Work Text:
Mistaken identity
“I thought you were my friend so I slapped your ass in greeting.”
Derek’s just minding his own business and checking his phone when it happens. Someone behind him shouts “Scotty boy” and the next thing he knows someone slaps his ass and he freezes completely, slowly turning around to be greeted by a pair of big brown eyes and a smile that is quickly fading and being replaced by a shocked expression.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry” he says, taking a step backwards, “I thought you were Scott.”
“I figured from the ‘Scotty boy’” he comments dryly, trying to keep calm, “You didn’t mean to, it’s okay.”
“No, it is so not okay” he says, shaking his head, “I don’t know what you’ve been through. That was sexual harassment, you could file a complaint.”
“I won’t file a complaint” he says, slightly surprised by the man’s response.
“You should. I mean, not that I want you to. I could lose my job” he shakes his head, “You should. I’m so sorry.”
“Why should I file a complaint?” he asks uncertainly, studying the man’s expression. It's endearing, to be honest. To see his concern, legitimate concern, there’s nothing fake about it.
“Because. People do that all the time, you know?” he says, “They see someone attractive and treat them like public property. They smack their behinds, squeeze their biceps and giggle like teenage girls. I get the feeling people do that to you all the time.”
“It happens” he says slowly, trying to shrug it off. Trying very hard not to think of last year when his boss had fired him for not going in on her advances. He still feels disgusted thinking about her.
“Don’t let them” he says, sighing, “Don’t let them just do it. Please? Don’t shrug it off like you’re trying to do right now.”
“Why not? Why would you care?” he asks, the man sounds sad for some reason. And Derek can guess the answers without hearing it, without having to hear about it.
“You remind me of a friend” he says, not elaborating further, “I’m just – really sorry about –.” he’s interrupted by his phone and glances at it, “Great. My friend just cancelled on me. Again.”
“Sorry about that” he says, taking a breath, “My sister cancelled on me too. Emergency at work.”
“If there’s anything I can do? To make it up to you?” he asks hesitantly, “For the – mistaken identity thing?”
“Well” he takes another breath, “Maybe you can join me for a drink? So this night isn’t a complete bust?”
“Uh. Sure” he smiles weakly, “Why, though?”
He shrugs, “I don’t know. You seem to care more about my wellbeing than some of the people I’ve been working with for over a year” he admits, “I think that’s a good start.”
“Then, I’ll gladly accept your invitation” he smiles, “I’m Stiles Stilinski.”
“Derek Hale” he replies, “There’s a diner a bit further up the road. They have the best food.”
“Oh god, I love their curly fries” he says with a wide smile, “Lead the way, Derek Hale.”
They walk next to each other, in silence, towards the diner and sit across each other in a booth by the window.
They both order something to drink, and something to eat.
“I don’t want to impose” Derek says slowly, “But – you said something about me reminding you of a friend…”
“It’s okay” he says, the same sad smile on his face, “She was pretty awesome. We were best friends growing up, used to take bubble baths together and all that. Thing is, she was a pretty girl. People said she – asked for it. She didn’t, obviously. She went missing two years ago. Nobody heard from her since.”
“I’m sorry” he says, “I can’t imagine -.”
“It’s okay” he smiles again, “It’s just. I hate it when people treat each other like that, you know?”
“I understand” he smiles, “Thank you. For not making light of the situation.”
“I wouldn’t” he smiles, “It’s only normal.”
“You’d think so” he smiles again, and Stiles returns his smile. It’s radiant, gorgeous, and beautiful. He would be lying if he said Stiles wasn’t his type.
Derek was really into kind people, who were also attractive. Although his dating record might beg to differ.
They sit together, and before he even realizes it is closing time and the waitress is shooting them impatient looks.
They both pay for their food and drinks – leaving a generous tip for the woman’s patience – and give her a small wave as they leave.
“We’ve been talking for four hours” Stiles says as they walk outside, “And you haven’t once told me to shut up.”
“Of course I haven’t” Derek says, frowning at him, “That’d be rude.”
“Hasn’t stopped people before” he smiles, “Did you have fun?”
“I did” he smiles, “I enjoyed talking to you. To be honest. I wouldn’t mind meeting up again.”
“Yeah?” he smiles again, and it makes his insides twist, “I’ll give you my number if you promise to call.”
“I’ll call” he says, handing his phone to Stiles to put in his number and watching him take a selfie to attach to the new contact information.
Derek hesitates for a moment, before leaning towards him and kissing him on the cheek, “I’ll call” he repeats, before they part ways.
His sister calls him ten minutes later, apologizing profusely for ditching him.
“Laura, it’s okay” he says, interrupting her third ‘I’m so sorry’ in a row, “I’m okay.”
“Still, it was an asshole move” she says, “There was an emergency, I swear. Let me make it up to you. We can go for drinks tomorrow.”
“I’m not free tomorrow” he says, a meaningful silence on the other side of the line, “I have a date.”
“A date?” she asks shocked, “So what? I ditch you for one night, and you meet the woman of your dreams?”
“Man” he corrects, “And yeah, I think maybe I did.”
“Huh” she replies, a beat of silence, “If I knew that, I would’ve ditched you ages ago.”