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A week has passed since that day with Stiles and since that day, Derek hasn’t seen or heard from Stiles. He hasn’t spoken to him, hasn’t made eye contact with him from across a room, nothing.

And it is all Derek’s fault.

Since that text, Derek has had no idea what to do to initiate a conversation with Stiles. It’s not like Stiles hasn’t tried, he has, but with every text he receives from Stiles, Derek’s mind draws a blank. Then he would end up staring at his phone, trying to find the proper words to reply. He would stare so long that time would run up and then it would have been too late to even consider replying.

Derek shakes his head, looking down at the ball he has been bouncing for a while now. He bounces it from one hand to the next, before raising it, arching it wrist and watches as the basketball fly through the air and into the hoop.

A perfect shot.

He runs to the ball as it bounces against the floor, picking up a pace once more. He makes another shot just as flashes of honey brown eyes, soft pink lips and a wicked smirk plays through his head.

He misses.

Angry, Derek grabs the ball and with a loud grunt, he throws it across the room.

Hands flash up and catches it.

Shocked, Derek looks up, his eyes slowly trailing up strong, muscular forearms, a leather jacket and then he flickers his eyes up all the way, locking onto the mischievous brown eyes.

“Now, it that any way to treat your balls.” Stiles comments.

Derek opens his mouth and then closes it with a sharp snap.

Stiles smirks at him, walking towards Derek as he bounces the ball on the floor, from one hand and to the next.

“So,” Stiles sounds out. “Have you really been ditching your friends to play all alone with yourself?”

“Well,” Derek smirks over at him. “You’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?”

The looks Stiles gives him, causes his mouth to go dry.

Derek swallows, running his eyes over Stiles body, taking in the lack of tight pants. Instead, Stiles is dressed in a cargo pants, black with combat boots. The entire boot is laced up, his pants tugged into it, military style.

Now, as much as he would love to say he doesn’t stare at Stiles that much, even he know this is not Stiles’ usual look.

“What’s with the outfit?” Derek asks.

Stiles looks down at his clothes before shrugging at Derek. “The crew is doing a gig. Lydia wanted me to try the outfit, see if I can move in them.”

Derek nods, taking the ball from Stiles. “And can you?”

He turns around, making a hoop. Doing anything that would be a distraction. He can feel Stiles’ eyes on him as he continues on to play, and it sets his nerves on end, makes him shiver and frustratingly he misses a shot once more.

“Aren’t you supposed to be the best around here?”

Derek glares over at him.

Stiles lets out am exasperated sigh. “Oh come on, really? Are we back to this?”

“What did you want, Stiles?” Derek forces out aggressively, the only way he can seem to talk to Stiles without his brain short circuiting.

Stiles narrows his eyes and Derek can see his jaw flex. They continues to stare at one another, Derek holding his glare, using his stuttering heart as a reason to appear angry. He’s hated this about Stiles since the moment they met. Stiles’ ability to tip him off his equilibrium, his ability to make him stutter and lose his train of thought, make him into this stumbling idiot that he is.

“Nothing, Derek.” Stiles sighs.

He looks at the ball in Derek’s hand, motioning his hand in a ‘give it’ gesture. Derek flicks his wrist, tossing the ball to him. Stiles catches it easily, bouncing the ball for a short while.

He raises his arms, tossing the ball through the air. Derek turns and watches with amazement as the ball soars across the room and lands perfectly in the hoop. Spinning around he regards Stiles with a raised eye brow.

“Since when can you play?”

Stiles smirks. “You gonna stay long here?”

Derek’s expression falls at the question, his easy demeanor returning back to the cautious and suspicious one.

“Why?”

The brunette only smirks, moving his feet back as he slowly walks backwards towards the door.

“When you are done… Come to the Dance Studio.”

And with that he turns around, never looking back as he walks out.

Derek stands frozen, looking down at his sweet clothes. It’s after school, Malia is probably still busy in the library but he isn’t sure if the rest of the crew is with Stiles. As much as he wants to avoid them, Derek knows he can’t. Giving that The Alpha’s now sit where Derek’s friends sit during lunch.

