“Why do you always call me when I’m on a date?”
“What? I do not,” Derek denies quickly, not giving Stiles even a second to dwell on that question. If Stiles dwells on it, he’ll start thinking about it too much and realize Derek’s got ulterior motives when it comes to his phone calls regarding convenient supernatural issues that need attention.
“Yeah, buddy, you really do. Worst timing ever,” Stiles says, his tone slightly frustrated as he lowers his voice. “What’s up?”
“Jordan said there’s something suspicious in the alley behind La Salle’s.” Derek really hopes Stiles doesn’t actually follow up with Jordan until Derek can text him with this information. “I just thought I’d tell you to be careful.”
“Do you need me to check it out? I can go get something out of my car and take a quick look back there, if you want?” Stiles sounds like he wants to help, and Derek feels a slight frisson of guilt for lying to him. Of course, he’s deliberately just told Stiles to be careful because he knows Stiles won’t resist becoming involved.
“No, don’t worry about it. Jordan will check it out. I don’t want to interrupt your date, after all.” Derek is so grateful that Stiles can’t tell he’s lying.
“Dude, it’s totally fine. The date’s not going well anyway,” Stiles admits, voice softening. “He was rude to the waitress, Derek. She’s very nice and helpful, and he’s a jerkface. I don’t care if he’s hot. I’m not letting some asshole who is rude to people all up in this.”
“Don’t call me dude. Anyway, if you’re looking for an excuse, you can check it out.” Derek is not fist pumping. Not at all. His arm just slipped, and his fingers curled into a fist by accident.
God, he’s pathetic.
“Thanks, big guy. I’ll call you if I find anything. I don’t need to wait for Jordan, do I?” Stiles asks curiously. “I mean, usually you’d be snapping at me for rushing off into danger or something by now.”
“It’s probably nothing,” Derek tells him, reaching down to pull his boots on. “I should be there in a couple of minutes, so just wait for me at the Jeep.”
“I thought Jordan was coming?” Stiles makes an annoyed noise. “Just a minute, Derek. My date’s back from the bathroom.”
Derek hears muffled voices, listening to Stiles lie about an emergency that’s going to require cutting the date short. Derek takes the stairs down to the ground level, keeping his phone by his ear as he runs downtown to the fancy restaurant where Stiles is dining tonight. “Stiles?” he asks, hearing a noise before it’s muffled again.
“Yeah, sorry, Derek. I thought he was about to force me to pay the bill instead of splitting it like we’d planned. Thank God for whatever’s in the alley for saving me from that,” he mutters. “Alright, I’m outside now. You almost here?”
“Almost.” Derek focuses and runs faster, spotting Stiles and slowing down. Before he remembers the phone is still on, he murmurs, “You look good.”
“What?” Stiles looks around, flailing and dropping his phone. When he spots Derek, he grins and bends down to pick it up.
“Didn’t break it again, did you?” Derek asks, turning his phone off and sliding it into his pocket.
“Nope. It’s good. I got one of those Otter Box things, so it’s supposed to protect it from like almost everything.” Stiles puts his phone in his back pocket, which makes his shirt tighten around his abdomen.
So pathetic. Laura would laugh her ass off if she were here watching this. Derek looks away, clenching his jaw and flaring his nostrils as he smells Stiles’ sweet scent. “Did your date leave?”
“Huh? Oh, yeah. He wasn’t feeling it, either. He wanted a daddy not a twink,” Stiles mockingly says, obviously quoting the date. “I didn’t feel like arguing stereotypes and pointing out that I might be slender and reasonably good-looking in a boy next door way, but I’m not a twink looking for some big man to put me in my place.”
“Maybe you should take a break from dating,” he suggests casually, walking around the side of the restaurant and listening to Stiles fall in step beside him. “Your luck is nearly as bad as mine.”
“Maybe you’re right.” Stiles sighs, running his fingers through his hair as he stares in front of them. Derek sneaks a look at his profile, gaze lingering on the moles dotted across his face. “I’m just tired of being alone, you know? I’m twenty-three, and I have a stable job, a decent loft with a pretty awesome landlord, and I’m ready for a real relationship.”
“I know.” Derek looks away and scowls at the alley when they enter it. “You do have an awesome landlord.”
“Smartass,” Stiles mutters, punching his arm and grinning before he shines the flashlight on his phone around the alley. “Did Jordan mention what was suspicious?”
