A/N: a special thanks to leah for being her usual amazing self and to beth for agreeing to look this all over for me. also,. this is slightly based on the book painted faces by l.h. cosway and i'm sorry.
"You're not Laura," is the first thing out of Derek's mouth as he almost drops the box labeled "Paint Shit" on the floor.
He is ready for Laura and her sad smile - he made sure to mentally prepare himself for that as soon as he got the phone call from the nursery saying Peter was gone -, and how she'll look at him and say that it's been a while baby bro and then will absolutely refuse to help him carry all of his shit inside the apartment, because even though she misses the fuck out of him she's still his older sister. And that means she's still a bitch.
Nevermind that she's the one who asked him to move in, asked him to come back to Beacon Hills, asked him not to leave her alone here now that Uncle Peter is gone.
So it's no wonder Derek is a little thrown when the front door opens before he can knock on it and the person standing there is most definitely not Laura.
Because Laura is a little shorter.
And has long black hair.
And has hazel green eyes just like Derek's.
And she's not a guy.
"No, I'm not."
Derek takes a moment to appreciate the way the guy's eyes seems to swirl from light brown to golden and back again as he shifts his head, the way his lips tilt up in a half smile, and the hand with chipped blue nail polish placed on top of the box as he helps Derek adjust his hold on it.
"Thanks," Derek says, gripping the box more tightly.
"You must be Laura's brother," the guy smiles, eyes glinting in the sunlight. "I was just coming back from giving her her silver clutch back."
"Derek. I'm Derek," Derek tells him.
And suddenly he feels like he's sixteen and stupid again, the tips of his ears turning red as the guy bites down on his lower lip. He wants to stop this, wants to stop the way his stomach twists and his heart starts beating a little faster and his mouth goes dry.
"I know," he nods, before gesturing a hand at himself. "You can call me Foxy Red."
Derek blinks, "Foxy Red?"
"And if we become friends you get an upgrade to calling me Foxy," he says, winking at Derek.
"Foxy?" Derek repeats, because who is this guy?
"Yep," he smiles, looking oddly pleased with himself. "Anyways, I should probably head back. I still have to lose the nail polish before I go to work."
He waves his blue covered fingernails in front of Derek's face, as if Derek somehow might have missed that, and walks past Derek into the corridor.
"Right," Derek says, slowly. "You wouldn't want to go around with your nail polish chipped."
"Exactly," he says, smile widening. "I'll see you around, Derek."
And with that he's turning on his back, opening the door to the apartment next to Laura's, and disappearing inside. It's not until Derek hears the snap of the door closing shut that he realizes the guy still hasn't told him his real name.
"Not that I don't enjoy the sight of you standing at my front door staring into empty air with a dumb look on your face, I think you should better start unloading your shit, little brother."
If Derek yelps and jumps back at the sound of Laura's voice in his ear, that's no one's business but his own. And the mop and bleach he has to use to clean the floor and walls from all the paint splatters from when he lost his hold on the box he was carrying.
"Thanks, Laura," Derek snaps as he gets inside the apartment and goes to inspect the damage to all his paint shit.
He refuses to call it art supplies.
He doesn't consider himself an artist. He rarely paints anything on canvas anymore, never really did to begin with, but he likes having them around for when the mood strikes. It's also useful on the rare times someone comes to the garage he works at – or used to work at before he moved back here, anyways - asking for a customized paint job. All Derek has to do is get an idea for what type of color they want, mix it up on paper, show it to them, and see if they like it.
The inside of the box is a mess, paint everywhere, and he barely manages not to slap himself in the face for never bothering to screw the paint tube lids tight enough whenever he finished using them.
"You're welcome," Laura sneers at him from her place on the couch.
Derek glares and throws a brush at her head, only to have her duck away from it and get up, walking up to where he is and ruffling his hair.
"I missed you," Laura says, and Derek's heart lurches painfully in his chest at how sad she sounds.
"I'm sorry," Derek mumbles, not looking at her.
Laura sighs and pokes him in the ribs, "You don't have to say you're sorry, Derek. All you had to do was come visit every once in a while."
"I was busy," Derek shrugs.
"Bullshit," she snaps.
"Laura," Derek warns.
"I get that you didn't want to be here after…" she trails off, takes a deep breath, rubs a hand over her face. "But it's been years, Derek."
"I'm here now," Derek shrugs, not daring to look at her.
Laura knows better than anyone that when he was eighteen he grew tired of staring at the burnt remains of what used to be their lives. She knows he packed his bags, got in the Camaro, and drove off until he couldn't smell burning flesh and smoke anymore.
But she doesn't know why he never came back.
That if he hadn't been so young and stupid and in love their family would still be alive.
"For how long?"
And Derek can't answer that - doesn't know how -, so he makes his way from the living room to the kitchen, stopping at the sink so he can wash all the paint from his hands, and changes the subject.
"How do you know Foxy Red?"
Laura looks down at him from where she perched herself on top of the counter like he lost his fucking mind, until understanding dawns on her and her face splits into a wide smile, "Foxy Red, huh?"
"He was at the door when I got here," Derek says. "Blue nail polish, golden eyes, hair sticking up in every direction, came to give you your silver clutch back."
"And he introduced himself to you as Foxy Red?" Laura raises an eyebrow at him.
"If we become friends I get an upgrade to call him just Foxy," Derek deadpans, and he can't help but smile a little when he sees Laura throwing her head back and laughing. "What's his name, anyway?"
Laura shakes her head, "Nope, I'm not telling you that."
"Laura," Derek says, drying his hands on his pants.
