Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stiles' phone wakes him. He squints at the too-bright display and groans as he sees Lydia's name, as well as the picture she threatened to kill him over, staring back at him. The digital clock tells him that it's just a little after 7 AM, which automatically makes Lydia the worst person in the entire universe, because it's Saturday and she knows that Stiles was up too late the night before, playing video games with Scott, to be woken up this early. He tries to ignore her, hoping that she'll end up leaving a voice mail instead, but the song (Killer Queen, for the record; Stiles is very proud over this) just keeps playing. 

There are two main reasons as to why he doesn't want to answer. One, Lydia is his manager and also a part of the PR team on his show, which makes her the person that practically runs his life. Two, it's too goddamn early. 

“Fine, fine,” he mutters, when she hangs up and then immediately calls him back again, and reaches out for his phone. He presses answer, then puts her on speaker, before he places the phone next to him on the pillow. 

“Why are you doing this to me?” he groans as a greeting. 

“I need you to do something for me,” she says immediately. There’s something in the rushed, clipped tone of her voice that makes him wake up further. This can't be good. 

“If you think I'm still up for marrying you, you're wrong.” 

She snorts loudly. “No, we've had an incident, Stiles. Finstock messed up. I need you at the office as soon as possible.” 

“Finstock messed up? What does that even mean?” he asks, and sits up, ignoring the way his stomach lurches a little with nausea. 

“I'll show you when you get in here.” 

“I don't think I should be going anywhere today,” he mutters, and glares at the beer bottles still standing at his coffee table, as he makes his way into his living room. He isn't old enough to drink (but only by a few months!), so he has to keep it at home where no paparazzi can snap a picture of him. “Scott came over yesterday, and I'm pretty sure I look as hung-over as I feel.” 

“Stiles,” she snaps, clearly irritated. He can't really blame her. “I don't have energy for more scandals right now.” 

“It's not a scandal – I'm just breaking the law.” Stiles rolls his eyes and puts his phone next to the sink in his kitchen, filling a glass of water. “That's why I'm saying that I probably shouldn't go anywhere. Mostly because I'm in no state to drive anytime soon, either.” 

“I'll pick you up then, idiot. Don't answer any calls that aren't from me, do you hear me?” 

Then she hangs up and Stiles mind is suddenly re-starting in a more effective mode. Finstock messed up, and Lydia needs Stiles to do something for her. There are so many pieces missing in this, that he can't fit anything together. 

Right on cue, his phone starts going off like crazy, about ten minutes after Lydia hangs up on him. 

What the hell did Finstock do? 

He gets ready, tries to shower away most of the evidence of his hangover. He looks mostly tired, when Lydia picks him up forty minutes later, but she still gives him the displeased look. She probably has it patented, he thinks as he hops into the car, sunglasses and cap securely in place. His phone has been ringing constantly and doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon. 

“Care to tell me what Finstock did that has my phone ringing like this?” he mutters, as she pulls away from the curb outside his apartment building. 

“It's better if I show you,” she sighs, and she looks very tired, Stiles notices. 

“It's that bad, huh?” he asks, and his heart sinks as she nods solemnly. 

“Yep, that bad.” 

“Crap.” 

“You'll see, crap isn't even close to covering this.” 

“Double crap.” 

---

 

Half an hour later, as he sits in her office and watches a YouTube video of Finstock, he realises that not even double crap covers this. As the creator and writer of the show, in which Stiles is starring as the adorkable best friend of the lead role, Finstock has a lot of responsibility and is surprisingly un-filtered for a guy who has been in the business for years. 

In the video, Finstock begins by talking a bit about the show, which has been a big hit and is on its third season, and then he suddenly says – the interviewers question has been cut out – I don't mind working with queers, and then there's another quite bad cut in the film, before he continues saying, as long as they don't touch me. 

Stiles is suddenly very aware of why his phone has been going off so badly that he had to turn it off about ten minutes ago. He's out, media knows, media likes, and Finstock saying this is bound to make people want his opinion. 

“You lied to me,” he says, as the video replays in slow-motion. It's a bit disturbing to see Finstock's features move this slowly on the screen. “This isn't messing up – this is so much worse than that.” 

“I just wanted to keep you positive,” Lydia replies, as she gives him a glass of water and painkillers. 

If he didn't have a headache before, he sure will now. 

“Finstock is known for being indelicate with his wording, and and there's no question that he could have said something better than 'I don't mind working with queers'. However, as you probably see, they've cut two completely different pieces of the interview together. According to Finstock, the last part is an answer to the interviewer asking him what he thinks of his actors working while sick, and he supposedly said: I don't care as long as they don't touch me. I have no reason to not believe him, because we know Finstock, but the world doesn't. There's now a huge buzz going around, saying that the reason you're still single is because Finstock is a homophobe and that you're not allowed to date a guy if you want to keep working for him.” 

“Are you kidding me?” Stiles sighs, gulping down both the painkillers and the water in one go. He doesn't have the energy for this right now. Isn't this why he has a manager and why the show has a PR team? They're supposed to fix these things for him, so he doesn't have to. “I'm going to kill Finstock.” 

“Oh, don't worry, I'll take care of that for you. The thing is that the harm is already done. There's a risk we won't get signed for another season, because people don't want to watch a show where their favourite actor isn't allowed to be who he is. Everyone loves you, Stiles, and I'm pretty sure that's because they don't know you –” 

“Hey!” Stiles interrupts, but she just continues. 

“– but I need your help to fix it.”

Stiles sighs. Heavily. For the hundredth time in five minutes, it seems. Finstock is a complete weirdo, but he's the same weirdo towards everyone. Stiles is pretty sure that anyone who's ever been in contact with Finstock has this strange feeling of both enormous dislike and love for the guy, and he's definitely someone who speaks and acts way before thinking, but he doesn't have a problem with Stiles' sexuality. He doesn't give a crap, actually, but the outside world doesn't know that, and this badly cut interview doesn't give them a better chance of getting the message across either. 

“Don't people realise that it's two pieces cut together?” 

“Some. Using the word queers didn't really make our odds better. Maybe people would've been more critical if he hadn't. He basically just gave the interviewer a free scandal to make money on here. He should know better than that.” Lydia flings her hands out, like she's well aware of Finstock not really caring about media training. “We're trying to get a hold of the complete film, so that we can show the real interview in its entirety, but mostly people just like a good scandal and they have one now. It's going to take a lot to make this go down.” 

“And you want me to do something for you?” Stiles doesn't like the sound of this, not even as it comes out of his own mouth. Lydia has always been a good manager: no matter how strict and mean she can be at times, she has always put a priority on his brand as an actor and value on him as a person. 

“We need something that can convince the world that Finstock isn't keeping you from living your life.” 

“Which is...?” 

A part of him probably already knows, because when Lydia says, “Date a guy,” it doesn't even make him flinch. 

“Are you crazy? You want me to have a fake relationship to save the show?” 

“I want you to date someone, who just happens to be a guy, to save your job.”

“And where are you going to find a guy that's willing to do that, and not sell the story to the press as soon as it's over?” On days like these, Stiles just wishes that he never got out of bed at all. Also, an unintelligent alien must've taken over Lydia's body, because this is a bad, bad, bad idea. And not only because Stiles has never had a relationship ever before, so how's he going to be able to fake one? 

She doesn't answer, but shows another YouTube video of Derek Hale, a guy who's one of those people who seems to have grown up in TV shows. They're talking about his new role, where he's going to play this heart throb surgeon. 

“What does this have to do with Derek Hale?” he asks, and wonders again if she has lost her brain in her purse, because that thing is big and contains all the secrets in the world. Stiles is sure he could find a cure for cancer in it, if he just dug through it long enough. 

“Oh good, you know his name.” Lydia smiles and claps her hands together, as though Finstock hasn't begun their day with completely ruining it. “Because he's the one you'll be dating.” 

Stiles is pretty sure that he just died and has been transported into this weird, alternate universe where everyone is an idiot. Especially Lydia. Lydia is the biggest idiot of them all. 

“He's famous. He has this huge show coming, where he's the star. Why would he agree to this?” Maybe if he asks all the tricky questions, he'll expose the pretenders and will be transported back into his real life and body. 

“He is famous, yes. Which is good. Because, newsflash, so are you. However, he's a bit of a dick in interviews. Just a few days ago, he asked this adorable interviewer if she needed a brain transplant, because she asked him if he was squeamish, and he's done similar remarks before. He's getting a bad rep in media lately and his manager is worried that they're going to take him off the show, somehow, because he's bad for the PR.” 

Stiles will admit that asking someone who's supposed to be a surgeon in a show if he is squeamish is a pretty dumb question, but answering it like that is even more dumb. Stiles knows that, and he's only been in the industry for a couple of years, so obviously Derek Hale of all people should know the power of the media by now. 

“So I spoke to his manager this morning. I'm so sorry for not calling you first,” Lydia, continues, clearly not sorry at all. It's like she doesn't care whether Stiles is offended by this or not. She probably doesn't, come to think about it. “And we think you two would be a good set up, because media loves you, and he'd be a hot boyfriend for you.” 

“This is so stupid.” Stiles thumps his head against the desk repeatedly, hoping to wake up from this horrible nightmare. On the computer screen, where Lydia is playing another clip, Derek Hale is exiting a club and getting into a car just after he flips the paparazzi off. 

Yeah, dude needs to work on his charm.

Just a bit. 

“It's perfect,” Lydia corrects, and then she refills his glass with water, as if this will convince him of her good-hearted nature. “Erica, his manager, and I think that it won't take much work on your behalves. You're both going to this event in a week, and we think you should be caught leaving it together. You don't have to take any pictures together, or arrive together. Actually, it's better if you don't, as if you guys are trying to hide it from the paps, so basically you just need to let him drive you home afterwards.” 

“Why can't I be the one driving?” Stiles mutters, and maybe he pouts a bit, but that's just because he feels so bad for himself. “You know, my dad and Scott are going to freak when I tell them this. They so won't be okay with me faking stuff like this for fame.” 

“Okay, one, you're not faking anything for fame; you're faking this for survival. Two, you can't tell anyone about this. If this comes out, if people find out, we're screwed and this will look way worse than it already does.” 

“But I have to tell my dad and Scott!” Stiles protests. He might have been thinking about agreeing to this up until now, but there is no way he's lying to the most important people in his life about this. 

“You can't,” Lydia says simply. 

“Then I can't do this.” 

She glares at him, like she thinks that he's nuts. She probably does. “You can tell them after all of this is done, okay? I imagine this won't be going on too long.” 

Stiles really does have a bad feeling about this, saying that she's completely wrong. Maybe it's the hangover, or maybe it's the slideshow of a shirtless Derek Hale that's now playing on the computer screen. Maybe it's the fact that he very much wants to keep his job, but he nods. “All right. Fine.” 

