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Stiles squares his shoulders and walks around the pool in the cold glow of the waning crescent, expecting the worst. He breathes in deeply and knocks on the front door. The sight that awaits him is a troubling one. Lydia, her mascara ruined from an array of shiny silver tears, hiccups curse words unlike anything he’s heard before. Her lipstick is smudged from the unladylike yelling and her hair stands out on either side of her head like she pulled at it while it was still in a braid. A pin balances precariously on the crown of her head.
“He broke up with me. And he did it in front of… in front of the entire amphitheater!” Stiles grasps among the mangled words.
No wonder she’s losing it, Lydia always liked to keep up appearances and Jackson dumped her in front of their entire forensics class. Even if she kept her cool back then, it must have been mortifying. Stiles missed it, but it’s probably for the best.
“Ouch.”
Lydia punches him half-heartedly in the shoulder and makes grabby hands for the tub of ice cream. Oh well, here goes his sugary treat of lactose and cookie dough. She needs it more than him. Stiles lets Lydia drag him to the living room and settles down for movie night.
She calms down eventually, breathing heavily still, and whips out her phone to frantically tap away at her app store as soon as the credits roll.
“Do you think I should download Better Half?”
“I don’t think you should join a dating app just yet,” Stiles replies, glancing at her.
He herds on the side of caution.
Lydia downloads it anyway. Then, she scrolls through her camera roll to add a profile picture to the bio she wrote up in mere minutes. Stiles tugs at the sleeves of his flannel, ill at ease with her sudden one eighty. In the dim light of the plush living room, this looks like the beginning of a bad horror movie and he usually likes those, but not when his best friend risks sabotaging herself with the pain of her heartbreak.
“Ugh, I look ugly in all of them! Fine!” Lydia scowls and jumps to her feet.
She hurries to the bathroom, leaving the door open as she wipes her makeup off and quickly applies some mascara and lipstick. White marble tiles make Lydia look paler than she actually is and it all looks very clinical, much like the guest bathroom the Martins don’t usually use downstairs.
“Come on, update your profile with me,” she requests, glancing at him through the mirror.
“What for? I’m not looking for anyone.”
“You’re always complaining no one wants to date you,” Lydia calls him out none too gently.
“It’s not my fault Scott gets a new girlfriend every year or so and I can barely get laid on the weekend!”
“Isn’t it?”
Lydia sniffs as she strolls back to the living room, tugging at her top. She starts a Peggy Lee album on the record player and lifts her phone, and from the high angle selfie she choses and the revealing top she’s wearing, Stiles can only assume she’s looking for a rebound. The glow of the TV throws enticing shades down her cleavage and she stares at the camera with an air of defiance.
“Are you trying to make him jealous?” he asks, eyes narrowing.
“What? Nonsense. I don’t care what Jackson thinks,” she replies, tilting her chin up.
“Sure.”
“Give me your phone, I’ll update your profile myself and make sure you get some too.”
Lydia holds her hand out, tapping her foot in time with the jazz rhythm of Fever as she awaits and Stiles relents, if only to give her a reason to sit back on the couch instead of hovering. She curls up against the arm of the couch, typing a few sentences for his bio and texting his phone to pick a couple of pics from her own camera roll.
“Your selfies are hideous,” Lydia comments.
“My dad likes them just fine.”
“He’s your dad. My mom also likes it more when I look like her.”
“I don’t look like him!” Stiles protests, but she isn’t listening anymore.
Stiles leans over her shoulder to see what his profile looks like.
@mischiefmoves
I solemnly swear I’m not just looking for a bit of fun. Hit me up if you’ve fallen asleep at the library before because you spent all night reading, you waste way too much time on Wikipedia or you have a dark sense of humor, I’m not adverse to death puns #forensicmajor.
“You made a Harry Potter reference,” he says, gaping a little.
“Well, the bio needs to give a sense of who you are as a person,” Lydia shrugs.
“Yeah, but how do you have the reference?”
“It’s important to keep up with pop culture.”
She scraps the ice tub with her spoon to lick off the last of the cookie dough and Stiles is left staring at his profile as the number of matches go up, like a candid shot of him sprawled out in an array of dead leaves last summer is cute and not cringe. Lydia also had a couple of pictures from the Soup Kitchen on her phone even though she doesn’t really volunteer there.
