I'm pretty sure this is the last chapter. As all ways, I'm pretty much making this up as I go. I've decided that even though I already have a bunch of projects, if you guys have some suggestions for story plots or any prompts you want me to fill, just pm or email me with the details or tweet me AnnoyedByMany and I'll try to get it done for you guys. If I get an overwhelming amount of requests, I'll do a poll and let you guys vote on which ones you'd rather see.

Anyway, on with the chapter. I have two other projects to upload…

Thanks to everyone that review!

Special Thanks to!

The-Riddle-Heiress: I'm partial to Sterek romance as well, but there's just something about Jackson and Stiles. I'm glad that you like what I've done so far!

hikachan3: I'm glad you like it!

The Guests: I'm glad that you guys took the time to review! Thanks for all the support.

As stated before, I do not havea beta. I've read and reread this a thousand times and all mistakes are my own.

Stiles felt incredibly awkward the first thirty minutes of the date. On the drive to skating rink, all he could think was 'Holy shit, I'm driving the Camaro…and it's AWESOME!' so he didn't think about how this was his first date and how many ways he could screw it up. Now that he was there, Bentley sitting across from him, all he could think about was how easily he could fuck the entire night up. Every time he went to open his mouth and say something, anything that would break the tension, he would get a flash of how horrible things could go if he said something stupid. Bentley didn't make it any better. He just sat there politely, staring at Stiles as though he was some rare jewel. It was unnerving and it so wasn't helping his current dilemma.

"Stiles," Bentley said suddenly. It caught him completely off guard, and he jumped as though he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

"Huh?" he asked in what he felt was a rather dumbfounded voice. Bentley smiled at him.

"Is this your first date?" The smile didn't waver, if anything it spread a tad bit wider. Stiles groaned and let his head fall down to hit the table.

"Is it really that noticeable?" he grumbled, face still pressed against the table top.

"A little," Bentley replied and Stiles groaned louder. "It's perfectly fine Stiles. I find it rather cute."

"It's not cute. It's embarrassing and I could die from mortification because you probably think I'm like the world's biggest reject, cause who has never been on a date besides toddlers? And I've spent the last half-hour trying my damnedest not to say something ridiculously stupid to run you away, only to blow it to tiny little pieces because now I'm rambling and I can't stop and….and…would you think any less of me if I burst into hysterically tears? Metaphorically of course, cause I'm eighteen and I so don't cry in frustration anymore."

"Okay, I'm gonna stop you, because you seriously need to breathe before you pass out. Although, I do know CPR, and that could work out in my favor," Bentley said, amusement riddled through his voice. Stiles let out a laugh and Bentley's trademark grin returned. "See, you're loosening up already."

"I just…I really pictured this going differently. Or rather I didn't really picture it at all." At Bentley's confused look, Stiles continued. "Derek, the guy that I was at the club with, let me drive his Camaro."

"That your first time driving it?" Bentley asked. Stiles nodded vigorously.

"I mean, don't get me wrong. I've tried to on several occasions. But Derek loves that car more than me. Okay maybe that wasn't a good analogy. Derek loves just about everything more than me. Derek loves that car more than life."

"I don't know. He let you drive it didn't he? That's some serious love. My Dad asked to be buried in his Chevelle," Bentley explained. "Letting me drive it was completely out the question. Although I suppose my tendency to crash and burn didn't help that." Stiles laughed at him.

"I take it you won't be racing in Talladega anytime soon," he asked, resting his chin on his hands. Bentley smirked at him.

"Naw, which is probably in everyone's best interest. I've seen The Final Destination." Stiles stared at him in shock.

"You like the Final Destination series?" he asked. Bentley nodded.

"I've got every DVD. You could borrow them if you'd like," he offered.

"Or maybe that could be date number two…if I haven't scared you away, that is," Stiles replied, blushing heavily. Bentley placed a hand over Stiles' and smiled warmly at him.

"I'd like that." They stared at each other for a second, before Stiles averted his gaze quickly. Bentley may not have been his type, but he had some intense eyes.

"Stiles!" Stiles groaned, and let his head fall back onto the table with a thud. He was going to have a serious headache by the time this date ended. Why was it every time he was with Bentley, someone interrupted him….the exact same way.

