It was the summer before Stiles’ last year of college and Stiles was climbing up the walls. Scott and Mrs. McCall were on their yearly trip into the wilderness, Lydia was spending the summer at MIT after she scored a summer internship with one of her thesis advisors, and Malia, well, Malia was spending most of her time in summer courses for some unfathomable reason. That meant Stiles’ only constant company was his computer and the shadow of his upcoming thesis hanging over his head.
Well, that wasn’t entirely true.
He’d made a habit out of dropping by Derek’s new auto shop every other day just to have someone to talk to. Sometimes it was less of a conversation and more of a monologue, but Derek’s entertained huffs of laughter or surprise told him the man enjoyed the stories Stiles fed him during his visits.
Out of the blue —as he sat on the hood watching Derek work in a car wearing only a white undershirt, muscles straining as he tightened a bolt— he wondered if Derek had always been the hottest person in their pack. It was a difficult thing to measure when everyone around him looked like a swimwear model, but he was positive Derek must be it.
Idly, Stiles wondered if Derek knew the power he had over him. Stiles spent a long time crushing on Lydia, who spent years completely unaware of his existence. He was sure for Derek it was the same deal: Stiles, Scott’s more annoying shadow or something of the sort.
Stiles could only hope his crush on Derek would eventually fade into obscurity as his crush on Lydia had. Otherwise, pack gatherings would always feel slightly awkward as he tried to avoid showing just how intense his feelings were.
“You went weirdly silent over there, are you okay?” asked Derek without looking up from under the hood he was working on.
“Just thinking.”
“About?”
Stiles, by now used to the pack’s ability to detect lies, slid in a half-truth, “I’m working on this piece for the school’s newspaper about the biggest polluters in the country and— you don’t wanna hear about this, do you?”
“Go ahead,” said Derek, wiping his hands on an oily rag. Then he turned to Stiles, “it’s better than the chatter on the radio.”
Stiles, surprised by Derek’s answer, took a moment before he continued talking, telling him about CO2 emissions and companies lobbying for less regulations, all while trying not to sound distracted by Derek’s competence as he finished his work on the car.
“And yeah, well, I have this lead that a former employee accidentally gave me, so I’m going to work on that tonight,” he concluded, surprised that the sun was going down outside and that he spent all the afternoon talking to Derek. Well, more like talking in Derek’s direction, since the other man didn’t do so much chatting.
“How come you’re working on this now?” Derek asked.
“Did you really expect me to spend the whole summer without investigating something?” Stiles paused for a second before continuing. “Not even my Dad did, dude. He warned me against snooping in on any open cases while I’m staying here, so I might as well put work into this project and see where it takes me.”
Derek sighed, as if he knew something Stiles didn’t. “Don’t go looking for trouble for a grade, Stiles.”
“There’s no grade, this is just for the newspaper.”.
“Still, you seem to find trouble anywhere.”
“Trouble finds me, actually,”Stiles said, jumping from where he was perched on top of his car. “Gotta go, I promised my Dad we’d have dinner together. See you tomorrow?”
“If you find the time, sure,” he said, shrugging nonchalantly.
As Stiles drove home, he thought of Derek eating dinner alone in his small new house near the workshop and promptly came to the decision of inviting him over for dinner sometime. As a pack mate, nothing more. It surely wasn’t good for him to spend all that time alone either. Especially because his pack was never in the same place at once. Derek would never admit it, but he must miss the people he can be himself with, even if they’re the same people who once got him on a watchlist for murder. Stiles makes it a point to write a note on his phone that reads find out Derek’s favorite dish to cook for him when he comes over.
Just to be nice. It didn’t have to mean anything. Stiles would get over his crush eventually.
come with me to The Little Door tonight? sent Stiles a couple days later, as soon as he received confirmation from his source about the meeting going down between representatives from Creek Lumber and the Mayor.
Are you paying? Replied Derek about ten minutes later.
50/50? Texted back Stiles, one hundred percent sure he could not afford a three course dinner for two at the expensive restaurant.
Fine. 7 ok for you?
7 is perfect actually, answered Stiles.
I’ll pick you up then, said Derek.
Glad that he didn’t have to explain his motives to Derek, Stiles took advantage of his free time to transcribe his interview with his source, a former employee at Creek Lumber that quit after her research on the environmental impact of expanding the monoculture forest plantations was deemed “too controversial” to be released.
He zoned out for a while, lost in the intrigue of the story unfolding under his fingertips. Stiles was good at this: unraveling the threads that made up a story, connecting the evidence he had in search for the truth. Journalism might have not been his first option going into college, but now he didn’t see himself doing anything else. And this? This story might be way too big for a college newspaper. Maybe he could pitch it to the Beacon Hills Tribune and get it published before the school year started.
