Flat Tires And Subtle Hugs 5/6
Don't really have much to say about this so.... on with the reading.
Stiles lived in a part of what people called Beacon Hills history. He lived in the heart of Beacon Hills, smack in the middle of it. The oldest, most sturdy roots existed within his neighborhood, the newer and richer ones branching outwards. Outside of the late Hale's, all of the oldest blood lived in his district. With that being said, Stiles was the youngest kid in Lincoln Crest*. His two neighbors where in their late eighties, widowed, and had never set foot outside of the Beacon Hills city limits.
All of these things considered, Stiles was pretty sure that his neighbors thought he was a prostitute. He couldn't really say that he could blame them for their assumptions. For the past month he'd been getting a ride to school in classy cars, cars that teens shouldn't be driving. Mrs. Daphne, the old gossip she was, was surely telling everyone. He hadn't really paid much attention to it at first. His neighbors were quiet and reserved. He, himself, was a pretty good kid, all things considered. And he was the sheriff's son. But this last week had opened his eyes.
It started Monday. Stiles still hadn't gotten his tires fixed. His dad flat out refused to help him because he flat out refused to disclose any information about who it could possibly be. Stiles couldn't afford to fix the on his own. For all her awesomeness, even Lydia couldn't convince his old bat of a boss to give him his job back. So his baby just continued to sit lazily on the concrete driveway and he continued to bum rides with whoever felt gracious enough to have him, usually Allison.
*Monday was different. Danny and Mark were pulling up in front of his house right as he was exited. He exhaled harshly and looked around exasperatedly. He really didn't want to experience another ride in the happy cab, but it looked as if he didn't have much of a choice. He thought he saw the curtains open, Mrs. Daphne's wrinkled face peering out, but paid it no attention.
He couldn't help but let out a whistle in appreciation, because the last time he'd rode with Danny and Mark, it had been in Danny's 2000 Toyota. Danny may have had a sensible ride, but Mark did not. Instead, Mark drove a shiny charcoal gray Audi R8 GT. He stopped to appreciate the fine piece of machinery before making his way, albeit reluctantly still, to the passenger side. He was surprised to see Danny in the back, but slid into the front seat regardless, his door had barely closed before Mark was barreling down the street.
After school, when they dropped him off, they once again exited the car to wrap around him in a big gay hug. He was certain that Mrs. Daphne had been spying on him, and would have waved at her if he'd had access to his arms. After another inappropriately long hug from Mark and Danny, they hopped in the car and left him standing dumbfounded on his porch. He had to wait a minute before the feeling returned to his arms. By then Mrs. Daphne was nowhere to be found, and he found himself aching to get to his computer to Google "how to know if gay guys find you attractive."
*Tuesday was Lydia's turn. Stiles thought that it would be Allison; she'd promised him a ride. Allison's word seemed to be going down the drain as of late. He slowly made his way to Lydia's 650i, admiring the glossy red paint along the way. At her intense glare due to his slow pace, he turned his head. Once again he thought he saw Mrs. Daphne's gray eyes in her window, watching him. He would have stopped to investigate in full, but Lydia revved the engine in warning and all thoughts but getting in the car on time flew from his mind.
Lydia drove him home after school, a creepy smile on her face that had Stiles tripping out of the car by the time they reached his street. He expected her to leave immediately, but Lydia was never as predictable as people wanted her to be. She put the BMW in park and stalked towards Stiles, unwavering look on her face. Stiles instinctively put his hands up over his face as protection. He yelped in surprise when he felt her arms wrap around his middle.
"What?" he muttered, peeking through his fingers down and the red head.
Lydia's response was to tighten her grip. She hugged him for a while, nuzzling her face into his chest, and didn't let up until Stile's returned the affectionate gesture. Lydia let him go a second later, turned her head towards Mrs. Daphne's prying eyes in her window and smiled. Then she swiveled around on her heel and practically tore the cement up with her determined walk back to her car. Stiles watched in astonishment as she disappeared. He turned to wave at Mrs. Daphne, but dropped his hand when he saw her disapproving look. He quickly ducked his head and found safety in his living room.
*By Wednesday he'd made up his mind that this was absolutely ridiculous. Jackson's Porsche was parked in front of his house a whole hour early. And Jackson was at his front door, perfected puppy look on his face. Stiles took one look at his face and stepped aside to let him in.
"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked, making his way into the kitchen to finish his breakfast.
"I'm your ride to school," Jackson replied and Stiles got the distinctive feeling that he was thinking a resounding 'duh' in that obnoxious skull.
"Well of course. It must be your turn then. Are you the official Wednesday guy?" Stiles asked, shoving a spoon full of Trix in his mouth.
"Yeah." That was all Jackson gave as a response and took it upon himself to grab one of Stiles' bananas off the table.
"Why Wednesday? You couldn't do a cooler day?"
"I like Wednesday. Its hump day," Jackson said with a cunning smirk. Stiles stood up quickly, choking on the contents in his mouth. Jackson slapped him on his back a couple of times, smirk still in place.
"Did you just make a joke?" Stiles asked incredulously. "You know, you're the only one who's actually talked to me." He quickly finished the last of his cereal standing, before downing the left over milk.
"Maybe they don't see how awesome you are," Jackson offers, arms crossed over his chest. As far as Stiles could tell, he wasn't being mean.
"You're not as douchey today," Stiles hummed. "You're kinda cute when you aren't being a dick." He turned to put the bowl in the sink. He gasped when Jackson pressed up close behind him, arms on either side of him. He could feel the warmth of Jackson's breath on the back of his neck and it was doing weird things to him.
"Is that an invitation?" Jackson whispered, mouth close to Stiles' ear. He moved his arms down to
Stiles' waist. "Well?" he asked, turning Stiles around.
"I…um…what?" Stiles asked, completely confused by the turn of events.
"Never mind. School awaits." Jackson let go of his hips and turned away, leaving out of the kitchen.
