The subway ride was cooler than his previous ones, the city had definitely been cooling down over the past few days, and he found himself almost enjoying it for once, especially as the line he was on had actual seats available for him to sit on, a first for Stiles. He had always been stood before, jammed in between the other commuters, this way was so much better. Not long after he had gotten onto his train – after a quick change – Stiles arrived at his stop, and headed out to the clean streets of Lexington Avenue. He strolled past Hunter College, towards East 67th Street, and similarly strolled down that street until he found himself on Park Avenue. Across the street, a black clad figure was strolling even slower than Stiles. Running over the crossroads, he caught up with her halfway down the street.
"Emily! Hey." Stiles panted a little as he reached her, flashing her a smile.
"Stiles hey, you should have told me you were coming from Lexington, my apartment's back this way." She linked her arm through his as they made a U turn, heading back towards Park.
Emily's apartment was a duplex at the top of 660 Park Avenue, on the corner of Park and 67th Street. Stiles jaw dropped as she walked him through the panelled foyer to the elevators, where she inserted a private key into one of the buttons, lurching the machine into motion. As the doors opened on the eleventh floor, he was greeted by white wood panelling with dark wood edges, black and white chequerboard floor, side tables overflowing with huge bunches of pink and white floral arrangements, and an elaborate, winding staircase. Two impeccable white poodles yapped at his ankles as he exited the elevator, before they ran through an open set of wooden, glass panelled doors into a formal living area, where they settled down under the shadow of a huge grand piano laden with family photographs in ornate gilded frames.
"Jesus H. Christ. Nice place..." Stiles mused as he looked around, trying to take in the grandeur of it all. The entrance way, which he was stood in the centre of looking up, was double height, with a splendid wooden railing running from the stairs around the upstairs landing, where a small boy with raven hair and inquisitive green eyes was staring at him through the tangled arms of a crystal chandelier. A oval skylight flooded the room with the afternoon light, and he couldn't help but feel hopelessly out of place in his plaid shirt, open over a white t shirt, denim jeans, and Derek's navy hoody, which he had taken to wearing again after Derek came to visit.
"Sweetheart, do I see you've brought a man home? A new boyfriend?" A tall man, impeccably dressed in an eggshell turtleneck which emphasised his athletic body, and black trousers from Carlos Campos, his feet encased in plain white socks asked as he began crossing the room, having emerged from a previously unnoticed door on the opposite side of the room, identical to the one that led to the living room, but with a long hallway behind it, lit by a stainless glass window at its end. He was holding a tumbler of scotch and a lot of ice, his handsome, lined features raised in a half smile that reminded Stiles of Derek.
"Uh – Hi, I'm Stiles." Stiles extended a hand to the man, who shook with a firm grip that Stiles tried to match himself.
"Decent handshake." The man smiled. "Could be a keeper."
"Dad, will you shut up. Where is everyone?" Emily asked, smiling at her father through her blood red lipstick. "Byron! I can see you spying on us!" She shouted to the small child who had been watching Stiles from upstairs, throwing her arms in the air in a scare attempt, laughing as the child fled out of sight.
"You're her friend from New York University?" Her father asked, tilting his head in interest before taking a gulp of his scotch. "Ghastly school..." he muttered, looking at Emily with narrowed eyes. "I told Emily she should have gone to Yale, even Columbia if she wanted to stay in the city, but she was having none of it."
"I've told you a thousand times, NYU has a better film programme, and I don't wanna leave the city." Emily shot over her shoulder as she put Stiles' bag into a cloak room next to the elevator. Stiles just stood there awkwardly, looking around him, not quite believing that this was where Emily grew up.
"Vivian, tell your sister how much you love Columbia." Her father shouted back down the hallway he had came from, waiting a few minutes until a girl, even taller than Emily was and if it was possible even thinner, in very tight, fitted black pants and an oversized, maroon cashmere jumper cinched at the waist with a patent black belt, emerged in a similar fashion to her father, a tumbler of vodka and ice in her hand. Tucking a stray strand of ice blonde hair behind one of her ears, showing the diamond stud in her ear, Vivian headed towards them, looking as amused as her father did.
"Of course I love it, dad. You should transfer, Em. It's not too late, I'm sure dad can make a call." She took her eyes off Emily's back, who was putting her cardigan onto a hanger, and let her eyes rove over Stiles instead. He felt as if she was undressing him, her smoky black eyes managing to remove every piece of his clothing until he was stood there naked. A blush crept up his neck.
"This one seems sweet Em." Vivian smiled genuinely at Stiles. "What happened to Aaron?" She continued as she headed towards the living room, pulling aside the drapes to gaze out at the city.
"Nothing. Stiles isn't my boyfriend you know." She frowned, looking from her father, all the way across to her sister, who glanced at each other knowingly.
"That's what you always say, until we hear you two upstairs." Vivian's lips twisted into an amused smirk.
"Please Viv, no more of that." Her father said, his expression changing from amused to stern. Vivian wiped the smirk off her face.