She somehow managed to sneak a shot that one time when she helped him collect food waste from local shops to distribute to the people who need it in Beacon Hills. There is one of Stiles watering a potted plant and a portrait of him painting the walls aquamarine during the renovations.
“What’s yours like? Do you have matches yet?” he asks, tearing himself away from the screen.
“Some,” she says, showing her phone as it blows up with notifications.
@youngandfemale
I’m tougher than I look. Bring protection, buy me a drink, don’t stick around afterwards. Deal? #notlookingforanythingserious
Stiles is suddenly glad she didn’t share the ice cream, because he nearly chokes upon reading her bio. Well, one thing for sure, Lydia knows her way around these apps. He might just as well enjoy his newfound popularity while he still can. So he strikes up a conversation with a few of his matches and Lydia settles down to switch between all the apps she downloaded, her cold feet tucked under Stiles’ thigh.
Over the following weeks, Stiles matches with a couple of people. Heather, whom he knew back in high school and who mostly wanted to reconnect because they didn’t click that way. Jordan — he turned out to be one of Stiles’ father deputies and couldn’t bring himself to even buy Stiles a drink. Malia, who wasn’t looking for anything serious but stayed over to play video games the next day.
Still, he almost drops his phone in the soup — butternut today — when the most recent match pops up on the screen.
@wolfamongmen
well read in the classics. history nerd. likes: #hiking & #rock climbing.
Bed hair, sparkling seafoam eyes and a face seemingly carved out by Michel Angelo himself, the guy is simply breathtakingly gorgeous.
Stiles glances around, but there are only a couple of old men he sees often — their war time pension never amounted to much, they tell him sometimes. They sit at a sturdy table in the corner in worn out windbreakers, their beards unruly but their eyes shining with so much spirit he gave them a refill a few minutes ago before they even asked. They reminisce over their time in the military, even though they served in different wars and Stiles leaves them to it.
He screenshots @wolfamongmen’s profile and sends it to Lydia.
Stiles: It’s a fake. It has to be.
Lydia: Could be, but I don’t think I’ve seen him in the latest celebrity news. A model?
Stiles: No, I reverse searched him and nothing came up.
Stiles: He’s not a porn star either.
Lydia: Only one way to find out, go on a date and jump him.
After a moment of deliberation, Stiles texts @wolfamongmen and hopes for the best.
---
@mischiefmoves
I better renew my library card, because I am checking you out! And the library is a great source of knowledge.
Derek glances at the notification, keeping his book open to the right page as he considers the cheesy pick up line. It’s… surprisingly cute and refreshing.
Most people don’t bother with small talk when suggesting he hooks up with them. Perhaps it wasn’t such a great idea to share a pic of him bouldering, shirtless and sunburnt. He’s not even facing the camera, but Erica said his back is a snack and a half and well… Derek was looking for a rebound back when he created his account.
Lately, he’s been meaning to find his better half and not just a warm body to share his bed at night.
@wolfamongmen
You can never be overdressed or overeducated.
Derek ruffles for a bookmark on the coffee table, eventually grabbing an old receipt. It will have to do, he decides as he sets the book — Alfred de Musset’s The Confession of a Child of the Century — aside and turns his full attention to the last text he received.
@mischiefmoves
So you like rock climbing? I didn’t even know there were any rocks to climb in Beacon Hills
@wolfamongmen
You’d have to venture quite far in the preserve but there is a great cliff on the outskirts of the city. And then you can just get out of the city. Why? Do you want to get started?
@mischiefmoves
Nah, last time I went rock climbing — indoor, mind you, I fell off and ended up upside down, would not recommend. I’m good with watching or belaying.
@wolfamongmen
Oh, did you go to the climbing gym downtown? Their wall isn’t the best.
@mischiefmoves
Worse, it was back in high school, in front of my entire class. Never again!
@wolfamongmen
You went to Beacon Hills High?
@mischiefmoves
Yeah, I graduated a couple years ago. You?
@wolfamongmen
Nearly half a decade ago, lol.
@mischiefmoves
I gather you’re not a college student then?
@wolfamongmen
Nah, got my degree in library science already. You study forensics?
