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“Can I ask you a question?”
“You will even if I say no.”
“How did I get roped into being your personal chauffeur?” Stiles Stilinski turned to his best friend briefly before facing the road again. “You have your own car. Why am I driving you around town?”
Lydia Martin turned to give him an offended look, as if not able to comprehend why he was even asking her that. “It’s late, Stiles!”
“And?” Stiles asked. It wasn’t even that late, it was just nine. The sun hadn’t even set yet! It was basically still mid-day.
“And,” Lydia said, still sounding offended, “I’m not going to buy myself wine alone at nine o’clock at night!”
“Why not?” Stiles asked.
“Because!”
“Because what?”
Stiles jerked away from Lydia when she turned to smack him in the arm. It didn’t hurt, but he got the message.
Still, he said, “Ow.”
Lydia just rolled her eyes and went back to looking out the window. Stiles pretended to pout while rubbing at his arm, but gave up not long after since she wasn’t even paying attention. Couldn’t milk for pity points if the other person was ignoring him.
That was okay, he’d milk the pity points when he got home. His boyfriend should be back from his night out by then, so he’d have all night to whine and demand kisses to his ouchie.
Stiles couldn’t help the small smile that formed on his face, and jumped when Lydia poked him in the cheek with one manicured nail.
“Stop thinking about him, you get a goofy look on your face.”
“What, like you do when you think of Parrish?” Stiles asked.
This smack was probably more deserved than the last, but Stiles just laughed and nudged her with one elbow.
“Come on, when are you gonna ask him out?”
“Why should I ask him out?” she demanded haughtily. “He should ask me.”
“Boys are dumb, Lydia. He doesn’t know you love him.” He ignored her hissed denial and continued. “He’s so gone for you, it’s kind of sad. Just put both of you out of your misery and ask him out.”
“No one asked you,” Lydia snapped.
“Derek asked me,” Stiles insisted, turning to waggle his eyebrows at her.
“For your opinion, Stilinski!”
Stiles knew that was what she meant, but chose to ignore her. After all, he wasn’t wrong. The only reason he and Derek Hale had started dating after dancing around the topic for like, four years was because Derek had finally bit the bullet and asked him.
He was pretty sure Derek had expected Stiles to reject him. He’d looked so tense, and so stoic while asking him that during the leadup, Stiles had been waiting for him to say someone had died. When he finally got the words out, it took a solid twenty seconds for Stiles’ brain to switch gears and realize this was good news, and Derek was just building up his defences for a negative response.
Too bad for him, because Stiles had jumped him. Not sexually, but he had legitimately jumped him, wrapping both arms and legs around the older man like an octopus and demanding to know why Derek had taken so fucking long to ask.
Derek had returned—after the shock wore off—that Stiles could’ve just asked him if he felt the same way, and that was when Stiles realized people were their own worst enemies sometimes. They’d both loved one another for so long, but until Derek had been brave enough to say something, neither of them had done anything about it.
All those kisses, all those dates, all those cuddles, just gone. Poof. Lost to history because of fear. People would do so much better in life if they had a bit more courage to go after what they wanted.
And what Lydia wanted was Jordan Parrish. Tall, broad-shouldered, cute as all hell Parrish. And what Parrish wanted was a smart, beautiful, red-haired Goddess. Really, all they had to do was actually ask each other. Stiles had not been subtle with either of them about how the other felt, so really, it shouldn’t be hard.
Sighing at the knowledge that Lydia would never ask Parrish out, and Parrish was too chicken to ask her out, they were doomed to fawn at each other from afar. Maybe Stiles could ask them out for each other. Just shove them into a room together and ask Parrish if Lydia wanted to go out with him, and then confirm to Lydia that she did indeed want to go out with Parrish, throw some confetti, and then disappear.
Wait, maybe a smoke bomb. He’d throw a smoke bomb and disappear.
But the smoke bomb might ruin the moment. Also he wasn’t sure how he’d react to that, smoke would probably make him cough and ruin the silent, magical exit. He wasn’t a ninja, so his lungs weren’t trained in the ways of smoke bombs.
Okay, throw confetti, and then run like hell before it all fell. Kind of like a disappearing act.
Pulling into the lot for the local liquor store, he climbed out of the Jeep as Lydia cursed and struggled with the door on the other side. Stiles walked around the hood and wrenched it open for her. She climbed out, but didn’t comment on the struggle. Lydia was smart enough to know anyone who insulted Roscoe didn’t get rides anymore.
Scott had learned that the hard way after one too many insults. He was now banned from Roscoe until he apologized to her, but he had yet to follow through. So, no Roscoe for him. Lydia was smarter than that.