"You'll just have to keep calling him Foxy, little bro."
"We're not even friends yet," and Derek can't believe that just came out of his mouth, even as a joke.
"Oh, but I have no doubt you will be," Laura grins wickedly at him and walks back into the living room.
"What's that supposed to mean?" Derek follows close behind her, because he knows that smile Laura just gave him. And that smile means bad, really bad things to Derek.
"That is for me to know, and you to brood about," she says as she picks up the paintbrush off the floor and throws it at Derek, hitting him square on the chest.
"I don't brood," Derek scowls, holding the brush.
"Sure you don't," Laura waves a hand at him. "And you should probably unload all your things and move them to the guest bedroom before dinner tonight."
"Why?" Derek narrows his eyes at her.
"Because Foxy is stopping by," Laura tells him, and then continues to speak before he can say anything, "And you need to go by the garage to talk to Boyd about your new job. And maybe thanking me for putting in a good word for you."
Derek just arches an eyebrow at her and says nothing, because they both know he would have been hired anyway.
"Whatever," Laura says, grabbing her keys and purse from the coffee table. "I have to get to work, so don't break anything while you're moving your things."
"I'll try my best," Derek rolls his eyes.
"You do that," Laura says as she opens the door and walks outside. "And I'll tell Foxy you've been asking about him."
"Laura," Derek yells over the door being slammed, only to hear the distant sound of it being locked before he can open it and strangle her.
By the time he finally manages to find the spare key and unlock himself, Laura probably has already told Foxy all kinds of embarrassing shit about Derek and fucked everything up.
Not that there's anything to fuck up.
Not that Derek wants there to be.
Except for the fact that he totally fucking does want it, and wonders what the fuck is it about this guy when Derek just met him and they've only spoken about three words to each other.
He wonders if it's the chipped blue nail polish.
Because that was kind of hot, in a really weird way.
In the end he just settles for unloading his things from the Camaro. He didn't bring much stuff - doesn't have that many things anyway, not since the fire –, so it doesn't take long for him to bring all his boxes up to the apartment and stack them into his new room for the time being. He doesn't bother to unpack anything just yet, only goes for one of his duffels and grabs some fresh clothes so he can take a shower and stop by the garage.
And if Derek thinks about long fingers with blue painted fingernails wrapping around his cock as he jerks off in the shower, no one needs to know.
"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes."
Derek turns his head in the direction of the voice to find a woman resting her hip against the hood of a car. Even with her blonde hair tied up, no makeup, and grease stains all over her hands and clothes, Derek can tell she's gorgeous.
And by the way she's smiling at him, he can also tell she'll probably suffocate him in his sleep.
"Erica, stop harassing the customers," comes a male voice from under the car.
"I'm not harassing anyone," she shrugs. "I'm only stating a fact."
"You sound like Stiles," says the voice.
"I'm not a costumer," Derek interrupts before they can continue their banter. He really hopes that whoever this Stiles person is doesn't work here, because if he or she is anything like Erica, Derek is going to cut someone. "I'm here to see Boyd."
The guy slides from his place under the car, his blonde curly hair glued to his forehead with sweat, and sits up to look at him, "You're our new guy."
"Derek," Derek nods.
"Why, hi there Derek," Erica purrs, grinning at him.
"Boyd's out back," says the guy. "I'm Isaac, and this is Erica."
Derek nods at them both before pointing to the back of the shop, "I can just walk in?"
"Yep," Isaac says. "He's been expecting you."
Derek tilts his chin up at them before walking past the parked cars and heading to a door at the back. There's one of those whiteboards stuck to the front of it, and as Derek gets closer to it he can read the words "Bossman Boyd & the Golden Twins" written on it in black marker. He stops to take a deep breath - and wonder what kind of garage this is and what the fuck he got himself into - when the door opens.
"Derek Hale?"
Derek has to raise his head up a little to stare at the man in front of him, "Boyd?"
"Come on in," he steps aside as he gestures for Derek to come inside.
He sits in one of the chairs placed in front of the desk and waits for Boyd to take his place behind it. The room looks organized, a nice change from the garage he used to work at in New York where you could almost never see the table from all the papers thrown on top of it.
"Well," Boyd starts. "We both know I'm going to hire you already, so I don't see a reason to drag this out. You must have heard from Laura that we need all the help we can get right now, since one of our other mechanics decided life in Beacon Hills wasn't for him anymore and left. I'm gonna expect you here every day these first few weeks, expect on Friday mornings."
"What happens on Friday mornings?" Derek furrows his eyebrows in confusion.
"What happens is that your sister bullies us into having breakfast with her," Boyd says, giving him a pointed look.
"I feel like I should apologize."
"Don't worry," Boyd assures him. "Knowing Laura, you have it much worse."
"Probably," Derek sighs.
"Well," Boyd continues. "You've already met the Golden Twins, Isaac and Erica."
"What's that about?" Derek asks, unable to help himself.
"Stiles calls them that, but that's not important," and Derek really wants to ask him who this Stiles person is, but Boyd keeps talking. "What's important is that Isaac is a genius with cars, and Erica is a goddess when it comes to bikes. That's what they do here. I'll be expecting you to help them out as we sort things out these first few weeks and send some cars back out to their owners. Yeah?"
Derek nods, "I can do that."
He doesn't stay long after that, only letting Boyd show him around the shop and telling him a little bit about what kind of work is lined up for him. Derek also learns that Boyd and Erica are together, with the way Erica comes up to them and plasters herself to Boyd's front, staining his shirt, and smiles fondly up at him.
