A/N Jeff Davis owns all, maybe even my soul...lord knows he ripped out my heart...feels
I cannot even begin to express my love for katieepretzel, I wouldn't be nearly as awesome without her.
What can I say about this chapter...there is an incident in it...
Enjoy
All-Star Break Charity Event, July, 2010
"So, you're the Wolfman?"
"And you are the not so little Funny Man?"
"So, you haven't been avoiding me?"
"So, you've not been fucking your manager?"
"HOLD UP!" Lydia yelled. "No one has been fucking me, thank you very much!" Everybody stopped what they were doing; Derek and Stiles stopped their posturing and just stared at Lydia for a moment; the still photographer dropped his camera.
"Lyd, thank you, so much, for ensuring that nothing I do today will be the most inappropriate or awkward thing to happen here. Thank you." Stiles managed to squeak out without laughing.
Ten minutes earlier
Stiles and Derek's first introduction did not go well. It wasn't horrible, but it was decidedly not good. To be fair, it wasn't exactly Derek and Stiles that were the issue.
Lydia strode into the complex with Stiles dawdling behind her; she was completely in her element. "Alright, we're here, where's Derek so I can introduce him to Stiles and go over how this is going to play out for the cameras. Also, where is the still photographer?" Lydia handled most of the publicist duties for Stiles as well as being his manager. She often joked that she'd been managing him since they were kids and the only difference was that now she got paid for it, and very well so. She looked around the stadium, spinning on her very tall, very expensive, Manalo Blahnik heels. "Derek? There you are come here please." She spun around again, slower this time. "Where are Scott and Allison?"
"I don't care, Allison, it crossed a line!" Stiles cringed. He couldn't see Scot, but he could hear him. That was never good.
The couple stomped into the stadium, oblivious to their surroundings. "Ah, there they are! Come along, come along, and we'll get this done, yeah?" Lydia said, as if Scott and Allison weren't having one of their once-in-a-blue-moon fights in semi-public company.
Allison broke apart from her husband as soon as she realized other people were there. "Oh, hey Lyd, you look really great today, and look, I brought brownies!"
Both Derek and Stiles whipped their heads around when they heard Allison simpering at Lydia; they knew that Allison only talked like that when she thought she was in trouble. But the need to work outweighed the need to watch shit go down, so Stiles wiped his hands as stealthily as he could on his jeans, took a deep breath, and turned to Derek. "Hey man, I'm Stiles, but being it's just you and I, you probably already knew that. I am a huge fan of your work, the way you handle a ball is amazing. No, I didn't mean that!" Derek outwardly glared at Stiles while biting the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the obviously flustered man. "I mean, you have an excellent bat…ass…fuck, I wasn't checking out your ass, well I was, but it was to see if it made you handle your balls differently. Shit that's not what I meant…I'm just gonna shut up now!"
Derek has never seen a full-grown man turn so red in his entire life and frankly, it was rather nice. Since he promised Scott he would play nice and he didn't want to laugh at the comedian, ironic as that sounded, he took a few deep breaths and stared upwards for a moment before introducing himself. "Hey, Derek Hale. Wolfman. Whatever. I can't rightly comment on how you handle your balls." He hadn't meant to say that. He'd swear on Allison's sandwiches that he hadn't meant to say that. Something about this kid, not kid, same age as him and Scott, something about this boy, not boy, man, something about this MAN in front of him just made him unable to function. "Wow, I appear to have forgotten how to act. Let's try this again. Hi, I'm Derek 'Wolfman' Hale, and you are Stiles 'Funny Man' Stilinski!" As Derek was reaching to shake Stiles' hand, he heard something he was not expecting.
"I cannot believe you!" A man shouted. Derek visibly cringed.
"So….you're the Wolfman?" Stiles asked, trying to ignore the fight his best friends were having in the background, trying to stay focused on what he was supposed to be doing - getting to know Derek.
"And you're the not so little Funny Man?" Derek smiled, just a little, knowing that banter was something he could do.
"So, you haven't been avoiding me?" Stiles could feel the edge of flirtation in his expression, could hear it in his words. Without even thinking about it, he brought his left hand up, tucked it under his chin while he tilted his head down, and sucked the edge of his bottom lip in between his teeth.
Derek couldn't control his reaction, he stepped a little closer to Stiles, and he was surprised at the rasp in his voice when he responded with a smirk "So, you've not been fucking your manager then?"
