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Stiles has the unfortunate habit of falling in love and/or lust with people who will never want him back, or people who want him back for all the wrong reasons. Lydia had been a combination of both at some point of their fluctuating relationship. Then there was Derek, and Jackson, and Erica, and Heather—all for different reasons but the same simultaneously. Theo, his first actual boyfriend, had ended in disaster three months into dating. Brett Talbot wasn't much better, but for different reasons.
All throughout, he's had a consistent desire for Danny Mahealani, but beyond that embarrassing and secretly heartbreaking incident in the locker room whee Danny joked about taking Stiles' virginity, he had never allowed himself the true hope of being with the other boy. Aside from that moment, Danny had always been the nice one, and he gave insightful advice on his relationships with other boys, especially when it became clear that Stiles needed to cut his losses for his own good.
He never looks too deep into playful flirting. He doesn't take stock in compliments on his appearance. He never reads too much into any given situation that seems even slightly romantic. Danny has rebuked his attention, even the innocent and platonic instances, too often for him to take stock of any of it coming back to him now.
Sure, he's grown into his body a little more since high school, and he knows people appreciate the longer version of his haircut as opposed to the buzz cut he used to sport, but he is under no illusions that he is attractive. Especially not compared to the rest of his friends. He somehow managed to surround himself with model-worthy friends, but he is the ugly duckling among them. He isn't a swamp monster or anything, but he is glaringly aware of every one of this flaws without needing others to point them out for him.
His mother had been gorgeous, and he has heard far too many people refer to his dad as a DILF, aiding to his plethora of childhood trauma, but aside from his mother's eyes—honey-amber, large, rimmed with dark lashes—and the general shape of his Dad's face, he did not follow in their footsteps. Lanky with legs that appear coltish despite his runner's muscle tone, clumsiness in every gesture, and a loud mouth does not a sex god make.
In fact, he has been told before by several people that the only redeeming quality of his face was his “cocksucking lips.” That had been a blow to his ego the first time he asked a stranger at a club if they wanted to dance, and they'd responded in such a fashion that had him skittering away to hide in the throng of his thankfully very protective friends.
Lydia attempted to set him up with people “more in his lane,” the phrasing of which sort of stung, but he was willing to give it a go. They never worked out well, either. He refused her help after the fourth and rather disastrous failure.
As young as he is, not even twenty-five yet, he doesn't have a lot of hope for future relationships with either gender. There is always something that turns other people offer from him, or there is always a better option. The number of times that people have pretended to hit on him just to try to get to get closer to or get with his friends or family is mind-boggling, too. His self-confidence and self-worth has more craters than the moon at this point.
A lot of people get more confident in college, branching out and coming into themselves in a way they couldn't in their hometown, trying new experiences and befriending people they never would have thought to meet. Stiles only becomes more confident in his mediocrity. He resigns himself to having very few prospects in the romance department and the possible future as being a crazy cat guy.
At least he excels in his field of expertise. No one can take that away from him.
A little more than a month off from graduation, not too long after spring break where they had spent a lot of time at home in Beacon Hills instead of partying with friends, he notices that Danny has become a little...friendlier. He hangs out with him more often than he ever did, he flirts with him more with an edge that seems to have some actual intent behind it instead of playful bantering, and he has gotten a little more tactile with Stiles than he ever has. Hanging out with their friends, he could often be found choosing seats close to Stiles, close enough to put his hand on his arms, shoulder, or thigh, or wrap his arm around him to tug him closer.
Sometimes he comments on the scent of Stiles' shampoo, or he sits on the floor in front of him during move nights so that he can lean back against Stiles' legs, sometimes tilts his head back onto his knees. Those times, it's hard to resist reaching down to run his fingers through Danny's hair.
He starts bringing Stiles food. Snacks during study sessions, or sometimes he'd bring him a coffee before their shared morning class starts. He swaps Stiles' energy drinks out with bottles of water whenever he can—the expensive kind that doesn't have a weird after-taste so that Stiles will actually drink it without complaint despite the stolen energy drink.
The “gifts” escalate a little. He brought him a new hoodie when one of Stiles' favotires is eaten by the dorm's communal washing machine and insists that Stiles keep it.He and his tech friends save Stiles' phone when it is stolen by one of his dormmates' terrible girlfriend and the bitch downloads a bunch of maleware on it and breaks the screen for extra measure—because she thought he was trying to steal her boyfriend, whom he barely glanced at during a study group in the lobby of the building with ten other people present.