Chapter Text

Lying to his dad and Scott is definitely the worst part of all this. Stiles has lied to his dad numerous times in the past, but since he got into the whole acting business, he's been frighteningly honest. It's mostly been his way to ground himself, because both his dad and Scott have a way of making him remember where he came from. So lying to them makes him feel like he's losing himself. Especially since he can't come up with a good reason for not telling them about his supposed new boyfriend. He can't wait until he gets to tell them about all of this, but before that, he has to meet up with Derek Hale and his manager to make plans, as Lydia calls them. And leave a party together.

Holy crap.

He's there about an hour earlier than he has to be, because he doesn't want to be the one arriving last and then be forced to figure out if he should just wave, shake hands or sit down without saying anything. Now, Derek Hale and his manager get to do that.

“So, what exactly is it that we're going to plan?” he asks Lydia, while trying to convince her coffee machine to make him a cappuccino and not a caffe latte. It doesn't matter that he's tried pressing the cappuccino button about six times already, leaving him waith six cups of caffe latte that he doesn't want to drink standing on Lydia's desk. When he tries pressing the caffe latte button instead, he still only gets caffe latte.

If this is the punishment you get for lying to your best friend, your dad and the rest of the world, Stiles doesn't want to be in this anymore.

“Your exit on Friday and the future of this project.” Lydia disappears into the conference room with a plate of fruit. Stiles is pretty sure that he won't get to eat it, because it's decoration. He's eaten the decoration before, and she was mad at him for a week. He always asks if he's allowed to eat the decoration first nowadays.

Stiles doesn't like the sound of future project, like they will have to do this for a while. “Is it too late to back out? Maybe Finstock can date him instead,” he calls after her. She doesn't answer.

When the coffee machine makes him another caffe latte, he presses all the buttons in revenge. The display starts blinking dangerously, and the sound it makes doesn't exactly resemble grinding beans, but rather a cat dying or a demon preparing to kill him.

He flails, wishing there was a way to press ctrl+Z on this thing, just to make the sound and the display-blinking go away. Pulling the plug starts to sound like a good idea, but just as he's about to bend down and do so, the machine lets out another groan and then suddenly starts filling his cup with cappuccino.

“Thank you, thank you,” Stiles whispers affectionately, and strokes the top of the machine as he takes his cup. When he looks up, he's met by the very sceptical look of Derek Hale's face.

Stiles is sure that Derek Hale's manager is standing next to him, but all Stiles can look at is Derek Hale and his condescending stare. Stiles will have to admit that it might not have been his best moment to pet the coffee machine, but he's done way worse.

“Caffe latte?” he tries, when it's obvious that neither Derek Hale or his manager will say anything, and points towards the seven cups standing on the edge of Lydia's desk.

“Yes, thank you,” Derek Hale's manager says, and Stiles is finally able to look away. It's strange. The dude doesn't look that much taller than Stiles, but he's approximately twice as wide. And he looks like he's swallowed the entire universe's supply of sour candy. Charming.

Derek's manager looks dangerous in a way very similar to Lydia. It's that scary sense of power and determination around them that makes Stiles convinced that they'd have his balls if he messes this up.

“I'm Erica Reyes,” she says, as she grasps the hand that's still pointing towards the coffee cups and shakes it. He instantly remember Lydia mentioning that name during their last meeting.

“Hi,” he replies, trying to make his hand shake back, but it doesn't respond to his brain signals and just lets itself be shaken. “I'm Stiles.”

“I know.” She grins in a way that makes him a little uncomfortable. However, when she disappears into the conference room when Lydia calls for her, Stiles desperately wants that grin back, because now he's left alone with Derek Hale's scowl.

It's weird how all his media training has disappeared just like that.

“So,” he says slowly, and Derek's expression doesn't change at all. “You excited?”

“About what?” Derek's voice sounds exactly like it does on TV, which is kind of terrifying, because that means that Stiles' voice probably does too, and not like it does in his head.

He prefers his head-voice over his TV-voice any day.

“About dating me.” Stiles grins. He's gotten smiles from grumpier people than Derek in the past.

Derek gives him a once over before he says: “Not particularly.”

“Ow dude, way to wound my pride.” Stiles claps a hand over his chest, mock hurt. He only gets a flat look in return.

Okay, so the only thing he'll be getting out of this is staring at Derek's face (because Stiles is pretty sure that the dude won't be shirtless with him), and it's not all that hot with that sour look on it.

“I can sort of join the group of people who think you're a dick,” Stiles says before he can stop himself.

He thinks he sees a fleeting change in Derek's expression, but it's gone before he's sure that it was actually there, and then Lydia calls for them to get their asses moving.

It's the most awkward meeting Stiles has ever endured. Erica and Lydia are planning, deciding what he and Derek should wear, where Derek is going to park his car so that Stiles and him can walk over there without being too obvious – yet very much so. It's going to be exactly like they're trying to avoid the photographers' and reporters' attention, even though that's precisely what they're after.

Stiles has no idea how he's supposed to pull this off.

Derek is looking bored with the whole thing, but he doesn't say anything at all.

---

 

“So,” Stiles begins, when Derek and his manager are about to leave. “Should we exchange numbers so you can call me when we leave, or..?”

“No.” Derek sounds like Stiles just asked if they should sacrifice their firstborns to aliens. “I'll find you.”

“Great,” Stiles replies flatly. He hopes that it's clear how much he dislikes Derek and his attitude, and how much he's lying with his next statement. “Looking forward to it.”

Erica is much warmer when she says goodbye. She even kisses his cheeks. Stiles has never gotten the hang of how many times, or what cheek to kiss first, so he just lets other people do it and pats them a bit awkwardly on the shoulder while they do.

“So that went well,” Lydia comments, as soon as they're alone again.

“Are you serious?” Stiles is starting to think that he really is in that alternate universe again.

“What? He's good-looking and Erica is great.”

“He's an asshole,” he snaps, and pours himself a glass of water. “Why would I ever be dating him?”

“Perhaps he has a big dick.” Lydia says it with such an innocent voice, and such a lovely smile, that it takes a moment for Stiles' brain to register the words, and he sends the water spluttering out of his mouth again, when he starts coughing.

“Oh my god,” he rasps. “You can't just say that!”

“Please.” Lydia rolls her eyes. “Don't be such a prude.”

“And I can't say that in interviews!”

“You're not going to have to keep this act up long enough to even get interviews!”

 

---

 

It’s one of those magazine events that Stiles likes the best. They’re usually pretty relaxed and he doesn’t need to be dressed to the teeth. He hasn’t seen Derek at all, but if Derek says that he’ll come find Stiles when it’s time to leave, it’s up to him to make sure that he does.

Allison is standing next to him, answering questions from another one of those interviewers that tend to think that she’s interested in fashion and cute animals, just because she’s a girl. Stiles hates those journalists. Where he gets all the interesting, existential questions about his character, Allison generally just gets asked how she stays in shape and what diets she’s on. It’s ridiculous, since she’s the main character of the show and does a damn good job. Sometimes he wonders what they would say if they knew that Allison’s biggest interests are archery and guns in general. She’s badass. Stiles is pretty sure that Scott only watches the show because of her, even though he claims that it’s because he’s so proud of Stiles. Which he is. But he’s been crushing on Allison from afar from the very beginning, but every time Stiles tries to set up a meeting, Scott freaks out and whines about headaches and heart attacks and possible amputation of his left leg, until Stiles cancels.

“So, you have a fantastic body,” the interviewer says, and Stiles wants to smack her in the face. “How do you stay in shape?”

Allison sighs, but she keeps a smile on her face. “We have a personal trainer working with us during the show to make sure that we’re capable of performing the action scenes to the best of our ability. Staying thin isn’t top priority for me, but I want to make sure that I can do my job the best I can.”

“I think we’ve seen a great change in Caroline’s character on the show,” Stiles cuts in, hoping to steer the interviewer onto more interesting topics. Caroline is Allison’s character, and she’s almost as badass as Allison. Which is saying something, because Caroline is a witch hunter.

The interviewer nods enthusiastically and thankfully changes the subject. Allison nudges Stiles in the side, as if she wants to say thanks. He turns and looks at all the people around him. It’s weird. The majority of them are people that Stiles never thought he’d even meet, a few years back. They’re the kind of celebrities he’d only seen on TV, and now he’s in a room with them and no one is asking him to leave or calls security. It’s ridiculous.

“So, Stiles, your character has also made an interesting change last season. Ryan is stepping away from the high morals he preached in the first season. What do have to say about that?”

“I think it’s more the fact that he has to make sure that the important people in his life stay safe, and he does whatever he needs to make sure that happens. Even if it means killing other people.”

“How do you feel about those scenes? I’m thinking especially about that scene in the courtyard.”

That night, Stiles had had to pretend to maim one of his colleagues pretty badly, since his character is a witch that was out to kill Ryan’s sister. It was a lot of fake blood, but very far from the way Ryan, a priest’s son for the record, had ever acted before.

“It was pretty awesome. You know, first season Ryan was just kind and there for Caroline when she needed him, handing her holy water and bible quotes, but now he actually gets to do something for himself.”

“So there was a lot of drama last week, concerning your producer and writer, Bobby Finstock, and his answer in an interview. I feel like it’s concerning you specifically, Stiles – how do you feel about that? People are starting to think that you’re not allowed to be who you are.”

Stiles sighs internally, but smiles all the same. He was prepared for this question, but never really figured out how to answer. “Finstock and I have a great relationship, and he’s a fantastic writer and friend. He doesn’t have a problem with my sexual orientation and not with anyone else’s either, as far as I’m aware.”

“So, a lot of people are interested in you, and you won our magazine’s competition for hottest heartthrob of the year. Are you dating someone?”

Stiles laughs. “Well, I’m flattered. Thanks to everyone who voted for me.” He makes a deliberate pause and does his best to come off as hesitating. “And no comment.”

“What a shame,” she says, but doesn’t sound like she really means it. Stiles has the feeling that she’ll make a big deal out of this. It’s like he basically said yes on that question, which might have been a bad idea, considering that they’re supposed to come off as they’re trying not to be caught.

Allison grins widely at this, which makes it even worse. She knows about their little scheme, which is a relief to Stiles, because at least he can tell someone about what’s happening, since he isn’t allowed to tell Scott. Or his dad.

“So, are you able to give me a scoop on your characters for next season? Will Ryan continue on his path to evil?”

Stiles laughs. She clearly didn’t listen to his previous answer about Ryan. Ah well, that’s how it usually works. “If you want to call his previous behaviour evil, I’m looking forward to seeing what you’ll call him next season.”

