Chapter 1: Everyday I'm Tum-bling
A/N: Hi guys! This is my first fic, yay. AU in high school with no hale fire. Derek is a year older than Stiles in this. Please read and review and give me feedback good or bad so I can grow as a new writer (plus reviews make my day).
There he was on his trusty steed ready for combat, though some might more aptly call it bench-warming. In his defense, he was only a sophomore and it was an important task protecting his innocent fellow teammates' butts from getting cold and who better than pro butt-warmer extraordinaire Stiles Stilinski? Stiles briefly continued that train of thought on the possible ramifications of Cold Butt Syndrome (or CBS, like the news station) and the potential deterioration of lacrosse-playing skills it could bring when he heard a loud smack followed by a softer but decidedly more ominous crack.
A teammate of Stiles had been unceremoniously flipped over by a rival player and landed incredibly awkwardly on his shoulder. Stiles winced with much empathy not being a fan himself of flips of the crunching bone and the dislocation of limbs variety. Poor, poor Greenburg. It was moments like these that he was grateful to be a second-string player, safe on his professionally self-warmed bench where the hulking mass of enemy could not hurt him. Moments never lasted for Stiles.
"Stilinski, get your ass out there right now!" bellowed coach Finstock, obviously flustered by the lack of players left to choose from due to three injuries and one player out sick with the flu. The news that he got to play in the last few minutes of a game would usually be met with excitement, however, he was more baffled that he was called out to play at all leading to more of an incredulous open-mouth expression that he sure looked 100% sexy and not at all dweebish. Before he could make a complete fool of himself, his best buddy of forever and ever, Scott McCall, pushed him a bit saying something encouraging jarring Stiles out of his stupor.
"Uh yes, uhm, coach! Ass out and ready to go, sir!" he uttered quite intelligently most like winning him an award for most eloquent wordsmith of the month, even if Coach and some of his teammates' eye rolls and chuckles said otherwise. His ass also seemed to disagree with his mouth entirely, now that it was markedly colder and very much missing its warm home. Petty disagreements aside, both Stile's ass and mouth followed him to the field and then it all became very real.
Stiles got into position in front of previously mentioned hulk of a player completely fearful for his life. He felt his heartbeat racing violently and prayed that after the game finished it would continue racing along that track (Stiles was in fact a fan of his heart and its beating).
Stiles turned his attention to the face-off for the ball in the middle of the field where junior student and team captain Derek Hale looked poised and ready to go grinning up at his current adversary with cliché pearly-white perfect teeth. The whistle was blown and the ball was in the net of Derek's crosse lightning fast before he juked around the other player and bolted down the field scoring a goal to tie up the game.
Stiles cheered and piled into the other players at the goal, the rush of adrenaline and warmth of bodies feeling wonderful in the cold chill of the night before they had to return to position for the next play. The whistle blew again with the rival team having possession and charging fast down the field. Many bodies connected very near to Stiles and time seemed to slow down to a stop as the ball slipped out of the net of the rival team's attacker and directly in front of Stiles on the soft grass.
With a quick look around Stiles grabbed the ball that the other team seemed to have lost track of in the scramble and ran as fast as he could towards the goal, trying desperately not to trip or lose the ball in his usual clumsiness. When he got close enough to see the goalie's eyes, clumsiness inevitably struck. One of his cleats landed in a particularly soft spot on the ground, sending him in slow-motion forward and instinctively into a roll flinging the ball out of his crosse in his attempt to minimize the damage tumbling could cause at sprinting speed.
The crowd exploded in mind-numbing noise.
Stile just barely managed to get back onto his feet before he was lifted high into the air by Scott and another cheering teammate-he made a goal. From what Stiles could tell, the goalie had properly protected the exact location where Stiles was about to shoot, however the trip-up caused him to fling his stick towards the opposite corner causing the ball to soar directly past the goalie and flush into the net. Furthermore, with only a few seconds left on the clock, the game was declared over and Beacon Hills High School Varsity Lacrosse Team had won.
Stiles lucky goal had just won them the game; a game that also happened to be against their greatest rivals whom they had not beaten in six long years. It may not have been a championship or trophy-winning game but even still this was a monumental monster of a moment for plain, snarky Stiles ex-bench-warmer Stilinski.
And all he'd been praying for was for his bones to remain properly connected. They were. He triple checked in between the pinching he was doing-also not dreaming apparently.
