simonvsblue (emissarystiles)
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Summary
Stiles is more than a pretty face, Derek feels like it’s going to ruin him.
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“Not that it’s any of your god damn business, but my name is Stiles. Do you need something?”
The alpha grins. All teeth, shiny white, straight as an arrow. He’s got this sculpted perfection to him that Stiles is sure has worked on all the omegas he’s ever encountered before, but Stiles stands his ground and narrows his eyes. “A date.”
Stiles looks him up and down, slowly, from the black shoes on his feet, to his uniform khakis and blazer littered with pins, to his face. He frowns, makes a face, and says, “pass.”
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Lydia looks over her shoulder to look at Derek Hale again, then back to him. “He’s an asshole, you know.”
“You think I don’t know that?” Stiles is confused, furrowing his brow. “I’ve only spent the last ten years of my life fighting with him.”
“Yeah, but, I mean, he’s an asshole,” she draws the word out nice and long, as if it takes on a different meaning depending on exactly how she says it. “No one who has ever dated or hooked up with that guy has ever had anything nice to say about him after the fact.”
“What do I care about that?”
She looks at him. It’s that all-knowing, all-seeing gaze, like the eye of Mordor. Stiles feels tiny under its wrath, so he looks away and stares down at his beer can, traces the design with his thumb. “I know you, Stiles Stilinski.”
“Not really. We only dated for, like, five months.”
With a snort, totally uncharacteristic of her and something she would never do sober, she rolls her eyes. “Gee, I wonder why.”
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“Tell me you’re not seriously with Derek Hale.”
Stiles pretends to check that the guitar is in tune (of course it is, they tune all of these before he shows up), and then makes a face like he has no idea what Scott is talking about. To sell it, he says as much out loud. “Who?”
“Who?” Scott’s eyebrows disappear into his hairline, his mouth falling open in shock that Stiles would be so bold as to deny it. “Stiles, that guy is an asshole.”
“That’s fine,” Stiles waves it off, “because I’m not with him, so it doesn’t matter.”
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The house on West 28th Street in London is twice the size of Louis', more expensive than the price of all of his house and car payments combined, and is falling apart at the seams.
Bookmarked by simonvsblue (emissarystiles)
22 Jan 2021