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Derek bit the inside of his cheek, choking down a growl rising in his throat. The bar was a bit loud, the crowd a bit rowdy, but he still didn’t want to draw any further attention. The attention from the giggling blonde was already more than enough and was slowly driving him to insanity.
“Aw, come on babe, lighten up!” the woman teased, flicking a piece of hair over her shoulder as she brushed her shoulder against his, tugging her bottom lip between her lips. She was beautiful, her red lipstick dark and glinting, a sight that should have been irresistible. If anything, it made Derek want to be sick. Because despite her artfully tousled hair, her skin-tight, figure-accentuating outfit, her perfect makeup, and her purring voice she didn’t understand ‘no’. She could have been a literal goddess who decided to deign Derek’s lowly lifeform with her presence for the evening and he still wouldn’t be interested because she outright ignored any and all forms of no (no thanks, I’m not interested, not tonight, no, no, NO – nothing got through).
Derek tightened his grip on his beer, deciding he would just leave. He had opted to stay and finish his beer. He had slipped in a bit of the wolfsbane-laced powder that Laura got her hands on and he was actually feeling a buzz - to leave it felt like a waste, especially with how hard it was to get that stuff. But he was realizing he’d rather waste his one chance in two months to get drunk than deal with the blonde before him a second longer.
“Oh, there you are! Sorry, I took so long, you wouldn’t believe the traffic.”
Derek froze up momentarily as a hand gently curled over his shoulder, putting a small barrier between him and the girl sitting beside him. Soon after, a mess of brown hair was peeking over his shoulder and a blinding white smile was beaming at him. Compared to the unnamed woman, the man now filling his line of sight seemed like an actual ray of sunshine. His smile was wide and open, his voice was light in tone but loud in volume, and he didn’t have a single lick of arousal tinging his person.
The woman scoffed, and the man leaned back slightly before snapping his eyes to her. He gave a mock gasp, just a tad exaggerated but seemingly genuine nonetheless. “Oh! I am so sorry - I was just so excited to see my boyfriend! I didn’t mean to crowd you,” he apologized, his voice sincere and kind. Derek wanted to snort when the woman’s eyes widened and darted between the two. Without wasting a second, she was moving away from the bar and mumbled a soft apology as she darted away. Her arousal was quickly overtaken by embarrassment.
Derek couldn’t help but smirk.
“Ah, sorry man,” the guy said, voice suddenly sheepish as he withdrew his hand and scratched at the side of his neck a bit awkwardly. “I saw her hanging over you the last few minutes and you looked like you were about to pop a blood vessel with how tense you were. I just wanted to-” he cut off, waving his hand, then his eyes widened and he stared at his hand, “oh god! Oh, I just wanted to help but I totally hung all over you without even asking. Oh fuck, I’m just as bad, huh? Shit, man, I really wasn’t thinking, I am so-”
Derek waved off the rest of the rambling, the other man’s voice seemingly increasing in pace despite already being one of the quickest-paced conversations Derek had ever heard.
“You’re fine,” he assured, “and thank you - for getting her off my back. I… I appreciate it.”
Despite his hesitancy, Derek smiled in satisfaction when the man next to him seemed to beam with pride, his smile wide and genuine. Still, not a lick of arousal - just an air of contentment and happiness. It made Derek relax properly - albeit minutely - for the first time that night.
“Oh, awesome! Glad to help. Oh! I’m Stiles, by the way - should’ve probably introduced myself first before claiming the title of your boyfriend,” the guy joked, holding a hand out toward Derek. He easily took it and gave it a shake.
“Derek. Derek Hale.”
“Well, Derek - Derek Hale - can I get you another beer? If not as an apology for throwing myself all over you while trying to save you from someone doing that exact same thing, then in commiseration for people not taking a hint,” Stiles asked, his eyes searching Derek’s a bit more intensely. His scent changed ever so slightly from content and happy to ever so slightly nervous. Derek could almost feel the uptick in Stiles’ heartbeat in his own chest.
Derek assessed Stiles for a minute, doing a sweep over the other. He really should turn the offer down. Finish off his beer. Leave. But…
But Stiles. He was… something else. He was cute, that wasn’t arguable, he was tall and lean, packing a good couple of layers of muscle hidden underneath his baggy flannel. He had on a pair of jeans that left little to the imagination and his shirt was plain but hugged his chest, cutting down low enough to display his collarbones in an almost taunting fashion. He was attractive, very much so, but he took the focus away from his looks with his actions. His fingers were drumming on the bar’s edge, his foot was alternating from a jiggle to a weird heel-toe kick, constantly in motion. Like the blonde before, he was biting at his lip, but unlike the blonde Stiles didn’t do it in a seductive manner - he did it in a contemplative and considering one, moving his jaw with the action and zoning out a bit as his jaw shifted to the side.
He was attractive. Had every reason to be cocky and flirtatious. Could easily talk his way into someone buying him a few drinks or into someone’s bed. His confidence from the earlier confrontation proved him to be quick-witted and snarky. And yet - here he was.
Apologizing for touching Derek without asking. Joking instead of teasing. Shyly introducing himself. Asking to buy Derek a drink. Smelling like nerves and happiness instead of lust and desire.
Derek wasn’t able to turn that down; Stiles was the perfect combination of ‘too good to be true’ and ‘wanting what you can’t have’ in the weirdest and most convoluted of ways. So no one could blame him when Derek quirked a half smile, nodded his head once, and said, “I’d like that.”