"Wait, that's it?" Stiles asked, trailing behind Jackson, locking the door behind them as they stepped out on the porch. He turned and Jackson was right there in his space. "Woah."
"Do you want that to be it?" he asked, blue eyes staring into Stiles' brown ones.
"I don't know! I didn't even know you were gay! Are you gay? I'm getting punk'd right? Okay guys you can come out now. The gigs up."
"You are an idiot," Jackson answered, pulling Stiles to the car. "Get in." They didn't talk about it anymore that day and Allison gave him a ride home.
*Thursday morning Jackson was back. Stiles walked up to him carefully, slowly. Jackson was standing outside the car, leaning against it casually. Stiles noted that he looked nervous. Stiles stood next to him, waving at Mrs. Daphne as she watered her garden. She ignored him.
"I thought you guys only got one day," Stiles replied after a while.
"Are you the official referee now? I didn't get to drive you home. Plus you said that I should have a cooler day."
"And you thought Thursday was better?" Stiles asked, eyebrows raised. He smiled at Jackson's blush.
"I actually thought that you deserved an apology. I was….cryptic yesterday."
"You think?" Stiles asked, making a face.
"This isn't easy okay! Opening up, in case you hadn't noticed, it's not really my thing. I do whatever the hell I want and people accept it. I don't have to explain myself."
"Then why are you telling me?" Stiles asked calmly.
"Because I don't care what other people think. They don't matter. But for some stupid reason, you do. You matter."
"Bullshit!" Stiles replied.
"What?" Jackson's indifferent mask slipped back into place.
"You do care what people think of you Jackson. That's why you push yourself so hard. And for whatever reason you've decided that I matter all of a sudden?" Stiles turned to look at Jackson, ignoring the scowl.
"So maybe I had it backwards. I do care what people think. But I don't have to care with you because you don't." Jackson sighed. "Anyway, yesterday was a mistake. I was confusing feelings of compassion with romance. It doesn't help that he smelled you all over me and kicked my ass."
"Oh my god! Who? Are you okay?" Stiles asked frantically. Jackson was still possible the words biggest asshole, but he was a friend…he thinks.
"Moses. Who do you think genius? Derek's like crazy possessive of you." Stiles really needed to rethink his definition of friend.
"Derek? Really?" Stiles wasn't sure if he should be upset or weirdly flattered.
"Don't make those goo-goo lover eyes around me! Anyway I've said too much. We need to get going." Jackson was obviously not gonna answer any more questions.
"I'm actually gonna skip school today," Stiles stated matter-of-factly. Jackson raised an eyebrow.
"Right. Cause your dad won't kill you."
"Okay so I have a doctor's appointment. Rain check?" Stiles asked, offering his hand to Jackson.
"Yeah whatever. But not tomorrow. I have plans." Jackson grabbed Stiles' hand, but held on to it.
"Figures you would have plans on the cool day," Stiles snorted. Jackson was still holding on to his hand. "You've been weirdly affectionate and touchy," Stiles pointed out, lifting their joined hands.
"You said that everyone else has been hugging you," Jackson shrugged. "I decided to join in on the freak orgy."
"Hugging and pinning me against counters are two different things," Stiles pointed out, absently stroking his fingers over a small scar on Jackson's knuckles. He huffed when he found himself suddenly trapped between Jackson and his car.
"Is this better?" Jackson asked.
"You don't seem to know what a hug is," Stiles replied. "And I think you've been around Derek too long. This is the second time you've slammed me against something."
"I know what hugs are. But I go above and beyond everyone else. Plus I kinda want to piss Derek off some more. He can always tell when I've done something I wasn't suppose to."
"So what you're saying is," Stiles started. "that you're only do this because you want to be your usual rebel self and go against Derek?"
"Yeah, I guess," Jackson answered. He still hadn't let Stiles go.
"Why don't you just go back to your regular "I am above Stiles" routine. It's a lot less confusing."
"I'd love to be above you Stiles, but I fear what would happen as result." Jackson laughed at the deep red blush that blossomed over Stiles' face. "You are such a virgin."
"I'd appreciate it if we didn't discuss my awesome, action packed love life," Stiles pouted. "I wish the old Jackson would make a comeback. He's much easier to read."
"The old Jackson was horrible to you," Jackson pointed out.
"But he didn't molest me in front of the neighbors," Stiles said in response. "Mrs. Daphne has been giving me the stink eye since you got here."
"Then let's give her a reason to sneer."
Stiles didn't have time to think before Jackson's lips covered his own. It was awkward and weird and possibly the worst kiss he'd ever received. When Jackson pulled away, Stiles stood there, quiet, trying to figure out what this could possibly mean.
"Don't try to make this into a big deal. It doesn't mean anything," Jackson said, stepping back. He had an almost comical grimace on his face.
"So you always kiss people you don't care about?" Stiles asked. This was getting really weird really quick.
"It doesn't mean anything. Don't over think it. I'm not doing this because I'm secretly in love with you."
"Then why are you doing this?" Stiles asked frowning. "Does this have anything to do with Derek?"
"I'm not allowed to say anything," Jackson stated plainly.
"I really don't like this new you. You're weird and cryptic and romantic without the romance," Stiles flailed.
"That doesn't even… Don't worry; this Jackson won't last for much longer. It sucks being caring and opening up. Danny usually just distracts me. You actually want to talk about stuff."
"How terrible! Next thing you know, I'll actually know things about you," Stiles retorted.
Jackson grunted and wrapped his arms around him in another awkward hug. "I thought you didn't do hugs."
"Get off my car." Stiles couldn't help the stupid smirk that was on his face as Jackson sped off.
"You sure have a bunch of….friends. Shame you father never seems to get to meet them. Have to wonder what a hardworking man like your father would feel about his teenage son being so friendly."
Stiles smiled grimly and walked back up the walk way. "You have a good day Mrs. Daphne."
