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A person’s senior year was supposed to be the best year of high school. This rang true for Stiles Stilinski for a few different reasons. Number one, it was the first year in many that the Beacon Hills werewolf pack had no immediate problems to deal with. Gerard died last year and the alphas were all killed except for Ethan and Aiden who stuck around after Deucalion was defeated. Apparently, they followed him mostly because they feared him. Reason number two, Lydia had stopped pretending to be dumb. She and Stiles were in a tight race for class valedictorian, and pushed each other to succeed; they’ve really developed a solid friendship. Finally—and probably most importantly to him—he and Derek have been dating for a few weeks.
If he was honest with himself, Stiles would have to admit that he had a small crush on Derek since he and Scott ran into Derek on the Hale property a few years ago. Small is one word for it; debilitating and overwhelming would be more descriptive, though. How could he not, though? Derek was one of those people an artist would paint or a sculptor would mold out of clay for posterity. If his physical attributes weren’t enticing enough, the mystery surrounding him was intoxicating to Stiles.
Over the next couple years, Stiles watched in awe as Derek grew from the young, bad boy alpha into a true leader. Stiles and Derek didn’t always get along, but they saved each other time after time. With each new act of protection, Stiles fell deeper and deeper for Derek. He always assumed it was a one-way street, because how could someone like Derek ever find awkward, overly-energetic Stiles attractive? Stiles still isn’t sure how it happened but, apparently, Derek fell for him, too. He’s still in shock.
Derek and Stiles may have been oblivious about their feelings for each other, but the rest of the pack seemed completely lacking in the shock department. Lydia even cocked her head to the side and asked, “You mean you two haven’t been dating for the last year? You could have fooled me.” Stiles nor Derek thought it was as funny as the rest of the pack did. It felt great to know that all of their friends supported them, though.
So, yeah. Senior year was definitely Stiles’ favorite year so far. For so long, it had just been Scott and him. Now, he had a solid group of friends, people he could count on: a pack, or three packs really. Stiles doesn’t remember exactly when it happened, but Isaac was clearly a member of Scott’s pack now. Derek and Boyd were a pack, and Aiden, Ethan, and Danny were their own pack. Team human—Lydia, Allison, and Stiles—was even sort of its own pack. They all worked together, though; so Stiles usually just referred to everyone as his pack.
Looking back through all the bad times, Stiles isn’t sure he would change anything. All of their experiences had led the pack to where it is now. Each individual member is at her/his best, which makes the pack strong.
Stiles searches his mind for one thing he wishes he could change. He comes up with an answer. He blushes knowing how insignificant the detail may seem. How many dances has he attended at school? Four homecomings, one Sadie Hawkins dance, and a junior prom. How many of him did he have a date for? Oh, that’s right: zero. He thinks about how nice it would have been to gone to at least one dance with someone.
Funny enough, his senior prom is just weeks away. After last year’s prom, he would have said that there was no chance in hell that he would go. He’s been dating Derek for weeks now, three weeks to be exact. They had gone on nine dates, and Stiles could recite each of them if anyone asked. They aren’t a couple, though, and Derek is a bit old for high school dances. Even though Stiles is 18, now, wouldn’t it be weird for a 23-year old to attend a high school dance?
He posed this question to Scott three weeks before prom.
“Hey, so, I’ve sort of got this idea in my head and I want to run it by you. I’m not sure you’ll even have any idea if it’s ok or not, but I’ve got to ask someone. I mean, you are basically my brother, so you sort of have to listen anyway…”
“Stiles, I’m going to hang up if you don’t just ask me the question,” Scott interrupted.
“Jeez! Can’t a guy have a little ramble room when he’s nervous?” Stiles retorted.
Scott sighed into the phone. “Fine.”
“It’s cool, I don’t need it,” Stiles answered. “Would it be weird for a 23 year old to take his much younger, infinitely more awkward date…friend…person to a high school dance?”