Derek tries not to breathe a sigh of relief at that, but by the way Isaac stares at him and snorts, he's not sure he succeeded.
He gets back to Laura's apartment to find all of his life's belongings staring back at him in boxes. After he turned eighteen and moved away, Derek learned not to live with much. He knows Laura kept tabs on him back then and made sure to always deposit money – insurance money - in his bank account, and he's grateful that she didn't try to contact him on those first few years.
Derek never stayed in one place too long, because that involved getting close to people, or at least comfortable around them, and it was the last thing he wanted to happen.
Not when the last time he let himself do that he got almost his entire family killed.
Coming back to Beacon Hills had never been an option, not really. He was fine in New York, better. He had friends and a steady job and the guilt didn't make him want to claw his eyes out most days.
But then Uncle Peter died.
He remembers getting the call from the nursing home, someone telling him they couldn't get ahold of Laura and his name was next in the emergency contacts. He remembers the crushing sadness and despair that another one of his family members was dead, and almost not getting to the bathroom on time to throw up his guts.
He doesn't remember much after that.
He didn't go to the funeral, couldn't bring himself to be there just yet, to see them lowering Peter's body under the ground. He also doesn't remember much of the next few months other than some hazy memories of going to work and coming back home to sleep, only to wake up from a nightmare and the smell of smoke.
It's after three months of dodging Laura's calls that Derek comes home to find her sitting by his door.
The first thing she does when she sees him is to slap in the face.
The second is to break down and cry.
And the third is to ask him to come back.
To not leave her alone.
To stop running.
So he hugs her and says "Okay."
Derek regrets ever coming back to this place as Laura gets home from work and puts him on salad duty.
"I didn't sign up for this."
"I don't care," Laura tells him, handing him a knife. "If you're going to spend the entire time lusting after Foxy during dinner, the least you can do is help."
"I'm not lusting," Derek mumbles, scowling down at the knife and considering stabbing Laura in the eye.
He's not lusting, not really.
He just likes the guy's hands.
"Oh, then you don't want to know that Foxy kept asking about you at work today," Laura says over her shoulder as she grabs whatever she needs from the fridge.
"He works with you?" Derek raises an eyebrow at that because Laura works in a library.
He doesn't know what he was expecting, but it certainly wasn't this.
"I can't believe that's what you're focusing on," Laura rolls her eyes at him.
To be honest, Derek can't either.
But that's what his sense of self-preservation tells him to do, and he knows by now that when he doesn't listen to it bad things happen.
So he just shrugs at her and goes back to cutting carrots.
"You're impossible," Laura huffs.
"And you're mean," Derek mumbles.
"Nice comeback, little brother."
"Shut up."
"And they just keep getting better and better."
"I hate you."
"No," and Derek can almost feel the smug coming off of Laura in waves. "You really don't."
"Why did I ever agree to move in with you?" Derek shakes his head, his lips curling up in a small smile.
He missed this, the easy banter with Laura. How she annoys the fuck out of him and he doesn't know whether he wants to hug her and never let go or strangle her half to death.
"I don't know," Laura says, her tone serious before she breaks into a smile and waggles her eyebrows at him. "But at least you met Foxy."
Derek groans and throws a carrot at her, feeling mildly disappointed when she catches it with her mouth.
They spend the next couple of hours cooking - or Derek helping Laura cook by chopping things into tiny pieces and not standing in the way – and talking. They catch up on the little things they missed in the three months Derek was a complete and utter fucking asshole, Laura's words, and Derek is surprised by how good this feels, staying here with Laura and just being her little brother again.
He's setting the table when there's a knock on the door and Laura runs to answer it, throwing him a smile as she passes. Derek scowls at her and ignores the way his stomach twists as he hears the door closing and both of them laughing at something.
"Look, Derek," Laura says, holding out a Tuperwear in front of his face. "Foxy made lemon cupcakes!"
"You bake?" Derek asks Foxy.
"I'm a man of many talents," he shrugs.
Laura snorts and kisses them both on the cheek before saying, "I'm gonna go put this in the kitchen. Foxy, please make sure Derek sets the table right."
Derek frowns at her retreating back before looking down at the table and seeing that he placed an extra fork instead of a knife in one of the seats. Before he can make any moves to grab the fork, a hand reaches out and does it for him.
"No nail polish this time?" Derek points a finger to Foxy's hand.
"Why? You miss it?" and he's tilting his head to the side at Derek, teeth coming down on his bottom lip as if to contain a smile.
Derek doesn't want to say that yes he does miss it, so he changes the subject, "When are you going to tell me you're real name?"
"Because it's ridiculous having me calling you Foxy all the time," Derek says, and then adds, "Foxy."
Foxy throws his head back and laughs, pale throat exposed and shoulders shaking, and Derek can't help but think how attractive he is. Especially in the dark jeans and red button down with the sleeves rolled up he's wearing.
"I think I disagree with you," he says, smiling brightly. "I kind of like it when you call me Foxy."
Derek feels the tip of his ears blush, and he's never been happier when Laura comes out of the kitchen and into the room, carrying a bottle of wine.
"Please tell me you won't try to get me drunk tonight," Foxy groans as Laura waves the bottle at him.
"I will tell you no such thing," she smirks at him, going for the glasses on the table and filling them up.
"Come on," Foxy whines, trying to take the bottle from her, only to be elbowed in the stomach, "Ugh, you bitch. I have a show tonight, I can't be drunk."
"You have a show?" Derek frowns, poking Laura in the ribs and grabbing the bottle from her hand when she yelps and shies away from him. "I thought you two worked together."
"We do," Laura explains, glaring at him as he places the bottle on top of one of her bookshelves.
