Chapter Text
Stiles exited the bathroom with a towel tightly wrapped around his hips and walked to his closet.
It's been a long time since he went on a date and he wanted to make a good impression.
He stared at the closet for at least fifteen minutes until he decided on a crimson red shirt and black slacks. Then he studied himself in the mirror. Getting his hair under control was practically impossible, but he tried anyway.
A quick glance at the clock told him he had little over a quarter of an hour before his date would get there.
He put on his shoes, still with two minutes to spare. He sat on the couch and reached for his phone.
No messages.
It was fine. Not everyone was always on time.
After another fifteen minutes, he got annoyed. He considered calling his date, but in the end decided against it. Instead, he took out his notebook and read the news.
Signing, he thought about changing back into his comfortable sweatpants and T-shirt when the doorbell rang.
"Oh," he let out a breath and stood up. "Okay."
When he opened the door, there stood a tall, muscular man dressed in a black leather jacket and dark blue jeans. His hands were tucked in the pockets of the jacket, and he had a baseball cap on his head.
"Stiles," he said, giving him a once-over.
"Derek." Stiles leaned against the door frame, folding his arms.
"Am I late?"
"Uhm," he looked over his shoulder at the clock in the kitchen. "Just an hour. But, you know, I finished getting ready, and Erica said I should expect you to show up a little late, and-"
"Boys said you'd probably say something."
"Oh, did he?" Stiles let out a loud cackle. "So, should we go?"
"Yeah, yeah," Derek smiled at him. "Let's go."
"Yeah, let's get some dinner, I'm super hungry." He locked the door to his apartment. "It's been like an hour."
"So, I hear you just moved here," Stiles desperately tried to create a conversation as they walked outside his apartment building.
"Yep."
Here's to making an engaging dialogue.
"How long have you knows Boyd for?" Stiles was nothing if not resilient.
"High school."
"Oh, wow. I've known Erica since college. We had almost all of the classes together." He stopped at the curb. "Where's your car?"
"Right here," Derek gestured his hand towards a sleek black Camaro parked on the side of the road.
Stiles skeptically looked at him. "You want me to get in this?"
The other man glanced at him, visibly confused. "Yeah?"
"No," Stiles said firmly. "Not unless you get me like a helmet, a protective pad and a full-body armor."
"You seriously won't get into my car?"
"No. I'm terrified of confined spaces." He took his car keys out of his pocket. "I'll drive. My car is right here."
As soon as Derek laid his eyes on his baby-blue jeep, his face expression turned annoyed. "You refuse to get into my Camaro, but you don't have a problem getting into this rusty piece of crap?"
"Hey!" Stiles exclaimed, angrily pointing his finger at the other man. "Do not insult my baby!"
While he was sitting down into the driver seat, he could see Derek mouthing ' a baby ' in surprise. He watched as the other man begrudgingly lowered himself into the seat next to him, and shut the door with a loud thud.
"All right, so, where shall we go?"
Stiles smiled. Food, he could at least look forward to the food. "Well, where did you make the reservation?" Derek stared at him as if he grew a second head. "That you said you were gonna make." Stiles slowly said. "You didn't make it, did you?"
"I said that?"
"It's cool," he laughed nervously. "Whatever."
Derek nodded. "Yeah, it's cool. We can go anywhere, I don't care. You can pick it."
"Okay," Stiles thought for a second. "How about Café Five. Have you ever been there?"
"Sounds good."
"Awesome," Stiles reached for the key in the ignition. "My friend from culinary school is the-"
He was stopped by a beeping sound coming from Derek's pocket.
The other man just waved his hand. "It's just my cell phone."
"I figured. You can answer it if you-"
"No, no, it'll go to the voicemail."
But the ringing didn't stop.
"Yeah, well, as I was just saying, my friend from culinary school is actually the, uhm." He let out a breath in resignation, because the phone didn't seem to be stopping any time soon. "You know what? Go ahead, just answer it, it's fine. It's all right, I can wait."
"Yeah, it's a little too loud," Derek chuckled as he took the phone out of his pocket. "Hey, you."
Stiles leaned his forehead against the window and looked at the street.
"Well, you know me, always in the middle of something. Yeah, okay, yeah. Eleven? Yeah. You know what?" He felt Derek's eyes drifting toward him. "Why don't we make it ten-thirty? All right, see you later. Okay. Bye."
Stiles turned his head back to him, his eyebrows raised.
"I'm sorry," Derek said apologetically. "It's a... It's a sick friend."
"You know, we don't have to do this," Stiles said after a few seconds of silence. In that moment he just wanted to go back to his apartment, change into his PJs, stuff his face with some heated leftovers, and pass out on the couch.
"Really?"
Wow, very good work hiding your excitement, you asshole.
"Yeah," Stiles nodded, looking straight ahead.
"Okay."
"Oh my god, are you serious?" he exclaimed.
Derek looked up from where he was trying to unclip the seatbelt. "Okay, let's be honest. You knew the moment you saw me, you didn't like me."
"Yes, but our mutual friends set this up, so I think we owe it to them to-"
"To what?" he interrupted him. "Spend a few hours faking small talk? Look, the best case, we get drunk and we hook up."
Stiles shifted in his seat so he sat sideways, looking straight at Derek. "What kind of an asshole are you?"
"Look, it's a Saturday night, I just wanna have some fun. I can go see my sick friend and you go do... whatever it is you like to do on a Saturday night. You look like you read. You can go read a book."
"Okay, you know what?" Stiles couldn't take it anymore. "If you wanted to ensure that this wasn't gonna be a lousy night, here's a tip - don't show up an hour late, and don't make a booty call in front of me."
"She's sick." Derek objected.
"Oh, right." Stiles could feel the anger bubbling inside of him. "Were you going to heal her with your magic penis?"
Derek stared at him, for once lost for words. "Okay. Fine, if you wanna go out, we'll go out-"
"Oh my god, no. I'm not going out with you. What are you, crazy?" he asked rhetorically as he stepped out of the jeep. "Get out of my car!" He marched back to his building. "I don't know what Boyd and Erica were thinking."
He could hear Derek murmuring behind him. "Yeah, me neither."
He took his phone out of his jeans pocket and dialed Erica. She picked up after a few rings. "Erica, oh my god," he exclaimed. "The only way you can make this up to me is if you promise I never have to see him again."