@mischiefmoves
Yeah, they wouldn’t take me for the FBI internship program so I had to make do lmao.
@wolfamongmen
Oh, why is that?
@mischiefmoves
Not fit enough. I “was” on the lacrosse team but I always liked running more. By the way when you say hiking do you mean a walk through the preserve or trekking?
@wolfamongmen
I mean hiking. Taking a long, vigorous walk in nature for fun.
Derek smiles to himself as he hits send. Mischief’s profile picture caught his eye because of the shiny red leaves in the background at first, then he noticed Mischief himself, looking cute as hell, and swiped right. So far, he likes how the conversation is going.
@mischiefmoves
So I guess the username isn’t a male alpha posturing thing and more of a “I like nature” kind of thing?
@wolfamongmen
Oh yeah, I used to be obsessed with wolves as a kid and my siblings always say I need to get used to new people before I befriend them. And I do spend a lot of time outdoors between hiking and climbing in the preserve.
@mischiefmoves
Cool cool cool…
Three dots pop up as Mischief keeps writing, no doubt to ask a question about his siblings, but Derek glances at the time then and frowns. Huh, he didn’t mean to spend so long chatting. Biting his lower lip, he replies before Mischief can.
@wolfamongmen
I’ve got to go, I’ll text you when I get back?
Mischief agrees and Derek heads to the gym, training as usual. This is good, witty and nice and it feels authentic, like he isn’t just going through the steps to get into someone’s bed or allow them into his. Cora told him that it’s better to meet up within a week when he’s looking for something serious, while he only has a vague idea of who the other person is and for once, Derek feels like he wants to try.
Still, it can’t hurt to build some tension first.
Derek snaps a selfie in the mirror as he comes out of the shower, nothing indecent of course — he’s still at the gym after all, but wet hair and compression pants under baggy shorts should do the trick. He sends it without filters, lifting his shirt to display his abs.
@wolfamongmen
I’m back from the gym.
Mischief takes forever to type out a response, like he’s choking on the words. Perhaps he is, Derek thinks to himself as he jogs back to the loft. Wooden floors crack underneath his feet as he makes his way to his favorite armchair, picking up his book to read by the window. He doesn’t open it though, because Mischief finally figured out what to write back.
@mischiefmoves
Who did this to you? D: Please have some water!
Derek barks out a laugh, and falls head over heels right there, right then.
---
Stiles meets up with @wolfamongmen in the city center. It’s basic safety measures, especially since they didn’t share much personal information except for where they went to high school and what they studied in college. He told Lydia about the date and activates geolocalisation on his phone as he comes out of the Jeep, strolling down the street to stand by the fountain. The mall stretches out down Main and the square opens up to a newly renovated park — Stiles’ father was invited as guest of honor to the official opening a couple years back.
A tall guy in a green Henley and black jeans shuffles his feet on the other side of the fountain and Stiles pokes his head past a stream of water to glance at him. The guy does look a lot like the pics on @wolfamongmen’s profile so Stiles steps around the fountain with a hand tucked away in the too tight pocket of his skinny jeans and the other raised in greeting.
“Hey, I’m Stiles — @mischiefmoves,” he says over the splashing waters.
“Oh,” a startled pause. “Hi, I’m Derek. Is Stiles another username you’ve been using?”
“No, just a nickname.”
Stiles shrugs as Derek takes him in. The crisp morning air swirls around them and Derek smiles, gesturing towards the park. An elderly couple makes their steady way towards a bench, half a dozen of pigeons following after them and some children play tag in the grass, staining their clothes and their knees alike.
“Should we go for a walk? I made a reservation at a restaurant over there if you’d like.”
Nodding, Stiles falls into step with him as they stroll through the park.
“Which restaurant?”
“L’Interlude.”
“Sounds French and fancy.”
Derek ducks his head at that, but he doesn’t disagree and Stiles smiles to himself. He doesn’t know the restaurant, but it hardly matters for now. He tugs the sleeves of his flannel down to cover his hands as they go around the park and the overcast skies loom over them with the promise of rain.
“So, we forgot to properly introduce ourselves before setting up our first date and I don’t think you’ve told me what you do for work? Obviously I’m a college student, but you already know that,” Stiles asks, glancing at Derek.