After the crowd calmed down-sans Stiles' father and bestest bud Scott still screaming 'that's my boy/best friend'-he was let down from his perch on his teammates shoulders. His feet may have been placed back to earth but his head was still soaring in the clouds as he was being pat on the back, shoulder bumped and bro-punched from multiple angles. There would totally be bruises but at that moment Stiles was grinning like a loon and enjoying the temporary attention sucking it up like a sponge.
He knew for absolute fact this was the best day thus far in his life when he was even begrudgingly congratulated by douche bag champion of the world Jackson Entitled Whittemore (the initial E. of Jackson's middle name probably didn't actually stand for Entitled but Stiles liked to take creative liberties). The expression Jackson wore would be forever etched into Stiles' memory.
In the locker room the chatter continued loudly, Scott's arm around Stiles' shoulders dopily grinning as if he'd personally made Stile's fantastic accidental goal. Once they reached their lockers they began putting their gear away before showering the dirt and grime off in the open shower stalls.
As he was pulling on his mesh gym shorts identical twins Aiden and Ethan were suddenly in front of him, shirtless with water from their recent showers sliding along the paths their muscles created. They were both obviously unabashed by their own partial nudity and Stiles hurried to pull his t-shirt over his head to cover his much inferior build before sputtering out, "Hey guys, uh, need somethin'?"
"That was a pretty amazing play you made out there, dude," Aiden started, the more outgoing of the two twins.
"Yeah, you looked incredible out there," Ethan praised him with a smirk while his eyes seemed to appraise Stiles from head to toe causing Stiles cheeks to flush a bit, inferiority complex rearing its head once more even though he was now sufficiently clothed.
"Uh thanks, it was nothin'," Stiles muttered quite truthfully in reply since he was now starting to feel the excess attention was completely unwarranted for his lucky shot. The twins shared a look perfectly in sync with what Stiles assumed was their super freaky psychic twin powers before Aiden continued on.
"Anyways Stiles, we just wanted to make sure you were coming to our victory party tonight," Aiden spoke with such a simple confidence as if he'd been good buddies with Stiles for a while and was simply checking in about an offer he'd already made before. Stiles was pretty damned sure he'd never had a conversation with Aiden before this. He was even more sure that he'd never been invited in the history of ever and always circa forever to any lacrosse party before, much less this one.
"You want me, Stiles, to come to your house, tonight, to a party with the rest of the team and possible drinking and girls and guys and whatnot?" Stiles asked trying to make sense of the surreal experience and waiting for a catch to the invitation or even more likely for the cameras from the reality show he must currently be on to pop out from behind the lockers or something. Cameras didn't pop out. Stiles was glad they didn't. His current fish mouth expression wasn't entirely flattering even though the twins seemed plenty amused by it. The face did not need to be immortalized by film.
"Of course man, you're part of the team," Ethan assured in his friendly manner belying the fact that before today Stiles had never been invited to go anywhere other than his beloved bench. And that invitation was less invitation and more 'sit down and shut the hell up while the better players get shit done.' Stiles prided himself on the sitting but had issues with the shutting the hell up part. Can't be a pro at everything.
"Oh, yeah, we'll be there then, tonight, at the party at your house where we'll party...and stuff." Stiles was on a roll today with his eloquence at the English language and absolutely did not want to brain himself against the locker for his awkwardness.
"Awesome!" both the twins said simultaneously using their definite freaky super-twin powers that Stiles would have to Google later. At least they were ignoring Stile's social ineptitude. "Starts at ten, continues 'til we pass out," Aiden finished before both twins started heading back over to rejoin the overly attractive and muscular group of first-line players. For being a smallish high school in a not very important part of California, they had a seriously gorgeous student body which happened to be especially concentrated in its lacrosse team. That was pretty much how Stiles met his close friend inferiority.
"Uh, Scott, did we just get invited to our first party with the populars?" Stiles was a very thorough person and needed the clarity and wisdom of his best friend to assure him of such things like this. He often misconstrued things with his ability to lack focus constantly.
"Hell yeah we did! Your goal just totally gave us bro-cred!" Scott exclaimed taking the situation and invitation much less skeptically than Stiles was taking it apparently. "Now let's get our shit and get out of here to get ready. I bet your Dad is waiting for you anyways, dude." Scott continued, helping to bring Stiles wavering attention back on track to the important things like not standing in one place like a dumbass staring off into space.