He zones out when Allison starts talking. She loves these kinds of questions. Mostly because she rarely gets them.

That’s when he sees Derek for the first time tonight. He’s talking to another journalist and looks considerably irritated. Per usual. Stiles wonders if that’s his default expression. A part of him is impressed, because a lot of Derek’s roles in the past have been flirty and charming. The very opposite of Derek’s true self. Obviously he’s a pretty good actor if he can pull it off that believably.

The night drones on slowly and Stiles enjoys getting to meet people he admires. He isn’t too embarrassed to tell them anymore, and some of them even know who he is, which is a big difference from the first time he attended one of these things. He’s relieved when the media is out of the way, and all he has to do is eat awesome food, grab a goodie bag and hang out with people he likes.

Everything's pretty great until he accidentally meets Derek's eyes across the room, and Derek jerks his head towards the doors curtly, before he turns to leave. Stiles doesn't want to leave yet; it's way too early and he's in the middle of a conversation with Allison about Scott. Also, he was promised to get introduced to Alexander Skarsgård later, and now that's not happening.

But Stiles doesn't want to give Lydia a reason to kill him, and Derek doesn't look like one of those patient guys, so there's not much he can do. It still pisses him off that Derek didn't even wait to get an “okay”-nod from Stiles in return, like he isn't as much a part of this as Derek.

“Hey,” he says to Allison, who's apparently so interested in meeting Scott. “I gotta leave.”

She laughs at him when he grimaces. “Text me when you get home!”

“What, are you afraid that I'll get abducted?”

“He looks kind of scary.” She shrugs. “It's good to know if I need to hunt him down or not.”

“I'll make sure to tell him that,” Stiles snorts, and she waves him off, as he begins to make his way through the crowd towards the doors. Maybe he should tweak the truth just a bit and tell Derek that Allison will kill him if he doesn't smile a little more often. And lets Stiles decide everything.

He sees Derek walk through the doors in front of him, when he gets to the entry hall, and their eyes meet briefly when Derek glances over his shoulder. Stiles settles into a similar pace, keeping the distance between them, but makes sure to stay close enough that the photographers won't have any trouble catching them in the same shot. There aren't a lot of people outside, except for the media, but Stiles does his best to look like he tries to blend in.

He can't see Derek's face, but he's walking quickly enough to look like he's trying to get out of there without getting noticed, but slow enough to make sure that he will. Stiles is kind of surprised by his own brain for even noticing these things. He hopes no one else will.

From the corner of his eye, he can see photographers directing cameras towards them just slightly, like they're trying to determine if it's something worth snapping a picture of or not. But then Derek rounds the front of his car and Stiles has caught up with him, doing his best to look like he's just sliding into a random car and not the one that belongs to the guy he's dating. Fake dating.

He's pretty sure that they did a good job, when Derek drives out of there, and Stiles can still see raised cameras in the side mirror.

“So,” he says slowly, when Derek hasn't said a word for five minutes and they're stuck in traffic. “Did you have fun?”

Derek snorts like this is supposed to be a joke that he doesn't find funny.

“Honestly,” Stiles sighs. “I don't like you either, but you could at least be polite. I think it would kind of ruin the charade if I happen to kill you because you're a total ass. I don't think boyfriends do that.”

“You don't think boyfriends do that?” Derek repeats.

Stiles glances at him, but Derek is keeping his gaze on the road, even though they're not moving forward. Such a friendly guy.

“Yeah.”

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” Stiles isn't up for talking about his lack of relationships in the past with this idiot, of all people.

“You don't know what boyfriends do? Aren't you gay?”

Stiles is contemplating getting out of the car right there and walking the rest of the way. He stares out the window instead and refuses to answer. He sends a prayer to higher powers that they don't have to ever do this again.

They're silent the rest of the way. Stiles has no idea how Derek knows where he lives, but he scrambles out of the car when they pull up outside his building. “Thanks for the ride,” he mutters, just as he gets out of the seat. Derek just lifts his forefinger from the steering wheel, as if that's supposed to mean you're welcome.

His apartment feels empty and stupid, as he locks the door behind him. For a moment, he thinks about calling Scott, but it would be too weird to lie to him now if pictures of him and Derek turn up tomorrow. Instead he texts Allison, and remembers that he forgot to threaten Derek into being nice to him. He just wants to forget all about this.

 

---

 

The next day, Lydia emails him a link to a YouTube clip of him and Derek getting into the car together.

Chapter Text

Stiles is already tired of Derek's shit when he, a couple of weeks later, at another event they're supposed to leave together, gestures for Stiles to follow him to the car. Too early for Stiles' liking. Again. Asshole.

He contemplates staying anyway, but he's pretty sure that Lydia will kill him. The video of them leaving caused murmur among their fans, and the topic of them being a couple got discussed briefly a few times, but was dismissed quickly as them being just friends. Stiles wishes that his fans were more stupid at times like these, so that he wouldn't have to keep leaving awesome events with the mood kill of all the mood kills.

“I have to go,” he sighs to Allison, who instantly looks disappointed.

“Already?” She looks past him, searching. She's probably looking for Derek, he assumes. She already knows what he thinks of him. “Doesn't he know that you actually have to be here for a little while to do your work, before you can leave? I thought he did too, since he has a show coming.”

“I think he's too full of himself to care.” Stiles snorts. “Maybe it will cause more of a buzz if I leave earlier this time.”

“If you're lucky. Lydia might let you off the hook if it does.” She gives him a sympathetic look.

“I wish,” he sighs. “I hope he doesn't kill me in the car.”

“I'm more worried about you killing him, to be honest.” She hugs him goodbye, but before he leaves, she calls after him: “Text me when you get home!”

It’s strangely heart-warming. Making Allison one of his two best friends was definitely one of his better decisions.

He wants to pick up a rock and throw it at the back of Derek's stupid head when he sees it outside, but he has a feeling that something like that would cause the wrong kind of publicity. Instead, he just trails after him, much like last time, and tries to look like he doesn't want to murder someone. Said someone being Derek Hale.

The cameras are on them more quickly this time, and he hears them going off even before they've reached the car. It's strange how word spreads so quickly that they're now expecting it to happen, after just one time. It's ridiculous.

When he slides into the passenger seat and buckles in, Derek quickly drives off. For someone who has supposedly grown up with these things, he seems surprisingly keen on getting out of there. Stiles flashes a smile when they drive past the photographers, pretending like he really enjoys being in a car with Derek, and like Derek is a completely different person who's capable of being funny. It'll probably make better pictures than him smashing a rock in Derek's face. Or so he imagines.

He makes a show of not speaking, suspecting that Derek won't really start conversation himself. It's awkward and Stiles wishes that traffic would move a bit quicker in this town, just for now. It doesn't. Cars are honking around them on occasion, but other than that, people have just given up on even trying to make the lines go any faster.

Derek pretends like he doesn't exist.

It's pretty fascinating. Stiles kind of wonders how someone like Derek even made it in the industry. Obviously he's very talented, and probably a lot better looking when he doesn't look like he wants to kill the entire universe, but his personality definitely makes it top ten of Stiles' worst ones ever encountered list.

“Bye,” Derek says an hour later, when he drops Stiles off, and then he adds, in a way that sounds purely automatic, because he makes it sound gross: “See you.”

“I hope not,” Stiles mutters and slams the door shut.

He hears Derek drive off behind him, and hurries into his apartment. He texts Allison first, letting her know that he has survived but is very much tempted to kill someone. Then he texts Lydia:

I'm quitting. Not doing this anymore. He's an asshole.

It takes about 1.2 seconds before she calls him. “What happened?” she demands, before he even can say hello.

“He's an asshole, that's what happened. He was born, that's what happened,” Stiles snaps, and stabs a nearby newspaper with a table knife repeatedly. He's not even sure why he's so angry at first, but then he realises that it's not only because Derek is an asshole, but also because Stiles has to lie to everyone. He doesn't like lying.

“Christ, calm down.”

“I'm not doing this anymore. You have to solve this some other way.” He takes a deep breath, tries to tell himself that this isn't really something to be mad about. “I actually kind of like going to these events, you know? Not the press part, but where I get to meet cool people and tell them how much I love their work. People I wouldn't get to meet otherwise! Apparently he's too good for this crap, and he makes us leave right away. I look like a rude person for leaving before I can even make all the interviews I'd promised!”

“Did he say something to you?” Lydia sounds stern, like she's ready to bring out the big guns. Stiles isn't sure if it's against him or Derek, though.

“No, that's the problem. He doesn't say anything. We don't talk at all. How am I supposed to pretend to be in a relationship with someone my dad would threaten to shoot, if he knew what an asshole this guy is?”

“Your dad would shoot him?” Lydia muses.

“I said threaten.”

“I didn't know he'd be this much trouble, Stiles,” she sighs. “I'm sorry. I'll talk to Erica and maybe we can make things better. If you really want to quit, it's up to you. I'm not one of those managers. I'm sure this will blow over eventually anyway, and Finstock is thinking about making a public apology in a couple of weeks.”

Stiles winces. He didn't know it was bad enough to make Finstock think about a public apology. That would explain why he hasn't seen Lydia a lot lately, because the PR team for the show must have had their asses full. Finstock should get a punch in the face.

“Fine. Just talk to her. Make sure he stops being such an asshole.”

“You know, Stilinski, sometimes I remember why I like working with you.” There is such relief in her voice that Stiles almost gets a lump in his throat.

“You like working with me?” he asks, before he can stop himself.

“If you tell anyone, I'll kill you.” And then she hangs up.

---

 

Scott calls him a few days later, and Stiles has a feeling that he already knows what this conversation will be about even before he answers, because Scott usually texts.

“Hey,” he says, and holds his phone to his ear. He's just home, watching TV anyway. That's the sucky part with suddenly being recognised: Stiles has stopped going outside alone if it isn't absolutely necessary.

“Hey man,” Scott replies, and Stiles is suddenly overwhelmed by how much he's missed talking to Scott, despite the fact that it was just a couple of weeks ago. It's a pretty long time for being them.

“What's up?”

“You know, I was checking YouTube...” Scott begins, and Stiles sighs at the tone of his voice. He's hurt.

“I'm sorry I haven't told you,” he blurts out, before Scott can continue.

“Are you really, though? Because I was visiting you not that long ago, and you could've told me then.”

“Yeah, I know.” Stiles closes his eyes and curls his free hand into a fist. He hates lying to Scott. “I didn't really know what to say. It's really new and I don't know what to call it. It wasn't supposed to get out like this.”

Scott is silent for a long time, and Stiles feels his belly twist itself into knots. “You still could've told me.”

