Stiles joins the gym for the same reason that he does most other things--because Scott makes him.
He claims that it can be their new ‘bro time’ because while Kira minds Scott leaving her with two year old Emi for StilesandScott video game time, she has no problem at all with StilesandScott gym time.
Something about abs and too much pizza that Stiles didn’t really pay much attention too.
Plus, Scott says that since they’re not in college lacrosse anymore they need to keep working out somehow.
Which Stiles doesn’t necessarily agree with, but he goes anyways.
And then he sees The Butt.
The most perfect butt in the word that’s attached to the most gorgeous man in the world.
The Butt (and of course, the guy attached to it) is always on the stairmaster at precisely eight pm on weekdays, climbing that thing like his life depends on it.
Well, all Stiles has to do is snag the treadmill in the second row towards the wall, and he’s left with the best view.
He could look at that thing every day for the rest of his life.
Which he ends up doing, more days than not since he’s joined the gym.
Stiles and Scott usually get to the gym around seven, lift weights, do crunches and jump rope for about an hour. Usually Bootylicious is already there, lifting weights, sitting on the rowing machine, or really just standing there, looking like a fucking Greek God.
And then, of course, at eight o'clock Stiles spends a glorious hour hour on the treadmill behind the King of Glutes.
Needless to say, he’s gotten pretty fucking fit over the last two months. He has actual ab outlines. Sorta.
And, he’s not bragging, but he’s pretty sure his butt is something worth staring at now.
It’s the worst. He can’t remember the last time he just vegged at home.
Is this how other people get sucked into going to the gym?
If Stiles owned a gym, he would pay Handsomus Maximus to just hang around showing that thing off.
Maybe in a Captain America outfit.
It would be great for business.
The only complaint he really has is that the guy never seems to stick around after his workout.
He doesn’t go into the locker room, doesn’t shower there, just grabs his keys and water bottle and drives off in a sleek black Camaro that doesn’t make Stiles hot and bothered at all.
And yes, he knows he’s being supremely creepy, but he would cut off his left arm and offer it up to the Gods if he could get a view of that ass in the showers.
Or even just covered by a thin towel.
Is that really too much to ask for?
“You bought an eggplant.” Scott is looking at him disapprovingly, but since Stiles is spotting him, he’s upside down and just looks goofy. “You got five steaks and an eggplant for dinner?”
Stiles sighs and pinches his brow. “I do not understand how you could be upset with me right now.”
“You bought Kira an eggplant Stiles.”
“You told me she was trying to be a vegetarian.” Stiles bursts out, two seconds away from actually pulling his own hair out.
“Stiles, that was over like, a month ago. Do you even listen to the things I say to you?”
He totally does. Definitely. Listening to your best friend is a number one must do item.
Except, you know, when Perfect Booty is in the house.
Which, he nearly always is when Scott and Stiles are at the gym.
So honestly, anything Scott ever says to him these days only has about a fifty percent chance of sticking.
Which is probably why he missed the memo that Kira gave up on the vegetarian thing not even a week after attempting it. Stiles looks over at Beautiful Bubble Butt a couple machines away, and figures he’s definitely in hearing range.
Which means he can’t exactly explain himself. Not right now.
“I can buy another steak, Scott. The dinner’s not for another two nights.” He says finally, hoping Scott will just drop it.
Scott sits up and makes his confused, patented puppy face, complete with the slight head tilt. “Who even likes eggplants?”
Stiles shrugs. Just because their dinners tend to mainly consist of meat and potatoes that doesn’t mean everyone else eats that way.
“Actually, uh, eggplants are great sources of minerals and are really good for your heart.” Someone cuts in then, and holy shit its Terrific Tushy. And he’s talking to Stiles. “Plus, if made right, eggplant parmesan can be heavenly.”
Scott looks confused.
Stiles wants to coo. Who actually uses the word ‘heavenly’?
Cutie Patootie is blushing now, and Stiles abandons any sort of conversation with Scott. Let it be known that he knows how to seize an opportunity.
“That sounds like an offer.” He says not-so-smoothly, walking closer and waggling his eyebrows at Mr. Fantasstic. “Are you offering to cook for me?”
Buns of Steel actually smiles and holy shit, there’s dimples and cheekbones and bunny teeth and sparkling green eyes, and how the fuck is Stiles supposed to make thoughts anymore?
Somehow cooking eggplant parmesan turns into a full on food fight, and suddenly Stiles and Derek are licking marinara sauce off each other. It wasn’t exactly whipped cream, but anything would taste good being licked off of Derek’s washboard abs.
Stiles manages to get his hands all over Dat Ass not even a whole minute later--on Derek’s kitchen floor no less.
It’s messy and then it’s sticky and Stiles has never been happier.
It’s a pretty perfect date.