Stiles downloads P90X because he hears about it from Jackson. Or rather, he heard Danny and Jackson talking about it in the locker room and really, it was more that he'd heard Jackson commenting on Danny's abs. And okay, Stiles might have looked at Danny's abs just to confirm that they were sharp enough to "cut glass" and he might have gotten a little hard because really, yes, Danny's abs were fan-fucking-tastic and Stiles didn't know how he hadn't noticed them before.
Because they really are that nice. Solid looking and hot, with the line that leads down to his shorts and Stiles kind of wishes he had that line, because he thinks he could rock that look. Actually, he knows he can rock that look, and maybe if he has that look then he can have someone else appreciating his abs the way Stiles appreciates Danny's.
All of which lead to him downloading P90X. And buying a pull-up bar. And a yoga mat. His dad already has a weight set in the garage, which meant all Stiles needed to do was bribe Scott with an evening of video games and the entire weight set (and weight bench) has been moved into the spare bedroom without Stiles having to lift a finger.
The thing is, just because Stiles had all the pieces, he'd kind of forgotten that he'd have to do the work, too. And fuck him, but P90X actually was more hardcore than he thought it would be.
Week one isn't as horrible as he imagined. He can't do too many pull-ups yet, and he's pretty sure his form on a couple of the ab exercises is wonky, but he feels like he's actually accomplishing something, waking up a couple hours before school so he can eat breakfast and workout and shower. His dad grumbles a little about Stiles' music, but all Stiles does in return is grin and invite his dad to start working out with him. His dad is quiet after that, probably terrified at the thought of having to do yoga in the same room as his son.
It's weeks two and three that really start to get to him. He's tired a lot of the time, and sore, because he hasn't stopped going to lacrosse practice or running in the woods with the wolves for "training" in addition to his early morning workouts. He's always had a fast metabolism, but now he feels hungry all the time and has taken to carrying packs of nuts and apples in his bag. He knows this is a good thing, that it means he's building muscle and muscle means he might have people noticing his body one day, eventually.
He's ready for the shift that week four brings, which is good because in addition to letting his muscles rest, that's also when Chris Argent comes a knocking and suddenly Stiles finds himself in charge of negotiating a treaty between the werewolves and the hunters that nobody, not even Allison, saw coming. And he has to do a fucking kick-ass job at it because otherwise, well-his friends are counting on him.
"Do you really think Derek is going to agree to you having access to his house on a random basis, to make sure he isn't doing anything nefarious?" Stiles raises his eyebrow and shakes his head. "Really?"
Chris Argent has the good grace to look at least slightly uncomfortable at Stiles' question but he doesn't answer. Stiles wasn't really expecting one, so he goes back to reading the proposed treaty, letting the question hover in the air.
A few minutes later Stiles actually starts to laugh. because seriously? There's no way Derek is going to agree with having his pack lojacked, just to provide their location whenever the hunters needed it. "Fucking seriously?" He asks when he gets his laughter under control.
"It's to their benefit too," Chris all but snarls. "That way they can prove they didn't do whatever it is that has us needing to locate them."
"Or, it's just a convenient way for you to find them and murder them in their sleep." Stiles pauses-waits for Chris to start objecting before cutting in and saying: "Wait, I forgot, you prefer the term hunt. That way you can feel like all you're doing is taking care of some stray animals." Stiles voice is quiet, barely above a whisper, as he says this. He should go back to reading the rest of the proposed treaty, but he can tell that it's just going to be more horseshit that nobody in their right mind would accept, especially not Derek and his pack.
Instead, he stands up and throws the papers on Chris' coffee table. "The only thing in there I'd even dare to mention to Derek is your idea of a shared database. And the only reason that one's getting mentioned is because I think it's a good idea and I'm the one that does most of the research."
Chris doesn't say anything. "I'll be in touch in a couple days with the pack's ideas. You should spend the time going through that pile of shit and actually making a proposal that makes sense without reducing our entire pack to the equivalent of a kindergarten class."
