Thanks everyone who reviewed (For the French translation and in English!) And thanks again Phoenix8351 for translating Can I Drive? into French!
I'm not sure if this chapter is more fluff or more humor, but hopefully it has a enough of both.
Disclaimer: I don't own Teen Wolf.
The Winter Formal had gone spectacularly. The Winter Formal had been a night Stiles and Derek would never ever forget. The formal had been a night to remember, a fairy tale. They had done everything traditionally and it was perfect. The photo was going to be a photo that was hung proudly on the refrigerator for years to come. The winter formal was going to be a night they would tell their adopted children about and-
Okay, if you couldn't tell all of that was sarcasm, go back and read the aforementioned paragraph in a sarcastic tone of voice.
Pretty much everything that could have possibly gone wrong for the Winter Formal had gone wrong, Stiles thought wryly, glancing at Derek who was still nursing his black eye with an icepack (although Stiles was pretty sure he was just milking it and that the black eye had healed awhile ago). How was he supposed to know that his dad was going to be one of the chaperones? At least he hadn't gotten a chance to see them dancing…
Mostly due to the fact that they hadn't gotten the chance.
Stiles drove his Jeep to pick up Derek. He was nervous- why, he didn't know. He had the corsage- he did have the corsage-er, boutonniere right? Stiles looked around frantically for the flower before finding it resting on the passenger seat. He sighed in relief.
He had his boutonniere, he had his date- wait. His date- why wasn't his date there? Oh god, he had forgotten to pick his date up- how had he forgotten to get his date, that was like the most important thing- wait a minute…
He was picking him up… Stiles breathed another sigh of relief.
This dance stuff was really nerve racking…
…Did Derek even know that he was supposed to wear formal clothes?
Did Derek even own formal clothes?
But the thought of Derek showing up in a leather jacket at his dance was pretty hot.
Stiles parked his Jeep, nervously fidgeting and looking in the mirror to make sure he looked good. He started to get out of the car when he noticed the boutonniere. He grabbed it hastily and got out. Derek was leaning against the door frame, looking amused and yet unimpressed as Stiles made his way over to him, tripping in the process. Derek rolled his eyes.
"You- you own nice clothes," Stiles blurted out. Derek raised an eyebrow. "That's not what I meant to say- I mean-"
Derek was wearing all black- black pants, black dress shirt, black suit jacket, no tie, top two buttons undone- and really, Stiles wouldn't have had it any other way.
"Stiles. Shut up and take your stupid flower," Derek said, thrusting the box into Stiles' hands.
"You got me a boutonniere?" Stiles asked, handing Derek his.
"I did go to high school at one point," Derek reminded him dryly. "Give me that before you hurt yourself." He took the flower from Stiles and pinned it on.
"Let me do yours- oh, okay, you got it…" Stiles trailed off.
"What are you nervous about?" Derek raised an eyebrow.
"Me? Nervous? Nothing. I'm not nervous-" Stiles rattled on.
"Stiles. I can hear your heart," Derek reminded him.
"I… I just…" Stiles said. Derek looked upwards at the sky and Stiles looked down and away. If he'd known that wearing formal clothes would have made Stiles speechless, he'd have started wearing them a long time ago. He touched Stiles' cheek gently. The teenager looked up at him and Derek pressed a kiss to his lips.
"I don't know what you're worrying about but stop worrying about it. It's probably stupid," Derek said bluntly.
"I'm not-!"
"I never said you were. I said what you were thinking was stupid," Derek said, whacking Stiles on the back of the head. "Now come on and tell me what to do with this stupid camera."
"Camera?" Stiles started.
"Yes, Stiles. Camera," Derek said simply. "Press button and take picture."
"Sure you're a werewolf and not vampire in disguise? You know this will prove whether you're a vampire right?" Stiles asked. "Or is it going to turn out like your prison ID picture?"
"The second one," Derek confirmed.
