Author's note: Hey guys! This is my first foray into writing for Sterek but I seriously hope I manage to do them some kind of justice. This fic will follow the basic plotline of Dirty Dancing but there will be a lot of original stuff included. I really hope you enjoy it and feel free to let me know what you think!
Teen Wolf and Dirty Dancing are property of their respective owners. I'm just playing with the characters! I own nothing and this work is simply for entertainment purposes.
It was the summer after graduation and the Stilinksi family were all crammed into the sheriff's SUV. Stiles and his brother Isaac in the backseat, Isaac ignoring everyone in favor of his headphones and Stiles chattering away with his dad about one of his current cases. John and Claudia in the front seat, the former with his fingers wrapped firmly around the hand of the latter.
"Do you think they have lacrosse at the resort, Dad?" Stiles inquired, leaning around the back of his father's seat to wrap his arms around the older man's shoulders.
"Dunno, kid. I know Finstock favors it, so it's possible." the sheriff shrugged, patting his youngest son's arm.
"We're supposed to be on vacation, Stiles." Claudia reminded him, turning in her seat to smile fondly in his direction. "You can play lacrosse at home whenever you want. Why not try something different this summer?"
Stiles smiled but his chest tightened a little like it did whenever he knew he was about to bow to his parent's wishes. "Sure, Mom. Sounds good."
He plopped back against his seat, earning himself a dirty look from Isaac in the process. Stiles flipped him off with a grin then shifted his attention to the trees whipping past his window. He settled into the comfortable leather seat and let his mind wander.
It's not that he was opposed to trying new things. Stiles loved experimenting and figuring out what he liked. It was one of his favorite pastimes, really. Hell, that's how he'd discovered he liked guys just as much as he liked girls in his freshmen year of high school. So Stiles was down for all the experimenting. It was just... He hated that he always felt the need to do exactly what his parents wanted even if it made him miserable. They didn't do it on purpose. He knew that. His parents wanted him to be happy and successful. Therefore, everything they asked him to do was what they thought to be in his best interest. And Stiles just never had the heart to say no. Which is the reason he found himself preparing to head off to New York City in September to attend Columbia University, focusing his studies on Human Rights. Then, it was straight on to Columbia Law. One day, Stiles would become a judge. No question about it. Because that's what was expected of him.
What Stiles really wanted was to be a cop at the Beacon Hills PD, just like his father. He really wanted to follow in John's footsteps and become sheriff someday. But, his parents wanted more for their son and Stiles just didn't want to argue.
Columbia it was.
An hour later the sheriff and his family were pulling up the long, snaking driveway of the Redwood Resort. John got a deal on the vacation because he and Finstock were old high school buddies. Otherwise, the Stilinski family would be pitching tents in the mountains somewhere like they did every other summer.
John put the SUV in park just as Stiles and Isaac clamored from the backseat. Stiles stretched his long, lean limbs and scratched a hand through his slightly too long hair while making his way around the car to take a good look at the sprawling mountain lodge. People milled about everywhere, some just arriving and carrying luggage, others engaged in the usual summertime activities on the massive lawn.
"Damn. See Mom? I should have brought my cleats." Isaac groused to Claudia, jerking his head towards a pair of twins who were hauling football gear.
"I'm sure you can borrow a pair, Isaac." Claudia soothed her eldest boy, running her fingers affectionately through his sandy blonde curls.
Isaac rolled his eyes but dipped his head so his mother could reach his hair more easily. He had at least a foot and a half on her.
"Now we're discussing the big issues." Stiles interjected, smirking as his brother pushed him.
"Shut up, Stiles." Isaac grumbled.
Stiles chuckled and shot his father a shit eating grin. His father winked but was distracted quickly when coach Finstock approached.
"John!" Finstock smiled widely, pulling John into a enthusiastic handshake/hug/back slapping combo. "Glad to see you managed to pull your ass away from Beacon Hills long enough to pay us a visit."
"Bobby." The sheriff thumped him on the shoulder before pulling out of the embrace. He tilted his head towards his family. "You remember my son Isaac. And of course you know Stiles." He gestured to each of them respectively.