*For some reason, Stiles' naïve heart felt like things couldn't have gotten any weirder. Oh how wrong was he. For a week Lydia, Danny ad Mark, and Jackson had been driving him to school. Jackson had actually been intimate with him; he was still trying to figure that mess out. He was pretty sure that Mrs. Daphne had insinuated that he was a personal escort yesterday. And if that wasn't enough to make Stiles feel absolutely whorish, Derek's shiny black Camaro being parked in front of his house Friday morning was the icing on the slut cake. He could only imagine the things Mrs. Daphne must have been thinking.
Derek was older, old enough to get in at least a little trouble if anyone started accusing him of things. And he had a history of being the bad guy. It didn't help that Derek was a steaming pile of take-me-now. Stiles practically sprinted to Derek's car and prayed that Mrs. Daphne hadn't seen him. Luck was not on his side.
~School~
"My neighbors think I'm a trollop," Stiles told Allison as they walked to first period together.
"Your conversation starters get odder and odder," Allison replied smiling at him in spite of his greeting.
"Sorry, it's just that Derek came and picked me up this morning."
"Oh the horror!" Lydia said, tuning into the conversation as they took their seats. Stiles ignored her.
"Can you start from the beginning?" Allison asked.
Lydia turned around to face Stiles. "And make it quick. I'd like for this not to be the topic of discussion at lunch."
"Long story short; Lydia, Mark and Danny have been giving me a ride to and from school. Well with the exception of Jackson, who only gave me a ride to school and tried to give me a ride the next morning but I had an appointment. Anyway first it was the cuddle monsters with their flashy Audi and tight hug sandwiches. Then Lydia with her killer, ninja bear hugs and red BMW. And then Jackson with his speed-demon Porsche and his new habit of pinning me against things and kissing me in front of my house. And every time you guys are around, Mrs. Daphne is too. So everything you guys do kinda looks like you're thanking me for my services. And then Derek showed up this morning and there is no way that she doesn't think I'm a hooker!" Stiles gushed out. He caught his breath and watched what he'd said sink in.
"Jackson kissed you?" Lydia and Allison asked at the same time.
"Is that all you got out of that?" Stiles questioned, blush settling on his cheeks.
"That's the part that sticks out the most. What kind of kiss was it?" Lydia demanded.
"Are you sure that the two of you are over? Because I don't want to be the reason why it doesn't work out. I'm not fit to be the other guy," Stiles held his hands up in defense.
"Does Derek know any of this?" Allison asked, looking back and forth between Lydia and Stiles.
"Of course not! Jackson's still breathing isn't he?" Lydia replied nonchalantly.
"I didn't think that I should have mentioned it. Derek was, strangely enough, in a great mood this morning. Besides, Jackson and I talked it out," Stiles stated. He really hoped that this would be the end of the issue. He couldn't help but feel like vital pieces of this puzzle were missing, and it seemed that everyone, even Allison, saw the bigger picture.
*School pasted with not much of a problem. Jackson had returned to his normal self, which was both refreshing and crappy. Lydia and Allison didn't say anything else that could have clued him in on what was going on. Derek was waiting outside, the sun glaring against the suave black paint. Stiles hurried over to the car, trying to draw as little attention as possible. It was a hard feat. Derek had the only Camaro within Beacon Hills' city limits and he, himself, grabbed a lot of attention without the car. Stiles hoped in, throwing his bag in the back seat.
"Drive," he commanded. He'd expected Derek to argue, had been prepared for an all-out stare off, but Derek through the car in drive and peeled off with as much tact as Stiles could have ever hoped from him.
The drive was relatively quiet, save for the radio. Derek was doing the speed limit, a big deal considering his track record, with the windows rolled down, shades over his eyes. Stiles stared in awe at the picture in front of him. Derek looked, dare he say it, normal. He was drumming his thumb ever so lightly against the steering wheel to match the rhythm blaring softly from the radio. Stiles could swear that every now and then Derek would mouth a few of the words.
"It figures that you'd like The Black Keys*," Stiles says after a while. Derek just hums in response, lips turning up at the corners not even a quarter of a centimeter. "What's your favorite album?"
He answered so much later that Stiles wasn't sure that he would at all. "Of all time or just by them?"
"I meant by them. But I'd love to know the answer to both," Stiles replied honestly.
"Their first album, The Big Come Up," Derek answered. He continued at Stiles' raised eyebrows. "It was only 13 songs; five were covers and it didn't even sell well, but I remembered hearing it and slipping into an almost nostalgic trance."
"And favorite album of all time?" Stiles inquired.
"The White Album," was the simple reply that Derek gave.
"You like The Beatles?"
"Who doesn't like The Beatles. They paved the road for rock. If you disagree I'll push out of this still moving car," Derek threatened.
Stiles held up his hands in surrender. "You'll get no argument from me." He spent the rest of the ride listening to Derek hum the lyrics to Gold on the Ceiling.
*When they pulled up in the front of his house the first thing he noticed was that his jeep was no longer sitting in the driveway. Instead it was parked along the curb. Stiles jumped out of the Camaro before Derek had even killed the engine, and was inspecting the car in no time. There were new tires, all four of them, a tidy red bow on each one of them.
"Oh my god!" Stiles screeched in excitement.
After the enthusiasm wore off and he was able to think clearly again, he turned to Derek. He was standing outside of the car, lean body resting against the hood of his car. Stiles couldn't help but marvel at how amazing he looked; his tanned, sun-kissed skin blended well with the black paint of the Camaro. His hair was disheveled, more than normal, from riding with the windows down. With his sunglasses on and the dark colors of his clothes, he looked more like a model posing for an ad than Stiles' personal chauffeur for the day. He looked good, damn good, and Stiles felt the familiar urge to lick a line down to throat to his navel and lower.
"Did you do this?" Stiles asked, slowly making his way over to stand in front of Derek. He was aware that Mrs. Daphne was coming out to stand on her porch.
"You don't think your dad did it?" Derek asked, shifting slightly. Stiles watched the way his muscles moved with his arms.
