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It takes Stiles exactly a day to decide that his tentative conclusion has to be wrong.
People that look like Derek do not go on dates with gangly, inexperienced sixteen year olds who can't contain their own limbs, or opinions, or really anything else about them. No matter how many times they save your life, or help wrangle your werewolf drama into some sort of order. It doesn't happen. Stiles is awkward enough around the people his own age he's interested in. He's not sure how to cope with the possibility that Derek finds him attractive enough to take on stealth-dates. It's like trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. Or some sort of angry, werewolf-shaped peg into a round hole - which, Jesus, doesn't sound filthy at all.
He figures he has to have gotten this wrong, he's jumped to the wrong conclusion, and it really wouldn't be the first time he's done that. There's some sort of reasonable explanation for the whole thing, which he would probably realise if he wasn't so fixated on what it might have been. But Stiles has been going through all the options in his head. Derek isn't the type to go for public humiliation, and Stiles doesn't have anything Derek wants that badly. He's already proven that he's willing to be harassed at a moment's notice for any research purposes, grave desecration or occasionally to be used as a getaway driver.
If it had been Stiles's accident it would have been completely understandable. But Derek is the one who invited him out, and forced them to sit in a very nice diner and have milkshakes together, and then have an awkward, stilted conversation (most of which Stiles provided) about food and music and lacrosse.
That was a thing which actually happened. It wasn't all a hallucination brought on by some sort of weird, supernatural pollen. Which Stiles realises sounds insane, but hey, stranger things have happened - granted they'd happened on TV. Though he's being more careful about what he immediately dismisses as being completely insane. What with all the werewolves, witches and lizard monsters he's been forced to cope with recently. Seriously, horror movies have taken on disturbing layers since this whole thing started, because that shit could very well be real. Most of it he's hoping isn't real, because he still likes to sleep at night. But, yeah, some of it.
No matter how hard he tries to refute it, the date-like situation actually happened.
But Stiles still isn't sure why it happened.
He needs a second opinion.
****
Danny eyeballs him when he slides in next to him, and Stiles grabs for the sleeve of his jacket before he can decide that he wants nothing to do with Stiles's panicky vibrations and desperation sugar-high.
"No, seriously, I'm not here to ask anything about you finding me attractive. This is like life or death -" Stiles considers the dubiously lifted eyebrow. "Alright, it's not life or death but I may actually have some sort of seizure if you don't help me. Which will not be pretty, at all. I swear, if you answer this question for me I will never bother you ever again. I will pretend I don't know you if you absolutely insist on it."
Something in his face makes Danny stop looking at him like he's the most annoying thing in the whole world. Something Stiles's face is doing is clearly working for him. He tries to look more desperate and pathetic.
"Fine," Danny puts down the apple he's holding and shifts into an 'I'm listening, get on with it and make it good,' pose.
Stiles flails closer, one arm laid on the table, other arm still sort of waving helplessly.
"Ok, so someone tells you to meet them at a diner, and buys you a milkshake and they're a lot nicer to you than they normally are, not like nice- nice but you can tell they're making the effort. They don't want to talk about - work stuff, or mutual friends. Then they let you try their milkshake, and listen to you ramble on about - whatever, stuff - and they even join in, though they generally suck at conversation so hard that everyone else ends up trailing off in self-defence. Seriously, you can practically see how hard they're trying. Then there's this whole weird 'standing around awkwardly' after, like we're both trying to remember where we left our car keys. There's a chance that's just a friendly thing, right? That's not a date?"
"Yeah, that's absolutely a date," Danny says. There isn't even a pause. He doesn't even have to think about it.
"Are you sure?" Stiles asks, because this is important, in a way that's ever so slightly terrifying. There is no margin for error here.
Danny just looks at him.
"Oh my God," Stiles says, with feeling.
"Did you accidentally go on a date with someone?" Danny sounds amused, but not surprised. "Seriously, Stiles, only you. Just tell the guy it was all a misunderstanding and you're sorry. Don't be a dick about it."
Stiles thinks about protesting that this wasn't his fault, for a change. Derek is the one who put question marks all over everything, because he doesn't behave like a person. Derek does whatever the hell he wants, and then Stiles is forced to try and fix it when it all goes inevitably, horribly wrong. Because - ugh - Derek makes the worst decisions. Though, in his defence, the universe does kind of seem to want him to be miserable forever.
Stiles isn't sure when Derek stopped being 'incredibly hot, scary werewolf that I hate' and started being 'incredibly hot werewolf I could probably be friends with, if he stopped making stupid decisions and pushing me into things.'
"You don't actually mind that it was a date," Danny says, very slowly.
"I didn't know it was a date," Stiles says, a little too loudly - and now everyone's looking at them, and Danny's sighing like he's the worst - the absolute worst. "I have to go. Thanks - seriously, thanks."
