The loft was in chaos, clothes thrown about the couch haphazardly and random things tossed onto the ground in Stiles's fit of excited and nervous flailing. He was currently standing in the front of a mirror, frustrated with the fact that his hair refused to do anything but look messy. Scott was hanging over the back of the couch, laughing and shaking his head at his best friend.
"You look fine," Scott tried to reassured for what must have been the fifth time in the last two hours.
Stiles groaned moving his hands from his hair to smoothing over the blazer he'd borrowed from Isaac's closest after discarding his own ironic t-shirts and plaid over shirts. "If you knew what Derek Hale looked like, you'd know that 'fine' is hardly going to be good enough."
"You're being ridiculous."
"No. I'm being a man about to go on a first date for the first time in years."
"Pretty sure most men don't go through all of this," Scott teased, motioning to havoc Stiles had caused in his pursuit of looking better than fine.
Stiles turned on him, pointing a finger in accusation. "Hey! Either support me in my endeavors or I shall be forced to recount all the torture you8 put me through during your first date!"
"Yea, yea." Scott rolled his eyes. He looked about to say something more, possibly to continue teasing Stiles anyways, when the loft's buzzer went off. Like an energetic puppy, Scott flew to the window. "I think that's your date down there. Oh, hey, you have a point. He is kind of hot."
A pillow was thrown at Scott's head, but he dodged it with a laugh. Stiles was in the doorway between the living space and his bedroom, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "That can't be him," he denied, running his fingers through his hair once more frantically. "He's early."
"Dude, I'm pretty sure he's right on time. He told you 7, right? Well, it's 7."
"Exactly! Early! Ugh! I'm not ready. I look horrible."
"Okay, well, I'm letting him in." Scott called after him as Stiles ran back to the mirror.
By the time Derek knocked at the door, Stiles had managed to calm down. At least on the outside. On the inside, his heart was beating like a rabbit and there, something fluttering furiously in his stomach. He had to pause before opening the door, taking in a deep breath in preparation.
Though nothing could prepare him for the sight of Derek in a dark blazer - made from rich material that would undoubtedly be soft and silky to the touch - and tight, or so tight, black jeans. The man really did make black look good. Sexy.
From within the loft, Scott cleared his throat, notifying Stiles that he had been mesmerized for a second too long. Stiles startled out of his stare, earning himself a small smile from the older man. "So, um, ready? Because I'm ready. So ready."
He took a step towards Derek, only stopping when Scotted reminded him with a laugh, "Wallet. Keys."
"Right. Um, just a moment?" Then he was dashing back into his room to grab his thoughts.
In Stiles's brief departure, Derek took the chance to step inside the loft, nodding a polite greeting at Scott before casting his gaze around the room curiously, as if assessing everything in view. Scott watched him quietly, his shaggy head cocked to the side in an unspoken question. Though Derek must have noticed the attention, he ignored it in favor of taking everything in.
"Okay," Stiles came rushing back. "I'm good now."
"Have fun!"
Out in the hall, Derek brushed his shoulder against Stiles. "I like the bed covers," he whispered.
As hoped for, Stiles turned beat red and he stammered in embarrassment. "Can you maybe pretend you didn't see any of that?" Such as the mess of clothes scattered about, the batman bed covers, stack of X-Men comics, and silly photos of Scott and him when they were scrawny kids. And especially the police report clippings that were pinned on his wall. That might seem odd, Stiles worried.
But Derek was unperturbed. He was looking at Stiles fondly. "Not possible. I have no intention of forgetting anything I learn about you."
It really shouldn't have been a surprise that Derek was the type of man who went all out on dates. The guy was a CEO of a fairly successful company, and if memory served correctly, came from a wealthy family. Obviously, he had the money to splurge on fancy dates. Yet Stiles was still stunned when he was led to a limousine and taken to a five star restaurant where the lighting was perfectly romantic and the menu was too proper to display their outrageous prices. It made him think he was in the movies, the beautiful heroine being swept off her feet (not that Stiles saw himself as a female lead), and had the fluttering in his chest increase tenfold.