"Yeah, right. Let's go, Scotty."
Before getting driven home Stiles was nearly crushed in an extremely manly hug of pride from his dad where Stile's eyes did not tear up at one bit, being a man and such. During the short ride, Stiles texted Scott about heading over his house once he was ready so that they could go to the party together. He was practically buzzing with excitement and nervousness which his dad, being the Sheriff and all, quickly caught onto. He gave Stiles a look that very plainly said 'spill it.'
"So there's this party tonight...The whole lacrosse team is supposed to be there! It's at Ethan and Aiden's place up the road a bit. Scott's going too! It's Friday so I don't have school tomorrow and-"
"Stiles," the sheriff cut him off quickly before the rambling was too far out of control. "You can go if you don't drive or get driven by anyone else at any point that has been drinking; go and leave with Scott, and don't get into any kind of trouble. I'm on night shift tonight and I swear to all that is holy if I have to see you for any reason while on duty you will not be able to do anything even remotely fun until college or later. Understand?" The sheriff was driving a fairly hard bargain considering he was talking about both Stiles and not getting into trouble in the same sentence. Given his choices though, he silently nodded his head while internally fist pumping so that he wouldn't say anything stupid to change his mind.
"I promise I won't get too stupidly wasted or be arrested, Dad." Apparently, Word Vomit Syndrome had even worse side effects than Cold Butt Syndrome-Stiles was never good at being silent or avoiding saying stupid things. The lucky streak continued since his dad only rolled his eyes and told him to shut up. Shutting up seemed like a brilliant idea at this point and was actually manageable since they pulled into the driveway and Stiles could get away before WVS could strike again (at least in front of his dad).
He briefly Googled 'freak twin superpowers' before his adderall wore off completely but only found useless Wikipedia pages on the Wondertwins and some crazy families boasting about their wonderful twin children. He catalogued the topic for further research later and tried to figure out what he had in his closet to wear suitable of a party. There wasn't very much of use to choose from. He found a shirt that Danny had lent him once when he was soaked from a rainy lacrosse practice and figured that was his best bet with Danny being stylish and all that. It was a simple forest green v-neck that fit a lot more snugly to his body than he was used to and wore a pair of seemingly clean dark grey jeans with it.
The doorbell rang just as he was trying to get his hair into something manageable-he was failing stupendously-and a minute later Scott was coming upstairs looking handsomely goofy, if there were such a thing.
"Ready to go Stiles? It's already ten, dude." Scott said seemingly way too calm about this whole thing for Stile's liking.
"Damnit, I can't get my hair to work, Scott! I know people have trouble listening to me sometimes but my damn hair could at least try when I tell it to behave. Seriously, it's like my hair is on some kind of secret mission to single-handedly disprove every single hair-care product's effectiveness and slogans one by one," Stiles rambled while trying to brush it a different way which looked stupider than the last. "Ugh, fine hair, you win this time!" He promptly messed it up with both hands vigorously giving it a bit of a messy look that would just have to do.
"It looks fine Stiles," Scott assured, the wonderful saint of a friend he is," and don't forget to grab your jacket, it's a bit cold out." Scott knew Stile's affinity for forgetting the simple important things and this is why Stiles kept him around.
He grabbed his letterman lacrosse jacket and slipped it on as they headed at a brisk pace out the door and down the street with a few streetlights and a half-full moon guiding the way through the darkness. Stiles was babbling about some of the crazy twin things he read online and about his dad being pretty lenient about him going out that night considering his usual disposition when they started hearing the tell-tale thump of party music and saw a few familiar faces going in and out of the large brick house.
When they got inside they were instantly welcomed by Boyd's large figure who was taking money in exchange for red solo cups. Stiles went to reach for his wallet when Ethan's arm went around his shoulder jovially.
"No, your money is not accepted here tonight. Boyd give him a cup," Ethan ordered grinning a bit as Stiles accepted the cup and was dragged away from Scott. Stiles looked over his shoulder but Scott waved Stiles on silently telling him he'd be fine and would catch up later. "Would u rather have beer or something a bit stronger?" Ethan asked with one eyebrow raised in question once they made it to the keg.
"Uh, have rum and coke?" Stiles replied seeing quite a few bottles of rum vodka and tequila on the counter of the kitchen.