"But I'm also a cabaret performer," Foxy adds, like it's no big deal.
Like Derek has no idea what that means and there aren't a million fucking images of all the possible things he could be doing running around in his mind.
"What does that entail, exactly?" Derek clears his throat, fixing his gaze on a spot over Foxy's shoulder.
Derek doesn't dare to look him in the face right now, because he's pretty sure the earlier blush in his ears has run down to his neck and it's making its way up to his face and cheeks.
"Oh, you know," Foxy says, waving a hand around. "It's a bit of music, a bit of acting, a bit of interacting with the audience. No big deal."
"And let's not forget the costumes," Laura says, sounding amused. "And the dancing."
"Dancing?" Derek asks in a strangled voice.
"Shut up, Laura," Foxy mumbles, cheeks turning red.
Laura looks from Derek to Foxy and claps her hands together, "Well, how about I get food on the table while you," she points a finger at Foxy, "ask Derek all kinds of questions about his life?"
"How about you choke on your wine instead?" Derek grunts back, narrowing his eyes at her as she turns her back on him, flips him off over her shoulder, and steps into the kitchen.
"Oh," Foxy says, and when Derek turns to look at him his eyes are bright with amusement. "I like that idea."
Derek sighs and looks up at the ceiling, wondering what he did to deserve this.
The smell of smoke and the sound of a woman's laughter suddenly come to mind.
"I don't," Derek says, pushing a chair back and sitting on it.
"Come on," Foxy urges, taking the seat across from him. "I'll tell you my real name."
"Really?" Derek raises an eyebrow at him.
"Well, not my real real name," Foxy rolls his eyes. "Because it's horrible and no one but my dad and I can pronounce it, but I'll tell you the name everyone knows me by."
"I thought that was Foxy," Derek says flatly.
"That's only from Thursday to Saturday nights," Foxy snickers.
Derek huffs, and almost jumps in his seat when Laura places a bowl of spaghetti bolognaise in front of him before taking her seat by the head of the table.
"Stop playing my brother and tell him already," Laura rolls her eyes at them, serving herself of some food.
"But it's so much fun the way his face gets all scrunched up whenever he has to call me Foxy ," Foxy says, pouting.
Derek runs a hand over his face and wonders if Laura would hunt him down and kill him if he got up, got the Camaro, and drove back to New York. For some reason he thinks she might, so he leans back on his chair and levels Foxy with the blankest expression he can muster.
"Your name first," Derek says, taking the spoon from Laura and putting some spaghetti on his plate. "Then you can ask me."
"Whatever I want?" Foxy asks, sounding way too excited for Derek's taste.
"No," Derek replies, because he's not stupid.
Before Foxy can say anything Laura opens her mouth and, "Whatever you want to know about Derek that he's too stubborn to answer, you can just ask me."
"I'm baking you extra cupcakes for that one," Foxy nods in her direction, face serious.
"And I'm firing you as my sister," Derek tells her, passing the bowl and spoon to Foxy so he can serve himself.
"Please," Laura snorts. "Then who would make you pancakes for breakfast?"
"You don't make me pancakes for breakfast," Derek says, raising both his eyebrows at her.
"I could," Laura snaps.
"Yes, you could," Foxy soothes her, patting her on the arm and then turning to Derek. "So, Derek. Questions."
"So, Foxy," Derek says. "Your name."
"You're no fun," Foxy furrows his eyebrows in mock hurt.
"He's really not," Laura agrees around a mouthful of pasta.
"Am, too," Derek mumbles, scowling at his food.
"You're adorable," Foxy coos. "Laura, he's adorable. You never told me your brother was adorable, you lying liar who lies."
"He's not adorable," Laura wrinkles her nose. "He's moody and grumpy and broody and leaves paint stains all over the place."
"Paint stains?" Foxy turns to Derek, looking interested.
"No questions until I get your name," Derek tells him, trying to ignore the warm feeling in his gut at Foxy calling him adorable.
Because he's not adorable.
Kittens and puppies and babies are adorable, but not Derek.
"I'm Stiles," Foxy, Stiles, says. "Stilinski."
"What kind of name is Stiles Stilinski?" Derek blurts out before he can help himself and cringes at the glare Laura sends his way.
"The kind of name that's mine," Stiles narrows his eyes at him.
"Sorry," Derek says, blushing and staring down at the table. "It's just. I. You."
"Oh, that's what's adorable," Laura sneers. "Stiles, you made my brother blush. You're my new favorite."
"It's okay, Derek," Stiles says, ignoring Laura. "I just get… defensive."
"Still," Derek shrugs, keeping his focus on the table cloth. "I'm sorry. That wasn't what I meant. It's just. Stiles Stilinski is kind of…"
"An awesome name?" Stiles offers, as if to daring Derek to say otherwise.
"I was going for unusual," Derek mumbles.
"That's because that's not his real real name," Laura pipes up.
Derek's head snaps up at that.
"You can forget about the extra cupcakes," Stiles glares at her, ignoring Laura's shocked gasp and glassy eyes as if that was the worst thing to ever happen to her.
"I thought we had a deal," Derek says to Stiles.
"We did," Stiles nods. "I told you I'd tell you the name everyone knows me by because no one can pronounce my real one."
Derek opens his mouth to say that no, that wasn't what they agreed on, but snaps it back shut after he takes a moment to replay the conversation in his head.
Derek narrows his eyes at Stiles, who merely smiles at him and asks, "Paint stains?"
"I custom paint cars and bikes," Derek explains. "Or at least I used to back in New York. I'm not sure what Boyd will want me to do here, though."
