There was nothing like a country ball to bring out the very worst in Derek Hale. He hated the oppressive crush of people. The boisterous greetings of the men and the delighted squeals of the women grated against his sensitive ears. His nose twitched at the sickly-sweet scents of perfumes and colognes that the more werewolf-savvy populace of the City knew to avoid.

"Stop being such a grump, Derek."

Derek glowered down at Allison as she continued to dimple a smile up at him, undaunted. "You want the locals to feel faint because of your rugged good looks," she continued, giving him a nudge with her narrow shoulder. "Not your murderous expression."

"What does it matter to you?" Derek muttered. "You hardly seem to need my assistance to have a good time — you've danced every moment since you've arrived."

"As should you!" Allison chided. "There's no need to stand around looking surly, when you could be dancing and enjoying yourself."

Derek's scowl only deepened. "You know how I hate to dance with people I don't know, and I don't know anyone here but you and Jackson. It would be a punishment to make me stand up with any of these strangers."

"And how will you get to know anyone new if you refuse to speak to anyone?" Allison countered. "I've never met so many nice young people in my life as I have today, and you would too if you would only give people a chance." Allison's eyes were too knowing, making Derek shift uncomfortably under her gaze. "Derek, I more than anyone know why you have such trouble...connecting with people. But these people just think you're being rude as hell."

Derek sighed, feeling his ears pinkening a little at the suggestion of poor manners. He knew he carried the burden of representing his pack wherever he went, and even Jackson had danced several times with a lively redhead.

"You are dancing with the only handsome man in the room," he tried, hoping to deflect Allison's attention.

For a moment he thought he had succeeded, Allison's keen gaze turning dreamy. "Isn't he amazing? He's the most handsome, kind, wonderful man I've ever met!" she enthused. "But anyway, his step-brother is sitting right behind you, and he's plenty handsome, and I'm sure just as pleasant. Why don't I introduce you, and you can dance with him?"

"Who?" Derek turned, catching sight of the young man she indicated. He was looking down into his glass of punch and so Derek let his eyes wander over him fully.

He was lanky, but with broad shoulders and a pale, enticing expanse of throat above his collar and cravat. A mess of brown hair topped his head and moles spattered his skin. Derek let his gaze rest on the man's long, pale fingers and his pink, open mouth, a buzz of arousal running through him at the thought of having those dextrous fingers and that decadent mouth on his body. Derek was still staring when the boy's long eyelashes lifted and bright, whiskey-brown eyes met his, looking amused at finding himself the object of Derek's scrutiny.

Derek turned away hurriedly, flushing with embarrassment. "He's tolerable I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me," he lied, cursing his momentary weakness. He was glad that Allison could not scent his arousal or hear the stutter in his heartbeat. If she had the slightest inkling that he was interested in someone she would never leave him alone, and so he added a sneer to his voice. "Besides, I'm hardly in the mood to waste my time on a man that everybody else has rejected."

"You're hopeless," Allison sighed.

"Then don't bother with me," Derek snapped. "Your dream man is looking for you anyway, go and dance with him some more." He gestured to where Scott was approaching, eyes only for Allison, with a sunny smile and two cups of punch.

"I think I shall," Allison said firmly, leaving Derek behind without a second glance, gracefully intercepting Scott and drawing him toward the balcony with a tender smile.

"So, listen to this," Stiles said on the way home. The Sheriff and Melissa had left the ball early, but Lydia had agreed to take Scott and Stiles home in her own carriage, giving them time to gossip. Well, Lydia and Stiles were gossiping, while Scott was in his own dreamy world.

"I don't know if his understanding of stupid human senses was so bad he didn't even know that I could hear him, or if he just didn't care. But he pulls himself up all stiff like this —" Stiles straightened until his disorderly hair brushed the ceiling of the carriage, drawing his face into an exaggerated scowl. "And he says, 'Well, he's tolerable, I suppose, but not nearly handsome enough for my taste.'" Stiles could feel his mouth twist wryly and fought to maintain the scowl, furrowing his forehead even more. "And then he said, 'Why would I even waste my time on a man that everyone else here has already rejected?'"

Stiles' Derek Hale impersonation didn't quite get the laugh he hoped from his companions. Scott nudged his shoulder sympathetically, while Lydia reached out to pat his knee.

"Don't you believe that for a second," she said firmly, and Stiles realized that perhaps he was not as good at hiding his hurt feelings as he had believed. "You should consider it no great loss, in any case. He was a disagreeable man, and not worth pleasing in the least."

Stiles slouched back in his seat, feeling uncomfortably exposed. It's not like he really cared what Derek Hale thought of him; the man was obviously an ass. It was just that...maybe there had been a little too much truth in the man's snap judgement. Aside from Scott, who had been his best friend from childhood and his step-brother for years now, and Lydia, Stiles didn't really have other friends.

He knew that some of the other people their age considered him to be too...well, just, too much. Too loud, too flaily, too sarcastic. He had trouble keeping his thoughts along a single path, and he sometimes spoke before he could reconsider the wisdom of his words. But it was fine. Scott and Lydia were all he needed, and at some point he would travel, and find more people who would appreciate him. He didn't need the approval of Mr. Snooty Weresnob, no matter how attractive his stupid scowly face was.

Stiles felt Lydia's keen gaze on him, and was suddenly desperate to turn attention away from himself. "I don't know why Allison is even friends with him," Stiles said with a grin at Scott. "They're like night and day, aren't they?"

Scott latched onto the change in topic with enthusiasm. "Isn't she amazing? I've never met anyone so kind and sweet, and her hair smells so nice, and did you notice her dimples when she smiles?..."

Stiles sat back, letting Scott ramble on about the wonder that was Allison Argent, hoping the moonlight through the carriage windows was dim enough to hide the humiliated flush of his cheeks from Lydia.