"Stiles is gay." Emily smiled in fake sweetness before grabbing Stiles' had and running up the stairs, leading him up to her bedroom, while he was forced along, feeling more awkward than he thought he ever could, turning his head as he trudged up the stairs and giving her father an apologetic shrug.
Emily's room was an enormous expanse of luxury, half of the walls panelled in white wood, the top halves upholstered in a deep cream fabric which felt even better than the comfort of his duvet to touch, though nowhere near as wonderful as it was to fall asleep in Derek's arms. A massive four poster bed with thick drapes hung back in a very neat state dominated the room, while the rest contained the usual desk, chest of drawers, a large trunk at the end of the bed, and a wide assortment of posters and photographs plastering the walls. Through an open door a bathroom was visible, white another open – this time double – door led to her enormous walk in wardrobe, illuminated clothes protected behind their glass sliding doors, with a cushy chaise lounge in the centre.
"Your family seem – interesting." Stiles told Emily as she began rooting through her trunk, "I sometimes wish I had a bigger family, it's just me and my dad, you know, and he works all the time. Your place is really nice, I wish I had this instead of my tiny one bedroom apartment." Stiles stopped speaking as she handed him the bottle of Russian Standard she had pulled out, emerging from the trunk again with two dusty crystal tumblers, which she washed off in the bathroom.
"Shit, mixer." She looked around her room, searching for a bottle of coke she might have forgotten about, or anything to mix the drinks with. "Byron!" She screamed after she decided there was nothing here, Isilda, their maid, had probably cleaned it up, just as she made her bed every morning.
"What?" The small boy who had been watching Stiles earlier appeared in the open doorway, the collar of his white shirt askew, one sock missing.
"Go get us some coke or lemonade or something. Please." Emily added the last word as an afterthought, sighing with relief when she saw Byron running down the stairs for her.
"You really wanna drink so early?" Stiles asked, raising his eyebrows at her. He didn't mind at all, in fact he would be glad of the drink to try and get rid of the thoughts of Derek which were still persisting in his mind like irritating gnats. The only thing he was worried about was her parents, but clearly her father and sister drank, so perhaps they wouldn't mind.
"Of course I do, I can see there's something on your mind. Alcohol is always the key to loosening a tongue." She smiled as she poured them drinks, giving her brother a quick kiss on his dark curls before adding lemonade to the vodka. Joining him cross-legged on the floor, she took a hearty sip of her drink, her black eyes staring into his brown ones, waiting for him to start talking.
By four o'clock Stiles was almost gone, his head laid back on the floor, spinning slightly, as Emily, who could handle a lot more alcohol than he could, flicked through songs on her Mac, which was set up on her lap.
"Derek's just so cute you know?" Stiles slurred, "he's cute and he's hot, really hot. Hot and cute, cute and hot, he's great..."
"Except for the fact that he's totally weird and changes his mind on you every time you're together." Intoned Emily as she put on a dance remix and got up, starting to dance a little, her ankle length, black, pleated chiffon skirt swaying as she moved.
"Yeah but the stuff he says in texts, you know, I told you earlier, it just makes me forgive him cos' I know he's opening up to me and... stuff." Stiles gave himself a smile, stretching out his legs so he could reach the phone in his pocket. No texts from Derek.
"Why don't you call him?" Emily asked excitedly, her eyes lighting up, mouth slightly open.
"No-o-o!" Stiles replied, laughing along with her as she playfully snatched at his phone. He let her have it, turning away from her to refill his glass.
"Hello is this Derek? This is the wonderful messenger of Mr Stiles calling -" she giggled as she saw Stiles' look of horror, "- just wondering if you can tell me why you're such a complete idiot, passing up this beautiful man." She whacked Stiles with a pillow, letting out a huge burst of laughter as he tried to claw the phone from her grasp.
"Let me talk to him!" Stiles shouted as he chased her around the room.
"Here, fine – so nice speaking to you Derek." She passed the phone to Stiles, "The guy just kept asking for you. Sounds kind of angry." She shrugged her shoulders, biting her bottom lip as she smiled like a child who ate their desert before their meal.
"Derek? I'm so sorry – she just had the phone and I turned and she was ca -" Stiles cursed as he stubbed his toe against the corner of some drawers.
"I didn't call you. Sorry." Derek muttered, wondering why Stiles was cursing.
"Take your time – well not too much time or I'm gonna go out of my mind." Stiles turned away from Emily, who was listening with rapt attention, dropping his voice, "I haven't stopped thinking about you." He slurred, blushing as he realised what he was saying.
"You might be drunk, but I'm glad you are if it makes you say things like that." Stiles obviously couldn't tell, but he was sure Derek was smiling at the other end of the phone.
"Mm hm. You are so – cute!" Stiles burst into laughter as he said his last word, blushing some more, even though Derek couldn't see his face.
"Shit, Stiles. You don't even know how cute you are yourself, do you?"
"Of course I know. I'm just the cutest, well you obviously think so." Stiles was beaming by this point, his face hot against his hand as he spoke.