Scott laughed into the phone.
“So, that’s a ‘no’?” Stiles asked for clarification.
“It’s not a ‘no’,” Scott started. “I was just picturing Derek surrounded by a bunch of over-excited high schoolers. It’s quite comical, actually.”
“So, if you’re picturing it, you think it could actually happen?” Stiles begged for a better answer.
“I think you would have better luck getting Derek to eat a bowl of monkshood flakes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner,” Scott said definitively.
“Well, that’s thoroughly unhelpful,” Stiles complained. “If you’re not going to be constructive, then I’m just going to call Lydia. She’ll know the social constructs much better anyway. Later, bro.”
Stiles clicked off the phone before Scott could answer. His fingers dialed Lydia’s numbers with ease. He quickly poised the same question to Lydia. Her answer was much more useful.
“Technically, the school rules say that no one over the age of 20 can attend the dance,” she explained. “However, seeing as your father is the sheriff and everyone likes him, I don’t think it would be an actual issue. Our classmates, on the other hand, would be immensely jealous. Danny and I will both be going with older men as well, but not as old as Derek. You would be quite the rebel. You know how well that boosts popularity.”
Stiles pondered this for a moment. He wasn’t used to being the center of attention outside of the pack. They were all used to his eccentricities now. “I don’t care about all of that, Lydia. Do you think Derek would say ‘yes’?”
The other line was silent for a full thirty seconds. “Stiles, I think you’d have better luck teaching Calculus to a chimpanzee. But, who knows, he is totally into you. Maybe he would say yes just to make you happy. I’d say it’s unlikely, though.”
“Why does everyone hate me so much?” Stiles asked. “Scott basically said the same thing.”
“Oh, honey,” Lydia pitied. “We love you. We’re just realists.”
“Thank you for that,” Stiles said sarcastically.
“You love me,” Lydia countered.
“I do,” Stiles replied. “Tell Aiden I can hear his discontented grunts through the phone. You two can get back to making out.”
“Thanks, babe,” Lydia said.
“How many times have I asked you not to call me that?” Stiles asked as Lydia ended the call.
So, Stiles’ two best friends both thought that Derek would say ‘no’ to the whole prom idea. He was definitely going to listen to their opinions and not ask Derek to prom. He wouldn’t set himself up for disappointment. Who the hell is he kidding? He wants to go with Derek. Stiles is going to ask anyway.
***
Less than two hours later, Stiles paused the movie he and Derek were watching in the living room. In one motion, he lifted his head off of Derek’s shoulder and snaked his way out from under Derek’s arm. He turned to face Derek and squinted his face questioningly.
“What?” Derek asked.
Stiles bit his bottom lip while trying to find the courage to ask the damn question.
“You know your face will get stuck that way,” Derek teased. “I quite like it the way it normally is.”
The corners of Stiles’ mouth twitched with a hint of a smile, but the battle in his mind prevented him from fully relaxing his face. Derek placed a hand at the base of Stiles’ neck and pulled him in close. Derek nuzzled his nose against Stiles’ before placing a light kiss on Stiles’ lips. Stiles ears turned slightly red.
“You can ask me anything,” Derek said reassuringly.
Stiles closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding in. “We’ve been having a good time these last few nights, right? I mean, I know I have.”
Derek’s face betrayed his slight shock. “Of course we have. Have I made you feel like I haven’t been enjoying our time together?”
Stiles shook his head. “It’s not that. It’s just that…well…senior prom is just over two weeks away, and I’ve never had a date to any dance in the history of ever. I know it’s a silly high school dance and you’re way too old for it, anyway, but I thought, maybe, you might want to go with me so I don’t have to suffer through it by myself.”
“Oh,” Derek muttered. His eyes began to dart around, trying to find the right words. “I…Stiles, I really have enjoyed these last few weeks, but…I…Stiles, I can’t.”
