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Adrian Taylor grew up knowing that his entire future was laid out for him. He would join the family business, meet a nice girl, get married and have lots of little Adrian’s to visit his parents every weekend.
But, apparently, a nice, already planned life was too good for him, which he realised about as soon as he started to find boys more attractive than girls. It started out simply: he would watch a TV show with his best friend, Emma, and appreciate any hot guys that appeared on screen. Honestly, he didn’t think anything was odd until he found himself getting flustered in the locker room with al of the boys in his year.
After that, it didn’t take him long to understand that he was totally gay.
He didn’t have a problem with that, frankly. When he told Emma, his beautiful blonde best friend just stared at him for a second, before smirking and saying “I knew it”. She was always boasting about her ‘gay-dar’, though, so he tried not to discourage her (the snort he let out after probably didn’t help the whole ‘supportive friend’ idea), but it was hard.
Kind of like he was whenever he saw Stiles Stilinski.
The kid was a mess. His hair needed to be longer, he sucked at lacrosse and his vocabulary mainly consisted of sarcasm and word vomit, but that was evidently what Adrian found attractive, so he didn’t fight it. Before lacrosse practise every day, pre-coming out, he would glance out of the corner of his eye at the pale boy. It was creepy, but Adrian didn’t care.
Around a month after he told Emma, he blurted it out to his parents.
“I’m gay.”
There was literally no sound in the room for a moment, other than the noise of his father’s heavy breathing and his mother’s stunned silence. Then:
“What, son?”
“I’m gay, dad. I like boys.”
“…”
For a second, Adrian was honestly worried that his father would disown him, then his mum turned to her husband and said:
“Pay up.”
So, they were betting, but not on his sexuality. They told him that that was always kind of obvious (“You used to like that McCall kid in a much more than platonic way, Adrian”), and that his mother, Isobel, had bet that he would come out before his twentieth birthday. His father, Harry, reluctantly agreed to the deal, but he’d been wrong, obviously.
For a while after that, things were kind of normal. He would hopelessly pine of Stiles (whilst Stiles hopelessly pined over Lydia Martin), study, hang out with Emma, and try to avoid any interaction with his peers.
Then things changed drastically.
In chemistry, his partner was Scott McCall, some kid he used to be friends with and resident BFF of his crush. He would’ve been jealous, but Scott was dating Allison Argent and it seemed pretty serious. On an ordinary Monday morning, he dragged his feet into Harris’ class, hating life and wishing for sleep, and dropped unceremoniously into his usual chair. He vaguely registered people entering around him, and then someone sat in the free seat at his desk.
Adrian lifted his head slightly from where it rested on his arms, but didn’t turn to his partner. “Scott, we’re so behind in lab work it’s unreal, so I was thinking we should make a start on it tonight.”
“Uh…”
“You don’t have anything planned, do you?”
“… No.”
He swung his head around, mouth open, because he recognized that voice, and it wasn’t McCall’s. Stiles sat there, awkwardly staring at him, cheeks slightly flushed. Adrian squinted for a moment, then realised he must’ve ran to class to get their on time.
“You’re not Scott.”
“No, um, Allison switched and now she’s with Scott and I’m with you.”
Oh. He hadn’t even known that Stiles was lab partners with Allison.
“Have you caught up on the lab work?”
“… N-No.”
“Then I’ll meet you at your house tonight.”
Stiles seemed to choke on air for a couple of odd minutes, Adrian blinking confusedly at him. Why on earth was the kid acting so weird? He managed to stay totally cool, even talking to his crush. Stiles barely knew him; he had no reason to get so flushed (and Adrian really wished he didn’t go that delightful red colour because that was hot as hell and he’d rather not rush to the bathroom with a problem in his pants).
“D-Do you know where I live?”
“Yeah.”
“How?!”
“We used to carpool.”
“In the second grade! What are you, a savant for people’s addresses?”
“Only people who I think are cool.”
“…”
“What?”
“You think I’m cool?”
There was a dumb smile on Stiles’ face.
“Well, you are cool. Good looking, cool… you’re kind of shit at lacrosse but that’s fine.”
“I am not shit at lacrosse.”
“Are you first line?”
“… No.”
“I am, and as someone good at lacrosse I’m saying you suck, but that doesn’t matter.”
“It doesn’t?” Adrian nearly died at the cute frown the other’s boy gave him.
“Nope.”
They didn’t talk much after that, but Stiles’ cheeks were very pink and he kept biting his bottom lip, which was so freaking distracting Adrian didn’t get any work done for the next half hour. It struck him while everyone was leaving that they didn’t establish a time, so he ran to catch up with his lab partner. He was walking with Scott, muttering excitedly about something, and the shorter boy was giving him a very amused smile. The boy spun around when he heard his name being called and his eyes widened when Adrian fell into step beside him.