“I know. I was going to. It's just that...” Stiles breaks off. He can't really explain this, because there's no real explanation. Just lies. “I'm sorry. I know I should've. It's just so confusing.”

“You're not cutting me off for him, right?”

Stiles grins at the worry in Scott's voice. If he only knew. “Dude, no way! You'll always be my number one.”

Scott snorts, but he sounds a lot less hurt when he continues. “He looks good, though.”

“Yeah.” Stiles really doesn't want to talk about Derek, so he steers the conversation onto safer subjects. “So, Allison really wants to meet you.”

“She said that?” Scott breathes.

“Yeah, she's said it a thousand times and I've told you a thousand times, and every time you sound like the sky has fallen down in your head. Maybe you should man up this time and actually meet her when you visit, next time.”

Scott makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a whine. “But she seems so awesome.”

“She is, but so are you, buddy.”

“I don't know,” Scott says vaguely.

“Dude, if you don't, I'm definitely switching you out.”

“What?!”

“You heard me.” Stiles glares at the TV when a re-run from one of Derek's earlier shows begin, and switches the channel. “Next time you come visit.”

“All right, fine.” Scott sighs heavily. “But if I make a fool of myself, you have to save me.”

“I will, because I'm your best friend.” Stiles almost goes for the let’s-hang-up-because-we've-already-said-all-the-important-thingstrail off, before he remembers. “By the way, please don't tell my dad. I'll tell him when things are more— I don't know, stable than what they are now. He doesn't have to think about this, too.”

He can hear Scott hesitate. If there's a person that dislikes lying to Stiles' dad more than Stiles, it's Scott.

“Okay fine, but if he straight out asks, I'm not going to lie!”

Stiles really can't ask for more than that.

After he hangs up, he sees an email from Lydia containing screen shots with pictures of him and Derek leaving the last event. It isn't a surprise to Stiles that he's smiling, because hello, he was there doing it himself. It's a lot more of a surprise to see Derek doing the same, as if they were sharing a joke or were just genuinely happy. The headline is ridiculous: Stilinski and Hale, leaving together – AGAIN. Lydia hasn't commented on it, thank god, because if she did, Stiles would definitely be quitting this for real.

The worst part is that they look pretty god damn good together like this. Which is kind of funny, because Derek never looks like that around Stiles when there are no cameras around. Asshole.

---

 

It's a week later when Stiles attends a more casual event, allowing him to dress like a normal person and not like a circus pony with a stick up his ass.

He has been speaking to Danny, a former member of their cast that has now joined another show, since his character died last season, for almost an hour now. Before that, he was speaking to several of his biggest idols for just as long, and Derek still hasn't made his we're-leaving-now-so-follow-or-diehead jerk.

“So, this thing with Finstock?” Danny asks, and he has this compassionate look on his face. If Danny was still on the show, he could've been the one dating Derek by now.

“Yeah, it's stupid. It's all his own fault, though.” Stiles sighs heavily. He's so done talking about this, but Danny used to work with Finstock, too.

“He really should learn from his mistakes. He's said stupid things before.” Danny shakes his head, frowning. “He's going to look really bad for this, for a long time.”

Stiles wants to say that Finstock deserves it, both because he truly said something idiotic and should've known that people would be upset, and with every right to, and because it's his fault that Stiles has to pretend dating an idiot.

He's just about to reply when Danny continues. “What is this thing about you and Derek Hale, though? Is he your new driver, or is something going on?”

Stiles doesn't know which topic he dislikes the most. Derek or Finstock. He's extremely relieved when Allison walks over and saves his ass, changing the subject to Danny's new show.

That's when Stiles gets the opportunity to look around. He spots Derek almost immediately. It's like he has this magnet for Stiles' eyes. He looks great in casual clothes, wearing a knitted cardigan over a white V-neck that makes his chest look otherworldly. Stiles secretly wishes he had genes to even have a chance to get pecks like that.

The rest of Derek isn't as nice to look at, though. It's not that Derek isn't looking good, but that he looks severely uncomfortable and alone. When a girl walks up to him, he seems to give her short replies, studying his glass rather than her, until she leaves. It's weird. Stiles always thought that Derek was leaving these events so quickly because he thought himself too good to attend them, rather than being too uncomfortable to stay. It's even weirder since he must have been doing this for a long time.

It's obvious now that Lydia's talk with Erica had some result, but Stiles didn't count on getting a bad conscience for it.

Stiles studies Derek shamelessly for a while, just briefly taking part in the conversation with Allison and Danny whenever they ask for his opinion. It isn't that Derek is rude to the people approaching him, which surprises Stiles a bit. Maybe Derek isn't rude to people that aren't journalists, fans or paparazzi. Or Stiles. He isn't very sociable, though. He shakes hands and looks like he's exchanging words briefly with them, but his posture is rigid and his whole presence is stiff and uncomfortable.

It's kind of unsettling, actually, and Stiles can't pinpoint why.

“Hey guys,” he says, before he can stop himself, and turns to Danny and Allison. “I better get going. It's getting pretty late.”

He gives them a quick hug before he makes his way across the room, and hears Allison call after him to text her when he gets home. Derek looks up when Stiles gets closer to him, and he looks a bit surprised before his face slides back into its usual scowl.

“So,” Stiles begins slowly, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. He doesn't really want to say: hey, saw you across the room and it looks like you'd rather die than be here, so let's go. “I think I want to leave. Is that cool with you?”

There's a hint of relief on Derek's face before he manages to shrug carelessly. “Fine.”

His posture is a lot less stiff when Stiles watches him leave for a moment, before following. They're keeping less distance now, like it's no longer a big secret that they share a car when leaving events. But they don't touch, and they don't speak or look at each other, like that's still nothing they want the world to see. The cameras are on them, from the moment Stiles steps out the doors behind Derek, to the second they drive out of sight.

“Did you have a good night?” he inquires, hating himself a little for not standing up to his earlier promises to himself to silence Derek to death.

“Yeah,” Derek answers, and Stiles isn't sure if it's a badly concealed lie, or if he's being sarcastic.

“Awesome,” he replies instead, thinking that it works no matter what Derek's intents were with that statement. “Thanks for staying longer tonight. I got to meet really cool people.”

“Yeah,” Derek repeats.

Stiles turns to look at him. It's weird. Derek looks less defensive than usual. It's like being among so many people has run his defences down. “Dude, are you okay?”

In an instant, Derek's expression is back to normal. “Fine,” he snaps, and Stiles can breathe more easily again.

“Good,” he retorts back, welcoming the return of his irritation. “Because I was starting to feel bad for making you be nice to people for once.”

Derek clenches his jaw, but he doesn't say anything during the rest of the way to Stiles' apartment building.

“Thanks,” he says when he gets out of the car, and he's referring to Derek driving him home, as well as not rushing out of there after five seconds.

Derek does his lame forefinger-lift from the steering wheel again. Stiles is so relieved that he can go back to disliking Derek without feeling bad about it.

Chapter Text

Stiles wakes up because of Scott's personalised ringtone. He's too sleepy to wonder why Scott is calling, before he answers.

“It's too early,” he groans into the phone, and considers hanging up to make his message clear, but Scott’s quick reply stops him:

“Dude, it's 1 PM. Also I've come across these posts about you and your guy.”

“My guy?” Stiles says before his brain starts working properly. “Oh, right, Derek.”

“Yeah.”

He can literally hear Scott swallowing nervously on the other end.

“What is it?”

“It's just...people are weird. They write posts on Tumblr and other sites about you guys, and you know, I like keeping track of your life a bit so I kind of go on those sites.” Scott's voice is awkward and embarrassed, but Stiles doesn't feel like teasing him for being a stalker right now. He has a sick feeling in his stomach.

“...okay?”

“Yeah, well, there are pictures about you and him leaving these parties you go to, and some people really like it and say that you're definitely a couple. Others say you're just friends, and stuff. And there are some weird photoshopped pictures of you guys that I'm trying to erase from my memory.”

 “What's the problem, then?” Stiles asks carefully, and he wants to sigh too, when Scott does.

“There are a bunch of people who are saying that your relationship is just a hoax for the media, because your boss said something stupid. They say that you're just doing it for good press and stuff.” Scott takes a deep breath and Stiles' skin is crawling with discomfort. “But I don't get it, because why would you do that? You're not that kind of guy. Right? You would never do that.” The last statement is put more like a question, and Stiles has to close is eyes and swallow for a moment, before he's able to reply.

“Yeah, why would I do that?” It's a wonder that Scott doesn't hear the lie in his voice. Stiles might be considered an actor with talent by some people, but he's never been able to lie properly to the people who matter to him.

He can hear Scott exhale on the other end, like he'd been preparing for a confession. “People are stupid,” he says then, like he tries to make up for doubting.

“Yeah,” Stiles agrees.

---

 

It only takes a couple of days before Lydia and Erica learn about the whispers going around as well, and they have a crisis meeting. Stiles doesn't think it's something that can be called a real crisis, but apparently both Lydia and Erica think it's a pretty serious problem.

Apparently it's also necessary for Stiles to attend and endure long hours in the same room as Derek.

“It's just a matter of time before more important people take up on these rumours,” Lydia sighs, and Stiles tries to not look at her, because she seems severely distressed. He doesn't want to look at Derek either, since he just looks incredibly bored and pissed off, so he sets on watching Erica instead. She doesn't come off quite as defeated.

“We'll have to increase the effort, then,” she says, like this isn't a big deal.

“What exactly does that mean?” Stiles asks, and looks longingly at the fruit bowl, but he's not allowed to eat the decoration today either.

“That means that you have to do more than leave events together.” Lydia suddenly sounds like she's talking about what kind of cereal is the most nutritious, judged by the information on the back.

“Such as?” Derek looks as unwilling to do this as Stiles feels. If anything, it's a bit of a comfort.

“Maybe you should hang out? A lot of celebrity couples make their relationship known through Twitter and Instagram, which is something you both use quite regularly,” Erica points out.

Stiles quite regular use consists of him putting pictures of his breakfast on Instagram with the caption: Yum! Or using Twitter to tell them about filming a new season, as well as tweeting about what he's eating right now (I've heard chocolate is really healthy so I've changed my diet, with a picture of a bowl filled with chocolate). He has no idea how much Derek tweets or posts pictures on Instagram, but he can't imagine him doing so very regularly.

“My dad follows me on Twitter,” Stiles points out, and hopes that it'll make them understand how much of a bad idea this is.

Derek gives him a flat look.

“What? I don't like lying to him.” He doesn't like how defensive he sounds, but it's true, for god's sake.

“You're not lying. You'll just be hanging out with Derek, and you'll tweet a couple of times and post a few pictures on Instagram that people will be able to tell are from the same place and day as the ones Derek will post.”

