his mouth to respond…
"STEAMSHIP IS DOWN. I REPEAT. STEAMSHIP. DOWN." A teenage girl was yelling into her phone. “DID YOU GET THE PICTURE I SENT?” she asked, holding her phone towards them and taking what looked like another picture. Or 5.
Weird, Stiles thought as Derek's head turned sharply and he shot the girl an unhappy look.
“YES. THAT IS DEREK HALE!”
“Maybe we could have that third date right now?” Stiles asked, eying the girl warily. “Somewhere other than here.”
“I knooooow,” the girl whined into her phone. “How is that fair to us mortals? All that with all that?”
“You seem to have a fan club,” Stiles told Derek with a grin. “Should I be concerned? They won’t kill me, will they?”
“Stiles, they’re your fanclub.”
“Please,” Stiles snorted, getting to his feet. “Ice cream? My treat. I think I’d know if I had a fanclub.”
“You know nothing, Stiles Stilinski.” Derek seemed to be willing to follow him, so that was good. Maybe hope wasn’t entirely lost because Stiles was a dumbass.
“Is that a deliberate Game of Thrones reference?” Stiles questioned.
Derek just shook his head with a grin and followed Stiles out of the café.