“Adrian?” Stiles’ voice was an octave higher than usual.
“We didn’t talk about when we’re studying tonight.”
“Oh, yeah, uh, studying, like, us alone together. With no company and-and homework to do. Lot’s of homework.”
“I was thinking five, before the lacrosse game.”
“…”
“Stiles? Uh, you okay?”
“What? Oh! Yeah, uh, I was- I was definitely not-” he broke off suddenly, and Adrian saw Scott ram his elbow into his friend’s ribs. “Five is great. It’s awesomely great.”
“I’ll be at your house at five then, you know, unless I decide to come fashionably late to impress you.” He shrugged.
“Impress me?”
“Yeah, you never know when an opportunity will arise and there’s a chance to get laid. Impressing you would probably make that more of a possibility.”
“Get laid.” Stiles repeated, “Get laid by me?”
“Yep, see you Stiles,” Adrian winked, leaving the boys. He could just barely hear Scott laughing behind him, and then a hiss of pain.
☢
“You’re telling me that you’re studying with Stiles Stilinski?”
Telling Emma was apparently a regrettable decision, as she’d been squealing like a little kid for almost an hour. Seriously, he was just studying with the guy he liked.
Wait.
Wait!
“I’m studying with Stiles!” he shouted, waking his dog, Phillis, who’d been asleep on his bedroom floor. “In a house that’s totally empty expect for us, probably in his bedroom!”
“Oh my God, Adrian, I am so happy for you!”
“You don’t understand! We’re going to be alone, in his bedroom, where he sleeps and casually lounges around in underwear!”
“So?”
“So? So? Freaking ‘so’?! This is terrible!”
“How is this terrible, Adrian?”
“I’ll get so turned on and then there’ll be awkward boners and he’ll never want to see me again!”
Emma glowered, “You’re an idiot.”
“Shut up, no I’m not.”
“You so are, dude.”
“I’m sorry I couldn’t hear you over the deafening sound of how epic I am.”
“You were watching Liv & Maddie again, weren’t you?”
“… Yeah.”
Emma stared at him for a few seconds, and then they both broke into laughter. She had been really supportive about his feelings for Stiles, even though she currently wasn’t into anyone. Emma didn’t really have much of a choice, though, because the most eligible people (guys and girls) were all taken – Scott, Allison, Lydia, Jackson, and Isaac Lahey.
It was four when they started to get Adrian ready for meeting the guy he liked. His brown hair was artfully messed up in a quiff, he moisturised his face, put on chap-stick. Emma was rummaging around for at least fifteen minutes before she shoved some clothes at him and he was forced to change. It wasn’t that different to what he had on originally, only now he wore a grey t-shirt, black sort-of-skinny-but-not-that-much jeans and black boots that ended midway up hi shin.
“You look really hot. Are you sure you’re gay?”
“Totally sure, Em,”
“That’s disappointing. I’d so do you right now.”
“Let’s hope Stiles feels the same way.”
“He so will. That outfit on your body could make the straightest guy in the world aroused.”
Adrian frowned slightly.
“But he’s Stiles, and he’s in love with Lydia.”
“I don’t think so.”
Emma had a long running conspiracy theory that Stiles was in love with Adrian and used Lydia as a cover because he wasn’t ready to come out. Whenever she brought it up, Adrian would remind her of the time Stiles had been asked if that was the case (by the blonde in his room), and was barely able to say a ‘no’ through awkward, uncomfortable laughter.
A lot of things Stiles did were ‘awkward’ and ‘uncomfortable’ when Adrian was involved.
☢
Adrian got to Stiles’ house in time to see Sheriff Stilinski leave. The older man gave him an odd look, then noticed the books sticking out of the top of his messenger bag and muttered, “It’s open.”
He hadn’t been in Stiles’ house since he was a kid, but it had barely changed. It was sort of dark, and a bit messy, but it just radiated Stiles. Trying not to let himself get carried away about the fact that he was about to go into his crush’s bedroom was futile, and he took a few deep breaths before knocking on the only door that was closed.
There was a faint, “Come in,” so he opened the door, leaning in what he hoped was an alluring way against the frame. Stiles hadn’t changed clothes, but his room was suspiciously clean, and the tips of his ears were a bit red.
“Hey!” The pale boy said loudly, rubbing the back of his neck. He sat on his desk chair, facing a laptop, and none of his chem books were out. Adrian told himself not to get too pleased about the fact that Stiles obviously had no intention of doing homework.
“Hi, Stiles.” Adrian swept his eyes around the room, taking note of some hot guy in the corner. Tall, Dark and Mysterious was attractive in a rugged, dangerous way, totally the opposite of Stiles and not his type in the Stiles. He barely glanced his way.