“So I won't have to post pictures of him?” Derek questions, and he sounds like it's a huge relief.

Like Stiles' face wouldn't look terrific among Derek's photos.

“No.” Erica taps her pen against her notepad, like she's becoming more enthusiastic about this idea. “I actually think it's better if you don't.”

“I agree.” Lydia nods and puts Stiles' phone in his hand. “Try to make it look like you are having an amazing day and you just have to share it, but you don't want them all to know that you're spending it together. People like feeling smart and putting the pieces together themselves.”

Stiles doesn't like the idea, he really doesn't, but he's pretty sure that it's too late to back out now. Maybe it would be too obvious that they tried, and failed, to lie to their fans to save their own butts. It would look even worse than keep lying.

Right?

Lydia gives him a sharp look and then nods towards his phone that she just put in his hand, like she's expecting him to do something.

“What?”

“Well, you need to follow each other on Instagram and Twitter if this is going to work. People will look up things like that.”

Stiles doesn't like the idea of intoxicating his Instagram and Twitter feeds with Derek's presence, but it's not really like he has a choice. If he really was in love with Derek, he would probably love seeing Derek's tweets and photos.

He adds Derek a little reluctantly, but at least Derek adds him too, so he doesn't feel like the awkward kid back in high school who sent friend requests to all his class mates on Facebook and only Scott accepted.

---

 

He calls his dad that evening, because he truly does follow Stiles on Twitter, and his dad would be both very suspicious and disappointed if Stiles didn't tell him before the public that he's dating someone.

It does take him two hours to gather the courage, or maybe lack of conscience, to lie to his dad.

“Hi dad,” he says as soon as his dad picks up the phone. He's at work, which is awesome, because then he'll have a lot of other things to think about after they hang up. “What's up?”

“Working, son. What about you?”

“Nah, I'm good. Just hanging out with myself and my TV.”

“Yeah? So why are you calling?”

Sometimes Stiles hates that his dad always knows when he has something he needs to get off his chest.

“Well, I wanted to tell you something, before you read about it in the tabloids.” Stiles hesitates. He's never had this I'm seeing someone talk with his dad before. It's awkward. Especially since he isn't really that giddy and overly happy like he imagines people usually are when they have this conversation with their parents.

“Is it a sex tape?” his dad asks, sounding tired, like he's expected this for a while now.

“What? No!” Stiles almost falls off the couch in shock. “A little faith would be nice!”

“What is it then?”

Stiles can hear someone talking to his dad on the other side of the phone, which means that he's probably running out of time. “I'm kind of dating someone.”

Suddenly his dad is so quiet, that Stiles has to take the phone from his ear and look at the display to make sure the call hasn't been disconnected.

“Hello?” he enquires carefully. “Did you get a heart attack? Because I swear that, if you did, it's because you eat all that crap I tell you not to eat, so it's completely your own fault!”

He sighs in relief when he hears his dad clear his throat on the other end.

“You're dating someone?”

“Yeaaah,” Stiles says slowly, and he feels pretty embarrassed even though he isn't actually dating Derek. “I, er, his name is Derek Hale.”

“Is he an actor, too?” His dad asks, and Stiles can hear that he's in some kind of weird shock.

“Yeah, he's been working since he was a kid. I'm sure you've seen something that he's been in before.” Stiles clears his throat, feeling awkward. “He's a nice guy.” Such a lie. “I just wanted to tell you, you know, before everyone else knows.”

“So he's a good guy?” It doesn't sound like his dad really cares about the other things that just came out of Stiles' mouth.

He wants to say no, because Derek really isn't a nice guy, but he can't since his dad would never buy that Stiles dated an asshole. “Yeah, he's nice.”

“Hm,” his dad says, and he has this weird tone in his voice that Stiles doesn't exactly like. “Well, I have to go, son, but I appreciate you calling me about this.”

“Sure thing, dad. I've promised not to keep you out of things.”

He feels like such a traitor when he hangs up.

---

 

The LA Zoo is awesome. Stiles hasn't been here before, which is something he highly regrets now. Mostly because looking at cool animals isn't even a little bit fun when it's done in this company. Derek sighs and continues to walk if Stiles stops too long, watching the bongos or the elephants.

Stiles suspects it's because he doesn't want to get recognised, but so far no one has even glanced at them twice. Maybe that's because they're both wearing baseball caps low on their heads.

“We need to take pictures,” Stiles reminds him, when Derek makes an attempt to continue walking as Stiles makes a pause at the snow leopards.

He gets a sigh in reply, and lets out an equally dramatic sigh in response, because Derek is so ruining the whole thing. Animals are all kinds of awesome. Especially these ones, because they're locked up and therefore can't eat him.

When he takes out his phone and snaps a picture of the sleeping leopard, Derek does the same. He tries to sneak a glance at Derek's phone to see what he's putting as the caption, but Derek just angles his phone away. Stiles doesn't want to be the needy one in their fake relationship.

After a moment of hesitation, he writes: Awesome animals and awesome company.

About thirty seconds after he posts, Derek's picture, which looks almost exactly the same as Stiles', turns up in his Instagram feed. I think he'll (she'll?) eat me or my company. Fingers crossed for the latter.

Stiles glares, but Derek just raises his eyebrows. This isn't okay. Stiles is supposed to be the funny one!

They spend most of the walking in silence, on a decent distance from each other. Stiles likes looking at the animals better than feeling miserable in Derek's company. He stands for a long time watching the chimpanzees, because they're hilarious and takes time to post another picture on Instagram of one of them scratching its butt.

Found even better company, he types down before he posts it on both Twitter and Instagram. It takes about five seconds before he gets a reply from his dad of all people, saying: Glad to see you're enjoying a day at the Zoo with your guy.

Stiles swears under his breath and knows he hopes in vain that no one will see his dad's reply, because someone definitely will and then it's going to be everywhere. Under normal circumstances, the reply would've had him flailing all over the place, knowing that his dad would be in his office, reading his tweets and somehow giving his approval. It's so not worth having his dad use all his I'm basically a father in law powers on a fake relationship.

When he turns around, dreading the fact that he has to tell Derek that his dad screwed their plan, he finds that Derek is gone. He spends a moment in panic, aimlessly walking, before he sees Derek standing at the wolves. It's the first time he's stopped and looked at an animal without Stiles forcing him, and it takes long moments of hesitation until Stiles finds the courage to walk up to him.

“Hey,” he says, and gets a frown from Derek in response. “Wanna go to the petting section?”

Derek gives him a flat look. “What.”

He doesn't even say it as a question.

“There are baby goats!” Stiles protests. It's not like the petting section is for children. Well, not exclusively for children.

“Kid.”

“What?”

“A goat baby is called a kid.”

Stiles isn't sure if Derek expects him to be impressed by this. He secretly is a little bit, but it's not like he's going to say that out loud. “So are human babies,” he says instead. “Apparently we're more alike than we think, right?”

“Shut up,” Derek sighs, and turns to walk towards the baby goats. Kids.

“Wait, I gotta tell you something.” Stiles hurries after him, and Derek gives him a sideway glance, as if to say that he's listening. “My dad kind of blew it,” he says quietly. He can't risk anyone else hearing.

“How?” Derek doesn't sound too happy with this, but Stiles isn't up for looking at him to find out for sure.

“Well, I made a tweet and then he replied to it.” He holds out his phone. Seeing the actual tweet and his dad's reply is probably going to explain the situation better than Stiles can himself. Also, it'll be a lot less complicated.

Derek sighs again, but it sounds a lot more irritated this time. “Great.”

“I'm sorry. He's never really replied to any of my tweets before.” He glances at Derek, and yeah, he's pissed. Stiles can't really blame him. If the situation had been reversed, he'd be angry too. It just makes everything so much more complicated, since his dad basically confirmed their relationship.

Triple crap.

“I didn't know,” Stiles tries again, when Derek is still scowling a few minutes later. “I'm sorry. It's all ruined.” 

Derek is quiet for a long time, and Stiles is relieved when he sees the petting section coming into view. Petting goats will make all the bad things go away.

“They might not see the reply,” Derek says suddenly. “I guess we'll see in a few days.”

“Yeah, tops.” He stops outside the chute where the animals you're allowed to pet are. “Do you want to pet the lambs and kids?” He looks at Derek doubtfully and is a little surprised when he gets a shrug in reply.

Stiles soon forgets all about his dad ruining their lie, because there's a lamb in his lap. He doesn't even care that he's sitting on the ground, probably getting his jeans dirty, because he gets to pet a little, white lamb. It seems perfectly content in his lap, with its legs tucked under its body, and eyelids slowly drooping.

“Oh my god,” Stiles whispers enthusiastically, and points at the lamb in his lap, as he searches for Derek to make sure that he sees this. “I tamed a wild animal! Look!”

He does find Derek, but much to Stiles' surprise, he's standing just a few feet away, phone in hand. That isn't as much a surprise, as the baby goat – kid –  is prancing at Derek's feet before it head butts his calf. Derek looks away from his phone and frowns down at the goat, who head butts his calf again.

“I think it loves you,” Stiles grins. He pulls his phone out just in time to snap a picture of the kid head butting Derek's calf for a third time.

“I think it's trying to kill me,” Derek says, and manages to step away just as the kid launches a fourth time.

“Yeah, because goats are well-known carnivores,” Stiles snorts, and Derek glares at him. “Go on, pet it.” Stiles tries with the encouraging nodding, but Derek's glare only turns more life-threatening.

“Pet it,” Stiles hisses, and tries to hide his grin when Derek rolls his eyes. “Pet it, pet it, pet it.”

It surprises him a little when Derek actually crouches down and reluctantly pets the kid's neck. Apparently, this was what the goat wanted from the beginning, because it lets out a ridiculously pleased sound.

Stiles posts the picture of Derek getting his leg head butted on Instagram. New BFFs. No one can actually tell that it's Derek, since it's mostly the lower half of one of his legs, but Stiles is pretty sure that people will be able to guess. He's even more certain when he sees the picture Derek posted a few moments ago. It's the lamb in Stiles' lap. Yet again, you can't actually tell that it's Stiles' lap, but people aren't stupid. Apparently this is “taming wild animals”, the caption reads.

Stiles looks up to give Derek is best glare, but Derek isn't paying attention. He's far too occupied with petting the throng of baby animals that are now surrounding him. And for the first time today, he isn't scowling.

 

Chapter Text

Everything seems fine for about a week and a half, and Stiles starts to relax. That's, of course, when things turn to shit again. He doesn't even know how they could've been so stupid, thinking that no one at the zoo would ever recognise them, but someone certainly did. The same someone also took pictures, posting said pictures online, that then spread like wildfire. It would've been all right if the pictures were in tune with the ones he and Derek posted on Instagram and Twitter, because that would work in their favour. But they're not.

