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”What if he hates how I look?”
“Derek – he has already fallen in love with your grumpy-ass face – seeing you in a suit is just going to help him ignore those eyebrows you won’t let me tweeze!”
“Thanks, Laura – I knew I could count on you for support!”
“Fuck off to your Prom, you overgrown puppy – “
“To you too, big sis!”
“Hey – did you remember condoms and lube? Less messy!”
“Bye Laura!” Slamming the door on his sister’s laughter, Derek shrugged his shoulders to try to feel a little more comfortable in his suit. He was more of a jeans and Henley type of guy, but he had promised to make an effort for Prom, so suit it was. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, Cora and Lydia had already left in a limo – ostentatious but no more so than any of the other students at Beacon Hills. Everyone seemed to be going all out for this Prom. Scott had stayed at home to get ready – he was nervous enough for Peter to say that being surrounded by familiar things would help to settle his wolf – that and it gave Peter an excuse to spend some more time with Melissa. Could he be any more obvious?
The Camaro gleamed in the moonlight thanks to an hour spent waxing it that afternoon; he hadn’t bought Stiles a corsage simply because he had made it plain that he wouldn’t wear one, so Derek had no excuse for not getting into his car and making his way over to the Stilinski house. Well, apart from the fact that Sheriff Stilinski seemed to hate him now because on their one date, Stiles had returned home with his hand in a cast. The Sheriff thought it was a baseball accident, rather than the result of Stiles beating Kate Argent to a pulp and helping to prevent a full-scale werewolf-war. He blamed Derek – and rightly so. He should never have agreed to Stiles’ audacious plan to turn the tables on Kate and the Alpha Pack, and Derek still woke up in a sweat having nightmares of all the way things could have gone wrong.
But tonight, he didn’t want to think about any of that. Tonight he wanted to dance with his mate, laugh with his Pack, and then enjoy some quality time in the expensive room he had booked at the Beacon Armada. Tonight was a celebration.
“I didn’t think he would ever stop taking photos!”
“Well, it is your Prom and he rarely gets to see you out of plaid.”
“Haha!”
“Seriously, you look gorgeous.”
“Right back at you, dude. I never thought I was the kind of guy who could be turned on by suits, but I stand corrected. You look like a model.” Stiles stroked Derek’s lapel, resting his hand near his heart. “And you’re all mine.”
Prom was full of sweaty, heaving bodies; the stench of teenagers getting drunk and high pervading the gym. The Prom committee had done a great job decorating, but there was only so much you could. Derek smiled as he looked around the room. Cora and Isaac were slow-dancing; Erica and Boyd were – well, Erica seemed to be giving Boyd a vertical lap-dance and he didn’t seem to be objecting; Kira and Scott were sat giggling together in a corner of the gym; and Lydia appeared to have taken an interest in Aiden, who seemed to have been struck dumb but was obviously trying to make sure he didn’t do anything to ruin the opportunity.
And then there was Stiles. Stiles on the dance-floor was a revelation. His flailing limbs and gangly body seemed to transform into something strangely graceful and hypnotic – maybe it was the way he danced as though he was becoming one with the music; maybe it was that he seemed to give no fucks whatsoever what anyone might think of him. Whatever it was, Derek was having a hard time controlling himself. They had been there just over 90 minutes, and Derek personally felt he was showing great restraint in not dragging Stiles off the dance-floor and away to the hotel room. He wanted Stiles all to himself, if only for a little while.
“Hi, Derek – did you want a drink?” Derek turned to look at the girl next to him, struggling to remember her name. He knew she was one of the worst gossips in the school. She had, in fact, had plenty to say about Derek and his Pack, and Stiles when he had first come to Beacon Hills.
“No, thank you.”
“Oh. Um. Are you enjoying the dance?”
“It’s okay. You?”
“Yeah, yeah – it’s lovely. It’s really nice to see you here – you don’t normally come to these things.” Derek nodded absently, wondering if 95 minutes was long enough torture. “So – did you want to, maybe, dance?”
“I don’t dance.” Which wasn’t strictly the truth but he had zero interest in dancing with anyone other than Stiles.
“Oh. Right. Well – okay. We could sit down and talk?” Turning to face the girl, Derek finally realised that she was trying to flirt with him. He had been so distracted watching Stiles on the dance-floor – who had now been joined by Danny – that he hadn’t been paying attention to the signs she was giving off. “There’s a free table over there?”
For once, Derek didn’t want to be circumspect; he didn’t want to be subtle and try to be unobtrusive. He wanted the world to know that he and Stiles were together, regardless of the fact that he would hopefully never be spending time with any of these people again. Maybe it was time to give her something to really gossip about.
“Oh – thank you, but no. I actually think it’s time I dragged Stiles off to our hotel room and debauched him thoroughly. Hope you have a good night.” He left her open-mouthed on the side of the dance-floor, deciding 96 minutes was more than long enough.