Stiles knows that Scott knows about his workout regime, and he's pretty sure Derek has picked upon a it, and maybe even Lydia has. So when Allison shows up, bright and early Saturday morning, wearing workout clothes and grinning, Stiles doesn't really know what to say. Instead he blinks a couple times and invites her in.
The two of them are surprisingly good work-out buddies-she spots him when he does his pull-ups (which means he can finally not use the chair, which is good because the chair is responsible for more than its fair share of bruises that are currently on Stiles' shins) and encourages him when he really doesn't want to do another set of bicycles or tricep extensions. Stiles repays the favor by not blatantly ogling her when she's stripped down to lycra shorts and a sports bra. Stiles can tell she appreciates all the comments he clearly isn't saying.
Weeks 5 and 6 pass relatively quickly, once the pack has realized that the Argent's treaty isn't going to work out quite yet. Stiles kind of wants to wait for Chris to get in some trouble and need the pack to rescue him before they negotiate again, because that way they at least have a little bit of leverage that isn't related to the fact that his daughter considers herself more pack than Argent at this point in time.
By the start of week 7 Stiles can actually sort of see muscles developing, although part of him is convinced it's actually his imagination and not something based in any form of reality. Allison convinces him that its real, though, by wolf-whistling (howling? cheering? Because what she does is not something Stiles can picture Derek doing, or Scott, or any of the pack really, which means he has to re-evaluate his word choice) at him when he takes his shirt off. It actually makes him blush a little, and put his shirt back on, because he doesn't want Scott to get the wrong idea about the two of them.
Allison laughs when he does this, though, and says with a wink: "I'm pretty sure Scott knows I'm not packing what you're interested in."
Week 8? Week 8 is spent questioning his sexuality.
"Do you think I look hot?"
He's standing in the locker room shirtless, looking at Scott, when Danny answers him. "You're getting there, actually."
Stiles blinks. "Really?" His voice sounds more incredulous than he wants to admit, but to hear Danny say that kind of blows his mind. He can still remember asking Danny if gay guys found him hot earlier in the school year, and how Danny hadn't really answered, which was basically the same thing as a no.
Danny takes a second before he responds, clearly looking Stiles up and down, and suddenly Stiles is feeling more exposed than he was just minutes earlier. "Yeah, you're definitely getting there." Danny says. "Whatever you're doing...it's like milk, definitely doing your body good."
"Did you hit on me?" Stiles asks. He turns to Scott. "Did Danny just hit on me? I'm getting hot enough that gay guys are hitting on me?"
Scott doesn't bother answering, just shoves a jersey at him. "Maybe Coach will let you off the bench once you flex your new muscles at him."
Stiles shoves the shirt on and sighs morosely: "Probably not," before brightening up a little: "but that doesn't mean I can't flex my muscles while I sit on the bench! Someone might enjoy it!"
After the conversation in the locker room, Stiles throws himself back into the routine with more energy than before. Weeks 9 through 11 focus on the thighs and butt, which Stiles thinks he definitely needs to work on, especially if his new found obsession with dick is anything to go by. He isn't sure if he likes the actual idea of bottoming, but the idea of sucking cock, of being strong enough to hold someone's (Derek-his mind supplies) hips down as he teases and torments him, fuels more than one late night session.
He's actually telling Allison that, well, kind of-he's telling her that he wants someone to be able to bounce a quarter off his ass, truthfully-which his dad kind of overhears. So, mid-week 11, right before the end of the entire P90X experiment, Stiles ends up coming out to his dad mid squat thrust. The sheriff just kind of rolls his eyes and says: "Just because you can't get pregnant doesn't mean you shouldn't use protection" before going downstairs to make breakfast.
Stiles isn't sure if he should take it as a compliment-that his dad thinks he's hot enough to actually get something that requires the use of protection-or if it's an insult, because duh. He totally has seen enough videos and pictures of various STDs. Plus, he's on the lacrosse team and more than one guy has shown up with a suspicious rash or dick dripping pus that Stiles has had to identify using his google-fu, so...
