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“Beware the Ides of March,” the woman called out to them as they wandered past the fortune teller’s tent.
Derek scoffed at the over-the-top antics of the performers at the street fair. Stiles fidgeted next to him. “Don’t tell me you take that seriously?” Derek commented, surprised because usually, Stiles was much more level-headed.
“Caesar didn’t take it seriously and look at what happened to him,” Stiles countered.
“They named a salad after him.” Derek twisted his lips together. “Wonder what a Hale Salad would be like?”
“Bitter greens and bleu cheese dressing,” Stiles muttered, ducking when Derek tried to smack him on the back of the head. He was getting far too good at predicting his actions. “You know originally, the Ides of March was the first full moon of the new year.”
“Of course you know that,” Derek said, stopping in front of a stand selling turkey legs and fresh-squeezed lemonade.
“Shouldn’t you know that? Isn’t it in the werewolf history books?” Stiles asked, digging in his pocket for his wallet and pouting when Derek grabbed it and shoved it back into the pocket. “It’s also about settling debts. So, I don’t want to be owing you money.”
“You won’t owe me money. This is a date and I asked you, so I pay,” Derek reminded him, sighing and questioning every decision he’d ever made since the day he’d found two dumbass teenagers wandering through the preserve looking for a lost inhaler.
“Knew I’d get you to admit this is a date,” Stiles said, grinning and taking off running when Derek let out a frustrated growl. “Good thing we didn’t order any food yet,” Stiles called back over his shoulder, darting through the crowds of people and thinking this was the best first date ever.