Three Piece Suits and Plaid Button-Ups...Chapter 11
I am not uncomfortable. Oh no. We passed that checkpoint a long time ago, when that handsy tailor was measuring the “inseam,” which has got to be code for “let’s strip Stiles naked to the skivvies and get really up close and personal with the Stilinski goods.”
Stiles could not remember a more humiliating time. Including the multiple times Coach and Mr. Harris called him variations of “stupid” and “useless.”
He probably wouldn’t have minded the measurement process - if only the tailor was a bit more professional and not so freaking obnoxious! Yeah, I know I’m not built like a Greek god like Derek, but come on! I can’t be that bad-looking.
But apparently he was that bad looking, judging from that stupid tailor’s smirks and condescending comments. Ugh, Stiles felt like shivering in disgust at how the guy kept looking at every inch of his body, like he was tallying up the moles and flaws. But Neal would be disappointed if I cause a ruckus. Better to just get this over with, the sooner the fucking better.
Yeah, I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just in fucking hell.
“Stiles?”
Ah, yes, I needed the presence of a federal officer to cherry-top this fucking sundae of shame. “Perfect.” Stiles muttered to himself before turning his head to greet Neal with a forced smile of nonchalance. Any greeting he had for the older man died at the strange wide-eyed look Neal was giving him. The blue-eyed man swallowed hard, cleared his throat and commanded in a no-nonsense tone: “Okay Stiles, get dressed and wait for me outside.”
The teen practically leapt off the platform, giving the tailor a mental fuck you. He grabbed his clothes and hopped into the dressing room a few feet away from the platform. As Stiles pulled his jeans and shirt on, he could hear harsh whispering from Neal and the oh-so-familiar sounds of someone being shoved up against a wall.
Stiles didn’t think even that jerk really deserved to be pushed around - especially when he didn’t really do anything outright mean. But the teen was still delighted that Neal wanted to defend him in some way. It’s been a long time since someone (aside from his father) showed that they cared for him. And he was glad that someone was Neal.
When Stiles stepped out of the dressing room, he was mentally jumping for joy when he saw that the tailor was too afraid to look anywhere in his general direction. The teen beamed at Neal who led him out of the tailor room and back into the main store.
But when Neal kept pushing him out of the store, Stiles stopped him and reminded, “Wait, I need to pay for those,” gesturing towards the suit Neal was carrying on his other hand. The older man gave Stiles a smile, but it wasn’t the usual charming reassuring smile. His eyes were intense and the corners of his lips were actually turned down a little.
“Don’t worry about it, Stiles. I already took care of it.”
The teen was definitely not reassured but let himself be distracted by Neal’s next promise of resuming the investigation at Mercury Industries Corporate HQ.
Stiles could not remember a more humiliating time. Including the multiple times Coach and Mr. Harris called him variations of “stupid” and “useless.”
He probably wouldn’t have minded the measurement process - if only the tailor was a bit more professional and not so freaking obnoxious! Yeah, I know I’m not built like a Greek god like Derek, but come on! I can’t be that bad-looking.
But apparently he was that bad looking, judging from that stupid tailor’s smirks and condescending comments. Ugh, Stiles felt like shivering in disgust at how the guy kept looking at every inch of his body, like he was tallying up the moles and flaws. But Neal would be disappointed if I cause a ruckus. Better to just get this over with, the sooner the fucking better.
Yeah, I’m not uncomfortable. I’m just in fucking hell.
“Stiles?”
Ah, yes, I needed the presence of a federal officer to cherry-top this fucking sundae of shame. “Perfect.” Stiles muttered to himself before turning his head to greet Neal with a forced smile of nonchalance. Any greeting he had for the older man died at the strange wide-eyed look Neal was giving him. The blue-eyed man swallowed hard, cleared his throat and commanded in a no-nonsense tone: “Okay Stiles, get dressed and wait for me outside.”
The teen practically leapt off the platform, giving the tailor a mental fuck you. He grabbed his clothes and hopped into the dressing room a few feet away from the platform. As Stiles pulled his jeans and shirt on, he could hear harsh whispering from Neal and the oh-so-familiar sounds of someone being shoved up against a wall.
Stiles didn’t think even that jerk really deserved to be pushed around - especially when he didn’t really do anything outright mean. But the teen was still delighted that Neal wanted to defend him in some way. It’s been a long time since someone (aside from his father) showed that they cared for him. And he was glad that someone was Neal.
When Stiles stepped out of the dressing room, he was mentally jumping for joy when he saw that the tailor was too afraid to look anywhere in his general direction. The teen beamed at Neal who led him out of the tailor room and back into the main store.
But when Neal kept pushing him out of the store, Stiles stopped him and reminded, “Wait, I need to pay for those,” gesturing towards the suit Neal was carrying on his other hand. The older man gave Stiles a smile, but it wasn’t the usual charming reassuring smile. His eyes were intense and the corners of his lips were actually turned down a little.
“Don’t worry about it, Stiles. I already took care of it.”
The teen was definitely not reassured but let himself be distracted by Neal’s next promise of resuming the investigation at Mercury Industries Corporate HQ.