Disclaimer: See initial chapter.
Ties are restricting, and not always in a good way. Like now, when he's dressed to the nines for a charity event that Lydia dragged him and Derek to, because they're a cute couple.
Had Stiles and Derek known what type of charity event they were being forced to attend, they would never have come. Which is, of course why Lydia's memory suffered a lapse: "Oh, I'm sorry, I could've sworn I told you. It must've slipped my mind." Her tinkling laughter did not make him feel better, nor did the way she tugged on his and Derek's arms, pulling them up onto the stage with her.
The lights were bright and blinding, but they did not mask the crowd. There were hundreds of people present. All of them wealthy. All ready to open their pocketbooks for a date.
Being auctioned off, as a couple, cute or not, to the highest bidder has never made it to Stiles' bucket list, and judging by the deer-in-the-headlights look that's on Derek's face, Stiles doubts it was on his boyfriend's list either.
"Lydia, we can't do this," Stiles says, keeping his voice low in deference to the murmuring crowd. He's got a fixed smile in place - see folks, no trouble here, everything's just peachy keen, I'm not about to strangle one of my best friends in front of all of you.
"Well, you can't back out if it now," she says, voice equally low, the smile on her face is ice cold, and the look in her eyes makes him shiver.
"Fine," Stiles says, lips unmoving. He really should give ventriloquism a try sometime. "But you owe me, and Derek, big time."
"You never know, Stiles, if fate smiles down on you, you and your wolfman just might enjoy this," Lydia says, her smile a little less frosty as Stiles and Derek are herded into place by a man who looks like he could go head to toe with a semi and win.
They're fourth in a long line of single men and women, and couples who are being auctioned off, and Derek's got this look on his face that Stiles can't read. His eyes are steel. His back stiff. His jaw, well, Stiles thinks that it could crush a boulder right now, let alone a puny little jawbreaker.
This is not going to end well, Stiles thinks, heart beating like a drum in his chest, palms sweaty when he reaches for Derek's hand, because right now, even if Derek is pissed off and liable to crush his hand, Stiles needs him right now. He's grateful when the wolf lets him slip his hand in his, doesn't squeeze, too tight. They both seem to breathe a little easier with the contact, and Stiles even manages a smile that's a little closer to genuine when he and Derek are pushed forward, forced to take center stage.
The audience's collective intake of air, the way they, "ooh," and "aw," when they set eyes on Derek and Stiles is more than a little intimidating, and, quite frankly ego boosting. Stiles feels a little like a piece of raw steak in the mouth of a starving German Shepherd when the bidding starts.
He's paying more attention to the look on Derek's face, how it's gone from one of almost pained humiliation, to one that could be featured on the cover of a magazine. His smile, a row of perfect white teeth, is stunning, and Stiles feels like shrinking in on himself, because compared to Derek, he's chopped liver, and onions, and Stiles doesn't know what Lydia was thinking in dressing him up in a suit and tie, and thinking that he was going to bring in the big bucks when Derek...and maybe that's what it was, maybe she knew that Derek wouldn't have come without Stiles...would've brought more money to the children's charity event were he auctioned off on his own.
Derek squeezes his hand, and Stiles looks up, breath catching in his throat at the almost feral look in the wolf's gold-rimmed eyes. He gives Derek a shaky smile in return, and, not thinking, he stands on the tips of his toes and kisses Derek on the cheek, oblivious to the audience's awed reaction, the uproar, and almost frenetic bidding that starts when Derek, cupping the back of Stiles' head with one of his large hands, kisses Stiles, hard, and long enough to steal his breath.
Free Reader Tip #22: Wolves are good kissers. And when there's a tie in the equation, and your wolf is dressed up in a suit that makes him look like he's stepped off the pages of a magazine for sex gods, expect to be more than just a little breathless.
Stiles is floating, and the crowd fades away, and he remembers nothing of the rest of the night, save for the blue speckled tie that had somehow found its way onto his ceiling fan.
Going out with the couple who'd won them in the charity auction turned out to be better than either of them had thought it would be, but that is a story for another day.