“I own a bookshop.”
The casual reply shouldn’t take Stiles aback, yet it does. It’s just… It screams trust fund baby. From the nice clothes to Derek’s plastic and now this… It’s not wrong, per se, but well…
There is a reason Stiles volunteers at the Soup Kitchen. Not so long ago, Stiles and his father would both pretend they didn’t grab a warm meal there every couple of days, just so the other wouldn’t worry about the cost of groceries for a little while.
Forced retirement rarely does anyone any favor and crippled with debt on top of a badly healed gunshot wound, Stiles’ father could barely afford to put food on the table back then. It’s better now, but Stiles knows what it’s like to worry about bills and looking at Derek now, he wonders if this man ever had to worry about anything in his life.
“So, hiking, climbing, reading, going to the gym and French cuisine. Do you have more hobbies I should know about?” Stiles asks.
“I volunteer at the animal shelter every week?” Derek replies, looking unsure.
“For cats or dogs?”
“Dogs,” comes the knee-jerk response, and Derek almost looks affronted.
“Good answer,” Stiles replies, grinning.
“I take it you’re a dog person?”
“Through and through.”
“What about you? There wasn’t much on your profile.”
“Video games, mostly. I spend a lot of time on my computer overall, just reading up about… stuff.”
Slightly more at ease now, Stiles forces a smile for Derek’s benefit as they cross the street to get to l’Interlude. He trails off though, noticing the white tablecloth and matching candles inside. It’s not just fancy, it’s high end.
It goes downhill from there. A waiter in black and white attire seats them near the window and Stiles nearly smacks his face with low hanging, ornamental bramble bushes. Swearing under his breath, he waves off Derek’s concern to tuck himself under the branches, shoulders hunched.
There aren’t any prices on the menu.
Stilted conversation buys Stiles some time as he figures out which dish he feels safe enough to order without signing off his body parts on the black market to pay for the meal, and he mentally weighs the price range of each organ he could safely live without. He might get a good deal for one of his kidneys.
“I’ll have the truffle risotto, thank you,” he says at last, half-heartedly.
Derek orders venison and smiles shily over the rim of their crystal classes. Stiles prays not to accidentally break anything today and keeps his hands firmly on each side of his plate, feeling the thick, good quality material of the tablecloth under his fingers.
“Do you come here often?” he forces out.
“Not really, mostly for family dinners. I thought my siblings wouldn’t look for me here if they heard I had a date today.”
“Oh, are we playing hide and seek from your siblings?”
“Not really, it’s just…” Derek rubs the back of his head, averting his eyes. “They like to embarrass me.”
Stiles can’t help but smile. It’s endearing, the very idea that Derek is afraid he’d make a fool of himself on a date because of his siblings. He doesn’t get a chance to ask about said siblings as the waiter comes back with their order and Derek doesn’t elaborate, so Stiles focuses on savoring his risotto, just in case he does end up selling his kidney afterwards.
He might just as well make it count, right?
The date is… awkward. Stiles struggles with conversation, a lot more than he did when they were texting. He’s trying not to ramble too much but Derek’s deadpan responses make him stumble in real life and with the weight of some people’s gaze as they walk past the window, Stiles’ food sits heavily in his stomach.
He sighs in relief when the waiter brings the check and doesn’t get a chance to reach for his wallet. Derek lays his credit card confidently in the folder and directs a smile at Stiles, who slumps down on his plush velvet seat as the waiter whisks the check away.
“Thank you,” Stiles says through stress-chapped lips.
Derek shakes his head like Stiles doesn’t need to thank him but after such a delicate and refined meal, Stiles truly does. He couldn’t have afforded it otherwise. He thanks Derek again as they step outside and the sky breaks in a lazy hailstorm, and Stiles takes it as his cue to part ways without further ado, waving Derek goodbye.
“Be careful on the road!” Derek exclaims as Stiles disappears down the street.
The wind drowns out Stiles’ reply.
---
@wolfamongmen
Thank you for today, I had a good time. I hope we can meet again soon (:
✓ read.
Derek sighs as he sets his phone down, toying with the sleeve of his henley. There is a hole near his wrist and he slips his thumb there, holding onto the hem of the sleeve with crooked fingers. Sunbeams filter in through the window, cold and distant in the dim winter light. On the arm of the couch, Alfred de Musset swears off all women in his confession and Derek considers doing the same as his last message to Stiles remains on read.
