Work Text:
“So. This is nice.” Rosie smiled at Derek. She was a tall, skinny, eccentric brunette, with short hair combed over and big blue eyes. Her wrists jangled with every move and it was beginning to get on Derek’s nerves.
“Yeah, this place is nice.” Derek sighed, hovering by the podium waiting for their table. He heard the familiar heart beat before he saw him.
Stiles Stilinski was heading over to them, dressed in the waiter black slacks, a white shirt and a red striped waistcoat. The boy looked delicious. The glasses he never wore perched on the bottom of his nose. He had a white stained dish cloth hung over his shoulder and was chatting away, a mile a minute, with a small red-head in similar attire. His smile almost took up his whole face. The red-head pointed over to where Derek and Rosie stood. Stiles looked with the movement of her finger and the smile dropped, replaced with a scowl.
Derek knew the boy wasn’t fond of him, but Jesus.
Stiles was at the podium a few seconds later.
“Reservations?” Stiles asked, looking at a space in between Rosie and Derek.
“Yeah.” Derek answered.
“Name?”
“Stiles. Seriously.” Stiles just raised an eyebrow and Derek sighed. “Hale.”
“Table. For. Two.” Stiles said through gritted teeth, plucking two menus up and looking at them deadpan. “If you could follow me.” He turned on his heels and strutted off, Derek and Rosie almost having to jog to keep up. There was a two seater with a single rose in the middle, wine glasses and water glasses already at the table. It was a nice table.
“Thank you.” Rosie smiled and sat down.
“I’m Stiles, I’ll be your waiter for today. Can I take your drinks order?” Every word came out like it physically pained him.
“Can I have a glass of Rose please.” Rosie was smiling to herself at the joke and Derek laughed also. Stiles on the other hand looked (if it was even possible) more pissed off.
“Sure thing.” His voice was dripping with heavy sarcasm. “The gentleman?” Stiles asked, without looking at Derek, directly.
“I’ll just have a water please.” Derek smiled sweetly.
“Okay. I’ll be back for your order in a moment. Our specials are on the board.” Stiles scowled further and left.
“Well, he was rude.” Rosie breathed, turning up her nose and looked down at the menu.
“Two Soups.” Stiles slammed the plates down onto the table, a splash of brocolli and Stilton soup landing on the table. He clonked cutlery onto both sides and turned and flounced away.
“Wait hold on a minute. Isn’t that guy? That’s the Sheriff’s kid.” Rosie leaned over her soup to gossip. Derek forced back a groan.
“I guess so.”
“But you know him?”
“I guess.”
“How?”
Derek raked his brain for a answer that didn’t involve werewolves, Stiles getting him arrested, ‘harbouring his fugitive ass’ or the general truth.
“I dated his English Teacher. She loved him to bits.” Derek smiled weakly.
“Oh.” She took a slurp of her soup, before coughing. “It’s really salty.” She downed a big gulp of her drink and Derek turned to see Stiles’ bitter face aggressively cleaning glasses.
“One Salmon and One Steak, medium rare.” He placed the plates down, still brutally for the table but softer than before.
“Thank you.” Derek smiled, and Stiles just scowled and walked away.
Dessert slipped by with a unnerving lack of angry Stiles sabotage (Rosie was a dessert sharer and Derek didn't know how to cope).
Stiles returned when Rosie was trying to force feed Derek a section of her chocolate fudge cake, with the wine bottle.
“Top-Up?” Derek shook his head, where Rosie nodded. Stiles moved to her glass and it all happened so suddenly. Stiles stumbled and the bottle was open, the red liquid pumping from the open bottle, onto the table and down Rosie’s white shirt.
“OH MY GOD. What is your problem, jackass?” She began frantically scrubbing at her shirt and Stiles took a step back, eyes wide and face mortified. He scurried away, and Derek spotted him slipping out of the doors, a black coat over his uniform. Derek looked at where Rosie was having her shirt dabbed gently by the small red-head and sprinted after Stiles and into the alley.
“STILES!”
“Just go back to your date Derek.” Stiles called back, praying for rain.
“Jesus Christ, Stiles just stop.” Stiles did as was told, turning to face Derek. His vision was dimmed by the night time light and lack of street lamps. “What was that?” Stiles pouted angrily at the floor and shifted from foot to foot. “What did I do to you?”
“You didn’t do anything.” Stiles was very angry at the floor right now. “I’m just being stupid.”
“What?”
“You’re not supposed to be going on dates! You’re anti-social sour wolf. I had a plan too fucking woo you, man. Instead you show up to my work with a hella hot hottie and I just kind of lost it.”
“You poured down her shirt.”
“I tripped.” Stiles scowled.
“You’re insane.” Derek smiled a little, stepping closer. Stiles pulled off his glasses, held them between his teeth and ran both hands up and down his face.
“Yup.” He sighed and put the glasses back on.
“I like the glasses by the way.”
“I didn’t want to even hear what Jackson would have to say about them.” Stiles explained. “I got contacts but they kind of sting. So I’ve been squinting.”
“Don’t squint. They look good on you.” Derek sighed. “Jesus. Stiles.”
“What?”
“I’m here on this date with Rosie, because I’d told myself that us, we’d never happen. You were fooling around with Malia and she’d declared you her mate for life. I decided it was time to move on.” Derek explained, touching Stiles’ wrist.
“Yeah. Malia got a little out of hand, but we talked through it and she’s with Kira now. We both used the experience.” Stiles rubbed his neck and looked back to Derek. “Wait. You wanted us to be like a thing.”
“Stiles, you rub me up the wrong way the way no one can and with Hale’s that’s always a sign that there are feelings. My mom threw left my dad at the top of a mountain once.”
“Whoa. Tough love.” Stiles breathed, noticing Derek was getting distinctly closer.
“Yup.” Derek breathed the same air that Stiles was breathing out they were that close.
“You going to kiss me or what?”
“I don’t kiss on the first date.” Derek smirked.
“Luckily for me, this isn’t our first date.” Stiles looped his arms around Derek’s neck and pulled Derek’s lips down to his own. “I am so fired.”
“You have to be the worst waiter ever.”