Work Text:
John fidgeted with his tie and scowled in the mirror. He'd been tying ties for years now; you'd think he'd be able to get it right on the first try.
He yanked it off and put it on again, his fingers fumbling with the fabric. For God's sake, this was ridiculous.
He stalked out into the living room, where Stiles and Derek were cuddled up on the couch watching Netflix, and held up the tie. "Do you really think I need this for a date?"
Stiles rubbed his nose with a tissue and frowned. "Aren't you taking Melissa to some fancy Italian place? Like, the kind that will kick you out if you don't have a tie?"
John rubbed the back of his neck. "I'm starting to regret these reservations."
"I've got a clip-on you can borrow," Stiles offered.
Derek gently swatted him across the back of the head.
Stiles squawked. "What was that for? Why are you hitting your poor, sick boyfriend?"
"Because my poor, sick boyfriend offered his dad a clip-on tie." Derek sounded appalled at the thought.
John glared at the tie. "At this point, I think I'd
take it."
"You don't really need one," Derek said. "Just unbutton the top button of your shirt. It'll be fine."
"Yeah, just give Melissa a little peek," Stiles said, wiggling his eyebrows.
John rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "I thought you were going to bed early because you were sick."
Stiles balked. "I meant by, like, ten. It's only 6:45!"
6:45?! John glanced at his watch. "Aw, crap, I'm going to be late."
Stiles flapped his hands. "Go, go! Leave the tie, have fun with Melissa, be home by eleven."
John groaned. "Stiles."
"What?! You spent an entire year lecturing me and Derek every time we went out, turnabout is totally fair play."
John jabbed a finger at himself. "Dad." He pointed to Stiles and Derek. "Sons. That means I make the rules and you follow them."
Stiles sank into the couch and grumbled something about unfairness, while Derek's ears turned pink and he tried to hide it by resting his head on Stiles's.
John walked over and patted them both on the head. "Don't stay up too late. And I will be home by midnight."
"Just saying, if Melissa invites you in for coffee, it would be rude to—" Stiles started.
"Stop," John cut him off. "Please."
Derek let out a cough that sounded remarkably like a muffled laugh.
"Okay, fine, have a great night, Daddy-o," Stiles said. "We'll see you later."
"Good night, boys," John said, and hurried out the door to the car.
The drive to Melissa's house wasn't long. It was, however, just long enough that John's hands were shaking by the time he pulled into her driveway.
This was truly ridiculous. He hadn't
been this nervous about a date since...since...
He looked down at his left hand, where the small band of skin at the base of his ring finger was still a few shades paler than the rest of his hand.
John rubbed the skin with his thumb. "I don't remember being this nervous with you."
He swore he could hear Claudia laugh. Okay. Maybe his memories were a little rose-colored.
He took a deep breath and knocked on the front door.
Melissa opened it, and John nearly swallowed his tongue. She wore a red dress and her hair loose and he was honestly having trouble getting words to happen.
"You look..." He stopped, because nothing he could think of sounded accurate. "Amazing," he finally finished. "More than amazing, actually."
Melissa laughed. "Why, thank you, Sheriff." Her eyes swept over him appreciatively. "You clean up pretty well yourself."
The back of his neck heated up, and John prayed she couldn't see that he was blushing. He held out his arm. "Shall we?"
Melissa slid her hand into the crook of his arm and stepped up close. "I think we shall."
"I have to warn you," John said, "I'm a little rusty at this dating thing."
Melissa squeezed his arm with a grin. "That's okay. I am, too. We'll figure it out together, yeah?"
John took a deep breath and realized that all his nerves were suddenly gone. "Yeah, I think we will."