"He made it pretty clear that I wouldn't be getting new tires unless he heard good news at the next parent teacher conference or I paid for it myself. And no one else would do this for me." Stiles continued his slow stalk towards Derek. He wasn't sure what this was; wasn't sure where the boost of confidence came from. But he wasn't going to waste it when everything he wanted was in front of him.
"Are you sure Jackson wouldn't do it? You two seem so close lately." Derek spread his legs a little to make room for Stiles, but didn't move other than that.
"We are just friends. No romantic feelings involved whatsoever. And I'm pretty sure that kiss was just to spite you." Stiles stepped into Derek's opened legs, wrapped his arms around his waist.
"He kissed you?" Derek probed. His arms were still perfectly still on the hood. Stiles loved that about him, loved the sheer amount of control that was Derek Hale.
"Yes, but you can erase it if you'd like," Stiles offered, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes.
"Are you even attracted to me? Or is this just a symptom of being insanely happy that you have your jeep back?" Derek inquired. Stiles reached up and slid the sunglasses off his face, fingers lingering over those cheekbones.
"I'm attracted to you Derek. God, am I attracted to you. But up until Scott moved away you were just a fantasy that got me through a stressful night. You seemed to hate me and I wasn't even out to anyone other than Scott. Derek I'm not one to chase things that seem unreachable. Well besides Lydia, but that was more of a cover than an expedition."
"Then what makes now any different?" Derek asked, his eyes slipping closed under Stiles' gentle touched.
"I don't chase things that seem unreachable-"
"You've said that before," Derek interrupted. Stiles smiled at him.
"But you're right here in front of me and I do chase what I know I can grasp," Stiles continued. He stepped at way, letting his fingers fall down and over Derek's chest. "My dad is the hardest working man in this town. Lord knows his son gets so lonely in this house alone."
"So if I come in?" Derek asked, muscles flexing under Stiles' hands
"You'd be a good Samarian," Stiles answers. He lifts his hand and waits patiently until Derek finally lifts a hand and places it in Stiles'. Stiles drags him inside, winking at Mrs. Daphne on the way in.
Once they're in the living room, all restraint leaves and Stiles finds himself being slammed against the wall. Derek's body is immediately pressed against him, his lips not far after. Stiles is greedy, and empty like a dry sponge soaking up as much as he can hold without wasting a drop. His hands mapped slow trails over every plane and slope of Derek's body. He let out a desperate groan when Derek pulled away.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Derek asked, eyes searching for any sign that Stiles wasn't sure.
"I'm not exactly screaming 'no' and 'stop'," Stiles pointed out. He pulled on Derek's shoulders and tried to get him to reconnect his body to Stiles. Derek pulled Stiles away from the wall and up towards the stares. Stiles followed wordlessly, afraid that if he said anything, Derek would break out of whatever was letting him do this. That didn't stop his brain from chanting yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
Once they were Stiles' room, he took over, pushing Derek down on his bed and straddling his hips. He latched on to Derek's mouth and groaned happily. Derek's hands found his hips and moved them in a sudden jerk.
"Fuck!" Stiles hissed, repeating the rolling motion.
"We shouldn't be doing this," Derek gritted out. He held Stiles still while they caught their breath.
"What? Why?" Stiles asked frantically. His entire body was humming, thrumming in tune with Derek's.
"You don't think this is too fast?" Derek asked incredulously.
"No! In fact I think we're making up for all the time we wasted pretending that the attraction wasn't there." Stiles found a particular vein in Derek's neck to hold his attention while what he said sunk in.
"Huh," Derek stated simply. Stiles pulled back and looked at him.
"I'm sitting in your lap, practically begging you to devirginize me and all you say is 'huh'? What is it with my friends answering serious scenarios with 'huh'?" Stiles asked. He watched a strange look spread over Derek's face. It wasn't a bad strange, just strange. "What?"
"We're friends?" Derek asked.
"Oh come on! What is with you werewolves being so out of character lately? You're really pulling the sensitive werewolf card right now?" At Derek's blank look, Stiles sighed and answered. "I let you and your pack of weirdoes smoke weed in my dad's, the sheriff, house. I rode to school and back with you. You bought me new tires and people who aren't friends don't do that. Hell, friends don't usually do that."
"It's just….I figured you'd have more restraint than you do."
"Why would you think that?" Stiles asked, frown set deep on in his face.
"Because you're Stiles; sweet, innocent, sheriff's son." Stiles looked at Derek and burst into incredulous laughter.
"I'm a teenager genius! I seize opportunities and think of the consequences later if I get caught. And you're the hot guy that I've been secretly pining after. I'm not going to stop and beg you for a wedding ring. I'm going to hump now and think about feelings and emotions later. Plus that whole sheriff's kid thing is like the biggest cliché, right after the preacher's kid."
"I….don't know how to answer that," Derek admitted.
"You can answer it with a 'voila', because you've magically made the mood disappear with all your talk about my dad." Derek didn't look all that apologetic and Stiles frowned. "Was that your plan the whole time? Distract me and stomp out my arousal? 'Cause I gotta tell you, that's foul. You're not getting off that easy though. If my neighbors think I'm a whore, I can at least get some pleasure out of it."
"What?" Derek asked.
"It's a long story. I'll tell you about it after we finish cashing out my v-card."
*It wasn't until much later, after a long night of passionate kisses and refractory periods*, that Stiles thought to punch Derek in the ribs.
"What the fuck?" He growled out, being jarred awake by the sudden attack.
"I just remembered that you wouldn't have had to buy new tires if you hadn't slashed them in the first place."
"What are you talking about? I didn't slash your tires," Derek defended, grimacing as the bruise on his ribcage healed.
"What?" Stiles asked, dumbfounded.
"I didn't do it," Derek repeated slowly. Stiles frowned and rubbed his hand over the now painless spot he'd punched.
"Huh," At Derek's dark look he gave a sly grin. "You can get your revenge with round 4."