As he got to his source’s statement about the irregularities in the logging contracts she had seen, his phone chimed with a text that read I’m on my way. You better be ready.
Stiles glanced at the clock and saw he had ten minutes to get dressed. After going through his outfits twice, he finally settled on a dark gray shirt that, while it didn’t scream money, made him look like a serious adult, not a college kid who had never seen the inside of a five star restaurant.
When Derek arrived, he knocked on the door instead of climbing through his window, which, in hindsight, should have been his first clue that they were in wildly different pages about the night’s events.
Stiles grabbed his keys and wallet from the table, then shrugged on his jacket. “I didn’t know you knew how to knock,” he joked as he opened the door, then froze when he took Derek in.
The man was wearing a navy shirt under his ever-present leather jacket and tight jeans that probably made his ass look amazing. Stiles must have been too obvious as he checked him out, because when he focused on Derek’s face, he raised an eyebrow.
Heat rose to his cheeks as he said, “you, um, look good.”
Derek smiled, real and unguarded, a smile Stiles didn’t see often. “Are you ready to go?”
“Sure. We’re taking my car, right?” Stiles asked.
“You wanna take the jeep to The Little Door?”
“Are you implying Roscoe isn’t a five-star car?”
“First of all, it isn’t.” Stiles gaped at him, ready to go on a tirade to defend his beloved car. Derek put his hand up as if he knew Stiles wanted to interrupt. “I’m just saying we’re gonna blend in in the Camaro.”
Stiles couldn’t fault that logic: he wanted to blend in, needed to, in fact. After throwing a last longing look at his car, he followed Derek to his.
Once inside, he was suddenly hit with the knowledge of how terrible an idea it was. Derek’s car was a lot smaller and the space smelled of Derek’s distinct signature: the forest, leather and expensive aftershave with the undertones of something else, something wild that couldn’t be named. Stiles felt the hairs in the back of his arms rise, his heart beating faster.
“Everything okay?” asked Derek, looking his way.
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”
It would be a long ride.
When they got to the restaurant, Stiles saw the Mayor out of the corner of his eye and instinctually slid down the seat, hiding from view.
“What’s wrong?” asked Derek.
“The Mayor is right there,” he pointed in his direction, staying down. “Wait a minute. He doesn’t know me, he refused all my requests for an interview.”
Stiles straightened up in his seat, smoothing down his shirt.
“Stiles, are we here to ambush the Mayor?” Derek’s voice changed, colder, almost detached.
“Not ambush, no. Just to collect evidence that he’s accepting bribes from private companies to sell the Preserve for logging purposes.”
“Stiles—”
“Don’t ‘Stiles’ me. This is important. Aren’t you angry that they want to tear down the Preserve?” Stiles asked.
“I am, but spying on someone is illegal and I’m sure your ethics professor would have something to say about it.”
“First of all, we’re not spying on someone if they’re in public. And second, Taylor, my professor, would be thrilled if she knew. She’s ruthless.”
Derek sighed. “You’re not a journalist yet, Stiles. If they find out—”
“That a concerned citizen wants to protect the only Preserve we have in the county? I’m sure their PR teams will have a hard day when this comes out anyway. Now let’s go, we need to get a table with a view.”
The Little Door wasn’t a big restaurant. It was proud of its exclusivity and refined clientele, so much so that Stiles felt the hostess’ eyes on him immediately when they came in. Stiles’ however, focused on the Mayor, who was waiting next to the hostess looking at his phone.
“Table for two,” said Stiles, projecting more confidence than he felt.
“I’m so sorry, there’s nothing available. We’re fully booked,” said the hostess without missing a beat.
Stiles didn’t think this through well enough to make a reservation and now he was paying for it. But he didn’t have time! His source only confirmed the Mayor would be here that same day, and how was he supposed to know he would need a reservation anyway?
“Oh no, that’s terrible,” said Derek. Then he put an arm around Stiles’ shoulders, bringing him closer. “It’s just— tonight’s special.”
Stiles blurted out the first thing that came to his mind that would make tonight special. “Yeah, um, we just got engaged and this is where our first date was.”
“Yeah, I would’ve made a reservation, but I didn’t know if he was going to say yes.”
Stiles decided there was no harm in playing it up just a bit. He snuggled to Derek’s side and said, “Aw, I love how nervous you were, my little wolf.”
Then he kissed Derek’s cheek, lingering for a second that seemed to stretch forever. Derek’s surprised face quickly morphed into something less shocked as a smile broke out in his face, bright as the sunshine.