“It’s…it’s no big deal,” Stiles lied. “Forget I mentioned it. It was silly. I know that. Let’s…let’s just watch the movie.”
“Stiles, I…” Derek started, but Stiles had already hit the play button and scooted a good foot away from Derek on the couch.
Stiles’ right leg bounced with nervous energy. He didn’t like the feeling of being turned down by Derek. It hurt, and he could feel the pain building up. Finally, he clicked off the television.
“You know what,” he began. “I’m actually really tired. I think I’m just going to go to bed.”
Derek sighed. “Stiles, I…”
“It’s fine, Derek,” Stiles lied again. “I’m just tired. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Ok,” Derek said unconvinced. He tried to kiss Stiles, who turned his head just slightly enough that Derek kissed his cheek instead. He left the house confused and sorrowful.
Stiles was on his way upstairs to his room when the sheriff called out from the kitchen doorway.
“Sorry, kiddo,” he said. “I know how much you were hoping he’d say ‘yes’.”
Stiles shrugged.
“I don’t want to seem like I’m taking the wrong side here, but can I offer an outsider’s observation?” the sheriff asked.
Stiles gave him a short nod—one of those nods children give their parents because they know the parents are going to say something whether they have permission or not.
“Derek is 23,” the sheriff began.
“I know how old the guy I’m dating is, Dad,” Stiles interrupted. The sheriff gave him a stern look. “Sorry. Please, continue.”
“One, it’s illegal for him to take you to the dance. Two, why on Earth would someone want to go back to high school after they’ve already been out for five years? And, three, just because he doesn’t want to go to the dance with you, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t care about you.”
“I know all of those things, and it still hurts,” Stiles confessed.
“And I’m just saying that hurting you wasn’t his intention,” the sheriff clarified.
“I know,” Stiles admitted. “It just hu…” Stiles paused, running a hand through his hair, “I just need to sleep.”
The sheriff allowed Stiles to make his way up the stairs this time. Within minutes, he was curled up in bed with his head on a pillow. If a few tears stained that pillow, Stiles felt they were perfectly acceptable.
***
“Dude, I told you that would happen,” Scott gloated the next morning at school. “He’s not the ‘school dance’ kind of guy.”
“He’s supposed to be the ‘likes Stiles’ kind of guy,” Stiles pouted.
“He IS the ‘likes Stiles’ kind of guy, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to do every little thing you want him to do,” Lydia stated.
“Well, this isn’t just a little thing,” Stiles defended.
“Did you make sure he knew that?” she asked.
Stiles paused.
“See, you didn’t,” Lydia guessed. “You probably played it off like it was no big deal. How was he supposed to know how important it was to you? You are allowed to be honest about your feelings.”
“I guess you’re right,” Stiles admitted. “I could always try again tonight.”
“Exactly,” Lydia agreed.
***
That night, Stiles drove over to Derek’s loft as they had planned a few nights before. He stepped timidly onto the lift that would take him up to Derek’s front door. This was the closest thing resembling a fight they had ever had yet. He didn’t know what to expect.
When he opened the door, Derek smiled brightly. “You came!”
Stiles shrugged. “We had plans, didn’t we?”
“I thought that, after last night, you might have not wanted to see me,” Derek admitted, blushing slightly. Even though he’s hurt, Stiles took a moment to catalogue Derek’s blushed cheeks into his memory because, damn, that was adorable.
“I sort of wanted to talk about that again, if we could,” Stiles said.
“We can always talk about things, Stiles,” Derek promised.
“I know I sort of rambled on about how it’s just a silly high school dance and all, but it isn’t to me,” Stiles explained. “Most years, it was always just me and Scott going stag together. I didn’t care. This year, the whole pack will be there: Scott and Allison, Lydia and Aiden, Danny and Ethan, and even Isaac and Boyd have dates. I don’t want to be the only one alone, and I don’t want to go with anyone who isn’t you. It would be the whole pack together, having a great time. What’s so bad about that?”