He rubs his hands over his face furiously, hoping that the pictures will have disappeared when he looks at the computer screen again. They haven't. They're of him and Derek, naturally, and they look pissed at each other. In every picture, they're several feet apart – far more space than people who are in love would ever put between themselves. On a few of them, Stiles is looking at his phone – most likely posting a picture somewhere, and Derek gives him a particularly nasty I'm-Satan-and-I don't-like-you look. In others, Stiles is looking like he wants to be deleted from the spot.

This is one of those rare times Stiles wishes that his, and Derek's, fans were stupid. But they're not.

“I can't believe that you didn't realise that at least someone would recognise you and take pictures.” Lydia isn't pleased. She has this icy tone to her voice, and Stiles knows that he deserves it this time. “You're actors, you're supposed to be able to make things look believable. All. The. Time.”

“Obviously there are certain limitations to my skills,” Stiles mutters, and glares at Derek across the table, who's making a point of staring somewhere to the left of Stiles' head.

Erica isn't pleased either, but Stiles feels like Derek is getting the easy way out of this. Like he isn't the biggest problem here.

“Well, you're going to have to fix this,” Lydia says, and she makes it sound like Stiles only has to put the chord back in the wall outlet and everything will be working just fine again.

“How?”

“You're going to make people think that you were having a fight, or something. The only thing that has actually prevented this whole thing from collapsing on our heads is your dad tweeting you back, Stiles.”

Of course people found that tweet, and it was everywhere for a while, along with the pictures they posted on Instagram, something Stiles only knows because Scott called him to inform. Scott has also informed him about this little mishap or theirs, but Stiles hasn't even been able to make up a decent lie. Instead, he has claimed that he doesn't want to talk about it. Which he doesn't.

“Great. Lying to my dad is the only thing that makes people think that I'm not lying to them. Isn't that proof enough that it's ahorrible thing to do?” He mostly just wants Lydia to fix this for him. Maybe they could clone him and then his clone could go on a date with Derek, while the real him is home playing video games all night.

Lydia pretends like she hasn't heard his input. “You're going to have pretend better in public.”

“I don't think that will be possible.” Derek grimaces.

Stiles wants to say that it would be for him, just because Derek says no. Somehow he's been transferred back to pre-school and Derek is that kid that he simply has to prove wrong.

“It's not like we have much of a choice,” Stiles points out, and desperately tries to get in contact with his logical side. “If we quit this now, people will know for certain that they were right about this. It would make us all look like complete idiots.”

Derek rolls his eyes and shrugs, as if to say: well, you are.

“Okay, dude, if you don't want to lose your show, I'm suggesting that you stop being such a dick all the time.”

“Don't call me dude.”

“Don't really care, dude.”

Derek looks like he wants to leave, but he doesn't.

“So, how exactly is this going to get fixed?” he asks instead, and Stiles feels his shoulders relax.

“That's up to you two geniuses to figure out, because nothing works out when I make the plan.”

Stiles is pretty sure that Lydia is just fed up with them and wants them out of there as soon as possible. Well, he can sort of relate.

“Fine,” Derek answers, and then he stands up, Erica hastily scrambling to her feet beside him. Stiles wonders why Lydia isn't more like that. “I'll be in touch,” Derek throws over his shoulder, as he leaves the room.

Stiles hates him so much, right now.

---

 

For a few days, Stiles is sure that Derek lied and that he's going to back out of this. It wouldn't be all bad. Stiles could probably make up some lie about Derek cheating on him, just to keep himself out of the gutter. But close to midnight, when Stiles has been playing video games for so long that his eyesight is bleary and fingers feeling like they're going to fall off, his phone suddenly buzzes from a text.

It's a huge surprise when he sees that it's from Derek.

Can I come over?

Stiles looks around the apartment: the trail of clothes leading from his bathroom to his bedroom and the piles of dirty dishes he knows are standing on the kitchen counter.

No,he replies quickly.

I'm already at your building.

I'm not opening the door. He punches the touch screen violently, hoping that it will translate through the message. It's just like Derek to ask if he can come over and then not care about the answer. Asshole.

A few seconds later, the doorbell rings.

Never going to open, he texts, as he walks towards the front door anyway. He can hear the sound of Derek receiving the text from the other side. Is his apartment really that insufficiently soundproofed?

I have pizza.

Stiles' stomach growls at those words, like it's directly connected to his eyes. He's just about to refuse his stomach some real food and text another 'no' to Derek, when he gets a new text: And beer.

“I hate you,” Stiles greets, as he opens the door.

Derek rolls his eyes and walks past him into the apartment, somehow feeling like he's homey enough to walk directly into the living room and sit down on Stiles' couch. On Stiles' favourite spot. He probably knows that it's Stiles favourite spot, too, because Derek is an asshole like that.

“What kind of pizza is it?” Stiles questions, still standing at the front door after locking it behind him.

“Your favourite,” Derek says simply, and opens a can of beer with that very, very tempting sound.

“You don't know my favourite,” Stiles scoffs, but he's walking towards the couch all the same.

“Ham, and cheese-filled crust.” Derek opens the box and Stiles' mouth waters. “I've read a few of your interviews, the last couple of days. Thought I'd need a bribery to get past the front door. Turns out I was right.” Derek grasps the TV remote and changes the channel. Except for Stiles, only Scott is allowed to do that.

Stiles decides that it's better not to say anything and sits down on the couch, the farthest he can get from Derek, and reaches for his pizza box. He can probably suffer through an hour with Derek, only to eat this pizza, because it looks amazing.

“I feel like we got off from the wrong foot,” Derek says suddenly, after twenty minutes of awesome silence, where Stiles has stuffed his face.

“No shit,” he manages, mouth full. “It's all your fault.”

“Actually, you're the insufferable one.” Derek makes it sound like a fact.

“Did they tell you they're firing you from the show or something, if you don't pull this off?” Stiles can't help but ask.

Derek doesn't answer. He hands Stiles another beer instead. Stiles recognises a peace offering when he sees one.

“Okay, so what are we going to do?” he asks instead.

“I'd say we eat this up and drink these, and then we go to a bar.”

“Dude, I can't go to a bar. I'm not twenty-one.” If Derek has read a couple of interviews, like he claims, he should know this.

At this, Derek looks so very tired.

“Well, we have to make that work somehow. As long as you don't drink there, you'll be fine.”

“Why, exactly, are we going to a bar?”

“Because that's where we're going to kiss.”

Stiles spits out his mouthful of beer. He's still spluttering when Derek keeps talking:

“And we're going to make it look like we think we're keeping it a secret.”

“I think I'm going to need another beer for this.”

---

 

Derek gets them into the bar without any difficulty, and they choose a table in a more secluded corner. No one would believe that they were trying to hide it if they were sitting in the middle of the room. Stiles is a little bit worried over the fact that he's going to kiss Derek in a while. He's even more worried over the fact that it might be in vain, because they can't know for sure that someone will take pictures of them.

When Derek gets back from the bar, he hands a coke to Stiles. It's still in the bottle, and Stiles suspects it's in case someone photographs them. Stiles doesn't need drama about him drinking while being underage. He's had enough of drama for a lifetime.

He tries his best to relax, but Derek kind of stares into his own glass most of the time and doesn't say anything. That won't work in favour for making this more believable.

“So, have you had a good day?” Stiles asks, and is surprised when Derek doesn't glare at him for the boring question. He figures a real boyfriend would ask.

“Yeah,” Derek shrugs. “Didn't do much, except for trying out clothes for an event next week.”

“What event?” Stiles sips on his coke slowly. It feels like when the bottle is empty – he's going to have to do it. By do it, he means kiss Derek.

“I have no idea,” Derek snorts, and Stiles can't help but laugh. Most of the time he doesn't know what events he's going to either, until he's on his way there.

“I know that feeling.”

“How was your day?”

Stiles is glad that he's already sitting, because otherwise he'd probably fall over out of surprise. Derek making small talk?

“It was good. I mean, I didn't do much either. I just played video games with Scott, you know, online, because we need to hang out even when we're not together.”

There's an awkward pause and Stiles wonders for a moment what embarrassing thing he admitted to now, when Derek speaks again, now his voice is much lower:

“Scott, is that your real boyfriend?”

“What? No! God, no. That would be gross. We're bros.”

Derek rolls his eyes.

“And what do you mean about real boyfriend? What are you? A Ken-doll?”

“Not so loud,” Derek mutters, and Stiles immediately glances around. No one seems to have heard them. The tables closest to them are empty, but there are a couple of people at the bar looking away a little too pointedly. There's no way they could ever have heard, but Stiles is pretty sure that they've been recognised. It's probably the first time ever that he's realised that in a positive manner.

He pushes his feet closer to Derek's under the table, locking them together slightly. It's a relief when Derek doesn't even flinch – instead, he kind of presses his feet back. It's so weird. Stiles has never been playing footsie with anyone under a table before. If he pretends like the feet aren't Derek's, it's pretty nice.

“So I was thinking,” Stiles begins, even though he hasn't been thinking at all. It's just a whim he can't help but follow through with. “Maybe we could go see a movie this weekend or so. You know. Hang out.”

“Yeah.” Derek shrugs, but at least he looks a bit interested. He leans forward, elbows on his table, and wipes the condensation off of the glass with his fingertip. “Yeah, actually, that would be great.”

Without really thinking, Stiles leans forward too, mirroring Derek's position. It's weird. He doesn't think he's seen Derek this close before. His eyes are pretty damn awesome.

Also, Stiles might be just a little bit drunk.

“I like you much better like this,” he blurts out suddenly, and he isn't sure how those words had permission to leave his mouth.

Much to his surprise, Derek doesn't scowl, but actually makes some kind of lame half-smile. “Like what?”

“Oh my god, you're so fishing for compliments. I'd never take you for that guy.”

Derek just raises one of his eyebrows slightly.

“When you're nice to me, and don't look at me like you're Satan and want me to die.”

“Like I'm what?”

“Satan.”

Derek snorts, but he looks mostly like he's hiding a smile.

“As I said, you're much better when you're not Satan.”

“Good to know,” Derek replies, and this time he's actually smiling.

That's when Stiles leans forward and closes the distance between them. It's really brief, just lips brushing over lips and a peck more than a kiss, honestly. It's better that way, though, since they're supposed to look like they're trying to keep things under the radar. This is basically just them being unable to resist.

Derek is still sort of smiling when they pull away, and so is Stiles. He's going to have to make sure that he doesn't drink as much around Derek again. Obviously they turn into personality-changed aliens when they do.

They leave a few hours later, and Stiles doesn't even realise that Derek is walking with him all the way back to his apartment, until he's unlocking his front door.