That is when Lydia stepped up, to yell about the lack of fucking, which of course just happened to perfectly coincide with the arrival of all the entertainment and sports press people. Lydia realized what she'd done and turned towards the press, "Just helping Stiles go over some lines while we wait!" she chirped, a wide, plastic smile on her face. "Well, I think we'll start in the stadium proper, have Derek and Stiles toss the ball for a bit, maybe swing a few bats. We should get some pictures of the two of them with team owner and manager, and then we'll come up and do the Wii. Jackson, if you could just do what it is you do, after you pick your camera back up, that would be great." Lydia swung her arm in a vague, leftward direction.
At the mention of Jackson, Derek and Stiles both looked towards Lydia's gesture. There, standing near Allison, was Jackson Whittemore. Derek's cousin, Jackson. Lydia's ex-boyfriend, Jackson. Apparently also photographer, Jackson. And it was awkward. It couldn't be any more awkward than if they all tried to make it that way. Allison and Scott were fighting, Lydia was working with her ex, Derek and Stiles were maybe flirting, maybe pissing each other off, probably both, and there were cameras and soon to be a handful of fans witnessing it.
"All right, then, to the field! Easy-peasy, right?" Stiles said. Derek just raised an eyebrow, and Scott dropped his face into his hands.
On the field, Stiles and Derek had no issues playing catch. Derek would pitch the ball gently; Stiles would catch it, cradling it in his glove, before tossing it back. A few people came over to help Stiles chose a bat and get him positioned correctly. Derek pitched, lobbing the balls as slowly and smoothly as he could, but Stiles missed the hit…seven times…in a row. Jackson snapped away the entire time from roughly a thousand different angles, and got some amazing pictures. Stiles was given back his glove, Derek chose a bat, and no matter how sloppy the throw was, Derek hit the ball, seven hits for seven pitches. "Hey man, good try, but it's different out here in the field than on a soundstage." Derek quipped. He and Stiles were taking their outdoor posed shots before going in to play the Wii. Stiles acted happy, but he knew Jackson had gotten a few shots of him looking frustrated during his clicking spree. Hopefully, any pictures with Finstock turned out; Stiles did not want to deal with that man again if he didn't have to.
"Dude, make sure you have the strap around your wrist." Stiles cautioned Derek. "Seriously, make sure you've got it snugged down, not too loose. Loose is bad, tight is good. Heheh…loose bad," Stiles giggled to himself. Derek glared.
"I think I can manage a video game, Stilinski." Derek snapped.
"I thought so too, but I almost took out Scott when I was practicing last week."
"So you can practice a video game but not hitting an actual ball?" Derek retortedc.
"I figured, how different could it be? You wait and when the ball is in the zone, you swing and you hit. I didn't actually have to hit the ball at all for the movie so I had no reason to practice connecting; I just practiced pitching form and batting form, never an actual hit." Stiles explained, doing his best not to sound like he was talking to an idiot. "As you pointed out, it's different on a sound stage. Well, the game is also different. I was trying to be nice, ass."
"You seem to have a thing for my ass, don't you?" Derek growled.
"What, no, what? It's an ass, you're an ass, you're an ass with an ass, one of these two asses may be nice, and one may just be an ass, ass." Stiles couldn't pinpoint when things started to go downhill, but they were. Rapidly. "Listen, why don't you go first, you know, get it out of the way, and then you can see your cousin. I can only assume he's the reason that Scott and Allison are fighting, by the way….ass."
Stiles set the game to single player, figuring it would make for better pictures. The cartoon Wii pitcher wound-up, pitched, and Derek missed! He missed by a mile! Again, a wind-up, pitch, swing and a miss.
"Look, the Wii, it isn't my thing. If I'm going to play games, instead of surf or play ball or work out or do anything, anything productive, it's the Playstation or the Xbox. I don't use games as a substitute for having a life." Derek was not in a good mood. How the hell can he not hit a ball in a video game? He reached down and loosened the wrist strap, it must be too tight. The third pitch, he tried 'batting' slower, the fourth faster, it was right before the fifth that he removed the strap from his wrist completely, and it was the sixth that saw the controller fly from his hand, directly into the screen of the very large, very expensive, clubhouse television.
"Did'ya manage to get a picture of that happening, Jackson? I think it would go great in your house." Lydia sneered.