He doesn’t get it. They got along well, chatted for a while online and it wasn’t terribly awkward once they met in person… Derek really liked Stiles, earnestly, from the sarcastic replies to the more genuine and heartfelt opinions on just about everything.
Apparently, Stiles didn’t feel the same way about him.
“I don’t get it,” Derek tells Cora as she lounges by his side, eating all of his snacks.
“He ghosted you, because he’s an asshole, get over it.”
“But why?” Derek whines, dropping his phone on the book.
“He’s a coward who can’t bring himself to tell you it’s not working out and then have to deal with the consequences, you’re better off without him,” Cora reiterates, popping an energy ball in her mouth.
“You look like a hamster.”
Cora swallows and smacks him with a cushion. The book topples off the arm of the couch and with it, Derek’s phone crashes on the floor with a dreadful crack, but he leaves it there, if only to stop checking his notifications for a little while.
“Sorry,” Cora says halfheartedly. “I swear though, if you send him another message…”
Derek shrugs.
“I mean it Derek! You better listen to me, or else… I’ll tell Laura all about your disastrous date and how you’re mopping now!”
At that, Derek makes a face. He’d rather not get Laura involved. He managed to keep her out of the loop so far and it’s probably better for everyone — him, mostly — if she doesn’t hear about this. She’d laugh at him for days and kick his ass for even giving Stiles the time of the day, probably.
“Where did you take him anyway?” Cora asks, sitting up with a serious look.
“L’Interlude.”
“Seriously?! Derek!”
“What? It’s a good restaurant, I like it and I knew you and Laura wouldn’t look for me there.”
“It’s where we go for family gatherings, of course we wouldn’t think you’d take your date there! No wonder he freaked out and played dead…”
Cora sighs and reaches out to pat his shoulder, a meager comfort but an attempt nonetheless. With a camouflage shirt and skinny jeans, she looks like a mini-version of Derek and Laura, not that he’d dare say that to her. The wrath of a younger sibling knows no boundaries, as she demonstrates once again as she speaks up.
“He’s not worth it. Really Derek. He ghosted you, that’s on him, there was nothing you could have done to deserve it,” Cora says.
She stands up, dusting her clothes before she shrugs on a leather jacket, and picks up his phone from the floor. There is a crack in the screen protector but the phone itself seems fine as she hands it back to Derek, shaking her head. Long brown hair falls down her back as she gathers her stuff.
“I’ve got to get to class, see you later?”
Derek nods and she punches his shoulder as she leaves the loft, having effectively eaten all of his energy balls. He spent hours making them over the weekend, all for naught. He appreciates that Cora stopped by between her business classes though, and stands up after a while to head out.
He might just as well get something done at the shop instead of mopping at home.
Book Around is quiet when Derek gets downstairs. A regular buys a book at an open price, tipping double while they’re at it and Derek greets them with a nod. The spiral staircase shudders as he takes the last step into the bookshop and Derek tidies up some stacks and shelves as he makes his way towards the counter.
The clerk chews gum while scrolling through her phone and she pays him no mind as he gets started on sorting the ever growing piles of second-hand books that come in every so often.
Derek finds peace among the dusty alleys of the shop and the warm glow of the display window, where fairy lights mingle with dusty tomes people rarely survey nowadays. Still, it gives Book Around a homey feeling that Derek cherishes.
He ignores the notifications on his cracked screen protector — he needs to fix that soon, and to make more energy balls — as none of them comes from @mischiefmoves and once again, wonders what was so wrong about l’Interlude. Derek feels safe there. It’s a nice restaurant and they serve good food, what more could he ask for?
Derek just wanted to do something nice for their first date.
---
Lydia comes in barely a minute before class starts and sits primly next to Stiles like nothing’s wrong. To be fair, Stiles can’t say that she doesn’t look put together or anything, but the sheer fact that she nearly came in late is suspicious. It’s not her style.
“Should I ask?” he whispers.
Someone shushes him, but Stiles pays them no mind.
“I met up with Aiden last night. It was a good fuck,” she shrugs, and leaves him hanging for the rest of the class.