“How are you going to get home?” he asks, just now realising that Derek probably drove there, and since he's been drinking, he can't drive back.

“Catch a cab,” Derek shrugs, and grabs the keys he left behind on Stiles' coffee table. “I'll come back for the car tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Stiles nods and wonders when things turned back from pretty decent to extremely awkward. He weighs back and forth on his feet, hands buried deep in his pockets.

Derek's smile is pretty stiff when he turns to leave, like he, too, feels the huge step back they've just taken.

“Or, you know—” Stiles blurts before he can stop himself. “—you could stay?”

Derek can't completely keep the surprise off of his face.

“I mean, on the couch. You could sleep on the couch. If you want.” Stiles kind of want Derek to say no, so that he can be alone with his embarrassment. So of course, Derek nods.

“Okay, in case someone saw us, it'd probably look better anyway.”

“Exactly what I was thinking!” Stiles hadn't been thinking about that at all, but Derek really has a point.

How Derek ends up stealing his best pillow and his cover, he doesn't know, but he sleeps with the spare one from his closet and there's a half-naked Derek Hale on the couch in his living room.

---

 

Stiles doesn't really realise how big this is until someone rings his doorbell way too early the next morning. He pads through his living room, finding Derek stirring on the couch as he passes, and looks through the peep hole. It's Scott. Which is somehow both an awesome and a terrible thing.

It's awesome because it's Scott. But it's terrible, because Derek's here. On his couch. Boyfriends don't sleep on couches. Even Scott knows this.

He opens anyway, feeling like the worst friend for being so reluctant.

“Surprise!” Scott says, grinning, when the door swings open.

Stiles tries his best to grin, too, but it's not 100%.

“What? Is it a bad time?” Scott gives him a once-over, probably first now noticing that Stiles is clad only in boxers and that his hair is sleep ruffled.

“I, er,” Stiles begins, and scratches the back of his head. He tries desperately to come up with some kind of lie, where Derek got ill and slept on the couch, or that they had a fight. Then he just sighs, because if this is where Scott finds out, then so be it. “No, it's fine. You just woke me up, that's all.”

He steps aside to let Scott in, and can't help but feel a bit better when he receives one of those awesome hugs only Scott can give.

“I have a visitor,” he says quickly, when Scott starts walking towards the living room.

Scott's eyes grow huge, to the point where it's almost comical.

“Who?” he whispers.

“Who do you think?” Stiles rolls his eyes.

Scott's eyes grow impossibly larger. Stiles can't help but wonder who else he had expected than Derek, if this is such a surprise to him.

“I think he's still sleeping, though,” he clarifies, and Scott nods understandingly.

“Maybe if you close the bedroom door, we can use the living room?” he suggests, and walks down the hall to the living room before Stiles can stop him.

It takes him a moment to get his body to follow and his mind is painfully blank of any explanations to why Derek is sleeping on the couch. He's just accepted the realisation that he's going to have to tell Scott the truth, when he enters the living room and sees Scott lazily lounging on the couch.

Stiles looks around wildly for a moment, wondering if he somehow dreamed that Derek stayed the night, when he notices that the bedroom door is slightly ajar.

“I'm just going to put on clothes,” he manages, surprised that Scott doesn't react to the strangled tone of his voice, and slips through the bedroom door. And there's Derek, in his bed. He's spread out over the mattress, hogging both the blankets and two out of three pillows.

Stiles can't help but snort as he opens his closet and Derek looks up from the pillow for a moment, hair in a complete disarray.

“Thanks,” he says quietly, honestly meaning it too, which is probably a bad thing, since this is just another lie to Scott.

Derek makes an unintelligible sound and buries his head in the pillow. He walks back out to the living room, when he's dressed in sweats and a t-shirt, and glances briefly over at his bed before he closes the bedroom door behind him. Derek is fast asleep again.

“Is he one of those who's going to kill me if I yell when we play?” Scott asks, and hands Stiles the controller as he reaches the couch.

“If he does, I'll protect you.” Stiles grins and presses play.

Chapter Text

 

Stiles has almost forgotten about Derek being there, when he emerges out of the bedroom just as Scott wins another round. It's almost noon, and Derek's hair looks like he's been trying to tame it, but not succeeded fully. He's wearing the same jeans as yesterday, but he's stolen one of Stiles' shirts with an Avengers print and, oh my god, Stiles knows so well what Scott is thinking right now.

What surprises him a little is that Derek doesn't seem to be at all grumpy in the mornings. Stiles had assumed that he would be, but he's standing there now, in the doorway to Stiles' bedroom, and he smiles a little as their eyes make contact. At first, Stiles is more than surprised, before he remembers that Scott is sitting next to him and he doesn't know.

“Morning,” he says, after a too-long beat of silence.

“Morning.” Derek hesitates for a second, before he walks over and stretches out his hand towards Scott. “I'm Derek. You must be Scott.”

And Scott goddamn beams.

“It's nice to finally meet you.”

Stiles feels like he should take more acting classes, because he's staring. Derek and Scott liking each other? Immediately? Just nope.

“You heading home?” he asks, when Derek takes a few steps back towards the hallway instead of sitting down next to them.

“Yeah, I have a meeting this afternoon and I need to shower and change.”

Stiles scrambles to his feet, realising that real boyfriends probably kiss and say goodbye at the front door, and not in front of the best friend who's currently sitting on the couch. “I'll walk you out.”

“I'll play a single player round,” Scott announces, and Stiles has never been more grateful. That's until Scott turns the volume up, giving them some privacy once they're standing by the front door.

“You'll get your shirt back—” Derek begins, but Stiles waves him off.

“It's fine. Thanks for—” being nice to Scott “—helping out. Yesterday was fun.”

The corner of Derek's mouth quirks upwards and he nods. “Don't forget movies this weekend,” he remarks, before he disappears out the door.

Stiles is weirdly relieved when he's left with just Scott, and no boyfriend whom he has no idea how to behave towards.

Scott is grinning when Stiles returns to the couch; he deliberately loses this round and pauses the game. “Dude seems a lot nicer in real life than when I googled him.”

“You googled him?” Stiles rubs a hand over his face. Of course Scott googled him.

“Yeah, had to check out who he was.” Scott shrugs. “I have to look out for you somehow.”

It turns out to become the best day in a long time. Even though Scott still refuses to meet Allison. Stiles is going to have to change that, soon.

 

---

 

A couple of days later, Lydia sends him an email.

He thinks it's another one of their mess ups, at first, when there's nothing but links and screen caps in there, and no actual message from her. But then he gathers enough courage to click on the links and look at the screen caps.

There are several pictures of him and Derek at the bar, probably taken by the other people there. They look happy, smiling at each other, and then there's a picture of their kiss. The pictures are kind of blurry, but there's no doubt that people will see that it's them. He's relieved over how real it looks. Like they've kissed a few thousand times before. Then there's a picture of Derek with sunglasses, hair not its usual immaculate self, and a mug of coffee in his hand. He looks like he's just about to enter his car, and he's wearing Stiles' Avengers shirt.

Lydia has sent him a link to a long post on tumblr, where someone has compared the picture of Derek to an older picture of Stiles, where he's wearing the same shirt, with the headline: Coincidence? I think not. Stiles might have to praise Derek on his clever move, because this definitely made them look more credible. He just skims through the post, where the author mainly just rambles about them being legit and not a faux. It sounds pretty believable when she, or he, puts it like that.

There are more pictures of them at the pub, with the words: Sterek sighting. It takes him a moment before he realises that Sterek is their couple name now, and he feels motion sick for a few seconds. It feels wrong. They're conning their entire fan bases and people are devoted enough to mash their names together into something that sounds like an STD.

He texts Derek:

< Did you get Lydia's email? :)

> Yes. Erica forwarded it to me. Well done.

Stiles hesitates. Derek isn't the guy to use smileys, which makes his texts really hard to read. However, it's not like he uses a lot of facial expressions in real life either, so he's basically texting the same way he actually behaves. Stiles has to give him cred for his acting, though. Fake boyfriend!Derek is so much nicer to hang out with, than Real asshole!Derek.

< Still up for movies this weekend?

> Of course. Pick you up at 7 on Friday?

< It's a date.

Maybe not his best choice of words, but it's true. They are going on a date. In public. So that people can take pictures of them, which will probably give them a bunch of irritation from other fans, saying that they're invading Stiles' and Derek's privacy. But that's what they want. If they went on a date in public, being nice to each other and looking all lovey dovey, and no one managed to get a picture of it, it would a be a night wasted.

He decides to call his dad instead of being nervous about the weekend.

“Hey, dad.”

He can hear his dad hesitate on the other end. “Something wrong, son?”

“No, I'm just tired,” he lies. Well, it's not exactly a lie. It's more that he feels a bit down, but doesn't exactly know why. He never even considered that something could be wrong, before his dad asked.

“Working a lot?”

Stiles considers the interviews, photoshoots, castings to movies that he goes to regularly. They're not filming the new season yet, so his weeks aren't completely overbooked, but there are still things he has to do. And then there's hanging out with Derek, which is something everyone else who's not involved thinks is a relaxing time, but it's essentially just work.

“Not too much. Maybe I'm just coming down with something. What about you?”

“Same, same,” his dad says. “There aren't many criminals here at the moment. The most exciting thing we've had this week is an old lady stealing compression stockings.”

“Wow, dad. It's like you're living CSI over there.”

“You're telling me.”

“I miss you,” Stiles blurts.

“I miss you too, son. Are you coming home for a visit soon, or will I have to come to you?”

Stiles always feels really uncomfortable about his dad visiting him. Not because he would in any way make a fool out of Stiles. To be honest, Stiles likes to mention that his dad is a Sheriff and pretty bad ass. No, it's more the fact that Stiles doesn't wish this constant surveillance kind of life upon anyone. And especially not his dad. He shouldn't have to see his face plastered in a magazine somewhere with a headline that doesn't contain anything even remotely close to truth. Stiles chose this life, but his dad didn't.

“I'll see what I can do. I never thought I'd say this, but I kind of miss Beacon Hills, too.”

His dad snorts. “You only say that before you're here, seeing what it is you've missed.”

“Probably,” Stiles agrees.

“So, Scott told me that he was visiting last weekend.”

“Yeah, it was great. I'm glad he came by to surprise me.”

“He told me he got to meet your guy, as well.” His dad's voice changes slightly when he says the words, but Stiles can't exactly make out how or why.

“Oh.” He concentrates on a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. “Yeah, Derek was here when Scott came by, so they met for a few minutes when Derek had woken up and before he left.”

“Derek spent the night?”

Oh my god, his dad really needs to realise that Stiles isn't fourteen anymore.

