Work Text:
“I have really bad taste in men,” Danny announces at lunch.
It’s been a slow realization, so the announcement doesn’t get much surprise out of Danny’s audience, which currently consists of Lydia and Jackson. Neither of them have much by way of response. Lydia pats his hand and Jackson chews thoughtfully over his food for a few seconds before setting his fork down.
“Can’t be too bad a taste,” Jackson says. “You’re friends with me.”
Danny rolls his eyes. “I meant as boyfriends,” he says and then starts pointing out the things that happened with the last three guys he liked. “First off, there was Rick, who was nice up until Winter Formal, and then broke up with me because I danced with Scott even though I told him that we weren’t a thing. Then there was Stiles’ cousin, Miguel—”
Jackson and Lydia exchange a quizzical look.
“—who turned out to be a potential serial killer and then turned out to be Derek Hale before he disappeared. I’m just a high school student. I don’t need that.” Danny waves his hands a little, unable to fully encompass with his stressed words just how much he doesn’t need that. “And then there was Matt.” Both Lydia and Jackson make a drawn out Oh in realization. Danny grits his teeth. “Exactly.”
Lydia smiles gently at him. She’s a lot gentler these days, with everything. She pats his hand again and gives it a squeeze. “What you need is a nice, normal boy.”
Sighing, Danny stares morosely at the rest of the students in the cafeteria. “I’d love to have a nice, normal boy,” he says, “but everyone seems nice and normal until they’re definitely not.”
Even Scott seems nice and normal, but Danny isn’t certain how he feels about the guy suddenly making first line in lacrosse last year. Maybe all the raving Jackson did about Scott taking steroids and maybe other drugs got to him, but either way, Danny isn’t interested in dating a potential druggie. If Scott’s a steroid hog, though, he sure doesn’t look much like it. Danny can see him across the room with Stiles — certainly a little beefier than before, but nothing that exercise and training couldn’t do. It’s been a while since he was the scrawny kid who was smaller than Stiles.
Jackson leans forward. “Maybe,” he begins hesitantly. “Maybe you should reevaluate your definition of normal.”
“Maybe,” Danny agrees grudgingly. “Last year was pretty crazy. Lots of people changed.”
He doesn’t look at either of his friends when he says that, even though it is them he’s thinking of most. They’re probably looking guiltily happy at it being pointed out, and Danny doesn’t want to revisit how jealous he is of them finally settling in properly with each other. He focuses instead on Scott again — on Stiles — and the way they laugh and huddle and conspire together. It’s the same as normal and kind of cute, and Danny smiles a bit, looking at them.
“Some things stay the same, though,” he says, feeling an idea beginning to congeal in the back of his mind.
Lydia follows his line of sight. “Oh, them,” she says, and Jackson makes a scoffing noise. “Those two will never change.”
“Must be nice,” Jackson muses with some darkness. “Change sucks.” Lydia shoots him a look and he amends himself quickly. “Sometimes. I meant, sometimes.”
Stabbing viciously at her salad, Lydia says, “You know what could do with some change? Stiles’ crush on me. While it is absolutely and one hundred percent justified, I’m done with being chased down by boys.”
“It can get old after a while,” Danny agrees. “But I do kind of miss him asking if I found him attractive. It was an ego boost.” He pauses, thinking, and the idea that’s been percolating in his mind takes the opportunity to bloom hopefully. “Actually, you know what?”
Jackson points a finger in Danny’s face. “No.”
“What?” Danny aims for innocence and ends up looking shifty. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”
“You’re thinking of asking Stiles out because he’s the most normal thing in this school,” Jackson accuses — and okay, so what if he’s right? Danny doesn’t see what’s wrong with that. Jackson apparently does. “I’m gonna tell you right now that he’s not.”
“Yeah? So what’s so bad about him?” Danny asks. He glances over. Stiles is straddling one of the bench seats and taking bites of his pizza, three at a time. Very normal looking. Danny splays his fingers. “Wait, don’t tell me. He’s a serial killer.”
Jackson’s brows crease together. “Well, no—”
“Does he do drugs?”
“How am I supposed to know that?”
Danny squints at Jackson. “Does he collect butterflies?”
Jackson’s face turns a mottled pink. “Butterflies are cool, okay!”
“Unless you can tell me a legitimate reason for me not to date Stiles, I’m going over there and asking him out,” Danny says and gets up from the table. Jackson nearly trips over himself in his rush to get in Danny’s way.
“You can’t!” Jackson hisses and then flounders desperately, giving Lydia pleading looks. “Stiles… he’s uh. He’s really dumb, and as your friend, I can’t let you date someone who could bring down your GPA. Think of your future, Danny.”
Danny crosses his arms. “Stiles makes straight A’s in everything.”
Briefly, Jackson’s face contorts in confused indignation. “But he’s always getting detentions!”
“Mr. Harris likes to pick on him,” Danny explains. “Everyone knows this. Even you.”
Jackson’s grasping at straws by this point, and Lydia’s no help. She just shrugs. “What about lacrosse?” Jackson asks. “He’s a permanent bench warmer!”
Grabbing Jackson by the arms and bodily moving him out of the way, Danny continues toward Stiles, looking back long enough to wink and say, “Maybe I could help him with that.”
Jackson is making panicky hissing noises as he talks with Lydia back at the lunch table, but Danny ignores that as he sits down next to Stiles. “Hey,” he says, feeling uncharacteristically nervous.
Stiles smiles though. “Hey back.”