Stiles lived in a part of what people called Beacon Hills history. He lived in the heart of Beacon Hills, smack in the middle of it. The oldest, most sturdy roots existed within his neighborhood, the newer and richer ones branching outwards. Outside of the late Hale's, all of the oldest blood lived in his district. With that being said, Stiles was the youngest kid in Lincoln Crest*. His two neighbors where in their late eighties, widowed, and had never set foot outside of the Beacon Hills city limits.
All of these things considered, Stiles was pretty sure that his neighbors thought he was a prostitute. He couldn't really say that he could blame them for their assumptions. For the past month he'd been getting a ride to school in classy cars, cars that teens shouldn't be driving. Mrs. Daphne, the old gossip she was, was surely telling everyone. He hadn't really paid much attention to it at first. His neighbors were quiet and reserved. He, himself, was a pretty good kid, all things considered. And he was the sheriff's son. But this last week had opened his eyes.
It started Monday. Stiles still hadn't gotten his tires fixed. His dad flat out refused to help him because he flat out refused to disclose any information about who it could possibly be. Stiles couldn't afford to fix the on his own. For all her awesomeness, even Lydia couldn't convince his old bat of a boss to give him his job back. So his baby just continued to sit lazily on the concrete driveway and he continued to bum rides with whoever felt gracious enough to have him, usually Allison.
*Monday was different. Danny and Mark were pulling up in front of his house right as he was exited. He exhaled harshly and looked around exasperatedly. He really didn't want to experience another ride in the happy cab, but it looked as if he didn't have much of a choice. He thought he saw the curtains open, Mrs. Daphne's wrinkled face peering out, but paid it no attention.
He couldn't help but let out a whistle in appreciation, because the last time he'd rode with Danny and Mark, it had been in Danny's 2000 Toyota. Danny may have had a sensible ride, but Mark did not. Instead, Mark drove a shiny charcoal gray Audi R8 GT. He stopped to appreciate the fine piece of machinery before making his way, albeit reluctantly still, to the passenger side. He was surprised to see Danny in the back, but slid into the front seat regardless, his door had barely closed before Mark was barreling down the street.
After school, when they dropped him off, they once again exited the car to wrap around him in a big gay hug. He was certain that Mrs. Daphne had been spying on him, and would have waved at her if he'd had access to his arms. After another inappropriately long hug from Mark and Danny, they hopped in the car and left him standing dumbfounded on his porch. He had to wait a minute before the feeling returned to his arms. By then Mrs. Daphne was nowhere to be found, and he found himself aching to get to his computer to Google "how to know if gay guys find you attractive."
*Tuesday was Lydia's turn. Stiles thought that it would be Allison; she'd promised him a ride. Allison's word seemed to be going down the drain as of late. He slowly made his way to Lydia's 650i, admiring the glossy red paint along the way. At her intense glare due to his slow pace, he turned his head. Once again he thought he saw Mrs. Daphne's gray eyes in her window, watching him. He would have stopped to investigate in full, but Lydia revved the engine in warning and all thoughts but getting in the car on time flew from his mind.
Lydia drove him home after school, a creepy smile on her face that had Stiles tripping out of the car by the time they reached his street. He expected her to leave immediately, but Lydia was never as predictable as people wanted her to be. She put the BMW in park and stalked towards Stiles, unwavering look on her face. Stiles instinctively put his hands up over his face as protection. He yelped in surprise when he felt her arms wrap around his middle.
"What?" he muttered, peeking through his fingers down and the red head.
Lydia's response was to tighten her grip. She hugged him for a while, nuzzling her face into his chest, and didn't let up until Stile's returned the affectionate gesture. Lydia let him go a second later, turned her head towards Mrs. Daphne's prying eyes in her window and smiled. Then she swiveled around on her heel and practically tore the cement up with her determined walk back to her car. Stiles watched in astonishment as she disappeared. He turned to wave at Mrs. Daphne, but dropped his hand when he saw her disapproving look. He quickly ducked his head and found safety in his living room.
*By Wednesday he'd made up his mind that this was absolutely ridiculous. Jackson's Porsche was parked in front of his house a whole hour early. And Jackson was at his front door, perfected puppy look on his face. Stiles took one look at his face and stepped aside to let him in.
"What are you doing here?" Stiles asked, making his way into the kitchen to finish his breakfast.
"I'm your ride to school," Jackson replied and Stiles got the distinctive feeling that he was thinking a resounding 'duh' in that obnoxious skull.
"Well of course. It must be your turn then. Are you the official Wednesday guy?" Stiles asked, shoving a spoon full of Trix in his mouth.
"Yeah." That was all Jackson gave as a response and took it upon himself to grab one of Stiles' bananas off the table.
"Why Wednesday? You couldn't do a cooler day?"
"I like Wednesday. Its hump day," Jackson said with a cunning smirk. Stiles stood up quickly, choking on the contents in his mouth. Jackson slapped him on his back a couple of times, smirk still in place.
"Did you just make a joke?" Stiles asked incredulously. "You know, you're the only one who's actually talked to me." He quickly finished the last of his cereal standing, before downing the left over milk.
"Maybe they don't see how awesome you are," Jackson offers, arms crossed over his chest. As far as Stiles could tell, he wasn't being mean.
"You're not as douchey today," Stiles hummed. "You're kinda cute when you aren't being a dick." He turned to put the bowl in the sink. He gasped when Jackson pressed up close behind him, arms on either side of him. He could feel the warmth of Jackson's breath on the back of his neck and it was doing weird things to him.
"Is that an invitation?" Jackson whispered, mouth close to Stiles' ear. He moved his arms down to
Stiles' waist. "Well?" he asked, turning Stiles around.
"I…um…what?" Stiles asked, completely confused by the turn of events.
"Never mind. School awaits." Jackson let go of his hips and turned away, leaving out of the kitchen.
"Wait, that's it?" Stiles asked, trailing behind Jackson, locking the door behind them as they stepped out on the porch. He turned and Jackson was right there in his space. "Woah."
