"Fuck this shit. I'm sorry Derek I gotta go," Dylan cursed switching his phone off, and gathering the notes scattered across the table with a quick sweep of his arm, stuffing them in an un-orderly mess into his rucksack. Derek's eyes flicked up as he watched; a smirk lifting the corners of his lips in amusement.
"What happened?"
"My stupid sister has once again drunk far too much to drive home, and her fuck-ass boyfriend doesn't want to leave yet, so she's asking for a lift. Again. I cant deal with this shit man- she's fucking lucky I aint just gonna leave her there to drink herself to death,", he rambled on, zipping up his backpack and flinging it over his shoulder. He rolled his eyes so far back Derek was sure they disappeared behind his eyelids, and tuts left his lips one after the other in angry bursts.
Dylan was a good friend, maybe with a short temper, however he had always been reliable. Whenever the boys temper flared, suddenly his proper accent seemed to abandon him, with curses streaming out his mouth like there was no tomorrow. He wore glasses too big for his face, claiming they made him look "hipster" and that they were what the ladies went for, whereas Derek thought they just looked humorous. He wouldn't know what ladies looked for, neither cared. Not that Dylan knew that.
"Hey you wanna come and pick her up with me?" Dylan asked, not really expecting Derek to agree. So when Derek nodded, and began shifting his notes into an organised stack, he was surprised.
"Seriously? Your coming to a party? Who are you and what have you done to Derek?" he laughed, shaking his head but smiling- his mood seeming to have lifted suddenly. That was another thing about Dylan's temper. It disappeared as quickly as it came.
"We're not going to a party. We're going to pick up your sister from a party."
"Yeah yeah don't kill it- lets go. I don't need to be reminded what a lame ass life I have," he said, making his way out of Derek's room, and running down the stairs too quickly for it to be safe. Derek followed slowly behind, shutting lights as he went, thinking more practically and pretending he gave a rats-ass about global warming.
"Derek... please can we take your dad's car?" he asked in a pleading tone, already knowing what the answer was going to be.
"No."
"Derek please."
"No."
"Fine. Can we take your car?"
"No."
"You're such a..." he didn't finish the sentence, probably realising that if he ever wanted to drive the car, he was going to have to be super charming about it. It was a bloody beautiful car.
Derek slid into the passenger seat, while Dylan turned the engine on and drove out of the Hale's property. It took a good 3 to 4 minutes until he was fully out the driveway, and then the road stretched out ahead of them leading them to the less expensive side of Harewood.
Mia's new friends were...well...new. They were loud. They liked drinking. And they felt the need to party every night until the music impaled their hearing, and they passed out against a toilet seat. It was easy to deduce how unimpressed Dylan was by the whole situation. His knuckles had gone white with how hard he was clutching the steering wheel, and the tips of his ears burned red as they edged closer.
Maybe it was more due to the fact that he hadn't had a chance to live the party lifestyle let; his life being as uninteresting as Derek's was.
The car lucky slotted in right in front of the house, and Dylan quickly killed the engine and made his way inside. While driving up it had been easy to tell which number it was, because of the vast amount of people stood in front and were still flooding in. It wasn't exactly easily miss able.
Derek lost Dylan pretty quickly, him having disapeared into the crowd as soon as he set foot inside. The smell of alcohol was intoxicating and invaded all his senses, while the vibrations from the music were making the ground shake. Meanwhile all he could see were people. It may have even been the most amount of people he had ever seen in such a limited space. Someone grabbed his arm, while another person thrust a drink in his direction, and he growled backing away, knocking into someone else behind him.
"Fuck! Watch were your going asshole." the guy burst out, narrowing his eyes while staring at his dripping top.
He might have said sorry if he hadn't been so busy in finding a less crowed area. Spotting one near a wall he made his way over, trying not to push people out the way as he went. There was a mixed group close by to his new standing location, who were all laughing and practically lying on top of each other wrapped up in their own bubble. He stared, probably not the best decision he could have made, because one of the girls caught his eye, and then suddenly they were all staring and giggling amongst themselves. He learned his lesson though, and kept his eyes trained in front, making sure he wasn't going to catch anybodies eyes.
He had no idea how old these people were either. Some girls looked like they could be around 12, caking themselves in what looked like a whole crayola pack, while others looked they should be in Uni by now.
He was completely out of his comfort zone.
Diner parties Derek could handle. Getting dressed in a suit while having to make polite conversation with people who he had been told were very important was a skill he was good at. Not that it was particularly enjoyable, but the formal and sophisticated atmosphere was one in which he had grown up in.
He was also comfortable in a gym. Very comfortable in fact. There was a certain calming effect in forgetting stress and being caught up in the moment. Forgetting who you are in fact.
Plus, he could pretend that he still enjoyed the attention he got from girls.
Thinking about receiving girl attention, he was almost defiantly sure that the girl he had made eye contact with him was still staring, however he really did not want to check. What he wanted to do was spot Dylan and Mia, and go back home.
His ears were starting to beep.
The snarl embedded into his lips was starting to make the muscles ache.
And his clenched fists were creating moon-shaped imprints in his palm.
Until he felt none of those feelings at all. Because suddenly a pair of lips were smashed against his, probably lasting only a second, but still managed to block out the rest of the word from sheer surprise.
But Derek's lips were opening and by sheer impulse he was kissing the girl back, his fists unclenching and resting against her hips. He had no idea why he did it; maybe to prove that he could be that guy who kissed random girls just because he could. She tasted of beer, so most defiantly was at least tipsy; maybe the girl who had made eye-contact with. And she was kissing him back, quite enthusiastically might he add- both her hands cradling his face.
They didn't feel like girls hands. They felt harder, rougher. And their lips felt more like guy's lips; It's not like he saw their face before they attacked him. He yanked himself away, shoving the person off in the process, and squeezed his eyes shut. He really didn't want to confirm his suspicions, but 2 seconds later he opened them and was staring into a pair of amber eyes.
They belonged to a guy.
"I'm Stiles," he said, with a slight slur to his voice, smiling goofily up at Derek. The boy was defiantly younger than him, probably even more than a year, who looked lanky and as if he just had a growth spurt. He hadn't really grown into his new height though, and had an air of naivety and young-ness to him.
The room was dark, but he could still pick out features, and a few moles were dotted over his face, probably other areas of skin too, like constellations.
His skin looked pale, maybe because of the lighting or maybe because he was just pale, and he almost suited the too short hair. Long enough to just about ruffle maybe.
His eyes though were the most striking. Orbs of amber, surrounded by a darker brown, holding all the colour in. Looking up at Derek they seemed like they were radiating brightness, and he could imagine getting lost in them easily.
But none of it mattered. He didn't kiss him knowingly; it was just an impulse. An impulse to reciprocate a kiss, because you get kissed by people who you expect to get kissed by. People you love, or at least like. Not random strangers who throw themselves at you.