He groaned again, this time louder and more miserable. He knew that voice, grew up with that voice, laughed at that voice when puberty hit. Why, oh why was Scott there? And if Scott was there, then surely….he heard Allison's giggle and picked his head up a little, just to let it fall back down onto the table. He picked his head up and looked towards the entrance. Not only was Scott and Allison there, but the entire gang was there, minus Derek.

Scott was giving Allison a piggy back ride, Allison laughing as Scott made airplane noises. Erica and Boyd – he knew there was something up with the two of them – were holding hands smirking in their trademark way. Danny and Isaac – whoa when did that happen? – were walking close together, talking intimately. And then there was Jackson and Lydia.

"Oh my….God if you love me at all, you'll kill me dead right now," Stiles groaned. This spelled disaster in big capital letters.

"Friends of yours?" Bentley asked.

"I'd use the word "friends" loosely. I'm seriously rethinking that right now," Stiles replied, dropping his head down to hit the table again. "Maybe if we pretend hard enough, they won't see us," he suggested.

"I think it's a little too late for that." Time the words left Bentley's mouth, Scott's heavy hands landed on his shoulders.

"Stiles, my boy! What goes on?" he asked; voice cheery as though it was okay that he was there.

"Why? Why don't you love me God? Is it because I didn't go to Church last Sunday? I swear I'll join the choir if you just zap my problems away. I'll even make it easier for you….there's eight of them," Stiles stage whispered.

"Aren't you going to introduce us?" Erica asked. Stiles turned to glare at her, and she smiled wickedly at him.

"No," Stiles answered. He turned his back to them and faced Bentley again. Scott plopped down next to him, pulling Allison in his lap. As if by some silent order, everyone else was sitting down as well. Stiles sighed heavily and threw himself back into his chair dramatically. As it would seem, God was busy or on vacation or something because Jackson was sitting in-between him and Bentley. He silently cursed their decision to sit across from each other.

"Well that's just rude," Erica replied. Lydia hummed in agreement and Stiles mentally question why he ever liked her.

"Fine!" Stiles stated firmly. "Bentley, these are my pathetic, stupid, douchebag, dickhead friends who have absolutely no sense of what privacy is. Pathetic, stupid, douchebag, dickhead friends, this is Bentley, the really sweet guy whose date you're ruining. Now leave."

"Nice to meet you Bentley," Allison stated. The rest of the pack gave various greetings, all of them completely ignoring his insults and his order that they leave.

"Nice to meet you all," Bentley replied, smiling politely. Stiles wanted to jump across the table and slap his hand over Bentley's mouth. He shouldn't be polite to them.

"Well at least one of you has some manners," Lydia commented. Stiles growled at her, but she didn't spare him a look.

"Why are you guys here?" he gritted out. Isaac shrugged.

"I got a text saying that everyone was going ice skating. I didn't know you'd be here," Isaac replied. Stiles refrained himself from jumping up and screaming "Bullshit!"

"You mentioned ice skating earlier. We were bored and decided to come and skate ourselves," Danny explained.

"You couldn't have found another rink…like, I don't know, eight states over?" Stiles hissed. Danny grinned good-naturedly.

"It's a big rink, Stilinski," Jackson replied nonchalantly. Stiles wanted to grabbed the back of his head and literally rub it in Bentley's chest while shouting "HAH!" but held himself back. There was a lot of holding back right then. He fought every bone in his body that was telling him to smack Jackson.

"Jackson's right, dude," Scott replied, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Then why am I looking at you? Find your own table," Stiles retorted, removing Scott's hand.

"Have you guys ordered yet?" Allison asked, looking over the menus that were placed on the table.

"Not yet," Bentley replied. Stiles shot him a look as if to say 'what the absolute fuck?' Bentley just shrugged apologetically.

"You guys can order your own food when you're at your own table…across the room," Stiles replied. Allison ignored him.

"I want curly fries, Scott," she replied.

"Oh, me too! With extra ketchup!" Erica stated.

"I want a burger, hold the bun, condiments, and pickles," Lydia ordered.

"What am I, the waiter?" Scott asked, sliding out of his seat. "You don't honestly expect me to remember all of that do you?"