"Sure thing," Ethan said grabbing both Stile's cup and his own and filling them both liberally with rum and a few splashes of coke before returning Stile's cup to his hand. "Cheers!" Ethan bumped there cups together and began taking a few large gulps with Stiles following right behind. He was feeling quite overwhelmed and having some alcohol running through his system seemed like a freaking amazing idea.
Ethan left him be when he spotted his brother Aiden and went to go do host things leaving Stiles to his drink in the kitchen. He took another gulp of the burning liquid and walked out of the kitchen to go find Scott. Before he managed to do any real searching, he ran into Isaac, a tall guy on his lacrosse team with cherubic features whom Stiles had always liked in the few times they'd talked.
"Want to play pong with me, Stiles? I need a partner since Ethan stole Danny from me to go do who knows what somewhere." Isaac asked much too innocently and sweetly to be ignored. Stiles shrugged and with a bright smile from Isaac was dragged towards the pong table where he started to loosen up a bit allowing himself to enjoy the simple yet competitive game.
After a few rounds of winning, he and Isaac lost to Aiden and Jackson who were being their usual douche selves about the whole thing. Isaac just rolled his eyes at them.
"C'mon Stiles, my cup need refilling anyways," Isaac said nudging Stiles into the kitchen so they could both top off their cups once more. Stiles was already feeling the effects not quite walking as well as he usually did, which wasn't very well in the first place. He was filling up his cup when he saw his team captain, Derek Hale, grinning and talking animatedly to a firecracker blonde he remembered was named Erica.
Derek was disastrously handsome for his age and had the confidence and sports ability to boot making him quite the high school heartbreaker. He had a smooth boyish face with perfectly white teeth, even if his canines were slightly sharp and pronounced. He had dark soft-looking medium length hair that swooped to one side and bright amber-hazel looking eyes that just glinted with mischief. Combine all of that with his ever developing muscle from all the sports he played and even Stiles felt himself blushing after staring for a socially unacceptably long while.
It was such a long while that Erica seemed to have picked up on it and smirked at him knowingly while brushing a hand down one of Derek's bulging biceps and giggled at something he was saying. Stiles flushed even deeper and tried to get across the room to escape quickly. Right when Stiles was passing the couple Erica had dropped her cup right in front of Stile's feet causing him to trip up expertly and fall flush into the guy that started the whole problem. Derek. Hale.
Oh, and their lips were pressed together, Derek instinctively catching Stiles between his arms looking very wide eyed and stunned. Stile's brain had a meltdown of nuclear proportions.
With the capacity to think stripped from him, he uttered a few words that might have been English and did the only thing he could do: ran. He passed by another tall blonde girl on his way out of the kitchen and ignored the curious looks of people in the living room who most likely guessed he was going to throw up from drinking too much or something. He made it upstairs to the bathroom but surprisingly didn't vomit all of his inner organs up like he felt he was going to do. After splashing himself in the face with some cold water mind reeling through millions of possibilities of what to do next including but not limited to: leaving the country, becoming a mountain man somewhere out in beacon hills, joining a convent (if they still existed), or committing harakiri in a desperate attempt to retain his pride.
As the debate of which route to go continued, he walked out of them bathroom to find himself face to face with Derek.
"Yo," Derek said nonchalantly with one perfectly furrowed eyebrow arched in amusement as if he hadn't just accidentally been forced to kiss the now uncharacteristically silent and flabbergasted Stiles.
"I'm so sorry, dude-I was just leaving the kitchen and then there was a red cup and I fell and I have really shitty trouble keeping balance and I didn't mean to kiss you and holy crap that was my first kiss and I can't even begin to think about that now because holy shit-" Stiles was cut off by Derek's extremely warm hand over his mouth.
"Calm down Stiles, it's ok, it was an accident," Derek hale continued though looking perhaps even more amused than before with a bit of a grin playing at his face. All Stiles could think about was the fact that Derek Hale knew his name. "Actually, you might be able to help me with something and your trip-up kind of gave me the idea. Can we go somewhere quieter and talk for a minute?" Derek flashed him another wolfish smile and Stiles was pudding. He nodded, Derek's hand still against his mouth, before being led down the hall to an empty room.
Stiles brain was broken. He was sitting on a bed next to Derek Hale. Alone. Door locked. He looked toward Derek realizing he'd been trying to get Stile's attention.
"Come again?" Stiles said not catching a word of what Derek was saying through his malfunction. Derek was chuckling at him. The sound made Stile's chest clench up a bit and cheeks flush.
