Five thirty found Stiles in the driver seat of his Jeep, with the scrap of paper tucked away in his front pocket. He was fairly sure the building was less than ten minutes away, but knew there were heavy odds that Stilinski luck would play a part. He had spent the early afternoon washing the Jeep, and then more time than should be legal picking out an outfit. Thanks to his friendship with Scott, he'd already shifted from heavy smelling toiletries to more neutral scents, so he didn't have to worry too much about that. He spent about twenty minutes trying to figure out what the guy equivalent of bringing flowers was, but couldn't think of anything that wasn't hopelessly hokey, or completely over the top, which would ruin the whole 'lets relax and see how it goes' thing tonight had going, before he scrapped the whole idea.

Five fifty nine found him pulling up in front of Derek's apartment building, cursing his luck. He'd stopped for gas only to be caught out by Chris Argent, who seemed to think Stiles was a soft touch for information, intimidation or simply inherently fun to fuck with. God only knows, but he spent fifteen minutes pleasantly chatting with Stiles about the most mundane things, all with that creepy, 'we've got a secret' smile and an arm on his shoulder, like they were 'boys' now or something. Stiles really and truly longed to knock that smile right off his face. Chris may well be the sanest Argent he'd ever met, but that didn't mean he could stand the sanctimonious prick. And seriously, had the man never heard of subtly? with all his tales of rabid dogs? I mean seriously outside of 'Old Yeller' and 'Cujo', who ever sees one rabid dog, much less have a stockpile of relevant stories about them? Yeesh.

He climbed out of the Jeep and rushed over to the door, and was preparing to buzz the apartment when Derek stepped out of the lobby. "Don't" He said in a rush, like he was afraid Stiles wasn't going to stop.

Stiles raised and eyebrow and Derek grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the Jeep. "Peter, is up there."

"If you're here, there wasn't really a reason to buzz your apartment, but is there a reason you don't want Peter to know we're going out?" Stiles asked, not sure he should be offended or not.

"He knows we're going out." Derek said shortly, climbing into the passenger side before Stiles could even think to hold the door for him.

"Okay, so was he like sleeping?" Stiles was slightly confused, because Derek was acting weird, which had Stiles' Spidey Senses tingling. He walked to his side of the car and got in, looking at Derek expectantly before starting the engine.

"He kept making references to romantic comedies, suitors and maybe curfews... I figured killing him again was out, so running for it was our best option." He said, cheeks slightly pink.

Stiles let out a fake shudder, "Good call."

Stiles started driving, and Derek scrunched up his nose. Stiles noticed, when he glanced over. "Let me guess, you smell Chris Argent on me?"

Derek looked thrown at being caught sniffing. "I, um, yeah."

"Freaking weirdo was all buddy buddy with me at the gas station. I dunno if he was fishing for information, maybe wondering if we'd heard anything about Gerard, or just having fun being a dick in general. I mean everyone has to have a hobby right?" Stiles smirked at Derek, before looking back at the road.

"He seems to have a bad habit of harassing people at the pumps." Derek said with a growl.

"Like I said, hobbies, man."

"So, where are we going?" Derek asked, changing the subject.

"Oh right, I meant to ask, instead of assuming. You like Italian, right?" Derek nodded. "Great, I was thinking the Italian place, Gina's on Market Street."

"Their good, at least they used to be. My mom really liked their lasagna." He said, with a sad smile.

"Maybe we could do um, Mexican instead." Stiles started.

"No, Gina's is good." Derek smiled at him. "Thanks though."

Stiles nodded. They drove in companionable silence for another couple minutes, until they got to Gina's. They parked and walked in side by side.

Derek was looking around, a little concerned. "Looks like they're having a busy night."

Stiles just smiled, and then stepped up to the hostess stand. "Hi, we had reservations for two at six fifteen. Stilinski?"

"Your table will be ready in just a couple minutes, sir." Stiles nodded, slipping her a folded up ten, hoping it was enough to get them a decent table. He turned to sit down, and noticed Derek giving him the strangest look.

"You made reservations?"

"Um yeah, this afternoon, I know they get kind of busy and I figured if you wanted something else I could always cancel them. I actually meant to ask you sooner, so I wasn't being a jerk if I had to cancel it, but between the Peter thing and the Chris thing, it slipped my mind." He looked around the room taking in the classic decor. "I think maybe it was a hold over from when I was a kid. My mom always said the most romantic scene in any movie was the uh, the spaghetti scene in Lady and the Tramp, so when I think dates, my mind always goes Italian. I guess it's a good thing you're not a vampire instead, what with all the garlic." Stiles quipped, blushing slightly.

Less than a minute later, the hostess returned and led them to a window table with a view of the gardens next door. They got settled in then ordered their drinks and an antipasto appetizer. Neither needed much time on the menu and were ready to order when their waitress came back with their drinks.

"I'll have the lasagna dinner, um ranch dressing on the salad." Stiles ordered.

