Another hour or so passed as Stiles lulled in his seat in a half sleep, barely focusing on the movie, more intent on just revelling in the feeling of Derek's hand holding his own. It was such a good hand, he had to admit it, strong boned, with veins pulsing out of it which Stiles loved, and so warm. Not that sweaty warm that Stiles got on the subway, but a comforting warmth, like he was back in his apartment wrapped in that perfect, soft, white duvet. Every now and then, Stiles dared to squeeze it again, almost as if convincing himself he was really holding hands with Derek Hale, not just imagining things. When the pressure signalled Derek's returning squeeze, Stiles smiled to himself. Derek even took the initiative himself a few times, which Stiles loved. Especially when he was about to drop off properly, and he was woken by the force on his hand. The waking wasn't a jolt of shock any more, just a light withdrawal from that land of sleep which Stiles loved to visit so often. It was a non threatening jolt; a nice jolt, letting him know that Derek was there with him, holding his hand.
As the movie came to its final climax, Stiles found it harder and harder to keep his heavy lids open. They had decided to go to a pretty late showing, and with the long runtime of the movie it would probably be pretty late when they got out, definitely dark.
He was woken by the sounds of rapturous clapping, some people were even stood up, which made Stiles cringe. He never clapped at the end of a movie, he just didn't get it. Derek wasn't clapping either, he was looking around like a lost dog, frowning at everyone, his fingers clasped around Stiles' tightly. Stiles revelled in these last few moments, it might be too much to hope that Derek would feel okay with holding hands while walking down the street, but hey, a boy could dream. As the fingers left his with the arrival of the theatre lights and the rush to get out of the cinema as soon as possible – another thing Stiles didn't get – he sighed a little in sadness. Those fingers intertwined with his just felt so right. Shuffling through the crowd in silence, more because Stiles was still half was still half asleep than because he didn't know what to say, the two of them walked very close together, their arms touching more often than was needed, but not as much as Stiles would have liked.
Emerging onto the street, the night air hit him – much cooler than the day, but still warm – and it felt invigorating. Suddenly Stiles' mood perked up, all thoughts of sleep forgotten as he looked to Derek and beamed.
"Do you wanna get something to eat? I know that you had all that popcorn and all but I could really go for something greasy right now, there should be a McDonalds somewhere, there's hundreds in this city." Stiles asked, craning his neck to see through the surprisingly thick crowds of people for such a late hour, looking for the famous yellow M.
"I think I might just head back to my hotel, I'm tired." Derek muttered, looking straight ahead.
"Don't be boring, c'mon." Stiles grabbed Derek's hand, this time on purpose, not just his arm, and jogged across the street, weaving through the grid-locked traffic. Derek kept an even pace beside him, his face lighting up a little, though Stiles didn't notice – he was too focused on his own happiness at running across the street hand in hand with this gorgeous man, and trying to avoid tripping over and falling onto the bonnet of a taxi, though a little part of him hoped he might have a stumble, just so Derek could catch him.
"Phew." Stiles stopped on the opposite side of the multiple lane road to catch his breath, his elation falling a little as Derek disentangled his fingers from Stiles'. Heading into McDonalds, which was a lot emptier than Stiles expected, Stiles couldn't resist turning to Derek and flashing him another huge smile, tonight was just going better than he could have imagined, a hand-in-the-popcorn moment was one thing, but holding hands through most of the film was on another level. Stiles was pretty inexperienced in the dating game – he and Danny had tried it once, but it was too weird, they were just friends. Other than that, and the guy from the subway, Stiles was counting this night as his first real date.
Settling into a little white booth in the corner of the room – this time Stiles waited for Derek to get in first, so he could slide in next to him instead of opposite him – with a huge tray of greasy burgers, fries, and two massive cokes in front of them, Stiles hand instantly slipped into Derek's, who accepted it, in it's position nestled under the table, without a word, eating his food with only a few breaks for conversation. As usual, Stiles did most of the talking. Insignificant details – how much he liked New York – how great the city was, especially at night – how he had loved the movie, well, at least the parts he had been awake for – how school was going well – his lacrosse game earlier...
"Are you gonna stay here then? I think you definitely, definitely should. It's a sweet city. I mean, the subway can be kind of shit, but other than that what is there to complain about? There's always something to do, at any hour, always people about. I know you're kind of a loner in that creepy old house in the woods -" Stiles squeezed Derek's hand to let him know he was joking, "- but maybe you should, I dunno, at least try being sociable. You know I'm sociable, or as sociable as I can be with this stupid awkwardness that hangs over every word I say, but it's fun..." Stiles had to stop talking in order to take a bit of his burger, if not he could have kept going for hours. Derek took the opportunity to finally speak some words of his own.
"I might. I need to find an apartment that I like and am willing to pay for. I have enough money but I don't want to just waste it all."