And at the mention of Boyd, Derek startles.
"You're the Stiles that calls Erica and Isaac the Golden Twins."
"That's him, alright," Laura says over the rim of her glass.
"What?" Stiles huffs. "They look the same. With the curly blonde hair and crazy eyes and amazing mechanic skills."
"Crazy eyes?" Derek asks, eyes a little bit wide.
"Ignore him," Laura tells Derek, and then turns to Stiles, "No scaring my brother before he starts working at the garage."
"I think he can take care of himself," Stiles says, raking his eyes over Derek's arms and chests.
Derek absolutely does not preen at that.
He doesn't.
"Can we please not?" Laura asks, voice a little strangled. "I'm eating dinner."
Derek and Stiles both look from Laura to each other and roll their eyes, Derek's lips twitching up a bit as Stiles chuckles quietly to himself as he twirls some spaghetti around his fork.
"So," Derek starts, waiting for Stiles to finish swallowing, and then taking a moment to compose himself as the image of Stiles with his mouth wrapped around Derek's dick comes to mind. "Where do you… perform?"
"At a club my buddy Danny owns," Stiles says, and then adds. "Jungle."
Derek almost chokes on his drink at that, because he knows Jungle.
His seventeen year old self remembers the place well.
And by the pointed look Laura is giving him she also remembers all the times she was the one who had to drive him back home and make sure he didn't choke on his own vomit whenever he got too drunk to take care of himself properly.
"Danny bought it after the old owner died," Stiles continues, oblivious. "He knew I did shows during college, even went to see a few, and traveled around during the summer, so when I graduated he offered the spot to me. I said yes."
"And that was two amazing glittery filled years ago," Laura completes, smiling widely at both of them.
"You should come to my show tomorrow night," Stiles says to Derek, leaning forward in his seat.
"Yeah, baby bro," Laura agrees, poking him in the arm with her fork. "I think you'd like it. And I have to go anyways, to help Foxy get ready."
"Ahm…," Derek stares from Laura's smirking face to Stiles' eager one and says, "Sure."
Derek doesn't know why he agreed to this.
Especially when Laura disappeared somewhere backstage half an hour ago, Erica and Boyd are busy sucking each other's face, Isaac is in deep conversation with Stiles' best friend Scott, and Derek is currently being felt up against his will by a guy wearing a purple glitter corset.
Derek tries to ignore it. At first he thinks it's an accident, that the guy just sort of bumps into him while he's getting a drink. The second time he feels a hand on his ass he looks back, but the guy is dancing, so Derek just chalks it up as him being clumsy and not meaning it. The third time though, when he looks back, the guy is staring directly at him with a smile on his face, a smile that quickly vanishes as Derek glares at him and tells him that the next time he puts his hand where he's not invited he's going to get his fingers broken.
He's still glaring at the guy's back when Laura shows up by his side.
"Stop looking so grumpy," she says, stealing his beer and taking a sip. "Stiles will be on any minute now."
"What does he do, anyway?" Derek asks her, taking his bottle back.
"You'll see," Laura smiles wickedly at him, eyes glinting in the dark.
It's not five minutes later when a guy with the deepest set of dimples Derek has ever seen steps on stage with a microphone in his hand. There are several wolf whistles and cat calls as he smiles at the audience, and waves in their direction as Scott jumps and yells "Danny!" loudly.
"Well, hello everyone," Danny says, his voice echoing over the club. "I hope you're all having a great time at Jungle tonight. But right now... well, I know many of you have seen her perform, so there's no need for an introduction, just hold on to your glasses, and your men, and enjoy it!"
A slow beat starts up. Laura grabs Erica by the hand and drags her closer to the stage and they both start moving their hips slowly to it, Boyd coming to stand beside Derek at the bar and giving him a nod before they follow the girls. Derek thinks about calling Isaac and Scott to come with them, but they're still talking and Derek doesn't think they even noticed what's happening.
It's when Boyd nudges him with his shoulder that, just as a voice joins the beat, Derek looks back at the stage.
And almost passes the fuck out.
Because that's Stiles up there.
Stiles in a black straight shoulder length wig with straight blunt bangs, his lips painted red, eyes lined in black. Derek can see the glitter on his cheeks, shining as he moves his head. He has on a one piece leotard covered in what Derek thinks are tiny crystals for it to be reflecting so much light, with fringes hanging from the end of it and brushing his thighs as he moves.
Derek rakes his gaze down over Stiles' body until he stops at Stiles' feet. He's wearing transparent two inch platform five inch heels, and Derek pretends not to notice Boyd looking at him and smirking when he mutters a curse under his breath.
When Stiles told him he was a cabaret performer he certainly wasn't expecting this, and now Derek doesn't know what to do with himself.
Because Stiles is a drag queen and about the hottest person Derek has ever seen in his life.
He keeps rolling his hips to the beat, strutting from one end of the stage to the other and singing as the people cheer him on, until he comes to a stop in the middle of it, practically right in front of where Derek, Boyd, Laura and Erica are standing. Stiles' eyes lock with Derek's and he curls his red lips up in a smirk.
Derek swallows hard as Stiles goes down on his knees on the stage in front of him, legs spread wide, the fringes of his piece falling down to cover his crotch, and lifts the hand that's not holding the mike up so that his palm is facing Derek.
As he sings palms rise to the universe he moves his hand forward, as we moonshine and molly he lets his fingers trace over Derek's cheek, feel the warmth we'll never die and his silver glitter nail polish nails scratch lightly at the stubble on Derek's jaw, we're like diamonds in the sky he winks, lets his hand drop, and gets up again, leaving Derek stunned and blushing a little as he continues his show.