"Do you want that to be it?" he asked, blue eyes staring into Stiles' brown ones.
"I don't know! I didn't even know you were gay! Are you gay? I'm getting punk'd right? Okay guys you can come out now. The gigs up."
"You are an idiot," Jackson answered, pulling Stiles to the car. "Get in." They didn't talk about it anymore that day and Allison gave him a ride home.
*Thursday morning Jackson was back. Stiles walked up to him carefully, slowly. Jackson was standing outside the car, leaning against it casually. Stiles noted that he looked nervous. Stiles stood next to him, waving at Mrs. Daphne as she watered her garden. She ignored him.
"I thought you guys only got one day," Stiles replied after a while.
"Are you the official referee now? I didn't get to drive you home. Plus you said that I should have a cooler day."
"And you thought Thursday was better?" Stiles asked, eyebrows raised. He smiled at Jackson's blush.
"I actually thought that you deserved an apology. I was….cryptic yesterday."
"You think?" Stiles asked, making a face.
"This isn't easy okay! Opening up, in case you hadn't noticed, it's not really my thing. I do whatever the hell I want and people accept it. I don't have to explain myself."
"Then why are you telling me?" Stiles asked calmly.
"Because I don't care what other people think. They don't matter. But for some stupid reason, you do. You matter."
"Bullshit!" Stiles replied.
"What?" Jackson's indifferent mask slipped back into place.
"You do care what people think of you Jackson. That's why you push yourself so hard. And for whatever reason you've decided that I matter all of a sudden?" Stiles turned to look at Jackson, ignoring the scowl.
"So maybe I had it backwards. I do care what people think. But I don't have to care with you because you don't." Jackson sighed. "Anyway, yesterday was a mistake. I was confusing feelings of compassion with romance. It doesn't help that he smelled you all over me and kicked my ass."
"Oh my god! Who? Are you okay?" Stiles asked frantically. Jackson was still possible the words biggest asshole, but he was a friend…he thinks.
"Moses. Who do you think genius? Derek's like crazy possessive of you." Stiles really needed to rethink his definition of friend.
"Derek? Really?" Stiles wasn't sure if he should be upset or weirdly flattered.
"Don't make those goo-goo lover eyes around me! Anyway I've said too much. We need to get going." Jackson was obviously not gonna answer any more questions.
"I'm actually gonna skip school today," Stiles stated matter-of-factly. Jackson raised an eyebrow.
"Right. Cause your dad won't kill you."
"Okay so I have a doctor's appointment. Rain check?" Stiles asked, offering his hand to Jackson.
"Yeah whatever. But not tomorrow. I have plans." Jackson grabbed Stiles' hand, but held on to it.
"Figures you would have plans on the cool day," Stiles snorted. Jackson was still holding on to his hand. "You've been weirdly affectionate and touchy," Stiles pointed out, lifting their joined hands.
"You said that everyone else has been hugging you," Jackson shrugged. "I decided to join in on the freak orgy."
"Hugging and pinning me against counters are two different things," Stiles pointed out, absently stroking his fingers over a small scar on Jackson's knuckles. He huffed when he found himself suddenly trapped between Jackson and his car.
"Is this better?" Jackson asked.
"You don't seem to know what a hug is," Stiles replied. "And I think you've been around Derek too long. This is the second time you've slammed me against something."
"I know what hugs are. But I go above and beyond everyone else. Plus I kinda want to piss Derek off some more. He can always tell when I've done something I wasn't suppose to."
"So what you're saying is," Stiles started. "that you're only do this because you want to be your usual rebel self and go against Derek?"
"Yeah, I guess," Jackson answered. He still hadn't let Stiles go.
"Why don't you just go back to your regular "I am above Stiles" routine. It's a lot less confusing."
"I'd love to be above you Stiles, but I fear what would happen as result." Jackson laughed at the deep red blush that blossomed over Stiles' face. "You are such a virgin."
"I'd appreciate it if we didn't discuss my awesome, action packed love life," Stiles pouted. "I wish the old Jackson would make a comeback. He's much easier to read."
"The old Jackson was horrible to you," Jackson pointed out.
"But he didn't molest me in front of the neighbors," Stiles said in response. "Mrs. Daphne has been giving me the stink eye since you got here."
"Then let's give her a reason to sneer."
Stiles didn't have time to think before Jackson's lips covered his own. It was awkward and weird and possibly the worst kiss he'd ever received. When Jackson pulled away, Stiles stood there, quiet, trying to figure out what this could possibly mean.
"Don't try to make this into a big deal. It doesn't mean anything," Jackson said, stepping back. He had an almost comical grimace on his face.
"So you always kiss people you don't care about?" Stiles asked. This was getting really weird really quick.
"It doesn't mean anything. Don't over think it. I'm not doing this because I'm secretly in love with you."
"Then why are you doing this?" Stiles asked frowning. "Does this have anything to do with Derek?"
"I'm not allowed to say anything," Jackson stated plainly.
"I really don't like this new you. You're weird and cryptic and romantic without the romance," Stiles flailed.
"That doesn't even… Don't worry; this Jackson won't last for much longer. It sucks being caring and opening up. Danny usually just distracts me. You actually want to talk about stuff."
"How terrible! Next thing you know, I'll actually know things about you," Stiles retorted.
Jackson grunted and wrapped his arms around him in another awkward hug. "I thought you didn't do hugs."
"Get off my car." Stiles couldn't help the stupid smirk that was on his face as Jackson sped off.
"You sure have a bunch of….friends. Shame you father never seems to get to meet them. Have to wonder what a hardworking man like your father would feel about his teenage son being so friendly."
Stiles smiled grimly and walked back up the walk way. "You have a good day Mrs. Daphne."