In the end he just ends up shrugging and going back to his squat thrusts. Allison giggles a bit and doesn't say anything, which Stiles knows means she's already texted Scott and he'll have to hear about it later at school, but whatever. That was part of the price he clearly had to pay for having his bro's girlfriend as a workout partner.
Derek only says something during week 12, right before the after pictures are supposed to be taken. Stiles is standing in his room and maybe, possibly, admiring his new muscles in the mirror, when Derek climbs through his window. Stiles squawks about privacy and knocking or at least texting, but Derek just shrugs and tilts his head to the side, looking at Stiles as if he's considering something.
"You need to eat more." Derek says a few seconds later.
Stiles doesn't turn around, just mutters: "of fucking course" under his breath because, seriously? Of fucking course Derek thinks he needs to eat more, after Stiles has just spent the last 12 weeks working his ass off (or rather, working part of his ass off and making it so the rest of his ass is surprisingly hard and toned and maybe, just maybe, tan because Allison is fucking impossible to say no to and she was all for going to the tanning salon earlier that week and he'd been free ballin it and just-)
Derek reaches out and touches Stiles' arm, interrupting his train of thought. "No, just-if you eat more protein, you'd probably get better definition." Stiles looks up at Derek and doesn't reply. "Laura used to do personal training in New York," Derek looks around Stiles' room, clearly trying to avoid eye-contact.
"Ah."
Derek doesn't say anything else, just sits down on Stiles' bed and waits for Stiles to put a shirt on and turn to him, prepared and business-like. "So, what's up, Sourwolf?" Stiles finally asks.
Derek grimaces at the nickname. Stiles doesn't feel at all guilty, because Derek is probably the sourest of sourwolves and not saying it wouldn't make it less true. "Argent might be more open to a treaty now," is what Derek ends up saying.
Stiles tilts his head and looks at Derek. Chris hasn't been kidnapped recently, in fact there's been a dearth of supernatural events over the past few months, Stiles can't really remember his last marathon research session it's been so long. Almost as long as he's been doing his workouts.
"Why?" he finally asks.
Derek shrugs. "Scott and Allison were talking about how impressed Argent is with your workout routine."
Stiles blinks, because that definitely isn't what he was expecting to hear. "And they said this to you?"
Derek at least has the good grace to look a little ashamed, which Stiles takes to mean that no, Scott and Allison hadn't said anything to Derek, but Derek had probably overheard and instead of talking about it to Scott and Allison like any rational person, had decided to bring it to Stiles because Stiles did such an amazing job negotiating the last time.
"So?" Derek presses, waiting for Stiles' response.
"I don't know if it'll be enough," Stiles runs a hand over his hair and shrugs. "I mean, I can try again but I'm really not sure working out so I can get guys to notice me is really going to make Chris trust our pack."
Derek stares at Stiles. Stiles blinks. The silence is long and incredibly awkward and its weird because he doesn't even know why Derek is staring at him. A couple minutes later Stiles sighs. "I said I'd try, dude."
Derek doesn't move. "Working out so guys would notice you?" He finally asks.
Stiles nods. "I mean, yeah. I know I'm all that and a side of chips, but I'd kind of like to not be a virgin when I graduate high school, and at the rate I was going I'd still be waiting for my first major make-out session, so. Something had to change." He shrugs because seriously, it should have been obvious.
"Text me what he says," Derek says before ducking out the window, just as suddenly as he'd shown up.
Stiles throws his hands in the air and says: "Of fucking course," because clearly he's there to be ordered around and do things for the pack. Which, okay, come to think of it, he probably is. That was kind of the whole point of having an alpha to do the decision making and okay, yeah, Stiles shut down that entire thought process before it goes any further because he doesn't want to even start remotely thinking about following Derek's orders while the wolf was within even a hint of scenting range.
Derek didn't need to know what Stiles smelt like when he was horny.
Because Stiles was basically as subtle as something really unsubtle, like maybe kangaroo hanging out at a mall instead of the plains of Africa (which is where Kangaroo's lived, right? He adds it to his mental list of growing questions to wikipedia the shit out of when he's at his computer or on his phone, avoiding looking at Scott and Allison because the two are enough to scald his eyes when they get going), he basically decides to just call Allison and make up some lie about why they can't have the next workout session at his house but have to have it at her house instead.