****
"Yeah, that's totally a date," Scott says around half a Twix. "Wait, you went on a date? Who did you go on a date with? How could you not tell me?"
Scott's hurt expression, around a mouthful of chocolate and caramel, is no less effective than it usually is. But Stiles can't answer, because he currently has his face mashed into the reassuringly cool surface of the table. Even Scott thinks it was a date, even Scott thinks it was a date. It was absolutely a date.
He doesn't know what anything means any more.
*****
Stiles still hasn't worked out what it all means five hours later, sprawled dramatically on his bed, phone balanced on his chest like there might be someone in his phonebook that can help him with this.
Did Derek know it was a date? No, that's a stupid question, of course he did, he must have done. Even Derek is not that socially inept - ok, fine, Derek probably is that socially inept but not in a way that involves cheerful diners and food-sharing, and flashbacks to the nineteen-fifties. Did he want Stiles to know it was a date? Less easy to know for sure but Stiles is going to go with...yes? But why? Why was it a date, because that's the part that still makes no sense to him.
Stiles is...Stiles, he's seen himself in the mirror. He has intimate knowledge of his many and varied faults. And ok, maybe he has his good points too, he has skills, he's smart, he's loyal, he has good hygiene - for a teenage boy, he has his own transportation, and a sarcastic remark for every possible occasion. But none of those things are particularly impressive or interesting when you put them up against Derek, who seems to have spent the last seven years honing his ability to be angry and hot to a frightening level. Even if Derek's stupidly attractive face is occasionally hairy and full of teeth. But, no, Stiles isn't even going to pretend that what's basically 'superpowers' is anything but another plus.
Sure, Derek may fuck up on a weekly basis, and have all the people skills of roadkill, and a tendency to deal with his emotions by bruising people. But Stiles kind of - doesn't hate him. Because it's pretty obvious if you hang around him long enough that he isn't made entirely of rage - he's like sixty percent rage at best. Stiles thinks he just always expects the worst of people, like a natural defence mechanism. Derek's sort of messed up, and he usually has no idea what he's doing and - shit, lightbulb moment right there. They did it didn't they? They actually went on the world's most awkward date, and Derek failed so hard at it, he didn't even tell him.
It's like the one thing they have in common, the ability to do stupid things and be social disasters. Which, ok, that doesn't really help. But hey, Derek made the effort, for reasons still unknown he thought Stiles was worth it. Which is huge, and flattering, and confusing, because that's never actually happened before. Stiles has never been the thing people take chances on. So it's only fair that he...do something? This is how it works isn't it? It's Stiles's turn to say something, or do something - which is absolutely terrifying. Because acknowledging that Derek had actually taken him on a date was a long way from Stiles asking him if he wanted to do it again. Now that Stiles is actually aware that it was a date. If you don't actually know it's a date then surely it doesn't count? No, it totally counts because Stiles doesn't want to be the one who asked Derek out first. Derek absolutely started this with his flirty milkshakes and glaring.
If Stiles doesn't do anything to acknowledge that it was a date he thinks that Derek will just return to lurking menacingly in the distance, and never mention it, or make any attempt to join Stiles in a social setting ever again. Which will be - Stiles doesn't want that. So, yeah, he should text Derek, he should text Derek and ask him if he wants to go out again, and he should do it now before he talks himself out of it.
He should text him.
Stiles's body seems to think the fight or flight response is necessary right about now, and immediately floods his system full of stupidly unhelpful adrenaline. He tells his body to calm the fuck down before his spasming fingers send Derek a picture of his own knee. Which will be embarrassing and completely unhelpful.
He opens up a new message and stares at the blinking cursor while his heartbeat pounds in his throat just from thinking it. People do this all the time. They casually ask people to go places with them, and no one, to the best of Stiles's knowledge, has ever died from it. Which doesn't change the fact that Stiles has never done this before, and his chances of screwing it up are about fifty-fifty. People always protest that they're pretty good odds. But those people are stupid.
Do you want to go see a movie with me?
Stiles types it out and then stares at it for a second, before deleting the 'with me' because it sounds too desperate and pleading.
Do you want to go see a movie?
That doesn't look right any more, it's just a question that hangs, awkwardly, forcing Derek to have some sort of opinion on movies. Stiles might as well not be involved at all. He's pretty much just encouraging Derek to go and see a movie without him. He's going for a mutual movie-seeing thing here. So that isn't going to work.
Hey, we should go see a movie
Stiles can't decide if that sounds too casual or too demanding. He doesn't want to give Derek the impression that he feels entitled to a second date. Maybe he should put a question mark on the end?
Hey, we should go see a movie?
Now it just looks like he can't make up his mind about whether he wants to see a movie or not. Immature and indecisive, perfect.
So, do you want to see a movie or something?
That definitely sounds too casual, it sounds like Stiles doesn't even care, like he just wants to use Derek as some sort of time-killing device. Does Derek even watch movies? Is that even a thing he does? What if he hates movies? What if Derek is just going to dismiss the whole thing because of his irrational movie-hatred. Maybe Stiles should suggest some sort of generic, non-movie-based date?