“Nope.” Derek isn’t even lying since Jordan didn’t actually call him in the first place. He steps forward and looks around, scanning the area before looking back at Stiles. “Doesn’t appear to be anything here.”
“Maybe it left?” Stiles looks around thoughtfully. “Did Jordan get a call at the station or something? I mean, if he’d seen something himself, he’d have just stopped and checked it out.”
“He didn’t specify.” Derek puts his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket and frowns. “Do you want food?”
Stiles focuses those pretty eyes on him and stares at him for a moment longer than is comfortable. His lips twitch slightly before he shrugs. “Sure, I could eat. I mean, this suspicious noise that happened to be heard behind the very restaurant I was eating in ended my date before we could order dinner.”
“It’s an interesting coincidence,” Derek agrees, keeping his face impassive. Stiles is staring at him like he’s got the secrets to the universe written on his face, and one twitch could betray him.
“Yes, it is,” Stiles says slowly. “Sort of like how the witch sighting happened when I was on the blind date last week, and the goblin appearance happened when I was meeting the guy from Match dot com, and, you know, I’m starting to realize that I could go on. You really are always calling me during my dates.”
“Odd.” Derek arches his brow and just stares Stiles down, knowing any hint of weakness will result in Stiles going for blood. He might be the werewolf, but Stiles is definitely the predator out of the two of them.
“Isn’t it?” Stiles narrows his eyes, but Derek just gives him an unimpressed look. It usually makes Stiles look away and mutter. Tonight, it just makes him stare more intently. “It’s lucky that I haven’t really liked any of my dates, isn’t it? If I had, it wouldn’t have mattered if we’d been interrupted by supernatural weirdness. One of these nights, there might be a date that I want to continue.”
Derek grinds his teeth at the idea of Stiles actually meeting someone he likes well enough to form a relationship with instead of just becoming another bad date story to tell the pack. He finally nods once. “There might be.”
“That’s all you have to say?” Stiles flails then, the scent of frustration and hurt wafting off of him. He slowly pulls himself together and looks at Derek. “You don’t get to do this, Derek. I spent years waiting, trying to impress or be enough, and it never was. I never was. I finally decide to give up the dream so I can move on and find someone who actually is interested in me, but you decide I can’t even have that? I’m over it. I can’t keep waiting for you to get your head out of your ass and accept what I’m offering.”
“What you’re offering?” Derek repeats carefully, eyebrows shifting into a confused vee. “You’ve been flirting with me, badly most of the time, since you were sixteen. What else are you talking about?”
“You—seriously?—what?—I—Fuck.” Stiles stalks forward, pushing Derek against the brick wall of the building and leaning up to press their mouths together. Derek tenses for a moment, his brain taking a moment to catch up with the action, but then he’s leaning into the kiss, gripping Stiles’ hips and returning the kiss because he can’t resist Stiles. Not like this.
The kiss starts off forceful, too many emotions like anger and frustration guiding it, but it gradually becomes softer, gentler. Stiles moves his lips, his hand reaching up to grip the nape of Derek’s neck, his tongue flicking out to trace Derek’s mouth. Eventually, Derek parts his lips, licking at Stiles’ mouth, letting Stiles deepen the kiss, following his lead because he’s scared he’s going to do something to ruin this. Stiles licks into his mouth, making a soft noise that causes Derek’s fingers to flex against Stiles’ hips. It's their first kiss, and he doesn't want it to end.
When they pull apart, Stiles stares at him, eyes shiny, face flushed, lips wet and swollen. “We could have been doing that years ago, asshole,” he says, his tone slightly awed as if he’s only just realized Derek’s ass over head for him. To be so brilliant, he’s rather oblivious. “Why didn’t you ever say anything?”
Derek frowns. “You talk. I listen.” He shrugs when Stiles gapes at him. “I thought it was obvious,” he finally mutters, feeling warmth spreading over the top of his ears.
“It wasn’t,” Stiles points out, tugging his head down for another kiss. Short and sweet this time. “You are taking me to dinner now, and we’re going to a movie after so we can make out in the back row like normal dating couples. And we’re going on another date tomorrow because that’s what tonight is, Derek. It’s a date. Tomorrow will be the first second date I’ve wanted, and supernatural bullshit better not happen, damn it.”
“Okay,” Derek says softly, stroking his thumb under Stiles’ shirt and rubbing warm skin. “It’s a date.” He smiles slightly, a little too nervous to let himself get too happy just yet, but unable to stop the feeling of joy he’s currently experiencing. “I don’t think we’ll have to worry about interruptions.”