Finstock nodded a greeting to both boys and offered Claudia a hello and a kiss on the cheek. He then motioned to the dark haired, bronze-skinned young man at his shoulder. "This is Scott. He's gonna help you with your bags and show you to your cabin. Saved you one right on the lake." Finstock beamed.
Scott was too busy grinning unselfconsciously at Isaac to notice he'd been introduced. Stiles used a hand to cover his laugh.
"Scott!" Finstock nearly shouted. The younger man jolted to attention, his smile slipping as he turned toward the man. Finstock waved in the cars general direction. "The bags."
"Oh, right." Scott nodded. He offered one last charming smile at Isaac and then made his way toward the back hatch of the SUV.
Stiles took pity on the poor soul (he knew how many bags his mother and Isaac had brought along) and went along to help. Before he opened the hatch he held a hand out to Scott.
"Stiles." He introduced himself, since John and Finstock had neglected to. "Scott, right?"
"Yeah." Scott nodded his shaggy head quickly. "What kind of name is Stiles?"
"I couldn't pronounce my given name when I was a kid. My parents called me Stiles and it kind of stuck." He shrugged as he started pulling luggage from the car. "It never occurred to me to ask them to stop."
"Cool." Scott grinned again, his smile open and carefree as he helped unload.
Stiles immediately decided he liked Scott. From his shaggy black hair, crooked jaw, and boyish charm to the easy way he held himself, Stiles thought he and Scott could be friends.
"So, you from around here?" Stiles asked while following Scott to their cabin, carrying as much luggage as he could fit on his person.
"Nah." Scott called back to him. "I live in Wolfwicke in the off-season."
"Really?" Stiles asked excitedly. "I live in Beacon Hills."
Scott shot a grin over his shoulder. "Awesome! My mom works in Beacon Hills so I'm there a lot."
"Awesome." Stiles echoed.
A few more trips and they managed to clear the car of luggage. Stiles offered Scott a bottle of water from his bag then propped his hip against the porch railing. Finstock wasn't lying. This cabin had a fantastic view of the lake.
"So, what do you recommend as my first foray into summer resort activities?" Stiles questioned, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow.
Scott shrugged one well muscled shoulder. "There's not a lot going on tonight. They're playing scrabble in the west hall later. The good stuff doesn't kick off until tomorrow."
"What's tomorrow?" Stiles asked, forever curious about everything ever.
"Finstock throws a summer kick-off dinner to mark the official start of the season." Scott explained in between gulps of water. "There's food, and music, and dancing, and shit."
"Dancing?" Stiles cringed.
Dancing was not the best idea for the uncoordinated.
Scott flashed another of his grins. "I know it sounds lame but it's always a pretty good time."
"But dancing?"
Scott laughed, the sound warm and rumbling. "There's always dancing."
Stiles decided that taking a mini tour of the resort was something that needed to be done. He's gotta get the lay of the land after all. If he's spending the entire summer here he needs to know what kind of entertainment this place has to offer.
So, he pulled on a sweater and took off toward the main building. The grounds were quiet, only a few people scattered around the lawn. Stiles nodded and mumbled hello to the people he passed as he followed the stepping stone path up the hill. He reached the wrap around porch of the massive building unaccosted and he was about to let himself into the rec hall when the sound of a raised voice caught his attention. Curious as ever, Stiles tiptoed toward a door that was hanging slightly ajar. Peeking inside he could see Finstock surrounded by a group of guys, all around Stiles and Isaac's ages. Half of them were wearing the dressy uniform Stiles knows is for the waiters since he saw them at lunch and the other half were wearing green shirts with tan shorts. Stiles guessed that the ones in green are the activity directors. Finstock's voice raised another decibel so Stiles tuned in.
"You guys are reasonably intelligent, right? So, can someone explain to me why I have to tell you this again? Keep your fingers outta the water, your hair outta the soup, and show the God damned daughters a good time. Or the sons." Finstock added, getting a beaming smile in response from one of the twins Isaac had noticed earlier. Both twins were wearing the white jacket, black slack combo that denoted their positions as waiters.
