Chapter Text
"I can do it!"
"Anyone?"
"Anyone! I told you, it doesn't matter," Derek puffed up his chest and all but sneered at Jackson, who rubbed his hands together and grinned in glee.
"You know this is a punk ass deal, right?" Danny asked shaking his head. "He's gonna find you the most despicable person he can and make you go out with them."
"Bring it on already," Derek shrugged. "What's taking you so long, Whittemore. Lost your balls?"
The locker room sniggered, and there were several high fives being passed around. These types of shenanigans between Hale and Whittemore were locker room legend. The boys could turn just about anything into a dick-measuring competition; but it was always entertaining to watch.
"So who we gonna pick, Jackson?" Isaac Lahey called out, and Jackson turned with a smirk on his face, and for the first time Derek's stomach made an uncomfortable lurch.
"Stiles Stilinski."
"Oh man!" There was an almost unanimous groan throughout the locker room and several guys patted Derek on the back in sympathy. Everyone, shook their heads in commiseration. Everyone but Danny. "Maybe you shouldn't. Maybe you should choose someone else Jacks."
"What? You going soft on me, Danny Boy? You feeling sorry for that multi-coloured hair, Pride card carrying, know it all freak?"
"I'm just saying you've already gotten in enough trouble over Stilinski. Perhaps give it a rest." Danny said, unafraid of Jackson's bluster. They'd been friends for years. Few people knew Jackson the way Danny knew Jackson, and unlike most, Danny knew exactly and intimately what was behind Jackson's constant run-ins with Stiles.
"Careful there, Jackson. Your cracks are showing. We all know that you'd use any opportunity to get the kid away from your girl. I mean, they have been spending a lot of time together." The boys snickered and one patted Derek on the back for his quick come back.
"It's work. Just school work. They were partnered for that science fair thing. What else is she supposed to do? Lydia is extremely competitive."
"Ummhmm. She's also quite fond of Stilinski," Isaac piped in, just to watch Jackson turn another shade of scarlet.
"Please. I'm not in the least worried about that little freak. He wouldn't know what to do with a chick, even if she stood naked in front of him and invited him over. I think our Derek here is more his speed."
"If I didn't know you better, Jacks. I would think you were a homophobe and then I'd have to kick your teeth in."
"Come on man. You know me. Live and let live is my motto. Unless it's Stilinski, cause that smart-mouth kid's got it coming. So are you gonna take the bet, Hale. Or are you going chicken shit on us?"
Derek dragged his shirt over his head and tossed it into the back of his locker, pausing for the best effect to let them all look their fill at his supernaturally gifted physique. With a grin of his own, he crowed, "You're on, Jacks. Loser does locker room duty for the rest of the term."
"Oh!" the boys all cried out almost in unison. Locker room duty sucked. Usually it was Greenberg that ended up getting suckered into picking up their gear, taking it to the laundry, collecting it back and delivering it to the boys, as well as clearing away the gear after practice sessions and games. The boy was desperate for friends and would literally do anything the popular crowd wanted.
And the bet was on.
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Stiles shoved his purple hair off his forehead. It was getting long again and his dad was making noises about a trip to the barber. Purple is one of his favourite colours, other than blue. He woke up this morning and it felt like a purple kinda day, hence the hair. It was something he could do just thinking about it, but there were times when his emotions took over and his hair colour just changed without this consent. His Spark simply had a will of its own at times, when his emotions triggered a reaction. And one such trigger was right now walking in his direction, and he could already feel the annoyance settling in as Derek Hale smiled at him.
"Hey Stiles."
Before he could even reply, he felt his roots start to tingle and closed his eyes on a deep sigh. If this was another of the team's corny ideas of a joke, he was gonna go ape shit on somebody and he was not reigning his magic back. He glanced around quickly to make sure no one was coming up at his back. "What do you want Hale?"
"What's with the hostility?" he smiled, and Stiles was confused because that was Derek's signature smile . . . aimed at him. It was the one that made females and males alike drop their drawers and offer themselves to the werewolf. He'd even seen it at work on a teacher once. It would have been funny to watch if it hadn't been so damn irritating and embarrassing for the woman in question. They were always got whatever he wanted. He was Captain of the basketball team, School Body President, Joint-leader of the Homecoming Committee, alongside Lydia Martin, and seemingly an overall nice guy. But something about him always rubbed Stiles the wrong way and he could never figure out what. And there it went, yep, his hair was turning green. Derek looked at the changing colour and simply smirked. The shithead smirked. He always seemed amused when he forced Stiles’ hair into a colour change. It would help if he was ugly, or at least a failing student, but no, he had to be perfect, in almost every way. Rumor had it he had even turned down a modeling contract with Vogue because he was worried the grades he wanted for his choice college would slip.
"What?" Stiles snapped, glaring daggers at Hale.
"Hey, look sorry to interrupt your . . . whatever, I just wanted to know if you'd be interested in being part of the Homecoming Committee. The theme we're going for is ‘Villains, Vamps and Victors Throughout History’ and we could use someone with your knowledge. I mean Lydia said you knew this stuff like the back of your hand," Derek said. He knew it was the right note to hit. Mention Lydia and that the red-head wanted him in this and there was no way Stilinski would say no. And of course, spending time with the Committee would mean more time with Derek, would mean he could engineer some alone time with the bookworm. He had a bet to win.
Stilinski was squinting at him, as if he was trying to see beneath his clothes to his very soul. "You want me, me on the Homecoming Committee? With the popular kids? Me?"
"Come on. It's not about popularity. . ." When Stiles' eyebrows climbed up to his hairline and he all but scoffed, Derek modified, "Well it's not all about the popularity. This Homecoming is actually raising funds for the supernatural orphanage. We've got all kinds of kids in there and they need this help to keep doing what they're doing. We need to do it right."
And there he went, proving he wasn't just a jock with a pretty face, and Stiles' hair turned an even deeper shade of forest green. Derek Hale just pissed him off, with his perfect everything. "I'll think about it."
"Lydia said you were the best person she could think of as a resource. We need you, Stiles. I hope you say yes." Before Stiles couldn’t even muster a comeback, Hale was walking away, and worse half the school was now staring at Stiles like he was something under a microscope. Like what could Hotness McHotty Hale actually want with the freak? He just knew his day was about to go to hell. And this, this was why Stiles maintained a small very intimate circles of friends.