He doesn't know what to do with them, or the new attention. Danny doesn't say anything explicit, so until indicated otherwise, Stiles decides to just continue operating as if nothing odd is going on. Maybe this is just what having a friend who isn't riding the edge of poverty, with plenty of resources to spare, is like.
He tries not to get used to it. Getting used to it will only mean heartbreak when in eventually comes to an end. Danny is never single for too long. He's gorgeous with a sparkling personality and prospects for a successful career, a secure future. The affectionate treatment will end once he involves himself with a new beau, where Stiles will once again be brushed over to the sidelines as he has been with most of his friends at some point or another.
Enjoy it while it lasts, but don't get attached.
Who is he kidding? He's already devastatingly attached.
It's going to hurt when it ends, but by now, Stiles is used to the pain and the loneliness.
When they graduate, they all attend one of Lydia's parties, beautifully planned and complete with catering, designated drives available on her payroll to make sure they all get home safely, and photographers milling about so they could all have pictures of the memories some of them them will be too intoxicated to remember.
Stiles lets loose and partakes in a little recreational weed instead of the alcohol, trusting his friends to keep him safe but not trusting the effects of alcohol. He stays at Lydia's in a guest room rather than go home to the apartment his dad helped him get before graduation so he wouldn't have to move back in. He wakes up in that guest room with Danny curled up against his back, snuggled close like an octopus. Lydia has sly smiles for them when they come down for breakfast.
They don't talk about it. Aside from confirming that all they did was sleep, that seems to be the end of the discussion, and they go about their lives as friends.
Stiles starts a job at the library in Beacon Falls, the town directly on the other side of the Preserve beside Beacon Hills. The librarian there had been thrilled to see his credentials, and as a lovely woman of seventy years, she had been eager to hire him on and shove him the ropes so she could retire without worrying about the well-being of the library she cared for for forty-plus years. He slots in the establishment in no time, and he loves every second of it.
Two months after his hire date, he is invited out to a new club on the other side of Beacon Falls, a much busier part of the larger city in Beacon County than Beacon Hills had ever hoped to be. He meets up with Scott, Kira, Isaac, and Allison. Boyd would meet them later, still working at the bakery he'd signed on with. They get a table together, some drinks and some easy-to-share finger foods, and they set up a syster where someone will stay at the table with their belongings while the others go out and dance, and then eventually switch off so everyone gets a turn.
Stiles takes first turn at staying at the table, more than willing to chill and vibe as his body settles from a grueling workday into a more easygoing mood. The atmosphere here is chill despite the thumping music. The staff is professional and attentive, and everything seems very clean without being too clinical. He doesn't feel uncomfortable at all, and there seems to be a good mix of people of all genders and sexualities.
He sits and watches the people around him, nibbling on an appetizer he ordered to go along with his soda, having missed lunch today. A smile quirks his lips as he watches Erica, Kira, and Isaac gang up on grinding and dancing raunchily against Scott, who flails worse than Stiles does at his most animated, unable to find the rhythm of the music and looking a bit like a buffoon out there on the dancefloor. The other three do not help the situation, flustering him even more.
Jackson, Lydia, and Danny show up about an hour in from Stiles' original arrival time, and they settle at the table he's been guarding. They chat for a bit while they wait for a server so they can order drinks and more food. Then Stiles gets up to take a turn on the dancefloor for a little bit, taking advantage of their presence so he could give up babysitting their table and belongings.
He finds a group of drag queens to dance with, flirting harmlessly and complimenting them between moves. They're welcoming, most of them older and protective of “ducklings” like him—the young twinks who attract too much attention from older predators. Not that he needs protection right now, but he's glad he already sniffed out the safe haven of this club so early, just like at The Jungle. He knows he's an easy target for perverts, despite his average-ness in looks—drunk predators don't discriminate when on the prowl for flesh to defile.
He departs once he catches sight of Boyd, easy with his height despite the thick crowd, and he intercepts the large black man to teasingly dance with him before they both go out in search of Erica. They find her, Isaac, and Kira in a group and join the, Stiles insisting he gets a dance with the bombshell blonde first before he loses a change to Boyd for the rest of the evening.