Look, I don't really know how to do this, I have zero dating experience, but if you want to go out again I would absolutely be up for that.
Jesus, Stiles really hit the awkward and desperate jackpot there. Could he sound any more like a sixteen year old if he tried?
So, could we meet up again? Maybe see a movie?
So many question marks.
Hey, if you're not busy we could go see a movie together?
No, no, no.
I really want to go out with you again.
That's still too desperate, and he's not sure he wants to be that honest. He's supposed to be going for casual yet interested. It's like he's using the same twenty words over and over, in different combinations and never getting it right.
I had fun the other day, do you want to go out again, maybe see a movie?
He's getting worse at this. Why is it so hard? Scott gets Allison to go places with him all the time.
Hey, do you want to go see a movie with me?
That still sounds stupid.
Screw it.
He hits send.
Stiles watches his phone do its thing, and then clamps his fingers round the edge of the metal and plastic, until he can't feel them any more. His heart starts slamming in his chest like it thinks he might need all of the blood in his body all at once - because what the fuck did he just do? Why did he do that? He makes some sort of awful, choked noise of terrible distress.
He checks to make absolutely sure he sent it, and it isn't somehow sitting in his drafts folder. Shit, yeah, he definitely sent it. He sits down on the bed, and then stares at his phone - which just lays harmlessly in his hand as if it hasn't just screwed up his entire life.
Oh my God, he shouldn't have done that. This is an awful idea, this is the stupidest thing he's ever done. This could probably go on the list of the stupidest things Scott has ever done. Why is there no way to recall a text? He kind of wants to text Scott and tell him how much of an idiot he is. Possibly concoct some story about how Stiles got hit on the head during practice and briefly went insane.
There's a horrible, sick, lurching feeling inside him that he's pretty sure is a combination of panic and horror. Because he can't take that back. He can't pretend he never sent it. He can't somehow find out where Derek's phone is and destroy it before he reads it.
Stiles laughs, and it sounds kind of hysterical and kind of horrified at the same time. He stares at his phone, watching the minutes tick by with agonizing slowness as absolutely nothing happens. This is bad, this is very, very bad. Why does he let his brain talk him into things? This is why he has unattainable crushes from a distance.
He realises, suddenly and with a cold, hard sort of clarity, that it's been a couple of days since Derek took him out for a milkshake, and Derek hasn't gotten in touch with him, or appeared randomly in any dark corners. Or made any attempt to admit that Stiles exists, or that they may have come together in some sort of social setting and enjoyed delicious dairy beverages. What if Stiles was supposed to politely pretend that it had never happened? Derek clearly had an awful time at their social failure of a not-date and never wants to see him again. Which Stiles somehow failed to notice while he was also failing to notice they were actually on a date. There is no way on this earth that Derek is ever going to go out with him.
It's already been ten minutes, and Stilles suspects that Derek is never going to get back to him either. Stiles's first tragically inept attempt at dating is just going to hang awkwardly out there in the ether forever.
This was probably an awful idea anyway. Dating Derek would be a disaster. Because he's a freakin' werewolf who's like six - seven years older than him, and he lives in an abandoned warehouse with troubled, delinquent teens, like he's the leader of some sort of werewolf cult. Because bad guys and monsters are always trying to kill him. Derek's issues have issues and he's - oh yeah - kind of abusive. Stiles doesn't want to end up in a relationship where there are bruises in place of conversation, and everyone gives him those pointed, pitying looks like he's in a Lifetime movie. This is the worst idea Stiles has ever had. He should be relieved that Derek isn't going to text him back.
Thirty minutes.
Stiles leaves his phone on the bed and goes downstairs to pour himself a drink. Because he's a teenager and he can waste time like a pro, even when he's freaking out. He stays in the kitchen as long as he can bear it, stands in front of the open fridge trying to get his face to go back to its normal colour. Then scribbles down a couple of things they need next time he goes grocery shopping.
The very first thing he does when he gets back to his room is flip his phone over. The time stares out at him, minutes still ticking over as he watches.
Goddamn it.
Forty seven minutes. It's been forty seven minutes since he sent the text, and at this point Stiles is desperate for a polite 'no thanks,' or even some sort of mocking 'seriously?' So he can feel brief, terrible embarrassment, and they can all pretend this never happened and get on with their lives.
He's almost relieved when it eventually makes a noise. Though he's almost certain it's going to be Scott, who enjoys frightening the life out of him. He'll probably be asking if anything rhymes with Allison, so he can compose horrific poetry or something -
And then Stiles is staring at a message from Derek without a clue what to do.
He kind of wants to laugh and throw up at the same time.
-
He hits the screen.
Ok.
"Holy fucking shit."
Stiles reads it eight times and it doesn't change.