*For some reason, Stiles' naïve heart felt like things couldn't have gotten any weirder. Oh how wrong was he. For a week Lydia, Danny ad Mark, and Jackson had been driving him to school. Jackson had actually been intimate with him; he was still trying to figure that mess out. He was pretty sure that Mrs. Daphne had insinuated that he was a personal escort yesterday. And if that wasn't enough to make Stiles feel absolutely whorish, Derek's shiny black Camaro being parked in front of his house Friday morning was the icing on the slut cake. He could only imagine the things Mrs. Daphne must have been thinking.
Derek was older, old enough to get in at least a little trouble if anyone started accusing him of things. And he had a history of being the bad guy. It didn't help that Derek was a steaming pile of take-me-now. Stiles practically sprinted to Derek's car and prayed that Mrs. Daphne hadn't seen him. Luck was not on his side.
~School~
"My neighbors think I'm a trollop," Stiles told Allison as they walked to first period together.
"Your conversation starters get odder and odder," Allison replied smiling at him in spite of his greeting.
"Sorry, it's just that Derek came and picked me up this morning."
"Oh the horror!" Lydia said, tuning into the conversation as they took their seats. Stiles ignored her.
"Can you start from the beginning?" Allison asked.
Lydia turned around to face Stiles. "And make it quick. I'd like for this not to be the topic of discussion at lunch."
"Long story short; Lydia, Mark and Danny have been giving me a ride to and from school. Well with the exception of Jackson, who only gave me a ride to school and tried to give me a ride the next morning but I had an appointment. Anyway first it was the cuddle monsters with their flashy Audi and tight hug sandwiches. Then Lydia with her killer, ninja bear hugs and red BMW. And then Jackson with his speed-demon Porsche and his new habit of pinning me against things and kissing me in front of my house. And every time you guys are around, Mrs. Daphne is too. So everything you guys do kinda looks like you're thanking me for my services. And then Derek showed up this morning and there is no way that she doesn't think I'm a hooker!" Stiles gushed out. He caught his breath and watched what he'd said sink in.
"Jackson kissed you?" Lydia and Allison asked at the same time.
"Is that all you got out of that?" Stiles questioned, blush settling on his cheeks.
"That's the part that sticks out the most. What kind of kiss was it?" Lydia demanded.
"Are you sure that the two of you are over? Because I don't want to be the reason why it doesn't work out. I'm not fit to be the other guy," Stiles held his hands up in defense.
"Does Derek know any of this?" Allison asked, looking back and forth between Lydia and Stiles.
"Of course not! Jackson's still breathing isn't he?" Lydia replied nonchalantly.
"I didn't think that I should have mentioned it. Derek was, strangely enough, in a great mood this morning. Besides, Jackson and I talked it out," Stiles stated. He really hoped that this would be the end of the issue. He couldn't help but feel like vital pieces of this puzzle were missing, and it seemed that everyone, even Allison, saw the bigger picture.
*School pasted with not much of a problem. Jackson had returned to his normal self, which was both refreshing and crappy. Lydia and Allison didn't say anything else that could have clued him in on what was going on. Derek was waiting outside, the sun glaring against the suave black paint. Stiles hurried over to the car, trying to draw as little attention as possible. It was a hard feat. Derek had the only Camaro within Beacon Hills' city limits and he, himself, grabbed a lot of attention without the car. Stiles hoped in, throwing his bag in the back seat.
"Drive," he commanded. He'd expected Derek to argue, had been prepared for an all-out stare off, but Derek through the car in drive and peeled off with as much tact as Stiles could have ever hoped from him.
The drive was relatively quiet, save for the radio. Derek was doing the speed limit, a big deal considering his track record, with the windows rolled down, shades over his eyes. Stiles stared in awe at the picture in front of him. Derek looked, dare he say it, normal. He was drumming his thumb ever so lightly against the steering wheel to match the rhythm blaring softly from the radio. Stiles could swear that every now and then Derek would mouth a few of the words.
"It figures that you'd like The Black Keys*," Stiles says after a while. Derek just hums in response, lips turning up at the corners not even a quarter of a centimeter. "What's your favorite album?"
He answered so much later that Stiles wasn't sure that he would at all. "Of all time or just by them?"
"I meant by them. But I'd love to know the answer to both," Stiles replied honestly.
"Their first album, The Big Come Up," Derek answered. He continued at Stiles' raised eyebrows. "It was only 13 songs; five were covers and it didn't even sell well, but I remembered hearing it and slipping into an almost nostalgic trance."
"And favorite album of all time?" Stiles inquired.
"The White Album," was the simple reply that Derek gave.
"You like The Beatles?"
"Who doesn't like The Beatles. They paved the road for rock. If you disagree I'll push out of this still moving car," Derek threatened.
Stiles held up his hands in surrender. "You'll get no argument from me." He spent the rest of the ride listening to Derek hum the lyrics to Gold on the Ceiling.
*When they pulled up in the front of his house the first thing he noticed was that his jeep was no longer sitting in the driveway. Instead it was parked along the curb. Stiles jumped out of the Camaro before Derek had even killed the engine, and was inspecting the car in no time. There were new tires, all four of them, a tidy red bow on each one of them.
"Oh my god!" Stiles screeched in excitement.
After the enthusiasm wore off and he was able to think clearly again, he turned to Derek. He was standing outside of the car, lean body resting against the hood of his car. Stiles couldn't help but marvel at how amazing he looked; his tanned, sun-kissed skin blended well with the black paint of the Camaro. His hair was disheveled, more than normal, from riding with the windows down. With his sunglasses on and the dark colors of his clothes, he looked more like a model posing for an ad than Stiles' personal chauffeur for the day. He looked good, damn good, and Stiles felt the familiar urge to lick a line down to throat to his navel and lower.
"Did you do this?" Stiles asked, slowly making his way over to stand in front of Derek. He was aware that Mrs. Daphne was coming out to stand on her porch.
"You don't think your dad did it?" Derek asked, shifting slightly. Stiles watched the way his muscles moved with his arms.