He ends up being the filling between them for three songs, ducking out when the two become too touchyfeely for his comfort. He guides Kira back to the table, takes a swig from a new water bottle that Lydia hands to him with the silent command to hydrate. He steals a stuffed mushroom from Jackson, who snaps at him without the bite in his voice he would have had in high school. Then he ambles away again.
Before he can make a decision on which group to rejoin—maybe to find Allison and Scott since he hasn't seen them since they dipped—arms circle around his waist, warm and firm, and the sway of a taller, muscular body moving against him.he only has a few seconds of panic before he recognizes the hibiscus tattoo on the right forearm and the expensive yet subtle scent of the man's expensive cologne.
“You're surprisingly hard to pin down on the dancefloor,” Danny teases warmly against his ear. “I've been looking for you for about fifteen minutes, and every time I thought I had a bead on you, I lost you in the next blink.”
Stiles laughs and relaxes, allowing his body to sync up to Danny's moves, skin tingling at the skin contact. “Gotta be on the move, lest someone catch me.”
“I'm not in the business of throwing you back now that I've caught you.” Danny huffs, grinding dirty and low. Stiles has to swallow back a groan.
Danny dances with him as if it had been his only goal for even arriving tonight, which is astonishing but not unwelcome. Stiles hadn't been intending on finding any one particular dance partner, just wanting to let loose and sink into the throng, with his friends or not. Having someone he trusts at his back, or pressed to his front, matching his body's movements and energy without risk of Bad Touch or being drugged sets him at ease. It's easy to lose himself to the music and rhythm without the worry of having to stop wandering hands.
Time becomes a vague concept in the back of his mind. The music throbs through him, setting his nerves ablaze, his worries dropping away. Danny's warm hands are secure on his hips or lower back, never traveling lower, although he thinks he wouldn't mind it so much in this instance. Not with Danny.. Their breaths puff against their necks and faces, mingling in the humidity of the writhing mass of bodies around them.
At one point, Erica and Isaac come up close to them and join the party, and Stiles laughs, unbothered by the red smear of lipstick Erica leaves on his cheek. They become an awkward foursome, bumping and grinding and bouncing against each other in an uncoordinated conglomeration until a group of macho “alpha” men loudly complain about their weird little group. Something about ruining the flow of the dancefloor, accusing them of being immature and possessing fake Ids to get in, ignoring when other people tell them to mind their business in defense of Stiles and his friends.
One goes so far as to bump Isaac out of the way, jostling him into Stiles so that Danny has to brace himself in order to stabilize Stiles. Stiles corrals his friends away, not at all interested in having to bail them out of jail for getting into a fight in the club.
He would, for sure, but he doesn't want to.
Once safely away from the partypoopers, Stiles breaks off to go use the restroom and splash some water on his sweaty face, wiping some of the body glitter he'd been coerced into wearing by the combined forces of the girls. The coolness of the water and the air conditioning in the surprisingly clean men's room lowers his heart rate and brings some clarity to the dancing haze that had settled over his mind.
When he comes bak out, he sees Danny hovering at the table, seemingly having taken over guard duty from Kira. Stiles wanders over to the bar to get a couple bottles of water. He thinks he'll tap out for the night. He says as much when he hands Danny one of the bottles, guzzling half of his own.
“Really? We were having so much fun though, man,” Danny laments with a half-serious pout that makes Stiles feel a little like he's kicking a puppy.
“Yeah, but I have the day off tomorrow, and it may sound like a bad excuse, but I want to get a start on actually resting,” Stiles remarks. “Sleep hasn't been easy to come by lately. Especially with how hot my apartment gets since the landlord-turned-slumlord doesn't want to do anything about the broken AC I've begged him to fix. I have half a mind to sic my dad on him.”
“That still isn't fixed? It's been three weeks. What're you doing to keep from dying of heat stroke? Don't your medicines have heat sensitivities?”
Stiles startles, blinking, stunned that Danny remembered such a small thing. “Uh, yeah. I've been buying shittons of ice and taking ice baths when possible, and I have box fans set up hoping they don't short out the breaker. It sucks, but I'd rather suffer through that to cool down than get sick.”
“That really sucks, man.” Danny pants his back, and the hand lingers.
Stiles tries not to read too much into it.
