Author's Note: Hey guys! Sorry for taking my sweet ass time with this one, I was on vacation. My sincerest apologies! I made this super extra long (but not just long) so you'd forgive me ;-)

Also if you're looking for timeline accuracy with the show in this story, you're going to be deeply disappointed. I tried to keep it vaguely similar (PS I HAVE NO IDEA WHAT YEAR IT IS IN THE SHOW, 2011 MAYBS?), but I don't get along with numbers and the show confuses me sometimes with its dates.

Song for the chapter: Stars by The XX (doesn't really fit the mood, but I love it and I like it for Derek and Amy).

I Can Draw The Line On The First Date

The astrologically inclined amongst you might be interested to know that Saturday, March 31st, 2012 set the stage for a celestial event of cyclical magnitude. In layman's terms: it was a full moon.

Like the Earth and the moon, each rotating on their own separate-but-connected orbits, two friends entered parallel circumstances. Amy had procured a date with Derek – that one was obvious. But Stiles, uncharacteristically sly, had gotten himself a date as well. With Erica.

This coincidence only revealed itself suddenly, in the midst of a horde of drunken lax-bros, at the lacrosse after-party at Jackson's house (house, estate, mansion, whatever you wanted to call it). Amy was only there because Allison was there, and Allison was only there because Lydia was there. And Lydia was there because she was, once again, the other half of Beacon Hills High's royal couple.

Stiles was there because he was on the team (and he had actually played – and scored a goal, no less!), and Erica was there because she was well-acquainted with a large portion of the team (not Stiles, though, mind you).

Amy didn't want to be hung over for her date with Derek the next day, so Stiles was down a drinking buddy. Scott, however, who had also been influential in winning the match, was happy to act as a stand-in.

And thus began the night…

While Scott is occupied doing keg-stands, Allison remains – with Amy – in the kitchen, her emotional spectrum caught somewhere between amused and embarrassed. Stiles clamors in, completely, utterly, and undeniably white-girl-wasted.

"Amyyyyy, Allisonnnnn, my friends! How are you on this fine evening of VICTORY?" he questions.

"Not as good as you are, Stiles, not as good as you are," Allison manages through her snickers.

"True enough," he continues, bleary-eyed, "I am having quite an excellent night, if I do say so myself."

"Yes, you did well in the game," Allison humors him.

"Not just that! Guess what!"

Amy knows she will regret asking, but this knowledge does not deter her in the least. "What?"

"I have a date tomorrow night."

Several amused, snapback-wearing athletes begin to take notice of Stiles' tale, so Amy shushes him. "With who?" she hisses. "Shocked" wasn't even the right word – astounded – disbelieving, even, would be more appropriate.

"Erica," he states, brimming with pride. "Asked 'er out just a second ago."

"I bet you did…" Amy mutters under her breath. Why does she sound harsh? She shouldn't sound harsh. She should be supportive. But somehow Drunk!Stiles is wearing thin on her sober patience.

Allison laughs and Stiles looks offended. "What'd you say?" he demands.

"Nothing, Stiles, nothing," Allison covers, "We're both very happy for you. Right, Amy?"

"Yes, very happy." For some strange and foreign reason, she feels the irrepressible urge to tell him about her date with Derek. But she doesn't want him to blurt it out to the entire senior class, so she keeps quiet.

But then his eyes narrow. She knows what he's going to say, it's inescapable. "Why aren't you drinking?" he asks accusatorily.

"Because I don't want to," she answers nonchalantly. Allison shoots her a puzzled look, but, luckily, it escapes Stiles' notice. The way she had put it earlier was, "Because tomorrow is the most important night of my life and I need to be at the top of my game!"

"You?" He doesn't believe it. "You don't want to drink? You've gotta be kidding me. Seriously, why?"

She's only slightly offended by the fact that he apparently considers her an alcoholic, but the expression she wears begs to differ. "You think there has to be a reason? C'mon, dude, not cool!"

"Amy, I know you better than y'know yourself," he slurs. It may or may not be true, but he doesn't sound very convincing in his inebriated state.