Derek is vaguely aware of Laura jumping up and down somewhere on his right, Erica clapping her hands excitedly, and Boyd smiling knowingly. He's too busy trying to hide his hard on from his sister and future co-workers, and trying to come to terms with how fucking attracted he is to Stiles dressed as a woman.
When the song finishes, Stiles takes a bow and hops of the stage, instantly being hugged and kissed on the cheek by at least four different ladies.
Derek can't really tell with all the shimmer and hair and legs that go on forever.
Danny takes the mic from Stiles and demands "a round of applause for Foxy Red!", and then he's introducing the next act as Stiles disentangles himself from a particularly busty guy and walks towards them.
Scott and Isaac must have found them while Derek had his eyes glued to Stiles' ass, because the first person Stiles throws himself into is when he gets closer is Scott, who hugs him back and congratulates him. Isaac and Boyd are next, both grinning at him when Stiles throws his arms across their shoulders and brings them together in a hug. He kisses Laura and Erica on their cheeks, wiping away the red lipstick stain he leaves behind, laughing when they start running their hands over the crystals on his leotard, and slapping Erica's hand away when she starts pulling on the fringes next to his ass.
Laura tilts her head up to whisper something in Stiles' ear, and Derek doesn't like the way she keeps glancing at him. But then he can't do anything about it like chuck his beer bottle at her head because Stiles is walking towards him, and he only stops when he places a hand flat on the middle of Derek's chest and leans down to kiss his cheek.
"What did you think?" he asks after he pulls back, but making no move to either take his hand off Derek's chest or wipe away the red lipstick from his face.
On a normal day they're about the same height, but since this is as far from normal as Derek can get right now, with Stiles wearing heels and towering over him, he has to tilt his head up to meet his eyes.
He kind of likes it.
Derek brings a hand up and places it over Stiles', tapping his fingers over Stiles' nails.
"I like the nail polish."
Stiles clutches at his imaginary pearls, pretending to look offended as he says, "That's it? I like the nail polish? No comments about my sexy as fuck outfit? Or how my ass looks amazing when I have heels on? Or that my lip-syncing skills are out of this fucking world?"
"I guess all of that was okay, too," Derek shrugs, bringing his hand up and tugging at the end of Stiles' wig. "You do look good on a wig, though."
"Foxy looks good on anything, bright eyes," Stiles says, taking his head off Derek's chest and flipping his hair over his shoulder.
"Really," Derek shakes his head at him. "You looked good up there."
"You really think so?" Stiles asks, chewing on his bottom lip.
"Yeah," Derek clears his throat, averting his gaze. "It was a good show, Foxy."
Stiles smiles brightly at him and opens his mouth to say something when Laura shows up at his back, her arms going around Stiles' waist.
"We need to get you off your clothes," Laura says, looking at Derek over Stiles' shoulder.
"Oh, honey," Stiles laughs. "You know I don't swing that way."
"Oh, I know," Laura says, and then winks at Derek. "But Derek didn't."
"Laura," Derek says, staring at his sister wide-eyed and wondering if it's possible for people to die of embarrassment.
"Oh," Stiles says, blinking owlish from Laura to Derek until his face breaks into a wide smile. "Interesting."
Derek glares at both of them, and he's never been happier in his fucking life for crappy club lights when his ears start to redden.
"You should stop glaring, Derek," Laura tells him. "It makes your face look weird."
"You're an asshole," Derek points a finger at Laura. "And I'm going to kill you."
"I don't know, Laura," Stiles says, a thoughtful look on his face. "I think the whole grumpy look is kind of hot."
"You're both assholes," Derek says, pressing his lips together in a thin line and feeling the heat creep up his face at Stiles thinking he's hot. "And I don't like either of you."
"I think he's lying," Stiles tells Laura, pursing his lips.
"I know he's lying," Laura smirks. "He does this thing with his eyebrows that's totally his tell."
Derek doesn't say anything, just glares at both of them and gives them his back, making his way to the bar.
He's drinking his beer and thinking about different ways to murder Laura and get away with it when he feels a warm puff of breath against the back of his neck.
"I'm glad you came tonight," Stiles says as Derek turns to look at him.
Stiles swapped the leotard for jeans and a tight black shirt that stretches across his shoulders, and the only makeup left on his face is a hint of red lipstick and some smudges of glitter on his cheeks.
Oh, and the eyeliner.
It's like all of Derek's Christmas have come together in the form of Stiles Stilinski.
"Then you should stop making fun of me," Derek says, narrowing his eyes and ignoring the warm pull in his gut.
"Then you should stop making it so easy," Stiles shrugs, and then pinches Derek's left cheek. "And you look cute when you blush."
"I'm not cute," Derek scowls, and he's aware that he sounds like a five year old right now but he doesn't care.
Not when Stiles grins at him and says, "Okay, big guy. You're hot. And manly. And you probably kill puppies in your free time."
"Just unsuspecting big sisters," Derek deadpans.
"You're funny."
Derek lifts his beer to him, "I'm available for special occasions and corporate events."
Stiles throws his head back and laughs, his entire body shaking with it, and Derek starts picking with the label of his beer to keep himself from leaning forward and biting at Stiles' exposed throat.
Stiles is still chucking a little bit when he says, "It's just that… You're kind of angry looking." Stiles gestures to Derek's face and scrunches his up in what Derek thinks it's supposed to be an imitation of him. "With all the glaring and scowling and whatnot."
"I'm not angry looking," Derek scowls.