So, he calls her and stumbles through a really badly worded monologue about his dad being super tired and how Stiles didn't want him to wake up due to a shaking house, which, to be totally honest, a couple of the exercises do. Apparently squat thrusts on a second story floor that has essentially nothing underneath it but air and a bit of wood-well-the shaking does get pretty bad and his dad has bitched about it before.
Allison agrees without Stiles having to do much prompting and then he's actually over at the Argent house, in the wee hours of the morning, and he clearly hasn't thought this through because now he's going to try to impress Chris Argent, aka hunter badass, aka dude that's tough and kind of psycho but not nearly as psycho as his family, that a treaty is a good idea and it should be fair and stuff, while in his sweatsuit, covered in sweat. He figures he does have points for working out and being proactive, and Chris probably doesn't know that Stiles is working out solely because he wants to have a nicer body so he can sex it up, so. Maybe he can swing it like he's trying to be prepared for the next threat? A healthy body is a safe body?
Allison opens the door and shows him an actualfax workout room with workout equipment. There's enough space to do their exercises and set up the laptop to watch the instructional video (although at this point they've seen it practically a lot and could probably do all the exercises without being lectured by the mpeg file, but eh, habit). They're on modified pull ups, with Stiles' hands actually on Allison's ass, trying to spot her as she's pulling herself up for the zillionth time, when Chris stops in.
And okay, this probably isn't the best exercise for him to see, but it's not like Stiles is trying to sex up his daughter because yes, okay, he definitely still likes boobs at least a little, but he's so much more of an ass and dick man now, he had a sexual revolution and everything, and shit, because Chris is looking at him with funny look, and Allison is actually covering his mouth with her hand, which Stiles basically takes to mean he said everything he'd been thinking out loud.
"Fuck me." He says, when Allison uncovers his mouth.
Chris Argent shakes his head and laughs a little. Stiles actually groans when Chris says: "Sorry Stiles, but you're not really my type," which Allison think's is hilarious and Stiles knows without even looking at her that she's already texting the entire pack something about how Stiles hit on her dad and he turned him down, which okay, technically might be true but it wasn't really the truthiness of the situation.
Stiles wisely decides not to talk to Chris Argent about the treaty that morning. He'll do it in a few days when he can look at the hunter without turning red in embarrassment.
"What's this I hear about you having a thing for older men, hmmm?" Stiles' dad looks at him and Stiles doesn't even want to guess how his dad has heard about it, because he's been hearing about it all fucking day. From Scott, from Isaac, from Jackson. He'd classified school as one of the circles of hell earlier, because of how much shit he was getting. And now his dad is in on it? Fucking hell.
"Dad, buddy, compadre..." Stiles begins, desperately scrambling for something to say. "I don't know what you heard about me propositioning Chris Argent, but-"
The sheriff's eyes seem to bug out and Stiles is already regretting what he's said because clearly that wasn't what his dad was referencing. "You propositioned Chris Argent?!" The sheriff's voice isn't necessarily screaming, but it is loud and a bit shrill, definitely panicked.
Stiles throws his hands in the air and says, loudly, "No, no-it was just a misunderstanding that Scott was giving me grief about earlier and of course I wouldn't proposition Chris Argent because he's your age, and I'm not saying you're old dad, but seriously, you are a bit ripe and Chris Argent is probably older than you..."
"Stiles," the sheriff interrupts. "I was referring to Derek Hale, who as of right now is sitting in your room, waiting for you."
Stiles blinks. "Derek's here?"
The sheriff nods. "And we do need to talk about how you're on a first name basis with somebody that you turned in as a suspected murderer..."
"Here right now?" Stiles says again, just to clarify. "In my room, even?"
The sheriff nods and Stiles takes off, sprinting up the stairs. "It was nice talking to you too, son!" the sheriff calls after him. "Keep the door open, please!"
"You came in the front door?" Stiles asks as soon as he see's Derek, which, okay, he probably should have waited for Derek to explain why he was there or something, but coming in the front door is a pretty monumental thing.