"Oh," Stiles said, a little disappointed but then brightened. "Well then I'll look good enough for the both of us!" Derek snorted but he was smiling as Stiles held up the camera and took a picture of them. The flash went off and Stiles groaned in pain, holding his eyes. "I'm blind! I've gone blind! Derek, I can't see you-"
"Come on, or I'm leaving without you," Derek said shortly, walking to his Camaro. "And no, you can't drive."
"I didn't even get to ask this time!"
Well, the photo hadn't turned out all that well, Stiles thought dryly, sorting through all the ones that he'd taken with the Kodak camera (and seriously, who used Kodak anymore? Obviously a werewolf stuck a few years in the past. Derek was blurry in all the pictures. The pictures of everyone else (even Jackson when he had accidentally managed to get in one) turned out great.
It was just the picture of Stiles' boyfriend that had turned out crappy, even the ones that they paid over fifty dollars for (standing back to back because Stiles thought it looked awesome! Plus there was no way he was standing like the girl in the picture just because he was shorter).
At least Stiles looked good.
"You realized we wasted over fifty dollars for pictures that will barely turn out right?" Derek asked dryly.
"Hush, it's the thought that counts," Stiles grinned up at Derek. "Oh, hey there's Scott- oh hello there-" he said when Scott latched onto him. "Scott, hey! This totally isn't weird you know, because you're straight and I'm gay for a werewolf who's right here-"
"Lydia's in the bathroom and she's crying and Allison is upset with me and I don't know what to do and there's something about a ripped dress and Allison doesn't know how to sew-" Scott rambled. Stiles groaned and grinned apologetically at Derek.
"I'll be right back," he said. Scott let go of Stiles, thanking him profusely, not really noticing Derek's glare for latching onto his boyfriend like that.
Stiles made his way out of the cafeteria, groaning when he realized that he would probably be heading to the girl's bathroom. Glancing around to make sure no one was looking, he ducked into the girl's bathroom, not noticing Danny and Jackson giving him weird looks as he did.
"I knew he was a fruit," Jackson grumbled. Danny snorted and rolled his eyes.
"Stiles, this is the girl's bathroom!" one of his classmates said as she walked out by him.
"Yeah, I guess I'm not the only one who forgot to read the signs- like the wash your hands one!" Stiles fired back. The girl flushed and Stiles didn't bother to check if she had washed her hands or not. Sighing, he made his way over to the stall where the sobs were coming from.
"Lydia? Allison?" he asked, knocking on the door. "It's Stiles, your knight in shining armor- whoa!" the door swung open and Allison pulled Stiles in. Stiles began sweating immediately, seeing Lydia crying her eyes out. Gay (for a werewolf) or not, Stiles was still a guy and he hated when girls cried. It just made him so nervous- especially Lydia.
"What's wrong?" Stiles asked.
"My dress ripped!" Lydia glared at him. "How can Jackson see me like this? My mascara is smeared, my dress is ruined and Allison doesn't know how to sew and neither do I, these heels are cheap-!"
"Okay, okay. One thing at a time," Stiles said. "First off, does anyone have a sewing kit?" Allison provided a small pocket sized sewing kit. Stiles sighed in relief and surveyed the damage to the dress, wincing at the attempts from when the girls had obviously tried to repair the dress themselves. The stitches were large and uneven and Stiles could swear they had somehow managed to flip the bottom of the dress upwards and sew it onto the higher part of Lydia's thigh.
"Second," Stiles said as he threaded the needle, thinking that Scott really should have known how to sew a dress if he could sew up wounded animals, "Lydia, you're a genius with makeup and even if you just decide to wipe the damned stuff off, you'll look just as great if not better as you do with all this face paint. Third, heels are impractical anyways. Just wear flats next time. I never understood why women wear heels. I mean, they make your legs look great and all but-"
"Stiles, you're rambling," Lydia said but she was smiling. Stiles waited for his heart to skip a beat but it never came.
"What're you thinking about?" Derek asked grumpily, drawing Stiles out of his musings. His heart skipped a beat.