Walking past Stiles, she headed for the door as Stiles slammed the Jeep door. He had to slam it a second time, harder, when it didn’t latch properly. When he was sure it was set, he followed Lydia inside, waving at the cashier since he was one of their old classmates from high school.
It was summer, so he was probably working this job until university started up again in the fall. Stiles should probably get a job too, but he only had one year of school left. This was probably his last summer ever as a student. As soon as he got a job, summers were a thing of the past. He’d be working every day until retirement.
Well, not every day, but he wouldn’t have summers off! He hadn’t realized how easy life was as a child. Sure, homework sucked, but man were summers great. He wasn’t looking forward to being a real adult, it made him sad.
Lydia went straight for the wine, and Stiles sighed while following. He stopped beside her when she began perusing all the names, but he wasn’t a big wine guy, so his eyes mostly examined the bottles. Most of them were exactly the same, but some of them actually had cool designs. And some of the labels were pretty awesome. He’d definitely feel more inclined to drink wine from a cool bottle with a neat design.
Alas, he was uninterested in the wine, and when he’d examined all the different bottles and labels and Lydia still hadn’t budged, he sighed and just headed along down the aisle, moving into the next one. Lydia had been looking at the red wines, which continued into this aisle, boasting different flags for various countries to denote they were foreign wines. The next aisle was all the white wines, with the following being all the foreign white wines.
He was losing interest fast, and Lydia didn’t look like she was anywhere near ready to go, so Stiles wandered towards the refrigerated drinks to examine all the beers. He’d just made it to the first one in the long line when he paused right as he was about to continue past it.
This one wasn’t like the others, which just had coolers or six-packs of beers, or even twelve-packs. This one was full of what he could only assume were popular drinks to mix together, all packaged together in sealed, clear bags.
He could see Starbucks Iced Coffee bottles grouped together with shooters of Baileys Irish Cream and RumChata. There was a can of pineapple juice alongside a shooter of Malibu coconut rum and a sweetener he didn’t recognize.
Each shelf had two such options, each packed away together in a small sealed bag with a name and price on the front. It was actually quite clever, and it looked like it was for individual consumption, kind of like if someone was going to a party and wanted to have just the one drink for themselves without having to share.
He kind of liked it, and considered the coffee one before his eyes found a different option and he froze.
This bag contained a can of Mountain Dew along with a shooter of Kinky Green and a shooter of vodka. While he was sure the drink itself would be great, and the price was ridiculously reasonable, that wasn’t what caught his attention.
No, what caught his attention was the name.
Mount & Dew Me.
It literally said Mount & Dew Me, with the ampersand and everything. It was the most hysterical—and fitting—thing Stiles had ever seen and he immediately opened the fridge and pulled one of the bags out.
Without a second thought, he moved quickly through the mostly empty store towards the front where his old classmate was and put the bag down at the till.
“Oh, these are great, aren’t they?” the guy asked as he rang Stiles through, clearly not looking at his face, because he’d have noticed the glaze over his eyes. Stiles was so getting railed tonight after this, he was sure of it. Derek appreciated a good pun as much as Stiles did, so no way was this not a one-way ticket to sexytown. “I found a lot of really cool combinations from this new thing the owner is trying out. If you like it, make sure you let us known online so that he keeps the idea going.”
“Mm hm, yeah, absolutely, one-hundred percent.” Stiles was already tapping his card against the machine, even though the teller hadn’t actually finished ringing him up yet. After an eternity, the total appeared on the machine—just seven bucks and eighty-three cents, an absolute steal—and Stiles tapped his card once more. This time, it beeped, and he grabbed at the bag his things were in, blurting out he didn’t want a receipt before the guy could even ask, and booked it to the door.
He’d just about reached it when a voice said his name and he froze, turning slowly to see Lydia standing at the end of the red wine aisle, giving him a scathing look.
Right. He hadn’t come alone. He had to wait.
He had to wait!
Stiles motioned for her to keep looking, and she scowled at him, clearly knowing he’d been five seconds away from running off on her. It wasn’t his fault he was about to get laid for a stupid pun! Lydia could get laid too if only she’d say something to Parrish!
Jumping when the door opened behind him, Stiles hastily moved aside as a couple walked in, and he offered them a smile and a nod of his head as they passed, then turned back to watch Lydia. It took a conscious effort for him not to tap his foot impatiently as she picked up and put down at least ten identical bottles before finally picking one up and heading for the till.
Stiles pulled his phone out of his pocket to see if Derek was home yet, and felt his heart kick up another notch when there was a text from him confirming he’d arrived back. It was time-stamped for three minutes ago.