She chews her lip – a nervous habit that she tries to avoid, but oftentimes does subconsciously – and answers, "You have to be quiet." Her eyes scan the chaos in search of Isaac; he doesn't seem to be in the kitchen.

"Quiet? Of course I can be quiet!" Aaand the lax-bros are looking over again.

"SHUSH. I have a date with Derek tomorrow. Don't repeat what I just said."

"You – you – what? You do?" He's flailing at this point, and Amy sets aside her terror that he will announce this fact to the entire party in order to laugh. He spills his beer all down his shirt and curses under his breath.

"Yes. So there."

"Well, that's as good a reason as any, I suppose." But his eyes are mocking her and she questions herself. What? I'm not attached to Derek. I'm not getting my hopes up, only to be crushed. I'm just making sure that I'll be in the best state to make good on my offer to persuade him. She doesn't convince herself any better than she's convinced anyone else.

oxOxo

The previously mentioned full moon was visible while the sun still hung low in the sky against a palette of pinks and oranges. Amy didn't notice it any more than she noticed the three unread texts on her phone; her complete focus was on her makeup, a work of art in itself. While she had never been particularly artistic in a traditional sense, blemishes brought on by puberty and the subsequent discovery of the realm of makeup opened a whole new venue for experimentation. She was now quite skilled at covering her blotchy complexion and making her face appear nearly flawless (save for a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, which she couldn't bring herself to cover up).

It was then that she turned her attention to her hair. She fluffed it in the mirror, but wrinkled her nose in distaste. It was prone to falling flat. A few pumps of mousse and a quick blow-dry remedied the problem, and she was then able to move on to her outfit.

This was the trickiest part.

She wasn't entirely sure what she and Derek were going to be doing (she had many different hopes, obviously, but the pretense of an actual date was to be expected). Even worse, she didn't know if she was supposed to have planned something, or if he was taking care of it.

Hence her dilemma – she eventually decided err on the side of "dressy casual," (the voice inside her head coaching her through all this sounded suspiciously like Lydia) which could take her through a number of different situations. She paired a pair of jean shorts with a black tank top, the "dressy" part coming in the form of a black and silver striped blazer. After spinning around in the mirror several times, she came to the conclusion that her efforts had been successful.

She bounded down the stairs and straight out the door, announcing, "I'm going to the movies with Allison and the gang," as she left. The door slamming behind her left her parents no room for protest.

When Derek's Camaro wasn't parked where he'd left her off the previous week (a safe three blocks from her house), a surge of panic shot through Amy's heart. What if he didn't show? It was entirely possible that he wouldn't – probable, even.

She waited for five of the longest minutes of her life. Doubt washed over her like a wave of nausea, to the point where she actually felt nauseas. She would be absolutely crushed if he didn't turn up.

However, eventually the sleek silhouette of the vehicle appeared on the horizon. Amy nearly leapt for joy.

When he pulled over, he offered neither an excuse nor an apology. Instead, his greeting was, "Thought I wouldn't show?" Her face must have betrayed her relief.

But Amy wasn't listening. No, she was much too preoccupied for that. She watched his every move, from the way he languidly slid the stick shift into park to the way he didn't even start to get out of the car. Everything about his demeanor was fluid, relaxed. One might have even said "cocky." Not at all how someone would normally be on a first date. Although, she supposed Derek wasn't normal. But she didn't fail to see his eyes rake over her as she wriggled into the car.

Her legs, she had often been told, were one of her best physical attributes. They were thin, but still shapely and tapered daintily at the ankle. This was why she'd chosen to wear short shorts. From the looks of things, Derek seemed to approve of the decision.

"So, what's the plan?" she asked brightly.

His expression was unreadable. "I would have thought that you'd come up with something incredibly "persuasive," as you put it," he said, his tone bone-dry. He gave no indication that he was joking.

