Chapter Text
“Ok, Scotty come on take the picture.” Stiles, donning a fake moustache and a feathered Shakespeare hat, says and strikes a dramatic pose with the mannequin he’s also dramatically dipping. Stiles, Scott’s best friend does a lot of things dramatically. He also talks them into doing really idiotic things which explains why they are, at the moment, in the auditorium of the Beacon Hills Academy of the Arts taking pictures with theater props. One of their friends dared them to break into the school (and with photographic proof) for the price of $200.
Scott had refused at first but Stiles, trash-talker that he was, had gladly accepted the challenge. Scott, who took his Best Friends duties seriously, was not about to let him go alone.
“Ok got it, dude, let’s go!” Scott whispers furiously.
“Relax, Scotty no one’s here. We just made 200 buckaroos easy as pie.” Stiles smirked.
As soon as the words leave his mouth Scott knows they’re screwed. A few things happen very quickly: Stiles trips over thin air and ends up crashing to the ground bringing down not only the mannequin but some statue prop with him, they hear two security guards come rushing their way, Scott somehow manages to push Stiles out of the auditorium window, Scott drops his inhaler and then Scott gets promptly caught.
“Hold it right there son. Don’t move.” One of the guards says and speaks into his radio.
The brunette catches a glimpse of his best friend just outside the window and it’s a testament to their friendship that they manage to have a conversation: Stiles, run, don’t get caught. –I’m not leaving you here, Scott! –Run now!
When all is said and done, it could have played out worse.
“How the hell could it have played out worse, Scott?” Stiles demands as he plops down next to him at school the day after Scott’s hearing.
Scott shrugs, “I’m not in juvie and all I got was community service because it’s my first offense and I’m only grounded for the next 3 months…it could’ve been through the end of the year and summer.”
“You should’ve let me take the fall, Scotty, I’m the one that convinced you we should do it.” Stiles insists.
“Remember how you let the air out of Mr. Harris’ tires?”
“He was being a dick!”
“And spray painted ‘I over-compensate for my small dick’ on Jackson’s windshield?”
“He could’ve dislocated your shoulder when he rammed you into the locker!”
“And rigged Matt’s powerpoint presentation to play porn instead?”
“There’s a lot of dicks in this school.” Stiles grumbles at him and digs into his apple.
“Your father said and I repeat: ‘The next time you get caught up in this, you’re going to military school.’” Scott says, “I don’t want you to go to military school dude.”
“And I don’t want you being some snotty school’s bitch for the next however many days it takes you to do 200 hours.”
Scott shrugs, “It’s ok and it’s the next three months since I can only do two hours a day. It’ll be fine Stiles.”
“This is all my fault, dude.” Stiles sighs heavily.
And Scott could take the moment to put the blame all on him, but that wouldn’t be fair. Stiles didn’t put a gun to his head. Scott could’ve said no at any time.
“Bro, you’re my best friend…ever since you peed on my castle--”
“It needed a moat!”
“It’s ok.” Scott smiles at him reassuringly.
“How can you be this grossly optimistic all the time?” Stiles actually scrunches up his face and Scott laughs.
--
Derek jumps slightly when Erica literally purrs in his left ear. He knows what that sound is. He turns around to face the shorter blonde with a perfectly raised eyebrow.
She smirks and juts out her chin, “Hottie alert: two o’clock.”
Derek turns his gaze until he spots him in the doorway on the other side of the room. He looks young…maybe about the same age as Derek’s little sister Cora. He’s wearing a janitor’s uniform from the looks of it.
“First of all that’s twelve o’clock. Second, don’t you have a boyfriend?” Derek asks Erica.
“Boyd would not disagree with me, believe you me.”
“I believe you have no shame.” Derek shoots back.
She only shrugs, like the shameless flirt that she is, “That’s why we work. He carries all the shame so I don’t have to.” She smiles broadly.
Derek rolls his eyes, laughs, and almost misses his cue for the floor exercise. Kali, the instructor, gives him a look but counts and claps along to the music. He breezes through the floor work and almost collides with the kid on the other side of the room. He’s shorter up close and Erica has a point. He is really cute. His thick dark hair curls at the ends. He has these deep brown eyes and golden brown skin and a nice smile when he greets Derek. The chest he collided with feels really, really solid.
“Hi.”
“Hey.” Derek gives him the smallest smile before he turns away. He turns back and the kid is still standing there. Derek doesn’t mean to give off a vibe, but he must because the kid just shuffles away awkwardly and Derek is pulled back into class.
“Isaac…yeah I’ll see you in room 123 in about hour right?” Derek says into his phone when class has let out, “Ok good.”