Lydia flips her hair over her shoulder as soon as class ends and Stiles turns fully towards her, arching his eyebrow. She seems to have gotten Jackson out of her system and he can’t help but wonder what her next step is going to be. While Lydia is perfectly capable of having meaningless sex with total strangers, she’s always liked to be in a steady relationship.
“I want something serious,” she declares indeed as they gather their stuff. “Let’s edit our bio to say we’re both looking for a double date so anyone interested in one of us should bring a friend along. It’ll be a good way to meet new people and you won’t end up in fancy restaurants outside of your price range again, I’ll make sure of it.”
And so Lydia does just that, updating both their profiles on Better Half despite Stiles’ meager protests.
“Just make sure to share their profile with me before you agree to anything!”
Lydia grins devilishly at him, leading the way to their next class and who is Stiles to disagree? The whole thing started because he wanted to support her as she got over Jackson and really, the dates weren’t so bad. He had fun on most of them.
He sighs and gets to work flipping through the various profiles Lydia sends his way throughout the day, not finding any that makes sparks fly within him just yet.
It’s a shame the guy he liked the most turned out to be a trust fund baby.
Stiles can’t have all that much in common with this kind of guy, can he?
@shewolf
A double date? Sounds fun. @youngandfemale is also hot as hell. I’m up for the double date if you are.
The notification pops up on his screen as he heads to the Soup Kitchen and Stiles snorts. It’s bold, but he can’t blame @shewolf for gushing over Lydia. Checking her profile, Stiles finds an athletic college student with a side job as a dog sitter and way too many pics of puppies. Not sure what to make of it, Stiles forwards the profile to Lydia and texts @shewolf back.
@mischiefmoves
Looks like you have good taste. Who did you have in mind for the double date?
@shewolf
I’ll invite my brother along, he needs to get out of his funk anyway
@shewolf
I’m going to show him your profile, brb
@mischiefmoves
Sure. What’s his handle?
She takes a while to answer and Stiles greets the regulars at the Soup Kitchen as he makes his way among the wooden tables. By the time he makes it to the counter to start serving the few people waiting in the line, his phone buzzes with a new notification. Stiles checks it discreetly, curious to see what his next date looks like.
@shewolf
Actually, you’ve met him already. How was l’Interlude, asshole?
Stiles startles as he reads the next, and his mind races back to his date with Derek. He realizes belatedly that Derek must be @shewolf’s brother and nearly drops his phone in the soup — leek and potato today — as Lydia choses this moment to text him back saying he better not fuck this up for her.
Too late.
Stiles wipes his clammy hands on his skinny jeans, glancing around. There isn’t anyone in the line, so he turns around to have a semblance of privacy and stares at his screen as he leans against the counter.
He feels terrible.
Stiles never texted Derek back. It seemed pointless back then, since they clearly live in different worlds if Derek can afford a restaurant like l’Interlude and pay for Stiles’ meal. Honestly, Stiles was out of his depth and assumed Derek felt the same, thanking Stiles for the date out of politeness and not expecting a reply.
Derek is so out of Stiles’ league. He couldn’t have been hoping for another date, right?
Stiles knows what it feels like to be ghosted, especially in this scenario. In retrospect, he loathes to think that he ghosted Derek and scrambles to text him back, only to stop short.
@shewolf
Forget about the double date, I won’t come if you’re here. Tell your friend to message me though, and don’t fuck with my brother if you know what’s good for you.
Despite her warning, Stiles types out a message, leaving Lydia to decide whether she wants to go on a date with @shewolf or not. At this point, it hardly matters, Stiles needs to clear the air with Derek, even if it never amounts to anything concrete between them.
@mischiefmoves
So… this is awkward. Would it help if I gave you an explanation?
He waits, biting his nails as behind him, the chatter of people sharing a soup echoes steadily from one table to the other. The reply takes a long while to come, as three dots keep popping up and disappearing on his screen until eventually, Derek writes back.
@wolfamongmen
Yes. Are you free tomorrow at 3?
Stiles isn’t, but he makes arrangements to meet up at Book Around with Derek anyway. He really wants to clear the air, even more so if Cora and Lydia end up going on a date and it works out between them.