"Playing the dumb card McCall?" Jackson asked.

"Don't worry, Scott. Jackson will help you," Lydia replied. Jackson shot her a dirty look, but got up. Stiles wanted to punch both of them. Jackson never did what he wanted him too.

"You want anything, Stiles?" Scott asked. Stiles shot him a blank stare.

"I've suddenly lost my appetite," he replied nastily. Scott shrugged his shoulders carelessly before leaving, Jackson hot on his heels.

Allison and Lydia immediately started in with the interrogation, questioning Bentley. Bentley shot him a helpless look. Stiles rolled his eyes, contemplating leaving him to his own defenses, before standing up.

"Let's go get our skates," Stiles replied. Bentley all but jumped up.

"We just ordered food," Scott pointed out, coming back to sit down. He handed the numbered ticket for their order to Allison, who pocketed it. Scott would lose it if he kept it.

"That's the point," Stiles said plainly.

He turned to walk away, bumping into Jackson's chest. Whoa, had Jackson put on some extra muscle? Jackson's arms shot out to catch Stiles, and Stiles almost moaned at the sensation. Jackson's grip was just as strong and warm as he remembered it. And Jackson was wearing the cologne that Stiles loved so much. The scent of Polo Blue and just Jackson wafted into his nose and his mouth watered. Jackson wasn't letting go, and he was getting dizzy with the sudden attack on his senses. He righted himself as quickly as possible, mumbling a thank you before rushing to Bentley's side. He refused to look at Jackson and completely missed the look of smugness on his face.

"Your friends are nice," Bentley commented, lacing his skates. Stiles snorted.

"Yeah right. They're as nice as a rapid dog."

"The two girls were…intense. I didn't think they'd tear into me like that," Bentley admitted. He was finished with his skates and Stiles was still struggling with the first one.

" You're the one who was nice to them," Stiles pointed out. "I wanted to send them to Alaska. There's plenty of ice to skate on there." Stiles growled in frustration when his skates wouldn't cooperate. "Defective piece of crap!"

"Hey, just relax. You're going to cut yourself on the blades if you keep doing that," Bentley warned.

"Easy for you to say. There's nothing wrong with your skates," Stiles defended.

"Let me help you." Bentley gently moved Stiles' hands out the way before lacing up his skate for him. When he was done with the left foot, he moved on to the right. "See, not so defective after all."

"Thanks," Stiles mumbled, looking at his hands.

"What's wrong?" Bentley asked. Stiles shook his head, still looking at his hands.

"It's just….I'm sorry about my friends. If I'd known they'd show up, I would have never told them about it."

"Stiles, it's okay. They didn't completely sabotage it," Bentley stated. Stiles looked at him shyly.

"You aren't just saying that? Cause I know firsthand that they can be buzz kills." Bentley laughed.

"Yes, I'm sure," he replied, helping Stiles stand. "Now, shall we go skate? I've been dying to get out there and bust some moves."

"You skate? Like figure skating?" Stiles asked.

"Naw, I used to play hockey. I may suck at driving, but I'm a king on the ice. Think you can handle me?" Bentley asked playfully. Stiles snorted.

"Bring it," he stated.

"There's something you should know about me first though," Bentley commented. Stiles arched an eyebrow at him.

"Besides the fact that you've played hockey and already have a huge advantage over me? What's that?"

"I'm a notorious cheater!" Bentley declared, before stepping onto the ice skating away. Stiles grinned in pleasant surprise before stepping out onto the ice to catch up.

The ice was much more slippery than Stiles remembered. Time his skate clad foot touched the surface, he was down. He scrambled to get up, making up halfway before he was down again. Bentley really was a king on the ice. In no time he was back around in front of Stiles. Stiles was still struggling to get up when Bentley's shadow fell over him.

"What are you doing?" Bentley asked, watching as Stiles tried to pull himself upright using the wall.

"I'm stretching, obviously," Stiles choked out. Bentley laughed.

"Whatever you say," he replied, reaching out to help Stiles up.

"It's my skates. They're defective I tell you." He'd go to his grave swearing that. Once he was up, he made it forward a few inches before he was scrambling to keep his balance again.

