Chapter Text
It wasn’t that Scott was masochistic, mind you. He let himself wallow in self-pity,all day, yes. Dressed carelessly, forgot to turn in his homework, didn’t call his mom during her break, and ignored all of Stiles’s text messages or the past two days. None of that meant he wanted to be unhappy, though.
Nope. In fact he’d very much like it, if he could go back to that time when he wasn’t pining over Isaac’s elder brother, thank you very much. He wanted to go back to being his normal, happy self.
He sighed for the fifty-eight time that day, and it was only eight in the morning. Stiles beside him, gave him a long accusing glower. As if Scott acting out of it was a crime on his person.
"If you only tell me who it is, we can sort it out like-" Stiles snapped his finger in Scott’s face, “this.”
Scott gave his friend a sideways glance and snorted. “Yeah, like how you sorted out things with Lydia?”
"Hey, hey, now Lydia is a special case," said Stiles, gesticulating wildly, “Her continued denial of my very existence is part of her charm, you know. That’s the Lydia I know and love.”
Scott looked toward the ceiling, then at his friend. “Can we not?”
"Can we not what, Scotty?"
"Have this conversation?" said Scott, his eyebrows bunching together in frustration. “Look, I have told you its not gonna work out, like ever. Its just a stupid crush -“
"Then why don’t you just TELL me who it is!" whined Stiles, grabbing Scott’s backpack and stopping him from resorting to his elusive tactics of late. “If its no big deal, why can’t you tell me? I know all your dirty secrets! What can be worse than you wearing a -“
Scott clamped his best friend’s mouth shut before he could reveal the entire hallway of his underwear habits.
"I can’t tell you," said Scott, glaring at his friend. Then abruptly, realising what he was about to say, he withdrew away from Stiles and looked down. “Because it’s too impossible.”
Stiles gave a surprised jerk. ”Are you in, like, pseudo-denial?”
"Um," said Scott, looking up and raising his brows, "maybe?"
Stiles’s jaw dropped and he looked like he was having trouble breathing.
“So, let me get this right,” he said, “Even though you know you like this guy, whom, just for the record, you have been pining over for the better part of this year, and not denying it, but not doing anything about it either, and just content being in this miserable limbo - you accept all this, and yet, telling another person, like say, your BEST friend, would somehow make it more real? Is that what is going on in that funny brain of yours?”
"Yes?" said Scott, stepping away from his friend, and watching his expression, wearily. Stiles was NOT pleased.
"Are you kidding me?” said Stiles, seething.
"What?" said Scott confused.
Stiles gave him a withering glare and snatched his elbow and dragged him through the hallway. When they had reached a more secure corner, away from interested ears, Stiles turned towards his friend, hand on hips.
"Scott, you listen to me very carefully, okay? said Stiles, "You are gonna tell me who exactly it is that you are so pathetically mooning over. You know why you are going to tell me, Scott? Because Stiles is your fix-it guy. Who is Stiles, Scott? Your fix-it. I’m gonna count to five and you are gonna tell me who this person is. That’s the easy way. I won’t recommend the hardway. A lot more people than just me and you, can end up in the know and it won’t be easy for you to hold onto your pseudo-denial bubble. So here’s your five.”
Scott shook his head vehemently.
"One."
Scott fidgeted with his backpack.
"Two."
"Stiles, I’m not telling you," said Scott, defiantly, "stop counting!"
"Three."
"Four, five," said Scott, "There, I’m not telling you!" He was NOT going to fall for Stiles threats. There was no way he could tell Stiles he liked a guy who was six years older than him, grew a goddamn beard and dressed like a biker.
"Four."
"I’m not telling, I’m not telling!" Scott stomped his foot for added effect. He was a pug that wanted to date a wolf. Even in his head, it sounded rather pitiable. He couldn’t admit it out loud.
Stiles threats were empty and harmless. Stiles couldn’t hurt a fly. He wasn’t the kind of friend who would reveal Scott’s secrets to the entire high school and possibly the whole town just to get his way. Scott wasn’t scared of his best friend. His face was’t turning blue. He didn’t look like he had a gun pointed to his head.
"Fi-
"Its Derek!" said Scott, and his voice definitely did not squeak "Derek
Hale!”
Of all the things Scott had expected Stiles to do - punch him, tease him, laugh at him, even threaten to mime him for his offensive taste in men - a simple “Oh, him,” was definitely not one he was expecting.
"What, you knew already?" said Scott. He didn’t understand why he was disappointed with Stiles’ reaction, but he was.
"Well," said Stiles, shrugging, "I knew it wasn’t anyone from school. I’d have known. You aren’t exactly an expert at keeping your emoitons off your face. So it had to be someone you see quite often, going by your psm-ing scale, but again, not in school. So if we leave out Dad and your mom, it had to Parish, your boss, Liam’s dad, Mr. Argent, or Derek. I was hoping it would be Parish. Or at the very least, Liam’s dad. Tough luck."
Stiles kicked an imaginary stone to show his disapproval.
"Why is it so bad that it is Derek?" said Scott, scrunching his face in annoyance. "I know its kinda impossible and all -"
"No, Scott," said Stiles, wagging his pointer finger at him, "Derek is a bad choice, because Derek is evil. Like 98.56% evil.” Stiles sighed dramatically, and pinched the place between his brows. “You were right. I didn’t need to know it was Derek. Now I’d be forced to help you get together with that jerkoff, and that had never been on my agenda.”
Scott rolled his eyes, exasperatedly. Yeah, right, as if Stiles on board meant, Scott winning.
"May be, you should try dating me, instead. Do you wanna kiss me and check for any unforeseen, but oddly satisfying sparks?"
"Stiles."
"Hey, worth a shot," said Stiles, raising his hands in defense.
Scott decided it was time to head for class. He had chemistry and Stiles had math. He was about to turn the corner towards his class and away from Stiles, when his best friend shoved something into his pocket.
Scott knowing full well what it could possibly be, didn’t dare look at it.
When he did, half an hour later, his hands tremblled, and he felt like a dizzy spell had hit him. He memorized it, like it were the key to open all his denied happiness.
Derek’s number.