More than that, though, it made Stiles feel uncomfortable. He didn't belong here, and everyone in the place could see that. Even dressed in Isaac's blazer, it was clear that Stiles came from the cheaper stock of life. His palms were sweating at the thought.
Derek must have noticed his nervousness, as he noticed most things about him, but all he did was smile disarmingly as he pulled out the chair for his date.
"So," tiles started up in pseudo casualness, "you take all your dates here big guy?" Then kicked himself for saying something so stupid. He really was bad at this dating thing. He was too awkward.
Fortunately, Derek didn't seem to mind. His lips even twitched in amusement at the endearment "big guy". "They have the best lobster in the city."
Stiles nodded until he realized the weight of the statement, having mentioned something about quality lobster and lamenting about being too poor for something so great. He had admitted mournfully that he had never tasted it before. The fact that Derek had remembered something even as simple as that had Stiles heating up. He couldn't remember the last time someone had taken so much effort to take his words to heart. Which was why Stiles let the date continue as it did, despite his impulse to request for something different.
Like when he saw fresh scallops on top of flat, creamy noodles pass him by to the next table and his mouth watering at the anticipation of having the same dish set before him, but saying nothing when Derek ordered the lobster for him instead. Along with ordering a bottle of wine that Stiles couldn't pronounce. When the waiter bowed his head and took his leave, Derek was grinning as if expecting to be patted on his head and called a good boy. Stiles had no choice but to grin back, pushing the disappointment down to the pits of his being.
He figured the wine would help to quell the disappointment and to ease nerves, and he smiled genuinely when the waiter returned promptly to pour them both glasses and then leaving the bottle on the table.
"Cheers," Derek looked to him with softness in his eyes and clinked the glasses together.
"Cheers." Stiles imitated,trying not to choke on the taste. To be fair, he typically drank wine coolers, the cheap kind that tasted of sugary fruit. He wasn't expecting how different the expensive stuff was, like actually being able to taste the alcohol and the bitterness that came with it. To mask his opinion, Stiles tried starting up a conversation again. "Um...so, what do you do in your free time?"
"I mostly work out."
"Of course you do," Stiles muttered under his breath, earning himself a smirk from the older man.
"I also work on my cars."
"You cars! That's right. I think I read something about you having a collection of muscle cars. That's cool. I really, man, I just…"
"Hate muscle cars." Derek was laughing quietly. "I remember. You prefer practical cars that can last for years like the jeep you have back home."
"I don't hate muscle cars," Stiles argued, more loudly than was appropriate for a place like this. "I just hate the type of people...Shit. No. That's not what I mean." He took a large gulp of his wine to keep himself from saying anything more. But it really was stronger than he was used to and he couldn't stop from coughing as bitterness slid down his throat. He began spluttering, tears gathering at the edges of his eyes. Every eye in the restaurant narrowed in on him, some looking in concern and others looking in judgement.
Derek, though, was more alarmed than anything. He took the glass of wine from Stiles's hand and replaced it with water. "Are you okay?"
Stiles took a slow sip of water and calmed himself down enough to nod convincingly. He was blushing in mortification, and remained that way until the food came.
He hoped that with food to keep his mouth busy, he would stop embarrassing himself and the night could improve. But then he took a bit of the lobster and had to fight the instinct to spit it back out. Apparently, he didn't have the refined taste for lobster either. He swallowed the bite down as best as he could and turned forlornly to the scallops he'd seen earlier. For a moment he was even tempted to ask Derrick a bite of his steak even though it looked slightly more raw than Stiles found appetizing.
Suddenly, Derek was pulling out his phone from his pocket, checking the caller ID with a frown. "Stiles…I'm sorry. This could be important."