"W-well, I mean, I have a couple of ideas," she stammered, suddenly lacking the confidence she'd had to ask him out in the first place, "But I-I wanted to see what you wanted to do f-first…"

Derek willed himself not to be swayed by her radical change in character as she sat stock-still, her creamy thighs contrasting beautifully against his black leather seats. He almost let his terseness falter at the sight of her obvious vulnerability, but ultimately remained resolute. If he intimidated her so much, how had she mustered up the courage to sexually harass him a mere day earlier? Whether the bashfulness was an act or not, he refused to bend to it.

"Let's hear it, then," he ordered.

"W-what?"

"Your ideas," he clarified, "What are they?"

"Oh. Well, um, w-we could go to dinner, go to the movies…" she trailed off lamely. She hadn't really been very creative. "They're showing horror movies at the drive-in theater…"

"Let me guess," he drawled, "We're going to go to a horror movie and you're going to cozy up to me because it will be so 'scary.'" His sounded completely disdainful of the prospect, but there was an unmistakable smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Emboldened by this show of amusement, Amy put on her own predatory smirk. "Was it really so obvious?" she teased.

"Completely transparent," he deadpanned.

Amy's heart fluttered in her throat because she realized suddenly that they were actually flirting! It was nothing short of a miracle.

"So, a movie?" she asked. "I'm a sucker for something cliché."

Derek turned his head towards the road and began to drive now that she was apparently back in her bawdy groove. "Fine. But if you're actually expecting what I just said, you'd best start back home before you're sorely disappointed," he ground out.

I can't believe I'm doing this, he thought to himself. And he really couldn't. Why had he agreed to this, again? Oh yeah – to shut her up. Suddenly the arrangement seemed doomed to fail. But it was just one night. He could afford to waste a few hours of his time, couldn't he? And he was still just a twenty-something year old guy – he couldn't deny that he had… needs. And Amy was strangely appealing. He shook these thoughts from his head. She was beautiful, but she was still just a kid. She might not have known better, but he did. The only question that remained was whether or not he cared. The line between right and wrong (or, rather, the desire to discern between them), after all these years, had become obscured.

After arriving at the drive-in theater, it soon became painfully clear that they were in one of only three or four cars. However, the fact that they were in a car in itself created the illusion that they were completely alone. Amy didn't know if she liked this or not, but Derek was certain that he didn't.

The films they were showing weren't modern. They had two options: The Exorcist or An American Werewolf In London. Completely ignorant of the irony in their choice, they opted for the latter.

Now, when Amy had said she thought she could charm Derek into liking her, she didn't know what had been going through her mind. She wasn't naturally very charismatic, and she didn't have a sound plan. Her primary initiative had been to look good, but she hadn't thought much beyond that. To be entirely honest, it was difficult to fabricate a scheme based on the minimal amount of data she had on Derek. His reputation for being biting, broody, and broken preceded him. She figured optimism with a healthy dose of sarcasm were the best approach to take personality-wise. It was likely he needed some cheerfulness in his life (though he would never admit it), and from their brief interactions, she could tell that he held a begrudging appreciation for her sense of humor (which, funny enough, was almost identical to Stiles').

He parked the car a safe distance from the others while Amy searched the radio for the right frequency.

"Have you seen this before?" she questioned in a hushed tone.

"No."

"Neither have I. My dad loves this movie, though."

Derek's dark eyebrows twitched ever so subtly and Amy mentally kicked herself for saying something so stupid. It was a horrible slip in every conceivable way. The last thing she needed to do was give him material to fuel the belief that she was too young for him.

"Sorry," she mumbled, her cheeks hot with embarrassment.

He turned to her slowly, his blue-green eyes glinting in the dancing light from the projector. Though he said nothing, this slight change in expression conveyed his amusement at her dismay.

"I didn't take you for the type to get nervous," he stated after a moment.

"Who said I was nervous?" she countered a little too quickly.

His smirk was fully distinguishable, now, and he replied, "C'mon, seriously? I'm not an idiot."

Amy sank further into the leather seat in a futile attempt to escape the situation. She was screwing up big time.

"I'm just going to stop talking…" she muttered.

He let out a bark of laughter – actual laughter – and said, "Yeah, that might be a good idea."