Even if he had been prepared beforehand for it, when he had walked towards the cafeteria doors that day, seems his once sparse table filled with laughing and smiling faces, it had all been too much. Watching, Erica interact with Lydia and Allison, watching Scott and Isaac talk with Stiles while Boyd- Boyd!- seemed to actually participate in the conversation while Malia had her head on the table fast asleep…

The entire image had been too much, so he left. He went to eat his lunch outside and the next day, he spend his lunch hour in the library. And so on and so forth…

 

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Derek swallows down the nervous lump in his throat, trying to wet his sand-paper throat as he pushes open the Studio doors.

He lets out small sigh when he finds it empty, all except for Stiles who stops mid-way from doing a sit up.

The boy turns around and smirks at him. “Well you sure took your sweet time.”

Derek glares at him. “I had to shower.”

Stiles lets out a loud sigh, falling dramatically to the ground. “Oh thank God! I wasn’t sure if I should mention how much you stank.”

“Now you know how I feel.” Derek retorts.

Stiles head snaps over to him. “Are you implying I stink?”

“Yes.”

Stiles gapes at him, before springing to his feet. “You know the smell of sweat use to be considered a very manly thing.” He says all the while walking to a white towel to wipe the sweat away and Derek doesn’t miss the subtly sniff he gives under his armpits as he does so.

“Yes… Back in Ancient Rome.”

“Well, excuse me, Greek God.” Stiles rolls his eyes.

Derek ignores the underlined compliment and takes to look around the room. He has never actually been inside and even if he has a small window to look through… He wasn’t necessarily look at the room.

The entire area seems sparse, bare of anything but that would be to the naked eyed. In addition to the long mirror, which is technical a requirement, there are three large posters of competitions The Alpha’s have done and won, a small case that holds various trophies, a small area, near the corner of one wall, where the mirror ended, is a long line of what looks like photo’s.

Derek turns around, seeing that each corner has something. In one corner where the photos are is a table and a chair, to the left in the other corner is a yoga mat, in the next is a punching bag and shockingly enough, between the yoga and punching bag, maybe a little to the center of the room is a… Stripping Pole?

“That’s Lydia’s.”

Derek spins around to see Stiles standing behind him with a smirk.

At Derek’s bewildered and confused expression, Stiles continues to explain.

“It’s nothing weird. After giving up Ballet, she kinda wanted to keep her flexibility, so she got a pole to help her with that.”

Derek nods, still slightly shocked that the school allowed it in here. He walks closer to the desk, where the photos are. Stopping in front of them, Derek takes in the smiling faces of The Alpha’s. In every single photo they are smiling, goofing off. There is one with Lydia on Allison’s shoulders, her legs spread apart with Malia peeking out between them.

The smile on his cousin’s face makes him smile too.

“Three years of memories.” Stiles says beside him.

And memories they are. Happy ones from the looks of it.

Looking away, Derek taking in the room again.

“What’s with the mat?” He asks, pointing to the Yoga mat.

Stiles, who has been staring at him, spins around to where Derek is pointing.

“Oh, uh, though we all have dancing in common, we all have our own things. So, to kinda help with that we each took a corner. We have the desk, which is for Scott when he’s making a track, we have the yoga mat which is for Allison when she wants to clear her head, the pole for Lydia when she wants to ignore the world around her, the punching bag is for me and then…”

Stiles makes a full circle, stretching his arms out to point to the middle of the dance for. “We have the dancer floor for Malia.”

Derek nods, taking in the new information.

Silence falls between them, only there is no sexual tension, there is only comfort. Derek can see Stiles looking at him from the corner of his eye but he keeps his eyes out in front of him, looking at the mat, the space Malia uses, the pole…

“How did you get the school to put a pole in?”

Stiles lets out a bark of laughter, moving across the dance floor before plopping down, with his legs stretched out in front of him. He nods the space beside him but Derek takes a seat by his feet. Stiles sighs and shakes his head.

However, he answers Derek. “We have won a lot of competitions for the school but we also do our own stuff, the money we get for those gig’s we all split and with what we have left, we add it and use it for the studio. We kinda own it, thanks to your mom but Principle Thomas said that we can do whatever we want and that it’s ours.”