"Well I told you, check out my building. It's seriously sweet, and I bet you could afford one of those massive studios that are on like the twentieth floor." Stiles grabbed Derek's phone off the table and wrote his address into the 'Notes' section. "Here. Just ask your real estate person about it?" Stiles smiled at Derek, a little grease from the burger running down his chin.
"Stop. You have something -" With his other hand, Derek grabbed one of the horrible paper thin McDonalds napkins, rubbing away the grease on Stiles' face. Stiles' mouth dropped open yet again, revealing the mashed up food inside. Derek's hand moved across, stroking Stiles' defined jawline before gently closing it so his mouth was back how it should be.
"I don't want to see all that nasty food in there." A half smile flitted across Derek's lips as he spoke. Stiles had to resist opening his mouth and laughing along too, for fear of spitting chunks of burger all over Derek's face.
As they continued to eat, Stiles chatting animatedly about the benefits of New York, he sensed Derek's mood begging to shift. Pushing his unfinished food away, Derek's face suddenly changed from interested in what Stiles had to say, to his usual hard line, jaw set, lips tight together.
"No. No, no, no, no, no, no. No." Stiles said as he looked at Derek, easily noticing the shift in his demeanour. "What the fuck is up with you?" Stiles asked, his voice raised halfway to a shout.
"I -" Derek looked into Stiles' eyes, and for a second Stiles' envisaged Derek kissing him. It would be perfect, the perfect end to a great first date, but he had no such luck. He felt Derek's fingers slipping out of his own, and the next second Derek's arms were crossed, and Stiles was getting no more hand holding action. Stiles couldn't take these mood swings, he felt his face heating up and his inner rage coming out as he turned to face Derek, his features twisted in anger.
"Fine. You know, you just fucking go and do your bi-polar thing, stay here alone, have this fucking -" he grabbed his half eaten burger and raised in the air before throwing it forcefully down onto the table "- burger, and these fucking fries -" he did the same with his fries, splattering them both with potato to go along with the cow, "and just enjoy your meal alone, because you don't seem to wanna spend any time with me." He got up from the table, luckily not tripping over his own feet – he was too angry to even worry about that right now – purposefully knocking over his still half full coke so the brown liquid spilled all over the table, dripping down onto the yellowing floor and onto Derek's jeans, and stormed out, ignoring the shocked stares of the other diners as he stomped out, slamming the door with a crash that shook all the windows.
"I am so STUPID!" Stiles shouted as he practically ran down the bustling street. Hardly anyone paid his ravings attention – this was New York after all. The subway ride saw him engrossed in a completely one sided conversation about how stupid dates were, how irritating it was trying to get people to open up, and generally how annoyed he was with everything, all because of stupid Derek Hale. Derek Hale, who held hands with him no less than three times, who stroked his jaw in that way of his that had left Stiles horny as hell and excited, and then had just withdrew with no explanation. How could the guy be so fucking difficult. It was obvious he liked Stiles, so why wouldn't he kiss him, or even just keep holding hands? Stiles didn't need walking to the door and being kissed in the rain, he would have been more than happy with a sleazy McDonalds and maybe a walk to the subway stop. Arriving home quicker than he ever thought he could get there, mainly because he had been so preoccupied with thoughts of Derek that he had hardly noticed his body was on auto pilot, Stiles flopped onto his brown leather chair and stared off into the distance, still seething. He didn't want to cry, or to call Derek to get answers, he wanted to smash something. Heading to the partitioned kitchen, he fished out a plate, and with all his force threw it on the floor, feeling a little better as it smashed into thousands of pieces. Six plates later, Stiles' anger had abated slightly, but not enough for him to answer his phone, which had been ringing non stop since he left Derek. Turning it off completely, he stripped and crawled into bed, though sleep did not come easily. He tossed and turned for hours, reliving the feeling of Derek's hand on his own, the feeling of his fingers stroking his jaw. Finally, as the traffic outside died down, he fell into a restless sleep at some time around 3:00AM.
The sun brought no more clarity on Derek, and Stiles still refused to turn on his phone. Luckily he wasn't due in school till the afternoon, for a meet and greet with staff. Pulling himself together, thinking he had better go and get to know the people who were actually teaching him, he left for NYU, his phone dumped in the pocket of Derek's hoody, which he had swapped out for his own, much less inviting one. He didn't come back to the apartment till after six, having spent hours walking around the city in circles. He wasn't as upset as he thought he would be; rage was his primary emotion. No sulking in the corner crying, Stiles just wanted to punch someone. It came as a shock to him, he was usually such a passive person, never wanting to get into confrontation, but the way he felt right now, even Derek in full wolf-anger-mode would not scare him. Well, maybe not. Gathering his running shoes from a still unpacked box, Stiles changed into shorts and jogged off his anger for over two hours.
The next day was much of the same, anger, analysis of what had happened, anger, school, analysis of what had happened, run, anger, anger, anger.