“Nothing at all,” Derek answered. “You wouldn’t let me speak last night. It’s not that I don’t want to take you, Stiles. I just can’t. The school would never allow it.”
“Yeah, so I really don’t care about some stupid school rule,” Stiles protested, smiling widely at the idea that Derek wants to take him to the dance. “The fact that you do is slightly adorable, but we’ve done so much illegal shit at that school, I hardly think this will be a problem.”
“There normally aren’t teachers and chaperones there when we’re there,” Derek argued.
“Well, we’ll make my dad chaperone, and no one will say anything about it,” Stiles decided. “Wait, so you really want to go with me?”
“Of course I want to go with you, Stiles,” Derek said. “If you think it can work, then let’s do it.”
“Oh, it’ll work,” Stiles assured.
***
Prom night finally arrived two Saturdays later. The sheriff and Melissa must have taken 1,200 pictures of the group before they could finally escape. The whole pack went out to dinner together before the big dance at a nice, little Italian restaurant in town.
The dance itself was fairly spectacular. It should have been, too; Lydia was the chairwoman of the prom committee and insisted on an Oscar-like experience for everyone. The prom committee even hired fake paparazzi to photograph all of the guests as they entered and danced around the amazingly transformed gymnasium.
Red carpets lined the floor of the gym and velvet ropes were placed at every entrance, exit, and punch bowl. A large projector screen on one end played a never-ending slideshow of pictures of the entire senior class. A live band played popular hits throughout the night and no one could stop dancing. Everyone traded partners repeatedly—dancing with friends is fun, too. During one of the slow songs, Stiles and Derek were finally back together, arms wrapped around each other’s waists and faces just inches apart.
“Well, is it everything you hoped for?” Derek asked quietly.
Stiles closed the distance and kissed Derek lightly on the lips. “Definitely. You don’t seem to be hating this,” Stiles pointed out.
“Why would I?” Derek asked. “Look at all the paparazzi that are clearly here for me.” Stiles laughed. “And, all of my friends are here.” Stiles smiled. “Oh, and I get to dance with my incredibly attractive boyfriend.”
Stiles heart skipped a beat.
“I heard that,” Derek said smiling.
“Did you just call me your boyfriend?” Stiles asked.
Derek blushed again and, wow, Stiles is just never going to get over how adorable that is. “Is that a problem?”
“Derek, I’ve had a crush on you since the day I met you. We’ve been friends for a long time now. We’ve gone on some fairly awesome dates. You’re funny, snarky, smart, and sexy as hell. No, it’s not a problem,” Stiles answered. “In fact, I think I could get used to the sound of that.”
“Me too,” Derek agreed.
Derek started to pull Stiles into another kiss, but Stiles turned away toward his classmates. “Hey, everyone, I am attractive to gay guys!” Stiles shouted with a huge smile on his face.
He just started a celebratory dance when Derek pulls him in close. “Shut up,” he said teasingly. He placed his hands on the sides of Stiles face and kisses him. They must have kissed for a while because someone started whistling and making catcalls. Derek and Stiles broke apart smiling. They grabbed hands and walked out to Derek’s Camaro.
“Do you want to stay at the loft with me tonight?” Derek asked as they were getting in the car.
“I’d love to,” Stiles answered. “But, we’re not having sex.”
“Ok,” Derek said.
“I mean it,” Stiles claimed. “Just because we’re boyfriends now doesn’t mean we’re having sex.”
“Stiles, I know,” Derek assured him.
“Derek, it’s prom night. I’m not going to be some cliché,” Stiles warned. “I’m not having sex with you.”
“That’s perfectly fine, Stiles,” Derek promised.
“Maybe just a blowjob,” Stiles contemplated.
“Well, if you insist,” Derek teased.
Stiles laughed. “Oh, I do.”
“Who am I to argue, then,” Derek asked jokingly.
Stiles really would always remember senior year as the best year of high school!