"The Winter Formal," Stiles said, grinning when Derek stormed off in a huff. Stiles chuckled, spreading out on the couch.
"Catastrophe averted!" Stiles grinned, with Lydia and Allison on either arm. Lydia sniffed, trying to look distant from everything. He passed Lydia off to Jackson and Allison off to Scott. "Where's Derek?"
"He said something about getting punch," Jackson said. "Hasn't been back since."
"He's hiding out near the end of the bleachers," Scott whispered to him.
"Thanks buddy," Stiles said, making his way over to Derek. He saw Danny beginning to approach Derek and sped up, about to grab the werewolf's arm but before he could reach him, he slipped. Derek moved to catch him, grabbing onto the bleachers to hold them up. Stiles was just a few inches above the ground, Derek's arm securely wrapped around his waist, Stiles holding onto Derek's forearms with both hands.
"Hale!" the familiar voice of Stiles' father shouted. Both looked up and Stiles gulped and his hands tightened on Derek's forearms, begging him not to do anything. Sheriff Stilinski pulled Derek upright and grabbed his son by the collar, pushing him away from them in one quick motion and in one quick blur, punched Derek in the face. Danny caught Stiles, his arms under Stiles' but Stiles didn't register who had caught him.
"Dad, what're you doing?" Stiles shouted. The auditorium grew silent when they caught wind of what was going on. Derek was holding his hand over his eyes, probably pretending to actually have been hurt.
"What am I doing? What is he doing here?" the sheriff demanded.
"He's my date!" Stiles said. "What're you doing here?"
"I'm chaperoning!"
"Stiles, isn't that your cousin Miguel?" Danny asked, and in the silent auditorium, the words echoed loudly.
Yep, the Formal had gone spectacularly. Stiles had gotten sent home by his dad (who couldn't leave the dance since he was chaperoning) and Derek had made a quick getaway in his Camaro the second the attention was off of him and it looked like Stiles wasn't in any mortal danger from his father.
Derek looked up as Stiles groaned and hid his face into a pillow, raising an eyebrow but not questioning any further. He walked around the corner, picking up the Stilinski's house phone and began dialing a number he had memorized by heart.
Or memorized in order to keep his sanity during certain times of Stiles' insanity.
"Don't call Scott!" Stiles shouted. "Today's his and Allison's something month anniversary or something!" Derek cursed, glancing over his shoulder and realizing that Stiles had a view of him through the mirror in the Stilinski living room. "Hey, where are you going?"
"Your room," Derek snapped. Stiles grinned and chased after the werewolf, who had used his speed to beat Stiles to his room, although he would have won anyways. Derek pinned Stiles against the door, kissing down his neck and biting here and there. Stiles groaned, closing his eyes. They may not have had a traditional dance with fairy tales and perfect pictures but-
"Stiles! I'm home early! You want to catch that movie you were talking about? With the zombies or whatever and get dinner out tonight?" Sheriff Stilinski called. Panicked, Stiles pushed Derek off of him, grabbing onto his wrists. He didn't seem to hear any of Derek's protests as he shoved him into his closet and closed the doors shut on him. "Stiles? Did you hear me earlier?"
"Yeah, movie, takeout. Sounds great," Stiles grinned nervously, blocking the closed closet doors. The sheriff gave his son a weird look and nodded. Stiles grabbed a jacket off the chair and glanced nervously back at the closet doors that contained a fuming werewolf as he followed his dad.
Derek could have just used the window.
"Look, Stiles, I'm sorry about punching…," the sheriff said tightly once they were in the car.
"Derek, my date," Stiles said easily. His dad's hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"Yeah. Him," he said. "Why are you going to your school dance with a fugitive-"
"Ex-fugitive,"
"-anyways?" the sheriff continued.
"So he'd let me drive his Camaro," Stiles said absentmindedly and then the sentence registered in his brain. "I did not mean that how it sounds! No, dad, really- why are you turning the car around?"