Derek doesn't respond, just growls a little and Stiles feels the sudden urge to gulp, to pee, to do something to release the tension he doesn't even understand but seems to be feeling.
"Um, dude?" He ventures, holding his hands out in a 'keep away/calm down' gesture.
"You propositioned Chris Argent?!" Derek roars, and Stiles can almost see his eyes flash alpha red and seriously, this entire thing is being blown completely out of proportion.
"Fuck no." Stiles responds, steady, waiting for Derek to hear the truth in his answer. Derek doesn't calm down, instead he leans forward and actually smells Stiles' neck.
"Why do you smell like him, then?" Derek's voice is calm, probably too calm, so Stiles takes a second and a deep breath. Then lets it out.
"You told me to talk to him about the treaty, so I went over and worked out with Allison, and he caught me feeling her up by accident because I was spotting her but my hands were on her ass and just, okay, I didn't mean to feel her up at all, but he saw me and I might have said fuck me because that is not a situation a guy wants to be in and he turned it into a joke and Allison heard and this entire thing is being blown completely out of proportion." He says the entire thing in one breath, fast as lightning, rambling because he's Stiles and he rambles and gives too many details, and he waits for Derek to actually hear everything. Because the last thing he wants on his hands is an angry Alpha.
Derek's eyes are still flashing red a little, but he isn't growling and Stiles is pretty sure that means he's at least heard what Stiles had to say. He drops his backpack on the floor and sits down on his bed, waiting, ready, for Derek to respond.
"But you were working out." Derek finally says. "Because you wanted guys to hit on you. And then you were at his house working out."
Stiles nods. "Only because I thought he'd be in a better mood if he saw me and Allison working together, that's all man. I swear."
Derek nods. "But..."
"I don't want him to hit on me, I don't want to hit on him. I am working out because I want to get laid at some point this century, but I don't want to be fucked by a guy my dad's age, by a guy that has a daughter who is currently sleeping with my best friend and if something happened between me and said guy, I'd end up being a type of Step-Father which is just fucking gross, actually, so yeah, definitely not interested in sleeping with Chris Argent."
Derek calms down as Stiles says this. His eyes stop flashing red and Stiles doesn't even want to think about what that means, because if he was being honest, he started working out because he liked Danny's abs, but Derek has even better abs and Derek is kind of around a lot and well, he's fucking smoking, so.
And apparently Stiles is still saying things out loud that he's thinking because Derek is looking at him appraisingly now, clearly weighing what Stiles said, about Derek being hot, and...
"You look good, with the muscles." Derek says, which okay, of course? Because that was the entire point of kicking his own ass over the past 12 weeks, to look good, to eventually get laid. "You looked good before them, too."
This Stiles wasn't expecting to hear. "You're smart and look out for the pack and don't take my shit most of the time." Derek is still talking and Stiles is freaking out a little because fucking Derek Hale is telling him why Stiles rocks, and it isn't his banging new body, even though his body is fucking banging now, and he totally has a line that leads to his happy trail, and nice abs and fucking kickass triceps.
And okay, shit, because Derek's looking at him and clearly he was still talking while Stiles was busy processing and now is waiting for a response, so: "Does this mean you want to kiss me?" And yeah, Stiles deserves points for fucking putting it out there. He's brave, he's strong, he could maybe even hold down Derek's hips while giving him a blow job because he has muscles. But Derek is a werewolf, so his muscles probably aren't enough but Derek seems like a guy that would let Stiles try, anyway. And trying sounds like a hell of a lot more fun than standing here, awkwardly looking at each other. "You want to kiss me." Stiles says again, just to clarify the situation. He knows honest communication is key to a successful relationship-and fuck but he needs to stop watching Dr. Phil.
Derek nods, wordlessly. Stiles nods too.
"So what are you waiting for?" He asks when Derek doesn't make any move towards him. Instead Derek is rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, looking almost as if he wants to pounce, which, to be totally honest Stiles wouldn't be opposed too.
"You to kiss me." Derek says.
And fuck, but Stiles could get behind that.