Re dating a tumbling tumbling dickweed


19-Oct-2018 21:28

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He glances over at the gym teacher to see him flirting awkwardly with the girl’s teacher, unaware of the levels of treachery happening on the track, and Stiles remembers that Boyd and Erica are pretty close with Derek too, just before his arms give out and he falls face down with a groan. * Stiles is mildly relieved when he follows Scott into the bowling alley later that week and finds that it’s not just going to be him, Scott and Allison after all. ” She looks over at him, eyeing Derek up appreciatively. “I’m only looking out of self-preservation or whatever, I’ll be right back.” He flings himself out of the booth and dashes off to the bathroom to avoid any more awkward questions. ” he asks, trying his best to be indignant instead of terrified. But what did you want, did you want me to fall for it, did you want me to let him – let him make me into a punchline, I’m already a punchline, Erica, I don’t need his help with that! He barely has a sense of humour.” And before Stiles can reply, Derek is snapping, “Erica. ” from the end of the short hallway that leads back to the bowling alley, and Erica is rolling her eyes. “Just having a little talk with Stiles.” She steps back and Stiles looks from her to Derek and back again, feeling like the world tipped a little sideways. Derek is a senior and probably a delinquent and Stiles is a junior on the honour roll. He wishes he had some idea of where high school delinquents hung out during class, but he really doesn’t know.He’d be more excited if he wasn’t going to be forced to hang out with Jackson, but Lydia makes up for that a little bit – or she would, if she ever decided to acknowledge Stiles’ existence. And then he notices that Isaac, Erica, Boyd and Derek are all camped out by the last lane, and he quickly starts calculating all the ways a person could be murdered in a bowling alley. Stiles loiters in the bathroom as long as he can without making it weird, and when he finally opens the door to get back to the table, he runs right into Erica, who was probably waiting for him, because that’s just how his luck is going these days. She’s standing a little close and there have been too many gorgeous-yet-terrifying women in his personal space today, and fear boners are totally a thing. ” She’s staring at him now, eyebrows up, something startled in her eyes and around her mouth, and then, after a moment, she echoes, “A joke.” She starts tugging at his shirt, smoothing it back into place, fixing his collar. He arrives at lunch time a little late, and he’s half way towards his usual table when he realizes that Scott isn’t there. ” He scoots over, pressed more against Allison than ever, and makes room, and Stiles sits down reluctantly. It’s at the lake – at Lydia’s lake house.” “We were going to go out for dinner before,” Allison adds. I know that Scott’s not allowed to date, unless you’re dating too, and I totally respect that, I was just hoping that maybe…” “Dinner? Yes.” Derek looks at him, searching his face like he’s looking for clues that Stiles is about to get mean again, but then he relents with a nod.* He walks home with Scott, who’s staggering a little, though he allegedly hasn’t had anything to drink. * The Lacrosse team practises at the same time as the soccer team and it should be fine, but because the soccer team is full of whiny jerk babies, Stiles not only has to focus on his own practice, he’s got to make sure he keeps an eye out for incoming soccer balls too. Stiles rubs at the back of his head, which is aching, and glances around to make sure someone’s got his back here in case Derek turns rabid. He’d done his best to forget, because it had been a stupid, cruel joke, right? Clearly this was a more complicated joke than Stiles had first assumed. But he’s also pretty sure Scott has had a drink or two, even if he didn’t admit it, because he is delusional. He catches Scott’s arm before Scott can stagger into on-coming traffic, and guides him back onto the sidewalk, sighing. It’s a high-pitched, desperate, hysterical sound because Derek Hale is so far out of his league, this has to be a joke.Stiles still isn’t sure what to make of the situation with Derek. So if there was even a chance that Derek had meant it and Stiles had been a complete asshole about it and laughed in his face, than he was going to apologize, even if it meant looking like a fool. “To help with conditioning for track.” Stiles blinks. ” “Cross country,” he says, shrugging and looking awkward. It’s boring and there’s no goalie to score on and all he gets from running is cramps and shin splints. “Usually you make real burgers if you want something,” the sheriff says suspiciously. “I just want to share something with you.” If anything, the sheriff looks even more suspicious, so Stiles just sighs, braces himself, and says, “I’ve got a date on Friday and so does Scott, it’s a party at the Martins’ lake house, I’m sorry.” The sheriff sets his fork down and blinks. His dad isn’t a crazy, angry sort of dad, just protective, what with all the teenaged shenanigans he regularly has to deal with on the job. Derek hesitates in the doorway, looking wide-eyed and out of place, and it’s pretty much the way Stiles is feeling too, so he says, “Want to go around back? “Sure,” he says, because getting away from Jackson sounds like the best idea, before he does something stupid like start to cry. ” “Whatever,” Derek says, smiling at him like things weren’t awkward and stupid between them. You don’t have to be on a date with me if you don’t want to. But people like you don’t ask people like me on dates.” “I do,” Derek says, his face softening a little. D’you—is that—if you’d want.” Stiles’ eyes go wide. After the puking is done, his head feels much clearer – just clear enough for the humiliation to come seeping in, and he says mournfully, “That was supposed to happen to Jackson’s shoes.” Derek laughs. something about hiking.” He says it cautiously, because things are still pretty hazy. “I think you called it a ‘do-over’ of our first date,” Derek says, smiling a small smile.

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Stiles crosses his arms over his own chest self-consciously. And fuck it, Stiles is a fucking master at partying, he’s fun when he drinks, he hasn’t had fun in two years, so he’s going to have fun now. “You.” And then Derek reaches up, takes his hand, and doesn’t let go. That logic seems too much for Harris, though, and Stiles has to put up with Harris’s passive aggressive dickishness on a regular basis. Stiles was trying to pay attention, but Scott kept poking him, asking him questions, teasing him, and passing notes that said things like, “SERIOUSLY, DID YOU MAKE OUT Y/Y?!?!?!

What he doesn’t anticipate, however, is that Derek just doesn’t show up. Cuthbert, the nosey next door neighbour and her snoopy church spies? “I’ll get drinks,” Stiles declares, because people are staring at him and Derek and he’s already feeling awkward without people gawking like the fact that he actually managed to show up at a party with someone as hot as Derek is completely mind blowing. “Just water’s good.” Stiles threads his way through the crowd and into the kitchen, grabbing two bottles of water before making his way back, and he finds Derek sitting on the stairs leading up to the deck along the side of the house, where it’s darker and less populated. They sip water in silence and then Derek finally breaks it, saying, “Does your dad know you’re out with me? “I didn’t think he’d let you go, if he knew it was me.” He scowls a little. * He grabs a bottle of water and then Scott’s there, hanging off his shoulders and tipsy and so happy to see him. “No, no, I don’t – no, see, my dad, he said Scott couldn’t date unless I date.” He leans extra close, trying to make sure Derek knows how serious this is. “So, you.” He points again, poking his finger against Derek’s chest. Derek shrugs a little and looks back at him and says, “I’d probably have picked a better date, though.” “Like the movies? Stiles has embarrassed himself enough for one night. It’s good for his recovery process, and it gives him space to work on overcoming his humiliation. He’s anticipating a day of avoiding Derek, slumping through his classes, barely surviving, and then running home to hide in his room and play more Call of Duty while pretending this day – this weekend – hadn’t happened. Sure.” “I’ll pick you up after school,” Derek says, most of the tension leaving his shoulders. “My dad’ll be home this time.” Derek goes a little pale, but nods grimly before walking away.



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