"And I'm not a drag queen," Stiles rolls his eyes.
"Stiles!"
They both turn to see Scott making his way to them, Isaac on his side, before stopping and throwing an arm across Stiles' shoulder. Derek raises an eyebrow at Isaac, looking from him to Scott, and tries not to laugh when Isaac just shrugs and rubs at the back of his neck.
"Hey, buddy," Stiles smiles at him, ruffling Scott's hair.
"Is it okay if I leave with Isaac?" Scott asks, and Derek has to say he's impressed with the guy's puppy-dog eyes. "I know I'm your ride, but…"
"Dude, what about Allison?"
Scott just smiles at him, big and bright and smug.
"I don't want to know, do I?" Stiles shakes his head, then flicks Scott on the nose. "I'll catch a ride with Derek."
"You will?" Derek raises an eyebrow at him.
"I can always ask Laura and come up with new ways to make fun of you the entire car ride back home," Stiles shrugs.
"You will," Derek nods.
"Thanks, man," Scott nods at Derek before letting go of Stiles and snaking his arm around Isaac's waist and walking away. "I'll call you later, Stiles!"
"Use protection!" Stiles yells after them.
Derek only arches an eyebrow in question when Stiles turns to look back at him.
"I'm glad to inform you that your co-worker, Isaac Lahey, is going to have a threesome tonight," Stiles says, laughing when Derek makes a face at him.
"Allison?"
"Scott's girlfriend," Stiles explains. "They've been together since high school, so I guess that's why they like to spice things up every once in a while."
"By having threesomes with Isaac."
"Among other things."
"Do I want to know how you know that?" Derek asks, pursing his lips together.
"Not even I want to know how I know that," Stiles says, shuddering. "I've walked in on them having sex way more times than I'm comfortable with."
Derek snorts at the horrified look on Stiles' face, "That must have been awful for you."
"Don't make fun," Stiles narrows his eyes at him. "How do you think you'd feel like if you walked in on Laura having sex?"
Derek scrunches up his face in disgust, and then narrows his eyes as he sees Stiles smirking at him. "You're as evil as she is."
Stiles' smirk turns into a full-blown smile as he leans closer to Derek and says, "You have no idea."
Before Derek can do something stupid like kiss the fuck out of him, Stiles grabs him by the wrist and starts walking.
"What are you doing?" Derek asks, rooting his heels to the floor.
Stiles glances back at him, moving so they're holding hands, and smiles, "Dance with me."
Derek starts shaking his head before Stiles even finishes his sentence, because if there's one thing Derek Hale doesn't do is dance. "I don't dance."
"With me you do," Stiles tells him, pulling at their joined hands with a surprising amount of strength, making Derek stumble a little.
Derek glares at the back of Stiles' head and tries to get his hand free, only to forget he ever wanted to do that in the first place when Stiles starts shaking his hips to whatever song is playing. He knows he's staring, that's he's not being discrete about it, but he can't help it, because Stiles dancing is like a direct line to Derek's dick.
Stiles does a little twist with his entire body so that he ends up facing Derek, before tugging on Derek's hand still in his and turning him around, slipping his arms tight around Derek's waist so that his front is plastered to Derek's back.
Derek's entire body goes tense as Stiles tries to sway them back and forth with the music.
"Relax, bright eyes," Stiles says into his ear. "Follow my lead."
"Easy for you to say," Derek mutters under his breath, trying to relax.
He feels Stiles' chest move as he chuckles, feels the warm breath against the side of his neck.
"Just move your hips with me, c'mon," Stiles says, letting his hands fall to Derek's hips and moving their bodies together.
Derek takes a deep breath and tries to keep up with the sway of Stiles' body against his own, doing his best to ignore the way Stiles' crotch brushes against his ass every other move or so. He thinks he just about got used to the rhythm they have going when Stiles turns again, this time so they're face to face.
"See, that's not so hard," Stiles smiles at him, running his hands up and down Derek's back and pressing their bodies together.
Derek closes his eyes because Stiles has no idea how hard this is.
Or maybe he does, with the way he slips a thigh between Derek's legs and pulls him closer.
Derek puts his arms around Stiles' shoulder, one of his hands flat between his shoulder blades as the other plays with the short hair at his nape as they dance. Derek feels Stiles' sharp intake of breath more than he hears it, feels Stiles' lips brush against the shell of his ear.
"Did I thank you for coming?" Stiles asks just as he rolls his hips forward, and Derek almost chokes on his own spit as he feels Stiles' lips curl into a smirk against his skin.
"No, you didn't."
"Thank you, Derek," Stiles says, placing a kiss on Derek's neck.
Just as Derek's leans back to look at him and then lean in to show Stiles how it was no problem all at, he hears Laura scream, "There you two are!"
Derek pulls back to fast he almost stumbles into the couple behind him, only to look back at Laura glancing from him to Stiles and back again. It's not a second later that he finds himself with an armful of Laura as she tries to tackle him to the ground.
"I knew you had the hots for Foxy," she whispers furiously in his ear as he tries to push her off of him.
"Then why did you interrupt us?" Derek grunts, and Laura lets go of him so suddenly that he almost falls on his ass again.
"Let's go home," Laura says, abruptly.
Derek scowls at her, pulling the hem of his shirt down from where it rode up. He doesn't know what Laura is thinking right now, but she has her I can't believe it took me this long to figure this out look on and there's no way that will bode well for either Derek or his mental well-being.
Not that he can put Laura in a headlock and threaten to spill paint all over her designer shoes if she doesn't tell him what she's thinking.
At least not while they're at Jungle, anyway.
