MOPING

Moping.

Stiles was moping.

And he had all the right to mope, ok? All. The. Right.

Scott was out with Kira in some romantic and expensive restaurant in the city. Jackson and Lydia had taken the entire weekend off, for Christ's sake, and were currently at some expensive fancy-ass beach somewhere. Danny and Isaac had planned a nice afternoon in the park, followed by a movie and then they'd retire to Danny's…

And Stiles…

Stiles was moping.

He wasn't naïve, and he wasn't hopeless. He knew he was just seventeen and that he'd have lots of Valentine's to spend with his special one, but not being able to do so while every single (ok, not single) one of his friends were, had him moping.

And don't get him wrong, he has happy for them all, he really was (well, except maybe for Jackson, but he was an asshole who didn't deserve any nice troughs, sue him). Still, that didn't stop him from thinking how pathetic it was that he was single and all alone on Valentine's Day, lying on the couch watching re-runs of "Friends". Oh, also, he felt pathetic for falling for an emotionally constipated werewolf that was five years older than him. A werewolf that had looked him dead in the eye not even three weeks before Valentine's and just said "don't" when he finally gained the courage to go ahead and tell him how he felt.

Not that Derek didn't know already. Come on, the guy was a freaking werewolf, and of course he had noticed the change of the smell in the boy –from awkwardly aroused to completely smitten-. Nonetheless, Stiles had thought that it would be courteous to avoid the embarrassment and tell the guy straight forward (well, not so straight) how he felt. All for the great Alpha-of-Jerks to stop him with a "don't" before he could even say a word, and storm out of the kitchen of his loft and join their packmates at the living room.

Strangely enough, or maybe not strangely at all, all consider, things were pretty normal between them after that. Stiles would still talk a mile an hour, move all around the place without having to, and fight for the last slide of pizza, and Derek would… groan. And sulk. He did a lot of sulking, the moody.

So yeah, Stiles was moping, and Ross was making a fool of himself in front of Rachel, when there was a knock on the front door of the Stilinski Residence… Stiles' house.

He was tempted to stay on the couch and let the unknown visitor go away, but then again, his dad was working the night shift and those always scared Stiles the most. Grunting, the boy got up and head to the door, opening it only to find an awkwardly standing, nice-enough dressed Derek Hale on his doorstep, eyebrows raised as if he himself were surprised to be found there.

Derek tensely balanced his weigh from one foot to the other, lifting up a bag that Stiles could see was full of… movies.

- Uh… hi. – Ok, this was awkward, even for Stiles' standards.

- Hi to you, too, Sourwolf. – Stiles didn't move, and Derek just closed his eyes briefly, and cleared his throat.

- I bought some movies. And since I didn't know what you'd like to eat tonight, I thought maybe we could order something? If… you want, that's it.

For being the talkative one, and for being the one who had imagined this very same scenario at least a dozen times in the last three episodes of Friends, Stiles was pretty much speechless. Even so, and as usual, his face was expressive enough, and Derek relaxed visibly when Stiles looked at him with this curious expression… this anxious expression… this hopeful expression.

When the younger boy stepped aside to let Derek in, the wolf was already fully composed and back to normal. Smirking at the suddenly mute boy, he added:

- And since I'm pretty sure every place right now is over-populated, maybe we could go out and have an actual dinner sometime next week?-