"Shlep them out to the terrace." Finstock continued his rant. "Show them the stars. Romance them anyway you want. Flirt with them a little. Make them happy, keep them that way, and their parents will stick around."
Stiles rolled his eyes. Seriously with this?
"You guys got that?" Snarked a rich, growly voice from someone Stiles couldn't see from his position.
"Hold it, wise ass!" Finstock shouted, jabbing his finger towards where the voice was coming from. "That doesn't mean you, Hale. You've got your own rules. Dance with the kids. Teach them the mambo, the cha-cha, anything they pay for. But that's it. That's where it ends! No funny business, no conversations. You keep all of your moves on the dance floor or, so help me, I'll have your balls."
"You got it, Coach." The voice drawled sarcastically.
Stiles was impressed. He could practically taste the sarcasm from across the lodge.
"I mean it!" Finstock yelled. "I catch you so much as looking sideways at a guest and you're out of here."
The proclamation is followed by tense silence and Stiles kind of feels bad for the guy bearing the brunt of the coach's abuse.
"Hey, coach." A massive guy with dark skin called just as Finstock was about to leave the group. "Conversation is off the table but getting a little in the woods is still totally okay, right?"
"Watch it, Boyd!" Finstock snapped. He glanced around the room seemingly challenging another one of them to open their mouths."What are you waiting for?" Finstock asked sharply when no one else spoke up, his gaze sweeping the small crowd of young men. "Get back to work!"
Stiles watched him storm off in the opposite direction.
"You hear that, Hale?" One of the twins stood up and started rearranging the place settings on the nearest table. Stiles couldn't be positive but thought this wasn't the twin that had smiled at Finstock a few minutes before. "Keep it in your pants for once."
"Douche-canoe." Stiles quickly decided.
"That's hilarious coming from you, Aiden." said the growly, sexily sarcastic voice from before. "Tell me again why Lydia tried to break your nose?"
"Who gives a fuck?" Douche-canoe bit out. "All the talent in this dump right now? I'll be swimming in it by morning."
Someone shifted and suddenly Stiles caught a glimpse of the growly voiced guy. Stiles knows this because the dude was glaring something fierce at Douche-canoe, his impressive eyebrows drawn together in ill-concealed rage. It took Stiles all of five seconds to take inventory of the guy. All six foot of him. Hale was a masterpiece of well formed muscle and dark shadows. His hair was jet black, his cheekbones sharply defined even beneath the matching stubble. His eyes were covered by the heavily tinted lenses of his sunglasses which Stiles found oddly disappointing. Hale's clothes matched his apparent color scheme; Tight black jeans, tighter black cotton t-shirt with the sleeves flipped up a few times.
The twin, Aiden, didn't flinch when Hale took a step toward him. Instead, he kept talking. "Just remember what Finstock said. You think you can keep it straight? What you can and cannot lay your paws on?"
"Don't worry about me, college boy." Hale laughed darkly as he slung a leather jacket, black of course, over one shoulder. "Just stay the hell away from my partner."
With that, her turned smoothly on his heel and strode away. Aiden watched him go, anger glittering in his eyes.
At dinner the following night Stiles watched with apprehension as Aiden not so subtly flirted with Isaac while he waited their table. The sheriff eyeballed Aiden warily but didn't comment. Claudia smiled warmly at him when he poured her wine, thanking him politely. Stiles wanted to warn his brother what an asshole Aiden seemed to be but he barely opened his mouth to speak when he was interrupted by Finstock approaching their table to chat with John and Claudia.
Stiles watched Isaac purposefully ignore Aiden, which predictably only made him try harder. Isaac was a pro at flirting. The guy never met a person he couldn't charm the pants off of.
Stiles picked up the thread of conversation between his parents and his coach just in time to hear Finstock introduce his nephew, Jackson.
"It's nice to meet you, Jackson." Claudia lets him press a chaste kiss to the back of her hand. "These are my sons, Isaac and Stiles." She indicated each of them as she said their names.
Isaac shook Jackson's hand while Stiles lifted his chin in greeting.