"Yeah, blame it on the skates." Bentley let out a hardy laugh as Stiles grabbed on to the wall to keep himself upright. "You look like a baby deer."

"Au contraire," Stiles replied once he was sure that he wasn't going to fall. "This is just a technique."

"A technique?" Bentley questioned. "For what?"

"I use it to take my opponents by surprise," Stiles huffed out. He got his stance ready, making his legs wobble just a bit so Bentley would take the bait.

"Is that right, Bambi?" Bentley inquired playfully. Oddly enough, that wasn't the first time someone had called him Bambi.

"That's right. You see, we have something in common," Stiles replied, looking back and Bentley with a grin. Bentley was standing still, leaning casually against the railing.

"Oh?"

"We're both cheaters," Stiles replied, taking off using the wall as a boost. He looked straight forward, keeping himself focused solely on getting as far ahead as possible. He was going around a third time when he slowed to look for Bentley.

"Such a cheap trick!" Bentley replied as he went buzzing passed Stiles quickly.

He caught him off guard, startled him completely. Stiles scrambled a bit, trying to right himself, but couldn't. He felt as though he was falling in slow motion, and all he could think to himself was 'this is going to hurt like a bitch.' He hit the ice hard, catching the back of his hand on the blade of his skate. He couldn't tell which hurt worst, the cut on his hand or the back of his head as it hit the ice.

"Fuck!" he swore, forgetting about the younger kids skating nearby. He was aware of someone helping him up. He stood, but almost went down again as his head throbbed painfully. His head was definitely the worst.

"I've got you," Jackson whispered in his ear. When did Jackson get there? Jackson lifted him effortlessly, using his werewolf strength.

"Maybe I should carry him," he heard Bentley reply.

"I've got him," Jackson gritted out. He felt Bentley's hands on his side, but couldn't focus his eyes enough to really tell what was going on.

"No offense or anything, but he's dead weight right now, and you don't look like you're gonna be winning the Strong Man competition anytime soon." He felt as though he should reassure Bentley. He trusted Jackson not to drop him more than he trusted Bentley, but that would be hard to explain logically.

"No offense or anything, but it's your fault he's dead weight in the first place so back the fuck up already and let me get him to the table," Jackson hissed. Stiles wasn't sure if it was his head or what, but Jackson sounded concerned….like he cared.

As soon as he was down in a chair at the table, the pack was fussing over him. They were all asking questions at the same time and hissing insults at each other. Man, it was a good thing he was the brains of the pack, because they were shit in high stress situations. They were doing just about everything that they shouldn't be doing to make the situation worst and nothing that they should to make him feel better. He wanted to reassure them, especially when he heard Isaac's whining starting up. Up and down were taking turns switching positions and he couldn't find it in himself to do anything other than groan pitifully.

"Oh my god, he's bleeding," Erica pointed out. Thanks a lot Erica.

The talking got louder and Isaac's whining got more pronounced. He tried to sit up, but Lydia pushed him back.

"Shut up! You're giving me a headache, and I'm not the one who just hit my head!" The talking ceased immediately and Stiles snickered a little. "Let me check him out."

"Are you a nurse?" Bentley asked skeptically.

"No," Lydia hissed. "But I'm smarter than all of you combined." Stiles couldn't argue with her there. Though he couldn't argue at all right now. "The cut on his hand is fine. It's shallow, just a little deeper than a scratch. He won't need stitches for that. I'm more concerned with the head."

"That's what she said," Stiles gritted out. He still had the ability to do that, so he couldn't be that bad off. He tried to recall what he felt when Erica hit him with the part to the jeep before. All he could remember was pain. Okay so that was accurate; pain was definitely a factor here. Erica had knocked him out and she was a werewolf. He was sure that he was fine.

"If you didn't already have a head injury, I'd hit you across it," Lydia replied. The relief was nearly tangible. If Lydia was making jokes, he was sure he'd be fine.

"Stiles, I'm so sorry! I didn't think I'd scare you so bad. But then you fell and I couldn't get to you fast enough. I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am," Bentley apologized. Stiles grinned at him.

"Hey relax. If you didn't know, I'm like the biggest klutz ever," Stiles reassured. He turned to the pack. "Can you guys give me a second?"