+.+.+
After ordering several rounds of drinks for them both and striking up a conversation at the bar, the two men eventually found their way to one of the smaller booths set up along the perimeter of the room. It was a bit more private and allowed them to talk more freely and the bartender - Ashley - threatened to test out her new mace on them if they didn’t make room for ‘actual paying customers’. The triumphant smirk painted on her lips after they moved only served to further prove she hadn’t been lying.
“No, no! I swear, the man had to have daydreamed over 100 different ways to kill me before the end of the semester,” Stiles laughed, hand flailing a bit as he finished off the tale of how he and his best friend nearly blew up their high school chemistry classroom. Apparently, Stiles was not one of Mr. Harris’ favorite students - Derek was starting to see why, though.
In turn, Derek chuckled lowly, head tipping down. He was sliding his latest beer bottle in a circle between his hands, his head just fuzzy enough to let him relax a bit more fully and be a bit less wound up. He became more tactile like this and needed to have something to ground himself, something to touch and hold. And dammit, he refused to freak Stiles out by holding his hand under the dingy corner table like some middle schooler. So fondling a beer bottle it was!
Looking up, Derek caught Stiles watching him with fond eyes, his teeth once more pulling at his bottom lip as he zoned out momentarily as if mentally caught up. When he snapped back to the present, his already alcohol-flushed skin darkened as he noticed Derek’s lazily raised an eyebrow.
“Just-” he began, smelling of nerves again, “you look nice. When you laugh, I mean. I like it.”
Derek sobered up for a second, eyebrows both raised, and looked at the younger man in shock. Stiles seemed even more anxious and his embarrassment-tinged anxiety began to fog up Derek’s airways. Finally, he grinned at Stiles a bit more openly, bowing his head as he leaned forward.
“I like it too - when you make me laugh. You’re good at it,” Derek offered. The alcohol was loosening him up, letting words flow a bit more freely. They must have made enough sense either way, as Stiles grinned cheekily at him and leaned further into him, minimizing the space between them.
It wasn’t until an hour or so later when the last call was being announced and the music began to wind down, that it went any further. Both Derek and Stiles were tumbling out of the bar, Derek pulling out his phone to see about calling an Uber. Stiles was a bit quiet, though he continued to follow Derek down the sidewalk a bit away from the bar until they were far enough from the stream of patrons to count as privacy.
Clearing his throat, Stiles grabbed Derek’s attention and gave a crooked half grin.
“So,” he started, swaying as he spoke, nerves back in full force, “I know this whole night started because you were being harassed by someone else’s advances and I realize how backward it is for me to ask this considering but- you know- the past couple hours and just- okay. So here’s the thing; you’re stupidly attractive and sarcastic and funny and I really liked spending time with you so… would you maybe want to do this again? Like a date?”
Derek blinked, his brain still intoxicated plentily enough from the plethora of wolfsbane-laced beers he ingested. It took a minute for him to process the word vomit Stiles had just offered up and it apparently had taken an actual minute or two because by the time he was looking Stiles in the eye again, the guy was looking to be about five seconds away from throwing himself into traffic to avoid the conversation.
“A… date?” Derek asked slowly, cocking his head. “With me?”
Stiles squinted at him. He had drank a fair bit as well but Derek was willing to bet he wasn’t as intoxicated as Derek seemed to have gotten himself. He really had let his guard down.
“Yes,” Stiles spoke slowly, “ya’know, a date. Dinner, movies, walk in the park - pick you up, worry about what to wear for five hours, flowers - the whole nine yards. Un… unless you don’t… want that? It was a question- an offer. You can say no, like, no pressure, dude. I just thought we-”
Derek didn’t remember raising his hand but he must have since it was now clamped loosely over Stiles's mouth. Stiles, who was staring at Derek with wide eyes, eyebrows dancing a complicated dance across his forehead and causing Derek to bite down on a bout of laughter.
“Yes. I’d like that. Go on a date with you,” Derek finally answered. He dropped his hand from Stiles’s mouth before pausing and cocking his head to the side again, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “But can I veto the flowers?”
Stiles seemed to pause in his actions before kicking back into gear after a short pause, an exaggerated gasp leaving his lips. “Absolutely not! Derek, the flowers are a necessity,” Stiles insisted. Derek rolled his eyes.
“Flowers imply posh. I don't do posh.”
“Fine, what if I take you to a diner? Furthest from posh we can get.”
“And the movie?”
“The shittiest comedy we can find, obviously.”
“What about the walk?”
“I lied about the walk. But we for sure sit for hours. Sitting is definitely on the schedule.”
Derek paused, looking at the other a bit curiously before letting a grin take over his face. Stiles had been speaking with vehement seriousness, his face the vision of solemnity, his tone monotonous and sincere. How a date could sound absolutely disastrous as well as charming was beyond Derek's comprehension but he wasn't about to turn down what sounded like the best date he'd probably have in the past year (possible years, plural, if he was being honest).
“So - diner, shitty comedy, lots of sitting followed by a walk back to the car, and the prettiest bunch of roses an underpaid sheriff’s desk clerk’s salary can afford. Sound like a deal?” Stiles asked, hand raised, a cheeky smile now taking over his face.
“No roses,” Derek countered, raising his own hand. Stiles pursed his lips.
“Fine... Tulips then!” he declared, clasping Derek’s hand in his own. Stiles’s grin only grew as Derek groaned.
Despite his quiet refusals and his exasperated glares, Derek couldn’t deny the pleasure swooping through his stomach. Sure, Sober Derek might be a bit mortified by how easily Tipsy Derek agreed to a date. He may want to kill Tipsy Derek for the way he laughed (giggled) at Stiles’s flailing and determined explanation of why everyone deserved flowers and how it was part of his duties as the asker of the first date.
But Derek knew he’d be equally pleased with his plans with Stiles for Tuesday night once sobered.