They chat for a little while, sipping their waters. Stiles procrastinates on calling an Uber, not really wanting to leave despite what he'd said, but it's getting late, and he really is tired. He chats with Kira for a few minutes when she bounces back over to the table, and he collects his coat from the pile they'd bunched toward the middle of the booth curving in a semi-circle around the table. Erica comes over with Boyd to take their turn on guard duty, and Stiles exchanges air-kisses with both girls, who agree to tell the others that he's leaving.
Danny catches his arm before he can step out of the building completely, pausing him in opening the app for Uber. “Hey, can I talk to you for a sec?”
Stiles blinks, confused. They had just spent the majority of the evening together, and they had danced and talked, a lot. “Sure, dude. What's up?”
Danny tugs him a little off to the side. It takes them out of the main walkway to and from the doors, and it isolates them a little from the majority of the crowd, too, offering a bit of privacy in this very public place. Stiles is drawing a blank on what he could possibly want to talk about, especially a subject he wants pseudo-privacy for. It couldn't be urgent; otherwise, it would involve their other friends as well.
“Is everything okay?” he queries, concerned.
“What? Yeah, yes, everything's fine. I'm just a little nervous, is all.” His grin is a little sheepish, though no less charming. One hand stays cupping Stiles' arm near his elbow, and it's a little sweaty. His other hand goes up to rub the back of his own head, then drops down to his side and shakes itself out.
All Stiles can do is stare in wonder. He has never seen this side of Danny. It's a little cute, to be honest. What could self-assured Danny Mahealani possibly have to be nervous about? He licks his lips, and his eyes widen because...because Danny's eyes follow the motion of his tongue, avidly. They both flush, Danny because he knows he was caught and Stiles because he suddenly feels nervous, too.
“So I guess the best way to go about this would be to just come out and say it,” Danny says after a fortifying breath. “I've tried flirting with you and throwing hints at you, but I don't think any of them are really hitting their marks like I'd hoped. I know you like the gifts and appreciate the food, but you don't seem to really...grasp the meaning behind them. And then I talked to Scott about it, and he for once had some really good insight.”
Stiles is about to say something, he really is, but Danny plows right over him, like he's afraid he'll lose nerve if he doesn't just take the most direct route as soon as possible.
“I like you, Stiles, in a very not-platonic way. Well, I also like you platonically, too, but I've been aiming for something in a significantly romantic connotations. I tried the methods I usually have had success in using with my past boyfriends, but Scott said you wouldn't really respond to anything other than blatant, straightforward communication. He tried to be vague about it, but I gathered the notion that your past others weren't very cohesive for building self-confidence or treating you like you deserved...”
“Ah...no...not really,” Stiles stammers, bashful. His hands feel a little clammy now, and he tucks his phone into his pocket so he doesn't accidentally drop it. “So everything you've been doing for the past few months...they've not been just friendly gestures?”
“Yes and no. I started out friendly, but it was sort of to test the waters. When you didn't react badly or completely reject me, I decided to push a little further. I had the goal in mind to coax you into agreeing to a date, but there never seemed to be a good time to make that transition, and I could see you were a little skittish. I didn't want to scare you off, so I had to move glacially slow and careful. I had hope, though, because I caught you checking me out a few times, even when I wasn't showing off for you.” Here he grins, a little devilish, and this is the Danny Stiles recognizes, all bravado and sex appeal with sparkling eyes and glowing charisma. His fingers squeeze a little where they still hold Stiles' elbow.
Stiles stares breathlessly at the other man. He can hardly believe his ears. It seems too good to be true, and he'd worry that he'd been slipped something if he hadn't had sealed bottles of water all night, and had never left them near someone he didn't trust.
Danny smiles at him with those dimples, patient, as if he knows Stiles needs a few minutes to process. His hands are gentle where they rub Stiles' forearms, wrists, and hands, even stroking each finger individually. Stiles counts them unconsciously, and he can't help but think that that was Danny's intention with the motions.
This is real. He's not dreaming or hallucinating. Ten fingers means it's real.
Before he can talk himself out of it, or create some other kind of doubt that his brain is so good at conjuring up to torture him with, Stiles leans forward and presses his lips lightly to Danny's. At the light pressure returned, he brings his hands up to cup Danny's neck and jaw, body drifting forward so that he can feel the heat of the muscular body before him.
Danny's arms curl around him, one around his waist and one reaching down to hold his exposed hipbone. It sends the best kind of shivers down his spine. Danny's head tilts minutely so that he can deepen the kiss a little more. The fingers of the hand at his lower back splay wide, covering as much skin as they can.