“Yeah, we were out. I didn't drink, but Derek did, and he's not a fan of drunk driving, so he stayed.”

He can almost hear how torn his dad is. He's obviously pleased that Derek is a good guy who doesn't approve of drunk driving, since so many people do that and it's bad. But he probably thinks Derek is a criminal, too, for spending the night at Stiles'.

“Well, I guess that's good of him,” his dad amends at last.

Stiles smiles to himself. “Yeah, we're going to the movies this weekend.”

His dad quickly steers away from that subject, though. It's like he's had enough of discussing his son's relationship for one day. Stiles can't really blame him. He doesn't exactly want to talk about it, either.

 

---

 

Going to the movies with Derek is weird.

Not only because Derek shows up, knocking at his door, dressed in a way that makes Stiles forget that he dislikes him. Stiles has a thing for cardigans. And pecks. But it's also weird, because Derek doesn't let Stiles pay for the tickets, even though he's the one who chooses the movie. It's like he's on a real date.

It takes almost forty minutes before someone recognises them. Derek is standing close to him, shoulders brushing together, and Stiles is holding the popcorn. They're discussing baseball, and even though Derek's voting for the completely wrong team, it's nice.

“Do you want to grab something to eat, afterwards?” Derek asks unexpectedly.

“Yeah, totally. That'd be great.”

The smile spreading on Derek's face looks so genuine, that Stiles can't help but smile back.

“Excuse me,” someone says behind them and when they turn around, the girl glances nervously at Derek. Stiles can't really blame her. Derek isn't exactly known for being friendly. “You're Stiles Stilinski and Derek Hale, right?”

“Jackpot,” Stiles grins. “What's up?”

The following moments when meeting a fan vary a lot. This girl is one of the more collected ones, perhaps because she's a bit older than the ones he usually meets. She asks for a photograph with them, and Derek is the one who says yes. His hand feels heavy on Stiles' shoulder, when they stand on either side of her, smiling as her friend snaps the picture. And then it's the friend's turn, and Derek's thumb grazes the skin at the neckline of his shirt. Stiles mind goes blank. He barely remembers how to sign his own name when they stick a piece of paper and a pen in his hand.

The theater is almost empty, because Stiles chose Pacific Rim, since it's been running for a while and most have already seen it. He doesn't mind meeting people outside, but he doesn't want to get photographed when he's watching a movie. They're in the back and there are three people five rows in front of them. But except for that, the place is empty.

It's oddly comfortable to sit next to Derek in the darkness. They don't go for the same popcorn and Derek doesn't tell Stiles to shut up with his running commentary (whispered commentary). When the goddamn jaeger gets a sword, Derek is the one leaning closer to Stiles, whispering, “Fuck yeah,”and Stiles kind of stares at him in surprise for so long that he misses what happens next on the screen.

It's rather late when they get out of there, held up for a while by some other fans catching them in the lobby and Stiles can't say no. It's a part of his job, too, not only because he needs to make this relationship with Derek look believable, but also because it's his job otherwise as well. It's difficult to be an actor if you don't have a fan base.

When they leave, he grabs Derek's hand on a whim and is expecting Derek to pull away, but he squeezes slightly around Stiles' fingers instead. Stiles thinks he sees someone raise a camera, but he isn't sure.

They end up at a diner, a few blocks away, where Stiles orders curly fries and Derek just shakes his head. He notices someone stopping outside the window, out of the corner of his eye, and when he turns there's a girl there, pressing her face against the glass. He doesn't think she's sober, and her friend grabs her arm and drags her along, mouthing a sorry at them.

“To go?” Derek asks, and Stiles just nods.

They end up at his apartment again, but he has cleaned this time. He walks up first, while Derek parks his car, and he looks a bit distressed when he walks through the door front door a while later.

“What?” Stiles questions, as he puts their food on the coffee table.

“Some paps caught me around the block. I think they might have followed me.”

“You think they're gonna stay?” Stiles groans internally. The last thing he wants is paps hanging outside his building, but he doesn't think he has to worry much about that. He's not famous enough for them to spend hours waiting for him. It wouldn't be worth it.

Derek shrugs. “I hope not.”

“You can stay.” Stiles tries to say it casually. “I won't even force you to sleep on the couch this time.”

Derek looks at him for a while, and Stiles fights the heat from his face when he realises what he just suggested.

“I mean, I could take the couch,” he tries to gloss it over, and grabs at his curly fries. He's such an idiot. His couch is horrible to sleep on.

Derek doesn't say anything, not for a long time. He just takes Stiles' remote, just like last time even though he doesn't have permission, and stops zapping when he reaches reruns of FRIENDS.

“How's Scott?” Derek asks when they're half-way into their second episode. Stiles has finished his food long ago, and he's getting sleepy.

“He's good. I think. He's crushing on Allison, and she's kind of crushing on him too, but he freaks out and refuses to meet her when I try to hook them up.”

“He's your best friend?” Derek makes it sound like a question.

“Yeah, since we were kids. He's one of few people who can put up with me long term.”

Derek just nods.

“Do you have a best friend?” Stiles realises that he doesn't really know that much about Derek, except for the things he's caught in magazines whenever he's flipping through them. Derek doesn't share much.

“Not really. I have a few good ones, like Erica, but I'm not good at making friends.”

Stiles tries to look at him discreetly out of the corner of his eye. He's not sure that he succeeds.

“Why's that?”

Derek snorts. “I'm not good with people.”

“I know. I've seen it. But why's that?”

“It's a long story,” Derek says dismissively. Stiles takes that as they're done talking about this.

“I'm kind of tired.” He resists yawning, because it would only look like he's faking it. “I'm just gonna grab my pillow and a cover, and then my bed's all yours.”

“It's fine if you want to share,” Derek blurts out, and Stiles freezes when he's in the middle of getting up from the couch. He sort of collapses back against it, and Derek gives him an unimpressed look, but Stiles thinks that he's mostly covering up for what he just said, because he looks a bit uncomfortable.

“You sure? I'm a blanket hogger.”

Derek shrugs. “Me too.”

Getting undressed with Derek is weird. Awkward. But mostly weird. It hits him that people think they do this all the time, and probably in a more hurried, frantic manner where boners and panting are involved. Now they're just unzipping their pants and pulling their shirts over their heads quicker than they normally would, but not so fast that it's obvious that they want to slip under the covers quickly without showing too much.

Stiles is grateful that he left the lights off, and that the room is only lit by the street lights outside. It's just enough to see the outlines of furniture and their bodies, but not enough for him to feel completely exposed.

He gets in before Derek, and his queen sized bed feels small for the first time ever. It's impossible not to sneak a peek. Derek's body is amazing, and Stiles knew that from pictures before, but he's ridiculously fit. Stiles' mouth feels a bit dry, when Derek steps out of his pants and stands there in only boxer briefs, as he folds them over the backrest of the chair in the corner.

Stiles resists the urge to snap a picture and Instagram: “I can't believe I'm getting to share a bed with this.” But he's pretty sure that both Lydia and Derek would kill him if he did.

The mattress dips slightly, when Derek gets in, and Stiles wishes that he had an extra blanket, suddenly. He's stiff like a board, afraid that he's going to brush his leg against Derek's or slap him in the face with a hand if he turns over to find a more comfortable position.

“We forgot to put things on Instagram,” he says into the darkness, hoping that Derek isn't on his way of falling asleep.

Derek groans. “Fuck.”

“Should we post something now?” Stiles asks tentatively.

“Like what?”

“A picture of your butt. But maybe that's too obvious.”

Derek makes a choking sound and Stiles grins to himself, but then Derek reaches out and grabs his phone. Stiles scoots closer, trying to see what he's up to, and Derek scrolls through his mentions on Twitter. He taps one that says: Met @derekhale and @sstilinski at the movies tonight. Such cute guys! With a picture attached. When Derek clicks on the link, there's a picture of the both of them, with one of the girls that came up to them first. It's nice. They look happy, and Stiles' skin burns a bit when he sees the way Derek's fingers are brushing his skin. It's like he can still feel it.

Derek ends up retweeting, adding a reply it was a pleasure! And Stiles thinks that it will have to do. Maybe it's too obvious if they post too many pics. This way, it seems like Derek's just a nice dude replying to his fans. He just happens to make all of his followers on Twitter aware that there's a pic of him and Stiles from tonight, too.

“Sneaky.” Stiles grins and Derek smiles slightly. Stiles feels obliged to say something as well, so he just tweets: Where can I find a jaeger with a light saber? Gonna call it Obi Wan Stilinski. Derek just rolls his eyes. “I had a good time,” Stiles adds as he puts his phone down.

“Me too,” Derek says after a moment of silence. “The movie was good as well.”

Stiles is already half-asleep when he realises that Derek meant that he had a good time, excluding the movie. It takes him another hour to fall asleep, but at least he hasn't moved back to his side of the bed.

 

---

 

 

A week later, Stiles is attending another event where he's supposed to get interviewed on the red carpet. Stupidly enough, he and Derek haven't discussed what they're going to say if people ask. He's pretty sure that people will ask, because after they went out on that movie, he got an email from Lydia containing so many pictures and tumblr posts, featuring them holding hands on their way home, or standing really close together while waiting for the movie to start.

He feels stupid when he finds himself saving a picture of him shoving too many popcorns in his mouth, and Derek is just standing next to him, smiling a little, like he's fond of Stiles' stupidity. And then a picture he thinks has been taken right after Stiles said yes to grabbing dinner after the movies, because they're smiling stupidly at each other. The worst part is, that Stiles thinks he looks so happy.

He can't find it in him to delete them either.

They're not going together. Apparently they're not ready for that, according to Lydia and Erica. Stiles is okay with that. It would make things too official, in his opinion.

He's smiling, getting interviewed for a channel he's already forgotten the name of, as well as who the reporter presented herself as. She's nice, though, he likes her, because she's smiling genuinely.

“So, when will you starting filming the next season?”

“In two months. I think. Did you ask Allison this?”

“Yes,” the reporter says, laughing.

“What did she say? Help me out here, please!”

“She said two and a half months.” The reporter is smiling wider.

“That's what I said. Two and a half months, people. Just two and a half months left.”

She's laughing again, and then she gets this glint in his eyes that tells him that he's probably going to get himself in trouble with her next question.

“So there's a rumour going around about you and Derek Hale.”

“Is there?” he asks absently, looking around slightly. It takes him about three point four seconds to spot Derek in the crowd. He's wearing a suit jacket. Damn. “What does it say?”

“That you two are dating. Can you confirm that?”

Derek chooses that very moment to look up and catch Stiles’ gaze. When he smiles, Stiles can't help but do the same, and then Derek's smile grows wider and Stiles just can't look away.

“Well, I guess that's all the confirmation we need.”