"He made it pretty clear that I wouldn't be getting new tires unless he heard good news at the next parent teacher conference or I paid for it myself. And no one else would do this for me." Stiles continued his slow stalk towards Derek. He wasn't sure what this was; wasn't sure where the boost of confidence came from. But he wasn't going to waste it when everything he wanted was in front of him.
"Are you sure Jackson wouldn't do it? You two seem so close lately." Derek spread his legs a little to make room for Stiles, but didn't move other than that.
"We are just friends. No romantic feelings involved whatsoever. And I'm pretty sure that kiss was just to spite you." Stiles stepped into Derek's opened legs, wrapped his arms around his waist.
"He kissed you?" Derek probed. His arms were still perfectly still on the hood. Stiles loved that about him, loved the sheer amount of control that was Derek Hale.
"Yes, but you can erase it if you'd like," Stiles offered, looking up at Derek through his eyelashes.
"Are you even attracted to me? Or is this just a symptom of being insanely happy that you have your jeep back?" Derek inquired. Stiles reached up and slid the sunglasses off his face, fingers lingering over those cheekbones.
"I'm attracted to you Derek. God, am I attracted to you. But up until Scott moved away you were just a fantasy that got me through a stressful night. You seemed to hate me and I wasn't even out to anyone other than Scott. Derek I'm not one to chase things that seem unreachable. Well besides Lydia, but that was more of a cover than an expedition."
"Then what makes now any different?" Derek asked, his eyes slipping closed under Stiles' gentle touched.
"I don't chase things that seem unreachable-"
"You've said that before," Derek interrupted. Stiles smiled at him.
"But you're right here in front of me and I do chase what I know I can grasp," Stiles continued. He stepped at way, letting his fingers fall down and over Derek's chest. "My dad is the hardest working man in this town. Lord knows his son gets so lonely in this house alone."
"So if I come in?" Derek asked, muscles flexing under Stiles' hands
"You'd be a good Samarian," Stiles answers. He lifts his hand and waits patiently until Derek finally lifts a hand and places it in Stiles'. Stiles drags him inside, winking at Mrs. Daphne on the way in.
Once they're in the living room, all restraint leaves and Stiles finds himself being slammed against the wall. Derek's body is immediately pressed against him, his lips not far after. Stiles is greedy, and empty like a dry sponge soaking up as much as he can hold without wasting a drop. His hands mapped slow trails over every plane and slope of Derek's body. He let out a desperate groan when Derek pulled away.
"Are you sure this is what you want?" Derek asked, eyes searching for any sign that Stiles wasn't sure.
"I'm not exactly screaming 'no' and 'stop'," Stiles pointed out. He pulled on Derek's shoulders and tried to get him to reconnect his body to Stiles. Derek pulled Stiles away from the wall and up towards the stares. Stiles followed wordlessly, afraid that if he said anything, Derek would break out of whatever was letting him do this. That didn't stop his brain from chanting yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.
Once they were Stiles' room, he took over, pushing Derek down on his bed and straddling his hips. He latched on to Derek's mouth and groaned happily. Derek's hands found his hips and moved them in a sudden jerk.
"Fuck!" Stiles hissed, repeating the rolling motion.
"We shouldn't be doing this," Derek gritted out. He held Stiles still while they caught their breath.
"What? Why?" Stiles asked frantically. His entire body was humming, thrumming in tune with Derek's.
"You don't think this is too fast?" Derek asked incredulously.
"No! In fact I think we're making up for all the time we wasted pretending that the attraction wasn't there." Stiles found a particular vein in Derek's neck to hold his attention while what he said sunk in.
"Huh," Derek stated simply. Stiles pulled back and looked at him.
"I'm sitting in your lap, practically begging you to devirginize me and all you say is 'huh'? What is it with my friends answering serious scenarios with 'huh'?" Stiles asked. He watched a strange look spread over Derek's face. It wasn't a bad strange, just strange. "What?"
"We're friends?" Derek asked.
"Oh come on! What is with you werewolves being so out of character lately? You're really pulling the sensitive werewolf card right now?" At Derek's blank look, Stiles sighed and answered. "I let you and your pack of weirdoes smoke weed in my dad's, the sheriff, house. I rode to school and back with you. You bought me new tires and people who aren't friends don't do that. Hell, friends don't usually do that."
"It's just….I figured you'd have more restraint than you do."
"Why would you think that?" Stiles asked, frown set deep on in his face.
"Because you're Stiles; sweet, innocent, sheriff's son." Stiles looked at Derek and burst into incredulous laughter.
"I'm a teenager genius! I seize opportunities and think of the consequences later if I get caught. And you're the hot guy that I've been secretly pining after. I'm not going to stop and beg you for a wedding ring. I'm going to hump now and think about feelings and emotions later. Plus that whole sheriff's kid thing is like the biggest cliché, right after the preacher's kid."
"I….don't know how to answer that," Derek admitted.
"You can answer it with a 'voila', because you've magically made the mood disappear with all your talk about my dad." Derek didn't look all that apologetic and Stiles frowned. "Was that your plan the whole time? Distract me and stomp out my arousal? 'Cause I gotta tell you, that's foul. You're not getting off that easy though. If my neighbors think I'm a whore, I can at least get some pleasure out of it."
"What?" Derek asked.
"It's a long story. I'll tell you about it after we finish cashing out my v-card."
*It wasn't until much later, after a long night of passionate kisses and refractory periods*, that Stiles thought to punch Derek in the ribs.
"What the fuck?" He growled out, being jarred awake by the sudden attack.
"I just remembered that you wouldn't have had to buy new tires if you hadn't slashed them in the first place."
"What are you talking about? I didn't slash your tires," Derek defended, grimacing as the bruise on his ribcage healed.
"What?" Stiles asked, dumbfounded.
"I didn't do it," Derek repeated slowly. Stiles frowned and rubbed his hand over the now painless spot he'd punched.
"Huh," At Derek's dark look he gave a sly grin. "You can get your revenge with round 4."