A tender sort of heat tingles into his extremities, core melting like wax. Stiles can't remember a time he has felt so safe and so wanted in just the simple act of a kiss. Never had he felt as deep of an attraction as he has to Danny, so the fact that Danny returns his affections, his attraction... It's unfathomable to him.
He is in awe, and he can't get enough of tasting Danny's lips, his breath.
The kiss breaks, and he struggles not to whine in protest with the loss. He does sigh as Danny's lips pepper soft kisses along his jaw up to his ear, and he shivers at the whisper of a scrape of teeth on his earlobe.
“You wanna get out of here?” Danny murmurs softly, both hands on his hips, caressing the protruding bone.
“Kinda,” Stiles admits, tilting his head to allow for more of those kisses and little nibbles.
“'Kinda' suggests you have reservations. What about, baby?”
Stiles clamps down on the mewl that tries to crawl its way out at the endearment, shivering. He is such a sucker for cute pet names and endearments. His hands slide down to knead absently at Danny's strong shoulders. “I want to move somewhere private, and I want to keep kissing you, but I'm not ready for anything more than that. I'm not into casual sex.”
Danny eases away, but only enough that they can look into each other's eyes. Stiles knows he is flushed, blushing with shyness and arousal. Danny's eyes are dark and heated, like melted chocolate, and it's such a pretty sight. His hands are still gentle on Stiles' hips.
“We don't have to do anything,” Danny says with a charming smile. “We can go get something to eat, have a first date. I've outgrown the casual sex phase. It died out pretty quickly freshman year, actually. I didn't confess to you so I could get some ass or dick, which, in case you were wondering, I'm a switch.”
That doesn't really surprise Stiles, to be honest. He isn't going to lie and say he never thought about it, wondered about it, but he had mostly assumed Danny preferred to top, except when he dated Ethan, who was the douchiest of alpha masculinity and wouldn't accept anything else. To hear that Danny is versatile makes him giddy with anticipation of things they'll do in the future.
“So we could leave the club, find some place to eat, and maybe go to my apartment to kiss and cuddle, and you wouldn't be disappointed at all that everything stays above clothes,” Stiles says just to check, to make sure.
“That sounds great,” Danny replies, all bright smiles and dimples and stars in his eyes. “Except maybe we can go to my place instead. I don't have an annoying roommate, and it has an air conditioner that won't crap out halfway through the night and sweat us out.”
“I'm looking for a new place,” Stiles grumbles, even as he allows Danny to coax him away from the dark alcove they'd sequestered themselves in for this conversation, heart fluttering with excitement. After only a second's hesitation, Stiles drops his hand to link fingers with Danny's, and the resulting smile on the other's face is dazzling.
“I can help you with your search.” Danny tugs him in close against his side as they walk, exiting the building. “My landlord has several locations. He might have one available, and he's really good about his rates and actually taking care of the properties.”
“I might take you up on that,” Stiles says gratefully, nuzzling his cheek against the shoulder closest to him because he can.
They go out to eat at one of the local diners that isn't as good as Rosie's in Beacon Hills, but it's still pretty great. Danny insists on buying, and he tricks Stiles out of paying his own half by paying it all off, tip included, when the slighter man goes to the restroom. Stiles pouts as they walk out, but Danny makes sure to kiss it off his face and make him forget all about it, leaning against the side of his car in the parking lot.
Danny drives them to his place. They put on the TV in the bedroom and kick up the air conditioner a little bit so that it's cooler than the resting temperature Danny keeps it on when he's not home so sleeping will be easier. He provides comfy pajama bottoms for Stiles to change into, and then Stiles finds himself lounging beside his new boyfriend in his comfy queen-sized bed. They kiss and cuddle, lazy and soft, TV playing quietly for background noise, until they drift off to sleep.
Stiles wakes first in the morning, used to early rising, after one of the best nights of sleep he has had in a long time, and he doesn't think it's just because of the AC happily buzzing in the background. He watches Danny sleep for a bit, then gets up and heads to the kitchen to make breakfast, chest warm and tingling with domestic bliss. Danny stumbles in ten minutes in, sleepy but happy, cuddling warmly against Stiles' back as he plates eggs and sausage he'd stolen from Danny's fridge.
It's the happiest he remembers being. He thinks he can definitely get used to it, especially with the taste of Danny's kisses on his lips.