It wasn't until three days later that Stiles finally started to calm down. He knew he was overreacting to what Derek did, but he couldn't explain his anger, so he simply accepted it, until he came to have some clarity. Maybe it was a gay thing, after all Stiles had came out years ago, but he always thought Derek was straight. That scenario could be believable, but Derek had such a low interest in what others thought of him that Stiles couldn't imagine he'd care if people started talking about him being gay. Being hit for being gay, by a gang or something, was also ruled out – Derek could rip them all apart on his own. The only explanation Stiles could accept was that Derek simply didn't like Stiles in a sexual way – but the way he had looked at him, and touched him?! Maybe he was just trying it out and felt bad for leading Stiles on... Whatever Derek's reasoning for being such a bi-polar mess were, Stiles felt shakily ready to deal with it, and turned on his phone to be greeted by a barrage of bleeps and tri-tones.
He had seventeen emails – all spam. Three missed calls from his dad, who he quickly texted and told him he was okay and would call him later, as well as the seventeen missed calls from Derek, all from the night he ran away from him. Seven texts from Emily, all comments on their days at school, clearly she never remembered what he told her every day; that his phone was off. And finally there was the blue dot next to Derek's name. Taking a breath he clicked his name, feeling his face unexpectedly blush in anticipation of what was waiting for him.
'Shit Stiles, calm down.' - 00:03AM. Stiles ignored that first one, Derek did deserve a few outbursts after the shit Stiles had pulled in McDonalds.
'Have you seriously gone? come back' – 00:11AM.
'Stiles im really sorry' – 00:13AM. Why could he communicate so much better via text than in person?
'I need to talk to you in person' – 00:25AM. By that time Stiles had already been on the subway, ranting to the stranger sat next to him.
'Ill let you cool off then. talk tomorrow' – 00:47AM. That one was around the time Stiles was smashing plates around his kitchen – a little thing his neighbour had pulled him up on the next day.
'are you seriously doing this to me again? At least let me know youre ok' – 07:33AM. Stiles couldn't help but smile a little at the texts, at least they proved on some level that Derek cared for Stiles, that he didn't just want to forget this.
'im an asshole' – 09:29AM. True, Stiles thought with malice.
'I cant say the things I want to over a text Stiles' – 13:00PM. What things could he possibly want to say? Stiles dreaded to find out, probably that he never wanted to see him again.
'I really need to talk to you' – 19:51PM.
'answer me' – 20:23PM.
'calmed down yet?' - 07:33AM. Stiles hadn't even been close to calm by that point. Reading the messages was making him feel better, at least he hadn't turned on the phone and had no messages. On some unspoken level, Stiles knew that he had been testing Derek in some twisted way, to see if he cared.
'please call me.' - 13:19PM. Stiles muttered profanities to himself as he read the texts. How is it that Derek could make him feel like he was the one who did something wrong? He was a different person over the phone, a better communicator, who actually deserved some sympathy.
'if you don't answer im coming over. I have your address, remember?' - 16:53PM. Clearly that one had been some sort of threat to try and elicit a response. Stiles kind of wished he had came over, so that he could have got one good punch in before Derek ripped his arm from its socket.
'ok, that didnt work, ill stop bothering you.' - 04:12AM. The last one, Stiles thought, may have been the most heart wrenching of them all, especially with the time code. Had Derek waited up all that time for Stiles to respond? He suddenly felt his bottom lip wobbling a little, as if he was back at home watching Macauley Culkin die in My Girl. Taking a deep breath Stiles tried to decide on what to do next, text him or call him? He didn't know if he could handle a voice-to-voice conversation, so text it was.
'sorry I didnt reply, I needed time to cool off – you really pissed me off but kind of won me over with all these texts.' He stopped for a moment, wondering whether to send or add something more, maybe a little something to show that he wasn't as mad any more? 'who knew you had a heart – im glad.' - 10:08AM. Stiles put the phone on the arm of the chair, fidgeting nervously as he waited for the tri-tone to ring through the apartment, his foot tapping, his fingers twitching. He lunged for the phone as soon as he heard the beep.
'really, really sorry. Can I come over?' - 10:13AM. Stiles typed and sent his reply before he could indulge in one of his over analysis modes.
'yes. 6F' – 10:14AM. It was too late to change his mind now, Derek was coming, and Stiles was determined to get answers. Looking around the mess that was his apartment, he decided not to bother with cleaning anything up. The wooden floor was almost completely obscured by dirty clothes, dishes were piled in the sink, and a few fragments of smashed white porcelain where still glittering on the kitchen floor, but Stiles didn't care. He wanted Derek to see his place exactly how it was – maybe he hated mess and wouldn't stay so Stiles didn't have to endure what he was positive was going to be an awful, awkward conversation. Before he realised it, twenty five minutes had passed, and three loud wraps on the door signalled the arrival of Derek. He had forgotten to get dressed, so he was still naked. Heading to the bedroom he ripped the thin sheet off his mattress and wrapped it around him, pulling on a pair of yesterdays boxers as he moved back to the living room – he wanted some degree of modesty. Opening the door with a huge sigh, he came face to face with Derek.