They all left, rather reluctantly. Stiles was sure that Scott had to basically drag Jackson away, but he had just sustained a head injury and that just didn't seem likely. When they were all out of hearing range, Stiles turned to Bentley.

"I suppose the mood for a date has been killed?" Bentley asked sheepishly.

"Yeah, but if it makes you feel any better, it started to die long before I ever put those skates on. Sorry again about my friends."

"I'm sorry about your fall," Bentley stated. His voice was low and sincere and if Stiles didn't know any better, he'd swear that Bentley was going to beg his forgiveness.

"It's not a big deal." He replied with a shrug. Bentley shook his head, looking Stiles in the eye.

"It is. I'd love to make it up to you."

"I...Bentley…" How was he going to put this in a nice way without seeming like he was upset with Bentley.

"There isn't going to be a second date is there?" Bentley asked. Well, that was one way to do it.

"No. I'm sorry, but I…I'm not over my ex and it just doesn't feel like the right time to move on." Okay, that wasn't the only reason he didn't want to try things out again with Bentley. It just didn't seem to be there, the spark. There wasn't even a tiny flicker of it. The chemistry between them just didn't scream much of anything and Stiles couldn't help, but compare him to Jackson.

"I understand. I figured as much."

"It's not you! I know it's cliché and corny, but it really isn't you. I'm still in love with my ex. I can't commit to anyone before I'm sure that it's over." Maybe he was in denial about everything. Part of him couldn't help but think that it would all be over soon, this thing between Jackson and Lydia, and he'd be back in the picture.

"Hey, it's okay. It's the blonde isn't it?" Bentley asked.

"Who, Erica?" Stiles questioned in return. That was just gross. Erica was like the female version of Jackson without the charm; he couldn't see himself going there even if he was drunk.

"I thought you were gay." Bentley stated slowly. Was he gay? The jury was still out on that one. He'd dated Jackson, but he'd been in love with Lydia for about ten years before that. Even now he could still appreciate a good rack every once in a while. Did that make him bisexual? Or did he just have a love for the human body? All of the thinking was making his head hurt worse and he figured he'd better just stick to gay for right now.

"I am…which would mean that you meant…" He knew exactly who Bentley was referring to.

"The guy that nearly ripped my head off when you got hurt." Bentley didn't look hurt or jealous, just genuinely curious.

"Jackson. Yeah that's him. Grade A asshole and I still love him," Stiles explained. He hoped that Bentley wouldn't ask him why. He still wasn't sure of the answer to that himself. Love was obviously more than blind. It was death and mute and a bit sadistic. Now that he thought of it, blind was the only thing that love didn't seem to be in his case.

"If it makes you feel any better, he loves you too." Stiles was glad he wasn't drinking or eating anything, because he would have choked at that comment.

"I doubt it. He's with Lydia now," he explained, scratching at the back of his head. His fingers grazed over the tender spot and he winced and immediately dropped his hand.

"I know love Stiles. And love is every fiber of him when you're near." Well, then. Bentley was clearly stoned off of something. There was no way that Jackson turned into goo when he was near. Stiles figured that Bentley must have been trying to make him feel better…all the more reason to climb him like a tree.

"I…I don't know what to say. Derek is going to kill me when I tell him that I let you go." Bentley was just about as perfect as they come and there's no doubt that he would have been all for sex.

"You could tell him that we were just too different. And we could always be friends. I do believe I owe you a movie night." Wow, Stiles never figured he'd be hearing the friends speech under these circumstances. But how could he say no to Bentley.

"You're awesome," Stiles replied truthfully. Bentley smiled at him.

"You're pretty amazing yourself Stiles," he stated. "I'll be seeing you."

Stiles watched him walk off, watched what may have been his only chance to get over Jackson leave without so much as a glance back, before sighing.

"I'll be seeing you," he muttered, then went off to kill his friends.

Okay, so I was wrong. This isn't the last chapter. I don't even know if this is the next to last chapter anymore. Every time I think I've gotten it down, it grows in size. Anyway, I'm sleepy so this is going to have to be the end of this chapter.

Review and don't sugarcoat it.