“So, uh, I was wondering if you could something for me, you know, instead of the homework.”
Liquid excitement flooded Adrian’s veins. “Oh, really?” He moved closer, voice dropping into his most seductive purr.
Stiles’ cheeks went bright red and he squeaked, “I need you to trace a text.”
Disappointment curled in his stomach.
“What?”
“I need you to trace a text.”
Adrian stared at him, and the serious look in his eyes, but he couldn’t stop from being a bit bitter. Of course Stiles wanted a favour. This was probably the only reason he invited him over, he realised. No sexual intentions, or thrilling ulterior motives.
“I came here to do lab work,” or you “That’s what lab partners do, Stiles, and we’re so behind I literally understand nothing of what Harris says anymore.”
“We will do lab work! Once you trace the text.”
“What even makes you think I can?”
Stiles cringed. “I looked up your arrest report.”
Adrian scowled darkly, getting angry. Why the hell was he looking at that? “I was thirteen and they dropped the charges. I’m not helping you, Stiles, we’re doing lab work.”
Dropping into a chair to the left of Stiles, he leaned closer so that their faces were barely an inch apart a rest his chin on his hand, elbow on the desk. “And who’s dark and stormy in the corner?”
Stiles looked over his shoulder at the older man and said, “Uh, my cousin… Miguel.”
“Miguel? Really? I didn’t know you had some Spanish blood in you.”
“I, yeah, you know, distantly.”
“Is that blood on his shirt?”
Adrian definitely wasn’t imagining the dear-in-headlights expression on Stiles’ face. “Uh, yeah, yes, well he gets these horrible nose bleeds. Hey, Miguel! I thought I told you you could borrow one of my shirts?”
As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Adrian couldn’t help but appreciate the view as ‘Miguel’ whipped off his shirt, back turned to them. There was an interesting tattoo on his back, three spirals joined together. What was it called again? A triskele.
“We both know you have the skills to trace that text…” Stiles continued, before looking up and noticing that Adrian’s attention was elsewhere.
“Um, Stiles,” that was ‘Miguel’.
“This no fit.”
“Then try something else on.” He looked back at Adrian, “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Adrian let his eyes sweep the older man’s figure once more before turning to Stiles with a smirk, “And if I trace this text, what’s in it for me?”
“What?”
“What do I get?” Adrian looked at him from under his lashes, fixing his gaze on the bob of Stiles’ Adams apple as he swallowed thickly.
“W-What do you want?”
“Hmm…” He leaned even closer to the boy, so close his hair brushed his forehead and he could see the small smattering of pale, almost invisible, freckles over his nose. “Why don’t you guess, Stiles?”
Stiles made an odd squeak at the back of his throat, cheeks tinting rosy pink. “I-I don’t, uh, I…” he trailed off as Adrian moved close enough that their lips brushed together, not really caring about the third presence in the room.
“Is this okay?” He whispered.
“Yeah, yep, def- more than okay. Perfect.”
“Perfect, really?” He grinned wolfishly.
“Stiles, none of these fit!” Miguel yelled from the back of the room, but Adrian didn’t even look at him.
“I’ll trace the text for you,” he decided, “If…”
“If…?”
“If you kiss me.”
“What?!”
“Do you not want to?”
“No! I mean, uh, well, yeah…”
“… Then do it. And then I’ll trace the text.”
For a second, Adrian was expecting Stiles to back out of it, seeing as no straight guy would kiss a gay one willingly, no matter how much they wanted something, but he just nodded so quickly his neck cracked, shooing his cousin out of the room.
“You really want to kiss me?” Stiles asked doubtfully.
Adrian just rolled his eyes, grabbed the back of his head and forced their mouths together.
☢
Later that night, after the lacrosse game (Stiles had been mysteriously absent), Emma caught up with Adrian. She looked at him seriously, eyes narrowed.
“What happened?”
“…”
“Well?!”
“We made out.”
“You made out?!”
“Yes. It was great.”
“Are you going to make out again?”
“Oh, definitely. In fact, I’m planning on finding him right now.”
“But he wasn’t at the game.”
“So?”
“So how do you know he’ll be here?”
“To see Scott.”
“Oh, yeah, that makes sense.”
☢
He didn’t actually find Stiles until the next day.
“Hey, Stiles.”
“Adrian!”
“So, about last night…”
“…”
“I was wondering if you wanted to do that again?”
“Study?”
“Make out.”
“What?! Oh, holy, yeah, that-that would be great. Uh, when are you f-free?”
“I’m free right now.”
“Right now.”
“Is that okay?”
“Totally.”
And Lydia Martin was totally forgotten.