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Stiles is joking around with Cora and Scott after school, waiting/hoping to catch a glimpse of Derek when he picks Cora up. The Camaro pulls up and Cora opens the door as she finishes her conversation with Scott. Stiles doesn't do subtle, so he totally ducks a little to see Derek clearly. He's on the phone and he's . . .
"--pas grave," Derek is saying. "Je dois finir l'appel, je conduis."
Holy.
Shit.
Derek can speak French.
Something pops in Stiles' brain. Because damn, Derek is hot like all the time, but the hotness is escalated to the point where it's approaching the infinity limit when French is involved. How is that possible? Derek's always been hot but somehow the French makes him super hot. It should be fucking illegal for hotness this hot to exist in the world. How can a mere mortal be so fucking hot?
Scott and Cora are staring at him, Scott with an expression that says 'dude, bro, stop', and Cora with a wide evil grin. Then Stiles rewinds the last three seconds and realises he might've actually said that. As in aloud.
Oh.
Fuck.
He looks at Derek and, to his horror, sees Derek staring back at him, phone still at his ear and excellent eyebrows raised high.
A sound not unlike that of a felled gazelle emerges from Stiles. "Um. I gotta . . . go . . . be . . . over there." And he sprints back into school. Cora's laughter is cut off by the door slamming shut behind him.
This is it. It's over. He might as well hang up his dreams of ever dating anyone, let alone getting laid, let alone doing any of those things with Derek Romance-Tongued Hale, because clearly the universe has given up on him. He's a lost cause. He's done. He's eighteen and he's done.
Scott finds him standing in the middle of the corridor. "You okay?"
"No," Stiles replies. "I'm facing down my long and illustrious future as the most inept virgin in existence."
"It wasn't that bad," Scott says. "I think Derek blushed."
"Pity blushing doesn't count." Stiles throws his hands wide. "I don't want pity blushes, Scotty!"
"Cora thought it was hilarious."
Of course she did. Which is why Stiles isn't surprised when she practically drags him out of school the next day, hands around his arm like a vice. Scott doesn't even try to help, just follows along like this is normal for them. Honestly, Stiles should get new friends. And what the hell does she do to get a grip like that? Stiles can't get away. Which is why he's still standing there when Derek pulls up.
"Whyyy?" Stiles begs, struggling with Cora.
"You'll thank me later, idiot," she says.
Derek gets out the car and saunters over with his stupid hot face and hot shoulders and hot fucking smirk, and Stiles wishes that he could defy gravity and physics because sinking into the earth is a super great prospect right now.
Derek gets in his face and says, "Hey."
Oh fuck everything. "Hey." This is the worst. Stiles looks at Cora. "You're officially the worst."
"If you could stop fighting with my sister for one second," Derek says, "it would be cool if I could get your number."
Stiles is so surprised that he forgets he's trying to get away from this situation. He looks at Cora and Scott, then back at Derek. He rewinds the last three seconds. Yup, Derek Hale asked him for his number.
"Are you serious?" he blurts.
Derek runs a hand through his hair, looking kinda sheepish. "Yeah."
"How?"
Derek seems to have difficulty getting words out.
"Oh my fucking god I'm so glad one of you two finally said something," Cora says, letting his arm go. "Just for your freaking information, Stilinski, remember how I passed my driving exam six months ago? I don't need picked up. This moron keeps doing it because he's got a crush and he's too chickenshit to do anything about it." She shoves Stiles a little. "Do something about it. Derek, I'm driving the Camaro home."
"Like hell you are," Derek snaps. "Stiles, give me your number." He hesitates, then adds, "S'il vous plaît. Maintenant, avant que ma soeur ne détruise ma voiture."
Stiles nearly throws his phone at him.