“You two are so sweet together,” said the hostess. Her smile seemed genuine as she continued, “I’m sure I can find something for two young lovers.”
The hostess turned around and left to talk to someone in the back, while Derek let his arm fall from Stiles’ shoulders, his smile becoming more subdued, his eyes not meeting Stiles’. When she came back, she walked the Mayor to his table and told them she’d be back for them shortly.
“That was a nice save, Derek. Thank you,” he said.
“Yeah, whatever.” Derek still didn’t meet his eyes, now glancing around the restaurant as if looking for another way out. “Let’s get this over with.”
As they were led to their table, Stiles lowered his voice and told Derek, “well, no more acting as a couple. We’re back to being Stiles and Derek, two friends having dinner together.”
Derek’s back tensed but he didn’t turn to say anything to Stiles. The hostess showed them their table: right next to the Mayor and the Creek Lumber representative —at least, he hoped that’s who the woman was.
“Hey, you’re the couple that just got engaged!” said the Mayor. “Congratulations.”
“Yep. That’s us. We’re a couple.” Stiles smiled at them trying to hide his discomfort.
Stiles’ plan was suddenly not as smart as it seemed when he came up with it.
Stiles ordered the chicken and Derek ordered the ribeye steak. He also ordered them a bottle of wine from a place Stiles can’t pronounce. Before they were served though, a waiter came to them with a bottle of champagne and a plate of oysters.
“We didn’t order this,” said Stiles immediately, concerned with the idea of paying for oysters too.
“They’re from the table over there,” he nodded to the Mayor’s table.
“Oh. Thank you,” he said. Then he half turned to the Mayor’s table. “Oysters and champagne? You really didn’t have to.”
“It’s nothing,” he waved off. The Mayor’s blatant display of wealth made Stiles uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything, just thanked him again and then looked back at Derek as he served two glasses.
“So, how did you know he was the one?” asked the Creek Lumber representative, taking a sip from her expensive wine.
“Uh, I would love to answer that,” said Stiles, thinking of something that wouldn’t betray his real feelings to the werewolf’s ears. His heart beat faster anyway. “I just— whenever I look at his handsome face and… the attached physique.”
“And you?” asked the woman, pointing at Derek with her fork.
Derek didn’t take long to reply. “He makes me laugh.”
Stiles felt stupid for his answer, so he added, “and there’s no one in the world I trust more than him.”
“Let’s toast to that,” said the Mayor, raising his glass.
With that, they returned their focus to their own table and left them alone. At a loss of words for the first time in a while, Stiles wondered what was a safe topic of conversation to have within earshot of the meeting taking place next to them but came up empty. He should have planned this better. Maybe he shouldn’t have done it at all.
He was saved from himself by Derek, who started the conversation with a casual, “did I tell you Cora called?”
“No, you didn’t.” It was true. Derek usually didn’t share much about Cora, except when she would be visiting. Then Derek did something unexpected and started talking about it, telling Stiles about all she was doing in Brazil. Some parts sounded truncated to Stiles’ ears, as if something supernatural was involved in the story that he was glossing over for the benefit of keeping their cover.
Their plates arrived and they continued chatting, something that came to them as easy as breathing. Stiles wondered when the hell that happened. Derek wasn’t exactly talkative, so Stiles felt like he unlocked an achievement building that rapport with the man. It only took them five years of sarcasm and snarling and one summer hanging out frequently for them to get there. It made Stiles appreciate Derek’s friendship a lot more.
At some point in the evening, Stiles noticed the Mayor standing up and walking to the back. Less than two minutes later, the representative followed him.
“Thank you for doing this,” Stiles said.
“Sure. That’s what friends are for, right?” Derek replied, tightly. Stiles immediately knew something was wrong.
“Is everything okay?”
“We got free oysters out of this. I’ll be fine.”
“Ok, cool, ‘cause I need to go to the restroom real quick.”
Derek nodded.
Stiles walked to the back of the restaurant and got his phone out of his pocket, opening his voice recording app.
“ —understand, there’s gonna be pushback,” said the Mayor from the other side of the door. Stiles hit record and listened to the muffled voices. He wished the door was slightly open, but he couldn’t risk discovery by cracking it open an inch.
“I’m telling you, Keith, our PR team can deal with pushback. We’ve been doing it for years.” There’s a pause. Stiles’ breath catches in anticipation. “Look, you don’t have to answer now, but think about it.”
“Elections are right around the corner, Cindy. I can’t risk it.”
The woman —Cindy— said, “you know what Creek Lumber’s support could mean during the campaign.”
The Mayor huffed. “Please! You know how that’ll look when—”
“Stiles, what are you doing?” said Derek behind his back. He almost jumped out of his skin at being caught.