"I'm…" Stiles trails off, looking from Laura's face to Derek's in confusion. "I'm catching a ride with Derek?"
"That's good," Laura nods at them before turning around and walking towards the exit.
Derek and Stiles stare dumbly at her until she disappears somewhere in the crowd, only to come back a few minutes later with Erica and Boyd, raise her eyebrows at them and mouth let's go when they don't move.
"What just happened?" Stiles asks as she disappears again.
Derek sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose because his fucking sister, grabs Stiles' hand in his and says, "Let's go, Foxy."
Derek's too busy concentrating on the heat of Stiles' hand against his that he misses the way Stiles' eyes soften as he says "Okay."
"I don't think I can do this anymore," Laura sighs as she takes another bite of her cupcake.
Derek stops with his water bottle halfway to his mouth while Stiles chokes on his spit and just stares wide-eyed between the two of them.
This is not happening.
He did not come back here after all these years only to have Laura say this to him.
"I think I'm gonna…," Stiles stars, only to be interrupted by Derek.
"What are you talking about?" and Derek hates how small his voice sounds as he looks at the ground in front of her feet.
Laura looks up startled at that and blanches at the terrified look on Derek's face.
"Oh, Derek, no," Laura says, waving her hands at him and leaving crumbles all over the place. "That's not what I meant. And, Stiles, you're not going anywhere."
"What did you mean?" Derek asks, just as Stiles says, "I really think I should."
"I meant I don't think I can be Stiles' assistant anymore," Laura huffs, then stands up to drape herself all over Derek's side on the couch and pokes him in the ribs. "I didn't mean whatever horrible shit you were thinking, baby bro."
Derek breathes in relief, only to go all tense again when Stiles' shrieks, "You can't be my assistant anymore?"
"Stiles-"
"No!" Stiles yells at her, his arms flailing. "See if I ever do anything nice to you again! I need you, Laura. You know I'm not allowed to choose my outfit and do my hair and makeup alone since the Cher Incident. You know this!"
"Cher Incident? Derek asks, and Stiles actually growls at him for that.
"Oh my god, Stiles," Laura rolls her eyes at him. "Calm the fuck down."
"Calm the fuck down?!" and now Stiles is pacing back and forth in their living room, shooting daggers at her. "You know how important this is to me!"
"Yes, I do. And I don't see a reason for you to be all worked up about it," Laura says, and the look Stiles gives her is so full of betrayal that Derek kind of wants to strangle Laura for making him look like this.
"I don't think you're helping, Laura," is what Derek says instead.
"If Stiles would just let me speak for a second before going all gung-ho on me, you'd see that I am, in fact, helping," Laura snaps at both of them before turning to Stiles and lifting her hands up, as if showing him she's not a threat. "I can't be your assistant anymore. I'm going to start working more hours at the library, and I don't think I'll be able to manage that plus helping you get ready for your shows."
Stiles is looking at her like he wants to kill her, and Derek is about three seconds away from putting himself between them and trying to work something out.
At least until Laura says, "But that doesn't mean Derek can't."
"What?" Derek and Stiles ask at the same time, both staring at her like she completely lost her fucking mind.
"Derek has the time," Laura lists off. "And he has steady hands, so you don't need to worry about him smudging your eyeliner or anything. He's good at combining colors because of his job, so he won't let you wear something, like, orange and blue together. And I know he has good taste in clothes because whenever I went to visit him in New York and took him shopping he always made some great observations about what look good on me and what didn't. So, I can't help you anymore but he can."
Laura finishes her speech by sticking the rest of the cupcake into her mouth and smiling smugly at both of them, who are still staring at her like what she said made no sense whatsoever.
Derek is torn between wanting to kill her and congratulating her on her evil match-making plans, but settles for buying her a really expensive present when Stiles looks down at him from where he's standing in the middle of the living room, eyes hopeful, "Would you be willing to do that?"
"I work in the mornings," Derek says, but he knows it's a weak argument when Stiles narrows his eyes at him.
"My shows are only from Thursday through Saturday," Stiles says. "And I know you don't work on Friday mornings because Laura bullied Boyd and the Twins into having breakfast with us for the rest of our lives."
"Hey," Laura protests, frowning at Stiles.
"I don't know anything about makeup," Derek tries again.
"You paint for a living," Stiles says. "Just think of my face as your canvas and my eye shadows as different paints and my brushes as… well, as your brushes."
Derek and Laura both blink at him before Laura says, "That was deep."
"Oh, shut up," Stiles snaps at her. "I'm still mad at you."
Laura presses her lips together but doesn't say anything, just stares at Derek, who's staring at Stiles, who's staring straight back at him, until Derek leaves out a heavy sigh and nods.
"Really?" Stiles grins at him, clapping his hands together.
"Yeah," Derek says, and he knows this is going to be the worst idea ever, but he can't say he cares that much when Stiles lets out a yelp and throws himself at him, wrapping his arms tightly around Derek's neck and kissing him soundly on the cheek.
"Thanks, bright eyes," he whispers against Derek's ear before pulling back to smile at him, his eyes glinting.
"You're welcome," Laura pipes up from where she's trying to shove Stiles' legs off of her.
Stiles looks back at her for a moment before letting go of Derek and getting up from the couch, disappearing through the hallway that leads to both Laura and Derek's rooms. When he comes back he's holding a silver clutch bag and one of Laura's black leather jackets, and he stops only long enough to point a finger at Laura and say, "You're an asshole and I'm never giving these back."
He's out the door and inside his apartment before Laura can yell, "Stiles!"
A/N: you can go yell at me on tumblr.