How awkward would it be if Cora held a grudge against Stiles all along?
She still might, but at least he’ll have done the right thing, at last.
---
Derek walks down the stairs still reeling from the text message he received yesterday. He contemplated leaving Stiles on read, out of spite, but he needs closure and while he doesn’t think Stiles deserves a chance to explain himself right after Cora called him out on his bullshit… Well, Derek deserves the explanation.
He greets the clerk at the counter and runs his fingers over the cover of some old books to gather his strength as he heads out. Stiles’ choice of Book Around to meet up came out of nowhere — something about the coffee shop across the street and fair trade —, but it’s convenient and Derek feels safer knowing he can retreat into familiar territory if needed.
Derek catches sight of Stiles hurrying up the sidewalk, his messenger bag flapping behind him, when he steps out into the street. He crosses over to intercept Stiles on the other side of the street, tense all over. Tucking his thumbs in the holes of his sleeves, Derek slouches as he comes face to face with Stiles.
“Sorry, I thought I could make it in time but my class ran over,” Stiles pants.
“You’re right on time,” Derek shrugs, gesturing to the coffee shop next to them. “Shall we?”
“Yes,” nodding frantically, Stiles adds. “Thank you for agreeing to talk to me.”
They settle in a corner, away from the windows and Derek orders an espresso, not intending for this conversation to last any longer than necessary. Stiles does the same, shuffling on his seat as he looks for words, so Derek beats him to it. After all, he’s only doing this so he can feel better about the whole thing and move on, not to give Stiles a chance to ask for forgiveness or worse, make Derek feel like he deserved it.
“I really liked you,” Derek says. “I brought you to a place that means a lot to me and enjoyed our conversation because you made me feel like a real person and not a wet dream. To be ghosted like that afterwards… it hurt my feelings twice as much.”
“I’m truly sorry,” Stiles blurts out. “I really like you too and I felt inadequate with this fancy restaurant…”
“So you didn’t feel comfortable at l’Interlude,” Derek interrupts. “You could have just said so and we’d have gone to a different restaurant.”
“Like what, the French Saloon?”
“Or the Sushi Ranch.”
Derek shrugs, taking a sip of his coffee. It burns his tongue but he won’t let it show, swallowing past the lump in his throat as Stiles stifles a laugh, his head hanging low. Stiles does look embarrassed, like he knows he messed up, as he goes on.
“I thought it would be best to disappear while I still could, before my feelings could get hurt. I didn’t think you liked me back so I assumed you’d appreciate me disappearing without a fuss. I should at least have texted you with a lame excuse.”
“Is that what you meant earlier, saying you felt inadequate?”
“You’re… wealthy. You own a bookshop and I volunteer at the Soup Kitchen. It could never have worked out.”
“This isn’t just for you to decide,” Derek sighs. “And I own a charity bookshop.”
He drowns the last of his coffee and points at Book Around, dejected. If Stiles had simply asked questions instead of making assumptions… Shaking his head, Derek glances back at Stiles to find him gaping, his coffee left untouched between his hands.
“You’re the owner of Book Around?”
“Yeah. My family is well off, sure, but we’re not snobs. ”
“I really messed up, didn’t I?” Stiles asks with a sigh.
“Yeah.”
“Is there any way I can make it up to you?”
Derek stops to consider the question. It isn’t so much about this disaster of a first date anymore. If he decides to give Stiles another chance — because in the end, it was always about giving this thing between them a second chance, wasn’t it? — is it going to be a repeat of this whole fiasco all over again?
“Are you always like this? Jumping to conclusions and making assumptions instead of asking questions?”
“Kinda? When I don’t feel comfortable rambling at least.”
“What does it take for you to start rambling?”
“Mostly someone who is willing to listen and can somewhat keep up?” Stiles rubs the back of his head, the collar of his flannel upturned and crumpled.
“I can do that,” Derek breathes out. “Just so you know, I won’t be able to hold Cora back this time if you fuck up again.”
“I won’t,” Stiles promises, and are those literal hearts shining in his eyes?
“And family gatherings usually happen at the l’Interlude, so be prepared.”
“It’s a date!” Stiles beams and Derek melts a little as they order another round of coffee.
Perhaps the date is already happening, but he looks forward to many more to come.