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It’s the day after the ice skating date. Boyd is sulkily eating his lunch, while trying not give off a sulky air. The sulking is mostly in the chewing. Mashed potatoes don’t even need to be chewed.
He doesn’t really have a right to be sulking, though. If he hadn’t wanted Stiles to go out with Lydia, he shouldn’t have said yes to Stiles’ offer. He’d hoped that the fifty dollars would scare the guy off and buy Boyd a little more time to actually ask him out, but that hadn’t worked.
Someone drops their tray in front of him, and he looks up with raised eyebrows. Stiles plops down in the seat across from him. Why is Stiles sitting here? Where is Scott?
‘What do you want, Stiles?’ he grits out.
Stiles smiles widely and slides a hand towards him. For a moment Boyd thinks that Stiles is asking him to hold his hand and his heart stops. But then Stiles lifts his hand, revealing a crumpled fifty dollar bill, and his heart restarts.
‘No.’
‘What? Why not?’ Stiles asks. His face drops in disappointment and Boyd feels his resolution waver.
‘My price has gone up.’
‘I don’t have any more,’ Stiles mumbles. He frowns and looks down at his plate. He plays with his food for a bit, pushing around the mashed potatoes on his plate.
Again, Boyd feels his resolution waver, but he also doesn’t want to help Stiles date Lydia. He wants Stiles to be happy, and if that’s with Lydia, then so be it, but he doesn’t want them to be happy at his place of employment.
‘Here,’ Stiles suddenly says, shoving a pudding cup under his nose. ‘That’s all I’ve got. The last chocolate pudding. This is as high as I can go.’
There is no defence against the hopeful look on Stiles’ face. Boyd grabs the pudding out of Stiles’ hand and rips off the foil.
‘Deal,’ he says. He expects Stiles to get up and join his friends now, but Stiles stays seated across the table from him throughout lunch, face shining with happiness.
~
That night, Boyd once again dreads opening the door for Stiles and his friends, or maybe this time it’s just Stiles and Lydia. They’ll stumble in, smiling and laughing, or worse, holding hands. But when he pushes open the door at the agreed time, it’s just Stiles.
‘Hey,’ Stiles grins, pushing past him.
Boyd, still standing by the door, watches him walk to the rink. Why is Stiles alone? He takes his time following after Stiles. Maybe Lydia is coming later and Stiles is just her to set things up? He wouldn’t put it past the guy. “Overboard” is putting it mildly when it comes to Stiles’ romantic gestures.
When he gets to the rink, Stiles isn’t busy setting out a picnic in the middle of the ice or throwing rose petals everywhere, he’s finishing up lacing his skates.
‘You have skates, too, right?’ Stiles asks, turning towards.
‘Yeah.’
‘Great! Go put them on!’
Too stunned to ask why, Boyd goes to get his skates. This is turning out so much weirder than he expected. When he comes back, Stiles is already on the ice, racing from one end to the other. Boyd hadn’t stayed to watch last time, so he’s a little surprised by how fast and agile Stiles is. Then Stiles sees him, waves, and barely manages to stop before crashing. As graceful as a baby deer.
The next half-hour is a blissful blur. They chase each other around the ice, Boyd tries to show Stiles some tricks that mostly end with Stiles wheeling his arms around until he manages to grab onto Boyd for stability. It makes Boyd forget that Lydia Martin even exists.
‘Your nose is red,’ he chuckles, out of breath after another round of chasing Stiles around. The little asshole is quick. ‘And your cheeks.’
Stiles claps his gloved hands over his face, but Boyd pries them away. He bites his lip to stop himself from smiling at Stiles’ embarrassed look.
‘Shut up. It’s the cold,’ Stiles says, looking down and fumbling with his gloves.
Boyd doesn’t think Stiles has anything to be embarrassed about. He thinks the blush is cute. He doesn’t tell Stiles this, because… Because Stiles is supposed to be on a date with Lydia, who still hasn’t shown up. He’s not sure if he’s mad about that or grateful. When he looks at Stiles he doesn’t see sadness about being stood up, so he thinks it’s safe to go with grateful.
‘Hey, you want food? I bought that horrible pizza you like,’ Stiles says, already skating away from him.
‘You mean Hawaiian pizza?’
‘Pineapple on pizza,’ Stiles shudders, then wrinkles his nose. ‘I’m not even sure if it’s still warm. I mean, I got one of those special pizza bags that should keep it warm, but it’s pretty cold in here so I don’t know if it worked. But hey, cold pizza is still pizza!’
Boyd doesn’t really hear Stiles’ little ramble. Did Stiles just say he bought him pizza? Him, not Lydia, but him? Suddenly, he sees the events of the evening in an entirely different light. A happy smile tugs at his lips, but he also can’t help sighing and rubbing a hand over his face. He has a crush on the most ridiculous human being in existence.
‘Did you pay me so you could go on a date with me?’ he asks. He didn’t think it would sound as ridiculous if he’d say it out loud, but he was wrong. It’s so much worse.
Stiles spins around so fast, his eyes wide like a dear caught in the headlights, that he overbalances and falls on his ass.
‘I, uhm… Whaaat?’ Stiles’ voice sounds about an octave higher than usual and there’s a guilty look in his eyes. He looks a little like he wishes the ice would melt and swallow him up.
Boyd helps him up and then looks down at him, eyebrows raised and waiting for an answer.
‘Oh go-‘ Stiles groans. His face is completely red from embarrassment now. ‘Look, I just didn’t know what else to do, so I figured: stealth date.’
Boyd can feel the fondness beaming off himself at the little jazz hands Stiles makes. He pulls his wallet out of his pocket and finds the bill Stiles gave him that afternoon.
‘You’re an idiot. Here,’ he says, pressing the bill into Stiles’ hand.
Stiles looks at it like he’s never seen it before. ‘Oh. Right.’
‘You can use it to take me on an actual date, instead of just making me stay late at work.’
‘Oh. Right,’ Stiles’ grin is almost blinding, and a little bit sheepish. ‘You still want that pizza?’
‘Of course, I do.’