Derek nods but his attention is elsewhere. He focuses on the way Stiles’ eyes run over the entire room in wonder as if he can’t believe his own story, the way Stiles’ eyes brightens up when he speaks about the accomplishments…

It’s a look, Derek never wants to see fade.

“You doing anything tonight?” He blurts out.

Stiles’ head snaps over to him and his eyes widen.

Derek bits his tongue, wincing. He wants to open his mouth, explain that he didn’t mean it like that but this is it, this is the moment he has always wanted and he sure as hell isn’t going to be a chicken shit about it.

Clearing his throat, he continues. “It’s Friday and… well Malia usually comes over to my house for dinner but… If you want to come you’re more than welcome.”

Stiles narrows his eyes. “Doesn’t your family hate me?”

“No, only Laura. Malia explained what happened between you two to my mom and me, and Cora honestly doesn’t care, so…”

Stiles nods, but says nothing.

“Look, I know…” Derek pauses, trying to find the right words. “I know we haven’t spoken about that night and we haven’t spoken at all since the text.”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Stiles snaps.

Derek winces, willing himself not to glare.

“I tried speaking with you after that night, you came back to school with a scowl and a stick up your ass, wouldn’t look at me and ignored me when I tried talking with you for at least two weeks.”

Derek lips his lips. “I know. I was an ass and I’m sorry for that.”

“You damn right you were an ass.”

“Stiles” Derek sighs in frustration because he is trying here.

He knows Stiles is riding this out, purposefully making Derek feel awkward, and Derek knows he deserves it but he is trying. He’s had a tough break with everything that happened between Stiles, with Laura moving, with his dad and his mom…

“Okay, now I’m being an ass. Sorry.”

Derek looks over to the brunette. “You wanna come with to dinner? Malia would actually like it if you were there.”

Stiles purses his lips, narrowing his eyes at Derek. “If I go with, you gonna go back to ignoring me?”

Derek shakes his head.

“Fine, then I’ll get changed and then we can leave.”

Derek says nothing, only nods and then stands up. He pulls out his cell, looking down and away from Stiles as he gets changed out of his workout clothes and into his jeans, shirt and flannel. He sends text to Malia, letting her know Stiles is coming and that they will meet her outside by his car.

“Ready.”

Derek turns to nod at Stiles and they both silently walk out of the Dance Studio. His heart is pounding against his chest, and Derek shoves his clenched fists into the pockets of his jacket to try and hide his shaky hands. He can feel Stiles looking at him from the corner of his eyes but Derek doesn’t check.

“So, should I just drive my jeep behind you guy? Cause I need to go home real quick.”

Derek looks over to Stiles.

He takes in a subtle breath before speaking. “How about we drive to your house, you get ready and do whatever it is you need to do, take my car back to my house and then I will drop you off when dinner is done.

Stiles smirks as if he knows something Derek doesn’t before he shrugs casually. “Fine by me.”

Suddenly a heavy weight jumps onto his back, long legs wrap around his waist tightly. When he catching the whiff of Jasmine, he rolls his eyes.

“You need to stop jumping on me, Malia.” He says, grateful for the distraction.

He jostles her a little before gripping onto the underside her knees to keep her in place as she wraps her arms tightly around his neck.

“I was excited that Stiles is coming with.” She says, and Derek feel her turn her head to looks at Stiles. “You are gonna love Talia’s food.”

Stiles smiles at her. “She did make that awesome cupcakes for us last month so I am definitely looking forward to it.”

Malia snorts. “Yeah, I’m sure that’s the only reason you’re coming.”

Derek squeezes Malia’s legs are tightly as he could, silently being her to shut up or change the subject.

“Malia…” Stiles drags her name out with a sigh. “There is only ever been one reason why I come and I can tell you… it’s not your aunt’s food.”

“God, Stiles!” Malia groans in disgust.

All Derek can do is swallow, glancing over to Stiles. He meets the honey brown orbs and the knowing smirk head on. Holding the eye contact for a while, knowing that even if they have semi-cleared the air between them… Stiles is going to use every opportunity he has to rile Derek up, using the new found ‘openness’ to his advantage.

Derek can only hope, he is ready for it.