Stiles shushed him, but he wasn’t quick enough: the voices behind the door quieted, the click of high heels getting closer to the door.
“Please don’t punch me for this,” Stiles said in a rush. Then he grabbed Derek’s face and kissed him.
It wasn’t how Stiles wanted his first kiss with Derek to go, but kissing him would keep him from being discovered and that was all that mattered. He could grapple with the ethical implications of kissing Derek to keep his cover later.
Derek, to Stiles’ amazement, quickly shed his surprise and —pulling him closer by the waist— kissed him back.
What a kiss it was. The tingle of Derek’s stubble against the palms of his hands, blood rushing to his ears, the desperate crash of two mouths that waited too long to find each other. For a moment, Stiles could pretend that Derek wasn’t just kissing him to maintain his cover, but he was genuinely interested in Stiles and this was a real kiss, the first of many to come.
Someone cleared their throat behind them and Stiles almost jumped out of his skin. The Creek Lumber representative smiled at them.
“Sorry, we were just looking for a place to—” Stiles began, unsure of how to continue.
“It’s okay. I get it,” she interrupted. “Newly engaged couple.”
Stiles felt his cheeks burning. Derek’s arms tensed around him.
“We’re just gonna…” Stiles pointed to the bathroom.
“Enjoy your night,” said the woman, walking away.
A moment later, two things happened: the Mayor came out of the bathroom, gave a courteous nod in their direction, then walked back to his table without another glance.
The second thing that happened was this: Derek let go of him and looked at him with something Stiles couldn’t fully decipher, disappointment and hurt mixing with something else.
“Derek, that kiss… you know that didn’t mean anything, right? That was just for our cover.” The words spilling out of his mouth didn’t make sense to him, but Derek was a good friend, part of his pack, he didn’t want to mess things up.
He regretted the words as soon as he said them.
Derek’s shoulders slumped with a heavy sigh, his chin low as he shook his head. “If you say so, Stiles.”
A moment later, he was walking back to their table, where he dropped a couple of bills and left the restaurant.
Somehow, he knew that if Derek left now, their relationship would be irreparably broken forever.
Stiles snapped back to action then, first going to their table to settle the bill. He shouldn’t have bothered, Derek left more than enough to cover their dinner and a hefty tip for the waiter. Stiles grabbed his jacket from the chair and made his quick exit.
Once outside, he saw Derek was still by his car, his hand on the roof, looking defeated. Stiles crossed the street without a care, earning a quick honk from an angry driver. Stiles made sure to give him the finger before he took the final steps to Derek.
“Derek, I —”
“Don’t start, Stiles,” he interrupted. “I’ll take you home if you want to.”
“Not until you hear me out. I shouldn’t have said that.”
Derek frowned at him. “That’s what’s bothering you?”
Stiles’ heart beat faster. He didn’t think lying was a good idea. “I’m more bothered by the idea of losing your friendship over a stupid kiss. Was it a good kiss? Well, yeah. Will I think about it tonight and probably the rest of my life? Absolutely. It doesn’t mean it wasn’t a stupid idea. This whole evening was a stupid idea.”
At that, Derek turned to look at him, the beginnings of a smile pulling at the corner of his lips. “You’ll be thinking about it?”
Stiles, surprised this wasn’t evolving into a fight, wasn’t thinking when he said, “uh, yeah. Wouldn’t be opposed to repeating it sometime. Would you?”
“I thought it was just for your cover,” he said, bitter.
“Oh, come on, Derek. That was bullshit and you know it.” Before Derek could protest, he added, “I like you. I really do. I wish I hadn’t ruined our first kiss with what I said.”
The only sound around them were the cars passing by the street behind them, the occasional honk in the distance. If there were people around them, Stiles didn’t notice, all he could do was look at Derek as he waited for something, anything.
“Come on, Derek. Say something,” he urged.
“I wouldn’t.”
“What?” Stiles cocked his head in confusion.
“Be opposed to repeating it,” Derek finished.
Warmth spread through Stiles’ chest as he got closer to Derek, running his hand up his arm as soon as he was close enough. Derek, for his part, grabbed Stiles’ chin and drew him closer still. Finally, they closed the distance in a clash of lips and teeth that ended in laughter from both of them.
Stiles would later say that what came next was their first kiss: both of them meeting halfway, smiles still on their faces, lips parting gently, unbothered by the people in the restaurant or any passersby. It was a kiss full of certainty and the promise of more went unsaid but it was clear as day.
When they came up for air, Derek leaned his forehead against Stiles’. “We can go back to my place if you’d like.”
Stiles didn’t have to think twice about it.
“I’d love that.”