Derek smiled, "I'll have the spaghetti and meatballs, house dressing for the salad, extra garlic bread." By the time he was done ordering, they were both grinning at each other, and Derek reached out his hand to take Stiles' across the table.

Searching for something to talk about that wouldn't freak out any eavesdroppers in the nearby tables, but still be worth actually discussing. His mind went to school, and then a thought occurred to him. "Before you came back to town, what were you doing, working? Going to school? Man of leisure?" He asked grinning.

"Laura and I kind of bounced around, staying a few months here, and a few months there. We were in a lot of places, but didn't actually see much of anything. Just going from distant relative to distant relative, while I finished up school, and Laura worked. Once I managed to graduate, we just kept drifting. We'd stay until it felt like time to move on. I worked whatever I could get, bartender mostly, once I got an ID good enough to pass for twenty one, but also waiter, busboy, whatever was available. I delivered pizza's for one night, before Laura had a fit about what the smell of them was doing to the car. She said there was no way she was going to crave pizza every time she had to drive somewhere just because the pizza joint was too cheap to have a delivery car." They both grinned at that.

They nibbled away at the antipasto platter, and when their meals arrived started on those, all while making safe small talk about school and lacrosse. Then something occurred to Derek. "What are you doing after you graduate? Any ideas yet?" He asked.

"Yeah, I, uh, I'm going to BHU."

"You're staying in town?" He asked, a little confused, because he knew Stiles got perfect grades, and was easily as smart as Lydia, if in different areas.

"Considering the mad house this place has become, I'm probably nuts to want to stay, but they have the classes I need, so why go further away to learn the same thing, just because it might be a more prominent school? The Criminal Justice and Forensic Science programs are both on par with any other school in this half of the state. Plus, no stress over moving to a new place, or worrying about you guys needing me, means I can concentrate on not burning out while working towards a double major."

While he was talking, Stiles sliced off a chunk of his lasagna and put it on Derek's plate, stealing a meatball on the way back to his own plate. Derek just grinned at him and cut off a bite of the lasagna. After practically humming in contentment over the taste, he swallowed and asked another question.

"So are you wanting to be a cop, or like some CSI guy?" He asked, curious, while watching Stiles slice and eat the meatball with a low groan of pleasure.

"I'm more interested in investigation so probably a cop or maybe a deputy, so long as I earn it fair and square. I know my dad wouldn't play favorites, but people are stupid and there are always gonna be people who would think he did, or worse go easy on me because they think he'd want that."

"So are you doing this for your Dad then?" He asked, spinning a few strands of spaghetti and eating it, before shifting another meatball over to Stiles' plate.

Stiles grinned, cutting into the new meatball and taking a bite before answering. "He's part of it obviously, but the thing that pushed it from 'that's one idea' to 'this is it' was you. Er, I mean the pack, and everything that's happened. Having someone in the know about all the stuff that really goes on around here, someone in a position to actually do something about it? Now give that same someone the ability to test and confirm supernatural elements with forensic science? Hell, I've already spent a year of my life 'Scooby-dooing' it up without pay or vacation days, and loving it; even when I was sure we were all going to die. Add in the ability to protect our pack from ending up in jail because something supernatural screws with us again and it's a no-brainer." After a moment or two what he'd said caught up with him, and Stiles paled, visibly before speaking again. "I'm sorry, I meant your pack. I just get carried away."

"Stiles, just because Scott can't figure out where he stands, it doesn't effect you. You're Pack. Hell, you're more pack than Scott's ever been. I'm not going to get offended because you're actually willing to say it. It's a good thing." He smiled at Stiles, pleased by the whole situation. "More than that, you've decided to plan your future around what would best help our pack and protect our territory. There's no way in Hell I'm going to be angry about that."

Stiles smiled back at him, pride in his eyes.

After a few more minutes spent eating and chatting, Stiles brought up a new subject. "I think I'm going to be far too full for desert, how about you?"

"No question, I'm full." He said, chasing the last meatball bit around his plate with a small chunk of garlic bread. Stiles smirked as the meatball kept eluding Derek before holding his fork over to 'trap' it for him. Derek quickly 'caught' his prey and plopped the morsel into his mouth.

"Well, in that case, did you want to go for that movie? There are a couple shows that start around eight."

Derek nodded, smiling. "I'd like that."

Stiles signaled their waitress and asked for the check. When Derek started to reach for his wallet, Stiles waved him off. "I've got this." Derek looked a little put out, until Stiles continued. "You can get the movie tickets, if you want." He slipped two twenties and a ten into the small folder, and told the waitress to keep the change, before standing up and holding his hand out to Derek.

They walked out of the restaurant hand in hand. Stiles paused once they crossed the street to the Jeep. The wind was causing a few strands of Derek's hair to flutter, and he just looked happy. Without thinking about it, Stiles leaned in and kissed him. This one was just as gentle as the one from the previous night, and he trailed his thumb up and down Derek's neck slowly, until he pulled away. He watched Derek's face carefully for any sign that the kiss had been unwanted, instead he got a pleased smile.

Which was why the roar of a pissed off werewolf as it body checked him caught him completely off guard.