"I was saying, I need your help to get rid of my evil ex girlfriend that's giving me a hell of a hard time. She saw the end result of your accident and huffed off in a rage. We broke up a week ago and she's been pestering me to get back together ever since no matter what I do," Derek explained. He then took a deep breath and it may have been the lighting but Stiles could swear he saw a flush around Derek's perfect tan cheekbones before he continued, "so I wanted to ask you if you could do me a huge favor and pretend to be my boyfriend for a while-at least until she gets off my back and moves on to someone else."
Stiles was for the umpteenth time that day stunned into silence. Derek. Boyfriend. Pretend. Favor. Derek. Boyfriend.
Derek seemed to take the silence as a bad sign and spoke again, "I can return the favor or something. I could help you amp up your lacrosse game so next time you score it won't be a complete accident?" Derek asked breaking Stile's out of his confusion.
"Wait, how do you know it was an accident?" Stiles asked blown away by just about everything that was happening and grasping onto the only seemingly logical part of the conversation left-his own clumsiness.
"Uh, I guess I wasn't totally positive until I saw you trip again today over the solo cup. You aren't exactly the most graceful person in the world, dude." Derek grinned full on this time obviously poking fun at Stiles this time.
"Don't you get snarky with me Mr. Hale unless you don't want my help..."Stiles trailed off trying to sound much less affected by the situation than he really was.
"No! I'm sorry, dude I really really need you to do this for me; I'm begging you man." Derek was pleading with him, grin completely gone and replaced with an almost fearful look.
"I was joking, dude, relax. I'll help you and your ex problems, just stop looking like a freakin' kicked puppy." Stiles said noting the way Derek tensed a bit before taking a deep breath and relaxing. "And I accept your offer to help me practice lacrosse. Also, since I'm the one helping you out you will be paying for all of our dates which we will be having because I am not a cheap lay. Understood?" Stiles has no idea where the bravado to say any of that came especially since his heart felt like it was about to beat out of his chest and run away.
Derek simply agreed to everything like it was nothing and traded cell phone numbers with him before smirking at him and leaning in close enough to whisper in his ear, "Ready to go out there and put on a good show, boyfriend?"
The way he said the sentence sounded more like an invitation to get ravaged and fucked into oblivion more than a fake acting endeavor but Stiles willed down the hard-on beginning to make itself known in his tight jeans before getting up to follow Derek out of the room.
He realized very quickly that he had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into when he got downstairs, hand on fire in Derek's slightly larger hand as he was wheeled around by Derek to mingle with his classmates that were just as confused by the display of the two of the together as Stile's himself was. He was wondering how the hell they were going to pull any of this off with any credibility-especially to their closer friends-when he was pressed into a wall in the hallway by Derek's rock solid body, plush lips tickling his ear with each breath.
"We need you to have a better first kiss to remember, I think," Derek said in barely a ghost of a whisper before sliding his lips over Stiles' and slanting his head to the side a bit to delve a bit deeper. When Derek's sinfully pink tongue quested for entrance, Stiles readily gave permission slotting their tongue against each other with Derek leading the charge. Fireworks exploded behind Stile's closed eyes and he knew he wouldn't be willing little Stiles away anytime soon. The moment the kiss ended he looked into Derek's dilated eyes and pushed at his solid chest a bit giving him room to breathe.
"Jesus, Derek, do you have to do that in front of everyone?" Stiles played along knowing this was the most obvious and simple way to get everyone to believe this to be legitimate. He knew he'd have a shit-load of explaining to do to Scott, who he knows saw this with about half of the other party-goers.
"Couldn't help myself," Derek shrugged in the least sincere excuse for an apology ever, evidently much less affected by the kiss than Stiles had been. "Let's get you another drink, you could stand to loosen up a bit, babe," Derek continued grinning wickedly down at Stiles, enjoying this farce way more than was necessary.
Stiles rolled his eyes at the display and let himself get taken back into the kitchen where everything started, not able to look at Eric's smirking face at all. He heard the slamming of a door loudly in the background and looked up to see Derek's smiling face-the ex must have left not too happily. He was glad that the plan had started to work, but seeing that easy devilish smile on Derek had his stomach doing odd things. His tiny crush on Derek starting with staring in envy of him had blown up like a balloon in less than a freaking hour. He knew he was totally and one hundred percent fucked before he'd even began.