"Sober up and meet me later?" Derek asked. As soon as he said it Stiles put down his fresh drink, determined to get on water and coffee so he could meet Derek with a clear head later.
"Okay. Text me. Bye." Stiles almost said something else at the end, but quickly stopped himself, hanging up instead. He waited a few seconds before saying anything to Emily, smiling to himself instead.
"So, what's happening?! You look pretty pleased. See, aren't you glad I called?" Emily asked with a huge smile as she sipped her drink.
"We're meeting later, I have to get sober though – I wanna hear what he has to say."
"Good idea, I have to go to this benefit with my parents later so I better sober up myself." She grabbed both their drinks, pouring them down her bathroom sink. Together they headed down the winding staircase, Emily in front, still dancing a little to the tune she had stuck in her head, Stiles drifting behind her with a glazed expression of joy on his face. They headed down a hallway to the spacious kitchen, Stiles seating himself down on a stool at the island as Emily busied herself making coffee.
"Coffee is it? Going to need some to wash down all that vodka." Stiles' mouth dropped open as he turned in the direction of the voice and saw Emily's mother stood in the doorway. A tall, striking woman, with an impossibly thin frame that she had clearly passed to her daughters, her blonde hair was drawn back in an elegant chignon, revealing her defined jaw. Black eyes glinted above high cheekbones, and her red painted lips were upturned in a slight smile. Elaborate rubies glinted in her ears, matching the piece around her neck, which looked like something from the British Crown Jewels. The enviable body was encased in a high necked, long sleeved, simple cream gown.
"Uh -" Stiles said, staring.
"You like it?" She asked, doing a playful turn. "I just adore getting ready, it's the best part of the night."
"You've been getting ready for the past four hours, mom." Emily smiled at her as she poured cups of coffee for her and Stiles.
"Yes well, you know me, I abhor looking anything less than perfect." She came up behind Emily, who was now sat beside Stiles, and started plaiting her hair.
"Why do we have to go to this gala again?" Emily winced as her mother pulled a little too tight.
"I'm not sure. Some cause for the homeless or something, I just like the party. You know me, I'd go to the opening of a door." She kissed her daughter gently on the top of her head before extending a manicured hand to Stiles.
"I'm Clarissa, so nice to meet you Stiles. My husband told me what a nice boy you are." Her hand was soft and impossibly delicate as Stiles shook it, the bones feeling like they may break if he gripped too hard.
"So glad to hear you play for the same team," She crossed the room and began mixing a Martini, adding gin to the cocktail shaker, "we are just sick to death with Emily's parade of boyfriends. We get to know them, then we never see them again! Hopefully you will be a more permanent fixture." She gave him a huge smile reminiscent of Emily's, revealing flawless white teeth.
"Uh – yeah – I hope so too, I mean I'm sure I will. Unless me and Emily fall out, which we won't, cos' you know, we're like really good friends."
"Mom, you're making him nervous, go away." Emily told her mother with a smile, letting her know she wasn't being cruel.
"Fine, I'm going to have a drink in the living room. Feel free to join us." At the doorway she turned to face them again, thinking about something for a moment. "You know Stiles, we're having a party here tomorrow – Sunday evening – a little fund-raiser for the children's charity I support. We can never trust Emily to do what we tell her, so instead of asking her to invite you I'll invite you myself. Will you be here?" She widened her eyes, waiting for a yes.
"Oh -" Stiles looked to Emily for help, but she just looked back at him stoically. "- yeah, sure. It should be fun – I don't have a tux or anything though..."
"Oh I'm sure Grayson can loan you one, you two are around the same size. I'll tell Andrea to put you on the list. Come a little early, say six thirty, Sunday evening." With that she turned on her heel and headed to the living room, her heels clinking on the floor.
"Grayson's my other brother." Emily explained as Stiles looked at her, confused. He felt so out of place here, but he really did love her house, and her family seemed nice. Impossibly beautiful and infinitely wealthy, but nice all the same.
After four coffees, endless talk about what could happen at his meeting with Derek, and a plate of spaghetti that a private chef made for them in silence as they talked animatedly, Stiles got ready to leave. Derek wanted to meet him at Central Park, the gate across the street from The Plaza Hotel. He was glad he didn't have to go on the subway, The Plaza wasn't too far a walk, just straight down Fifth Avenue. Giving Emily a quick hug, who wanted to come with him to get a glimpse of the boy her friend could not stop talking about, but was holding in her curiosity for his sake; shaking hands with her mother and father; and waving goodbye to her brother, who was lurking at the top of the stairs again, Stiles descended the elevator and emerged onto the street. As he headed down 67th Street, making a left when he hit Fifth, he wondered what Derek would have to say to him. Would he finally be ready to open up? Stiles felt the butterflies in his stomach and willed them to stop fluttering, he wanted to be cool, calm, and collected for this meeting, no throwing his food all over Derek, just listening to what he had to say. He had to try and keep his talking to a minimum – if he opened his mouth he'd go off on one of his rants again, probably ruining the whole thing. Before he knew it he could see Pulitzer Fountain in the distance, and, bracing himself, he headed into the park.