Fuck.

"Well, this is... an interesting development."

"I, uh, well, I... It's really not what it looks like?"

And it isn't. Probably. Because what this (the two of them sitting quietly in a dinner, waiting for their orders and making sometimes awkward-sometimes fluid small conversation, alone and not even waiting for the pack. Just somehow alone and together and not looking at each other suspiciously- and maybe, maybe working through their combined piles of trust issues) ultimately looks like is like they are on a date- Derek and him. And, well, that's...

"It is," Derek says then, hands gripping his can of soda (that he won't just pour into the glass because all he's got in looks he somehow lacks in manners). "Exactly what you're thinking, Sheriff. I'm sorry you had to find out like this."

Apparently exactly what this is.

"It is?" Stiles asks, accidentally spitting some of his drink at the table with the straw he is chewing.

His dad looks at him with hopeless endearment, and then looks at Derek with a raised eyebrow that isn't promising doom, but is still severe and father-like, and please dear God, don't let his dad intimidate the guy he's sort of in a first date with before they get to first base.

"I hope this means that you'll stop sneaking through my son's window and start using the front door. And that you are required to assist to Sunday morning breakfasts. Stiles makes killer oatmeal pancakes."

What.

"And I also hope you remember that California's age of consent is eighteen. Which is an year more than my son currently is."

What.

Derek... Derek is actually handling this with much more grace than he is, what the actual everloving-

He just nods at his dad with his serious eyebrows and says, "my intentions with Stiles are pure. I won't press for anything he isn't ready."

And then there's the way his upper lip inches minutely upwards, and his dad's facial muscles do about thirty billion things all at once and...

"Oh my God, you two are having fun at my expense. You suck."

Stiles is totally sure that first dates (even when he is unaware he is going out on them) aren't supposed to end like this, with his dad and his potential boyfriend (and he'll go back to that later and appropriately freak the fuck out over how wrong this could go- because come on, this is Derek. And him. Together they have what amounts to a Mount Everest of issues, with themselves and each other and relationships and even though they've started working on them, there is so much that could- No, not thinking about this right now. Just, not) bonding over his humiliation.

Derek's lips twitch again, and his dad just gives him this shrug that Stiles is sure means 'I'm your dad, it's my duty to embarrass you until you want to bury your head in the ground', and then he walks away.

And that's when Stiles notices his little takeaway bag.

"I really hope that's a veggie burger with a side of carrot sticks, dad!" He yells, then, feeling particularly vindictive.

His dad throws him a dirty look over his shoulder and he smirks.

Then, he looks at Derek and says, "you could've warned me that we were on a date."

And then, because what the hell why not, "and I really hope you know I'll expect you to make out with me as soon as we are out of here."

Derek doesn't laugh, but his eyes kind of do.