"Jackson's attending Harvard this fall." Finstock practically preened, slinging an arm around his nephew's shoulder.
"Nice." Isaac grinned. He jerked a thumb at his own chest. "I'm in my last year at Cornell."
"What about you, Stiles?" Jackson inquired, his sharp blue eyes fixing on Stiles' own honey brown ones.
John answered before Stiles could open his mouth. "He's attending Columbia. Law school." The sheriff slapped Stiles proudly on the shoulder.
Stiles' chest clenched again but he made himself nod his agreement, a tight smile stretched across his face. Jackson's eyes lingered just a second too long on Stiles, appraising, before he seemed to decide something.
"Stiles," He smiled "would you care to join me for a dance?"
Stiles glanced to his father for a rescue but the sheriff wasn't going to help him out this time. He and Finstock were buddies so John had no problem pushing Stiles to accept the invitation.
"Sure." Stiles nodded.
That's how Stiles ended up with Jackson's hands sliding lower over his waist as they shuffled around the dance floor. Stiles wriggled a little, trying to get the guy to take the hint. Instead, he managed to bump his mother with his hip, knocking her off balance for a second before his father caught her. Claudia patted Stiles' cheek gently before John swung her away.
Stiles couldn't help but smile at his parents as they danced away. He'd never seen a couple more perfectly suited to one another than John and Claudia Stilinski. Married for nearly thirty years, they were still as in love as the day they'd said "I do.". Sure, they fought and raised their voices but the fights always ended with them making up and cuddling close on the sofa in their living room with a bottle of his dad's favorite whiskey. They burned brightly, all passion and a mutual desire to argue just for arguments sake. Somehow it worked for them.
"It keeps us honest." Claudia had told Stiles once.
"So." Jackson called loudly, trying to be heard over the music thrumming through the speakers in every corner of the room and radiating live from the band on the stage. "Columbia?"
Stiles nodded absently. "Columbia." He agreed, catching Isaac and Aiden dancing together on the outside edge of the room. "Law school, eventually."
"I guess the desire to serve justice runs in the family."
"It must have skipped Isaac." Stiles joked blandly. "He's studying medicine at Cornell, like our mother."
"Your mom is a nurse, isn't she?" Jackson raised a brow.
Stiles growled under his breath. He genuinely hated when people assumed that because she was a female his mother was a nurse. "She went to Cornell." he repeated, struggling to keep his tone neutral. "She's a pediatrician."
Jackson shrugged, nonplussed. Thankfully, the song ended and Stiles was able to disengage so he could clap for the band. The band struck up another song, this one a mamba style tune. A ripple ran through the crowd a half beat before Hale sauntered out onto the floor, a strawberry-blonde goddess on his arm. He was dressed in black again, except this time he wore tight slacks with a sports jacket over a deep gray button-up. The woman on his arm was stunning in a pastel pink dress, its full skirt flowing around her but stopping well above her knees.
The crowd parted without hesitation, allowing the pair the center of the floor. Every eye in the room followed them as they glided across the floor, moving together in seamless perfection. Their bodies slid together then apart with practiced grace. Stiles watched in awe, his eyes drinking in every sway of their hips, every move of their long legs. When the goddess hitched one leg up over Hale's shoulder and he dragged her across the floor on a single pointed toe Stiles could feel the temperature in the room ratchet up about a hundred degrees. He swallowed thickly, cursing the blush he knew would be creeping up his neck even though no one could possibly know he was thinking of how perfectly the two dancers would move together under much more intimate circumstances.
"Who's that?" Stiles decided to ask.
Jackson's eyes narrow a fraction when he answers. "That's Derek Hale and Lydia Martin. They're here to keep the guests entertained." he explained, his tone dripping with condescension. "They teach dance. They shouldn't be showing off with each other, though. That's not going to sell lessons."
Letting his eyes slide back to the duo Stiles watched them, mesmerized once more. The way they fit together, the way their bodies flowed in perfect synchronization. It was fluid and graceful and Stiles' couldn't seem to breathe.
He cleared his throat. "I think I'm gonna go get some air." he shouted to Jackson. Without waiting for a response, Stiles hurried for the door.