When he was out of sight, Stiles looked to his lone plate of steak, thinking of the risk of stealing a piece. He was just about to lean across the table to cut off a small bite when Derek made his way back to the table, and Stiles jerked back guiltily.
Stiles was talking the moment Derek pulled out his chair to talk. "So, there was this thing Scott and I used to do when we ate somewhere new. We'd order separate dishes, but then spilt them in half and share with the other. That way we could judge who had the best taste. I think that might be a good idea, huh? If we shared?"
He waited patiently for Derek to agree to his brilliant plan, but Derek said nothing. There was a strained expression that marred his once soft features.
"Is everything okay?" Stiles wondered.
"Yea," Derek answered, but his face said otherwise. "Everything's okay."
It all went downhill after that. Stiles tried to keep up a lively conversation, but Derek was clearly distracted after the phone call, and even had to leave the table twice more during their dinner. The last time Derek left for a call, Stiles was so bored and frustrated that he ended up pulling out his own phone and texting Scott. "The date's a total bust."
"What happened?"
Hurriedly, Stiles poured his irritation into the text, listing his awkwardness, disappointment and Derek's distraction.
Always the best friend, Scott was the voice of reason. "It's the first date. Those are always awkward. And maybe something bad happened, but he doesn't want to stop the date. You should just talk to him. You're good at that. It'll be fine."
And Stiles believed him. He even smiled at Derek sincerely when he came back. "Are you sure everything is okay?" He made his voice soft and caring. ""If you wanted to talk, I'm all ears. I promise you, I'm just as good of a listener as I am a talker. So you know I'm good."
He was proud to see a hint of the amused smile Derek often wore around him, but the response was disheartening. "It's fine. I don't want to talk about it."
But by then, Stiles couldn't let it go. He was determined to get the night back to being good, and it wasn't going to be good if Derek refused to share. "Bad news?" He gently prodded.
"No."
"Something to do with the company?"
"Stiles."
"Personal then?"
"Stiles," Derek practically growled, and really, Stiles thought, did every that was interested in him growl? "I said I don't want to talk about it."
It was at that point that the waiter came to suggest dessert. Stiles gave a false smile, one that was sickly sweet. "No thank you. I think we're done."
"Wait," Derek stopped the waiter from leaving, "We do want dessert. I called earlier about it." The waiter nodded and took his leave. There was some softness back in Derek's face. "You'll really like it. It's a chocolate mousse with a drizzle of peanut butter and berries."
That did sound amazing, and Stiles was still hungry, but enough was enough. "I'd rather just go."
"No," Derek tried to hold him where he was with his beautiful green eyes. There was an apology there, in their depths, as well as a promise that they would enjoy the little of what remained of their evening. Stiles was tempted to fall prey to those eyes and everything they wanted, but he was beyond frustrated and the disappointment had become like vinegar in his mouth. "Trust me. I know you. You'll love it."
And that was it for Stiles. "No. You don't know me. I get that you know all these little random secrets about me, but you don't really know me."
The outburst was a shock to both of them, and Stiles immediately regretted saying it because now Derek just looked sad. His thick, dark eyebrows drooped. Softly, cautiously, he asked "Is everything okay?"
Stiles couldn't help the bark of laughter that ensued. "Are you serious? Are you seriously asking me that?" People were staring at him again. And really, Stiles chided himself, he needed to learn to control his volume enough to stop causing a scene.
Derek flushed guiltily. "I'm sorry Stiles. I just...there are some things going on in my life right now."
"I understand," Stiles said, except that he didn't, because Derek hadn't said anything about it before then.
"And I've been a bit stressed since arriving in San Francisco. And the only times I get a chance I feel relaxed is when I'm around you." Which really was a nice thing to say and had Stiles ducking his head shyly, his cheeks a faint pink. "I'm sorry that I allowed myself to get distracted by that stress when I finally got the chance to spend quality time with you. Please let me make it up to you?"
