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‘Don’t say it,’ Stiles groans. ‘I can hear you thinking it.’
‘What? That I told you not to go on that ride right after eating three hotdogs?’
Stiles turns his head to glare at Derek. That was exactly what he meant. A wave of nausea comes over him again and he quickly turns his head back to the trashcan. Thankfully, nothing comes up. Derek goes back to rubbing the hand that’s not holding Stiles up soothingly over Stiles’ back. It feels great, though Stiles wishes it was happening under very different circumstances.
‘Here.’ Derek shoves a bottle of water in front of his face. ‘Rinse your mouth, then drink up the rest. You okay on your own for a little while?’
Stiles nods. Using the trashcan as a support, he pushes himself upright and takes the bottle.
‘Okay. I’ll be right back.’
Stiles rinses his mouth, then drops to the ground to drink his water. It’s not a pleasant thing to with the taste of regurgitated hotdog still in his mouth.
He’s starting to wonder where Derek’s gone—and if he’s ever coming back—when Derek steps out of the crowd on the main path. There’s a plastic bag in his hand, out of which he pulls a small stack of paper napkins and another bottle of water.
‘Feeling better?’ Derek asks, sitting down next to Stiles.
‘Yeah.’
‘Good.’
Derek douses the napkins with water, then dabs them all over Stiles’ face and neck. It feels amazing. Stiles closes his eyes and sighs.
‘I’m sorry,’ he says.
‘For what?’
‘For throwing up. This is not something you should have to deal with until at least the fifth date. Or until we’re boyfriends, because then you’d have to take care of me. It’s one of the rules.’ Stiles looks at Derek, who is looking back at him with a soft, if still slightly worried, expression. ‘I can’t believe you’re being so nice to me after I almost threw up on your shoes.’
‘You missed.’
‘Barely,’ Stiles snorts. ‘And I’m sorry I ruined our date.’
‘I wouldn’t say it’s ruined. It’s definitely memorable, though,’ Derek grins.
Stiles groans and buries his head in his hand. ‘Oh god, this is not a good reason for a date to memorable. It should be because we had a spectacular kiss or because I made you laugh so hard your stomach hurts.’
‘I’m not gonna kiss you right now,’ Derek says, pulling a face Stiles can’t hold against him. He wouldn’t want to kiss himself either. ‘And trust me, I’m laughing,’ Derek adds.
‘Asshole,’ Stiles grumbles, but he smiles around the top of the bottle as he takes another sip.
‘Are you okay to go? Because I should probably take you home,’ Derek says.
‘Yeah. I’m good.’
They throw away the empty bottles and wet napkins and make their way to the parking lot. Derek is still holding the plastic bag, and Stiles figures it’s an emergency vomit holder for the ride home, but at the car Derek stops and pulls something out of it. It’s a small plush fox.
‘I was planning on winning you something bigger, but I didn’t have much time,’ Derek says, handing the little fox to Stiles.
Stiles stares at it, then looks back up at Derek.
‘But I thought maybe I could try again? The fair will be here for a couple more days so…’
Stiles nods. ‘That would be awesome. I think I owe you like a thousand teddy bears for being so nice to me.’
‘I really didn’t mind,’ Derek assures him. ‘Besides, I figure it was practice, for, you know, when we do become boyfriends. Since taking care of you is one of the rules.’
‘Can we start being boyfriends now?’ Stiles grins, hugging the little fox to his chest.
‘Yeah,’ Derek says, nodding eagerly.
Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone smile that wide, and it’s all for him.
‘I can’t blame you for not wanting to kiss me right now, but, dude, you’re making it really hard not to throw myself at you,’ he points out.
Derek’s smile softens as he steps closer and cradles Stiles’ face. He tips Stiles’ head forward so he can place a kiss on top of his head.
‘How’s that?’ Derek asks.
‘It’ll do for now. But tomorrow, we’re gonna make out for at least ten minutes before even entering the fair.’
Stiles has never seen anything cuter than Derek’s blush as he tries, and fails, to find a way to respond to that.