"Whoa, whoa, wow, hey, shit." Stiles stuttered.
"Huh."
"What the hell, dude, you manage to destroy a television in your teams' clubhouse,even though I told you to make sure the strap was tight and since I am the expert on games here, as I apparently substitute them for having a life, so you should have listened to me and the best you can manage is 'huh'? Where is the cursing, the swearing, the invectives? You should be yelling and screaming and embarrassing yourself. Try it, just, take a deep breath and yell 'Fuck me running!' You'll feel so much better… also, you are a giant ass." Stiles realized after he stopped talking that the press was still there, that the handful of fans that had tickets had witnessed his outburst, and the cameras were rolling, so the fans that hadn't could catch it on TV. He also realized that sometime during his rant, he'd kicked over the Wii, he hoped he didn't break it. Perfect.
"So," Scott said, after he pulled himself away from Allison, "If you will head down to the conference room then we can start the auction. Derek and Stiles will be available for questions after they…clean up and get a bite to eat. Remember, it will be a silent auction, and the lovely Allison McCall and her team have prepared some excellent Hors d'oeuvres for you all. Allison will be there to go over any food-related questions you may have, and Lydia Martin and myself will be along shortly." Scott in manager mode was completely different from Scott the rest of the time. As soon as everyone except Derek, Stiles, Jackson, Lydia and Scott were gone, Scott turned to the rest. "Allison and I are fine; we just had a disagreement on her calling Jackson in after the teams standard stills guy got sick. Lydia, thank you for letting us know that you are not fucking anyone, I am sure the press will have a field day with that little bit of information. Derek, you broke the TV. WHAT THE HELL MAN, you BROKE the television. Stiles, nice job with the Wii, if you broke it, the auction winner is getting yours. Jackson, good work. Do you have anything to add, Lydia?"
Lydia breathed deeply for a moment, willing herself not to blush. "I don't think there is any amount of damage control that I can do at this point. I can't stop them from airing the video they shot or publishing articles and pictures. If Jackson is willing to work with me after I accused him of stalking me, I can make sure that everyone has access to the better, more…flattering pictures he took. Sorry about that, by the way." Lydia did look sorry. "Stiles, for the love of all that is holy, right and good in this world, stop saying ass, okay? I know I gave you your meds this morning, sweetheart; I know if you focus, really, really hard, you can control the words coming out of your mouth. So stop saying the word ass."
"But-"
"No! No excuses, no rationales, no. Just, no more ass, Stiles, no more ass!"
"Damn, Lydia, if you take ass away from Stiles, what will he do with his free time?"
Lydia looked shocked, "Scott, you are an idiot. I am so glad Allison didn't hear that," she said before she walked away.
"Wow, I'm going to follow Lydia, in a totally non-creepy way…it was nice to meet you I guess, Stiles, apparently, I was really wrong about you. I'll see you for pictures and at the after party!" Jackson said while he walked backwards for about five steps, then turned and ran.
Derek and Stiles both stood and stared at Scott. "What?" Scott asked.
"Dude, you are NEVER to yell at Allison like that again for doing her job." Derek snarled. "Yeah, she called Jackson, but did you ever think it may have been just because he was in town, and he could do the job? That maybe it had nothing to do with Lydia being here, and that Jackson actually freaked out a little when he saw Lydia? I can only assume that was why he was screeching earlier."
"Oh. No, I didn't think-"
"Scott, you are like a brother to me, but I think more than you before I talk sometimes, and I have no fucking filter!" Stiles shouted. "You are so fucking lucky the press was gone before you said that. When I'm ready to be open with them, I will be, and you, my best friend, making a comment like that, it does not help."
"Wait, you're gay? So you were flirting with me before?"
"God, Derek, you really are an ass." Stiles said, softly. "If I'm gay, I was flirting, and if I'm straight, I'm what, making fun of the gay actor stereotype?"
"What? No, I just, we've never met, you come on all blushing and stumbling over your words, and… why am I explaining myself to you?"
"Really, guys, it's not a big deal, Stiles likes men, Der-"
"You need to stop, Scott." Derek growled out. Stiles looked hurt, Derek looked pissed, and Scott looked lost. "We have auction results to get, and your wife is expecting us. Maybe as we walk to the conference room, I can explain why you're a fuckwit." Derek roughly grabbed Scott's arm and left, leaving Stiles alone to question, again, what the hell just happened.