“So get this,” Erica starts as she sidles up next to him and loops their arms together, “apparently that’s the kid who broke in here a while back.”
Derek chances a glance back. He doesn’t particularly look like a criminal, “How do you know that?”
“Isaac who knows because Cora told him who knows because Lydia told her--”
“Ok I get it.” Derek stops her before it goes on forever.
“Too bad.” She says and gives him a look before they walk out.
--
By the time Scott’s two hours are almost up he’s ready to go. He has about 20 minutes left. He’s just dumping the last of the garbage when he sees Stiles’ old, battered Jeep Roscoe lumbering towards him.
“Excuse me sir when you’re done with that garbage can you do mine?” he calls out as he parks.
“Shut up dude.” Scott laughs.
“How are they treating you in there?” Malia Tate, Stiles’ girlfriend, asks him as she emerges from the car.
Scott shrugs, “They mostly just stare and then promptly ignore me. So basically no different than my regular life.”
He would give her a hug but he smells like literal garbage and he won’t subject her to that.
“What have you been doing in there anyway?” Stiles leans against the hood.
“Just cleaning the dance studios mostly.”
“Dance studios, huh? Pick up any moves you can teach me?” Stiles asks.
“Moves I can teach you?!” Scott laughs. Stiles is kind of the stereotypical bad dancer.
“Hey man! I’ve gotten so much better!” He protests, “Malia, my sun and stars, defend me!”
His girlfriend snorts and holds her hands up in defeat.
“I resent that. Look at these smooth moves!” Stiles dives into his car and cranks up the music. FloRida’s “G.D.F.R.” blares through the speakers and Stiles proceeds to do his rendition of the sprinkler and manages to halfway elbow himself in the face.
“Those are smooth?” Scott laughs.
“Smoother than you.” Stiles protests.
Scott rises to the bait, “Let me show you what I learned.”
He copies one of the combinations he saw in one of the classes. He doesn’t know the name of any of the moves just that there are a lot of kicks and ends in something called a triple pirouette. It’s really just a fancy name for three turns in a row which he does and then catches himself before going off balance, uses Stiles’ car as a springboard to bounce off of and ends it with a break dance combo he learned off of YouTube. It’s just goofing around but dancing makes Scott happy and he wishes he had the time and money to indulge in it. His friends whoop and holler for him and it makes Scott smile even more.
“Ok enough goofing off I have to go hand in my time sheet I’ll be back.” He says.
“We’ll be here.” Stiles says and leans against the hood of his car as he pulls Malia close to him.
Scott hurries to hand in his time sheet to his supervisor before he runs back out to meet his friends and leave for the day.
--
“Dude you’re making me nervous.” Erica says as she closes her locker.
“How am I doing that?” Derek asks and looks up from the notebook he’s scribbling in.
“With this.” She snatches it out of his hand and waves it, “seriously man.”
The notebook kind of resembles a coach’s playbook with the various x’s and o’s drawn all over it. But it isn’t it’s his dance for the senior workshop. He has to come up with the perfect dance. Recruiters from dance companies from L.A. to New York are going to be there. It has to be perfect. Perfect routine…perfect music. Speaking of which Boyd walks towards them at just the right minute.
Vernon Boyd, also a senior, is Derek’s other best friend and aspiring producer. He, Erica, and Derek all met freshman year and have been friends ever since. He’s also been working on Derek’s music. He walks up to him and hands him an orange flash drive on a lanyard.
“Perfect music to take your routine to the next level.” Boyd says.
“Next level? As in it’s not already perfect? Let me see this.” He takes the notebook from Erica and opens it up to a page and starts dissecting it again.
Erica sighs heavily, “Here he goes again.”
They all walk down the stairs with Erica and Boyd trying to convince Derek not to stress (it doesn’t work) and trying to distract him (also unsuccessful). Something does catch his attention though. He manages to catch a glimpse of that kid who vandalized the school and from up here it looks like his cousin, Malia.
The kid is…not bad. He does the across the floor work Derek had been doing in their Advanced Jazz class almost perfectly. Almost. I mean, he could stand to point better. And if he spotted better his pirouettes would come off cleaner and his shoulders need to be more rounded. But…his high kicks are better than most seniors and he clears some ground with his leaps. His lines are clean and the way he transitions from jazz to hip-hop is mesmerizing.
“Derek!”
“Huh?” he whips his head around to see Erica and Boyd watching him.
“I said after rehearsal we’re taking you out for burgers.” Erica repeats.
“Yeah ok.” Derek spares another glance out the window again before he moves on to rehearsal. He has other things to think about.