Dammit, he could’ve been halfway home by now! Sex was on the horizon, why was Lydia torturing him?!
Looking over at the till, he saw her making polite small talk with the teller, who practically had hearts in his eyes. Stiles hoped he hadn’t looked like that back when he’d had a crush on Lydia, but sadly, he was pretty sure he did. Lydia brought out the most embarrassing things in men—and probably lesbian women, Stiles had never talked to any about Lydia.
Finally, after ten thousand year—or realistically, two minutes—Lydia took her bottle of wine and headed for the exit. Stiles turned quickly and rushed out of the store, back to the Jeep. He pulled open the passenger side door for Lydia, not needing to be delayed by her inability to get it open, and then rushed around the front of the Jeep to scramble into the driver’s seat. He dropped the bag in the seat behind him before buckling himself in, waiting impatiently for his friend to join him.
Lydia eyed him as she climbed in, shutting the door hard and putting the wine in the crease between her two legs as she buckled herself in.
“What’s with you?”
“I’m going home to get fucked by Derek.”
That earned him a revolted look. “I don’t need details, Stiles. That’s our Alpha, and you’re basically my brother.”
“You asked,” Stiles argued as he backed out of the spot and turned the wheel so he could exit the lot. He tried to calculate how long it would take him to get Lydia back to her place, and then from her place to home.
About twelve minutes, but he could do it in eight if he sped. Then again, if he sped and got pulled over, that would delay him significantly, even if he didn’t get a ticket. He’d get a lecture, which was arguably more time consuming.
Lydia kept giving him unimpressed looks as they drove, Stiles incapable of keeping the leer off his face as he imagined what his nerdy boyfriend would say about the pun. Besides, they never needed an excuse to have sex, it was just more fun when they had a leadup to it.
Stiles managed to reach Lydia’s place relatively quickly, and she pushed open the door hard on her first try before stepping out.
“Thanks for the ride. Remind me never to ask you for one again when you’re horny.”
“Goodbye,” Stiles said pointedly to her. She rolled her eyes, thanked him again, and slammed the door shut hard enough for it to actually latch.
Stiles backed out of her driveway fast enough to almost hit her mailbox. She turned to give him a vicious look, but he just waved one hand in apology and then hit the gas. He didn’t speed, but he certainly went above the limit as he made his way back across the main road so he could head for his place with Derek.
When he finally reached the loft, he found Derek’s Camaro parked outside, and could only pray he hadn’t brought anyone by for coffee or whatever. Derek did that sometimes, he was polite like that. Stiles hoped he was very rude today.
Very rude. Super rude, even. Just—the rudest!
Parking the Jeep in its usual spot, he kicked open the door and jumped out. Slamming it, he opened the back door and grabbed the bag, trying to stop the villainous little cackle from escaping him as he locked up the Jeep and made a beeline for the door.
He tripped twice on his way up the stairs—because this place didn’t have any fucking lights, Derek, not everyone could see in the dark!—and finally reached the landing. Throwing open the loft door, his eyes immediately sought out Derek, hoping against hope that he was alone.
Their eyes locked when he found his boyfriend sitting on the couch with the remote in his hand, clearly channel surfing as he waited for Stiles to get home. The interested shift at the sight of Stiles meant he’d gotten his undivided attention, probably because he smelled like he wanted to climb Derek like a tree.
To be fair, he always smelled like that, Stiles loved his Sourwolf more than he could stand most days.
“Derek,” he proclaimed.
“Stiles,” Derek responded, turning the TV off and setting the remote down.
Walking into the loft and turning to shut the door, Stiles locked it for good measure, and then moved towards Derek, holding the plastic bag of drinks out with the name facing Derek.
“If I down this entire bag of goodies, will you follow the directions on the front?”
Derek frowned, obviously confused, but then looked down at what Stiles was holding out to him. His eyes found the words, and Stiles saw his nostrils flare before his eyes burned red and snapped back up to Stiles’ face.
“How fast can you drink it?” Derek asked, slowly getting to his feet as Stiles backed up a step to give him more room.
“Faster than you can get us both naked,” Stiles countered.
“Let’s find out.” Derek smirked, and Stiles grinned at him before turning to run for the kitchen to grab a glass big enough to dump the Mountain Dew, Kinky Green and vodka into. He could already hear Derek shuffling behind him, clearly getting out of his clothes.
He was in the kitchen fighting with Stiles’ jeans by the time Stiles started downing the drink, the vodka and carbonation of the Mountain Dew burning his throat, but he didn’t care.
Derek was very good at following directions, and he followed the one plastered on the front of the bag beautifully.
Stiles was definitely giving the liquor store a big thumbs up for this new initiative.
END.