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Stiles Stilinski would call himself a starving artist except for the simple facts that he is neither starving, nor does he know anything about art (unless you consider a novelist an artist, which Stiles only does sometimes). So when his best friend insists he accompany him to a show in the city, Stiles thinks it will probably be the most boring evening of his life.
“Or, you know, you could come by my place. It’s probably closer to where you are right now, actually.”
Derek chuckles. “Stiles.”
“You’re not really as subtle as you think you are.”
“Oh, you thought I was trying to be subtle? Let me try again.” He clears his throat dramatically and cleans over the counter, glancing over his shoulder to make sure Allison and the others aren’t listening. “I would very, very much enjoy your company again. Preferably naked.”