She was so shocked that he'd actually demonstrated any sort of emotion that she nearly gawked at him. Sure, it was harsh and only lasted a moment, but it was better than nothing. Luckily, she was able to keep her composure.

In fact, she hardly said another word through the remainder of the movie because she didn't trust herself not to sound like a complete buffoon. Cinemas weren't great places for first dates because they allowed for minimal talking, and initially Amy had been worried that her idea would be a total bust. However, she was surprised to discover that she actually learned more about Derek through observation than she might have through talking to him. For instance, he was very aware of her reactions to things – if she cringed or chuckled at a scene, he would send her a sidelong glance. Conversely, he himself didn't react to anything that came on screen. Amy flinched multiple times, but he was impassive throughout.

Though she had already suspected this, it became exceedingly clear that Derek preferred not to talk; for this reason, the movie wasn't an entirely terrible choice. As far as hobbies went, Derek obviously took great pride in his car and the drive-in theater incorporated that. She hadn't been completely ignorant of his likes and dislikes in coming up with the idea.

By studying his behavior (rather intensely, she had to admit), Amy had come to the conclusion that Derek was far more expressive in his actions than in his words.

However, there was still one very large problem: for the life of her, she couldn't figure out what his opinion of her was. He either hated her or liked her and pretended to hate her. But she wasn't that offensive. In all her time at Beacon Hills High, she'd managed not to make any legitimate enemies; she didn't see herself as particularly difficult to get along with. But then again, maybe tons of people hated her and she was just oblivious. And while it greatly displeased her to consider this, it certainly couldn't be ruled out…

The movie ended up being more entertaining than frightening on account of the dated special effects and (frankly) ridiculous premise.

When it was finished, Amy had the fretful suspicion that she'd failed in her task to woo Derek. Though the date hadn't been bad, exactly, she worried that it'd been rather unremarkable. Desperate to redeem herself, she suggested they grab a snack. Derek obliged despite the fact that it was late, mainly because he was hungry.

And soon they were seated in a sparsely populated restaurant. After having ordered their food, Amy attempted to start a conversation. "So, why did you decide to stay friends with Stiles?" she blurted out not-so-suavely.

"That's random," he bristled.

She blushed because, well, it was, and replied, "Sorry. But seriously, you guys don't seem to have that much in common." That was a gross understatement.

Derek shrugged. "I owe him one, I guess. He's annoying as hell, but he's not a total waste. What I don't get," he continued, "is the point of all this."

"What do you mean?"

"This situation. I don't get it."

Amy remained uncomprehending, or not willing to comprehend. "You're going to have to elaborate."

"Your class has what, like a couple hundred people in it? Why couldn't you just pester one of them? You're Isaac's age."

She bit her lip contemplatively. "Honestly? I find them all kind of boring. You're more… interesting." And by interesting, she really meant sexy.

Derek rolled his eyes. "Yeah, okay." He knew exactly what she was thinking. It was written on her face, it shined in her eyes whenever she looked at him.

"Are you and Isaac close?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Taken aback by the question, he replied, "What?"

"You and Isaac. Are you guys close?"

"… I guess. He's more like a younger brother than a cousin."

Amy nodded. She figured as much. "I have a younger brother," she said, "They're not all they're cracked up to be."

Derek smirked despite himself as he remembered Laura. Yes, he had given her hell when they were kids.

"He's a freshman," she continued, "The worst age."

"Whatever your problem with him is, he'll grow out of it," he stated.

"I doubt it."

He sent her a wait-and-see look, before taking a sip of his Corona and looking around the restaurant. He was bored.

"You lived in New York before, right?" she asked, lightly touching his hand to get his attention.

He flinched at he feeling of her soft fingers brushing against the top of his hand. That's very, very interesting, Amy thought. He'd been deliberately avoiding even bumping shoulders with her all night, and it was now glaringly obvious that he was making a point not to engage in any physical contact whatsoever, no matter how innocent. Though at first glance this realization seemed bad, it was actually quite promising – it meant he felt some sort of spark, just like she did.

"Yeah." Now, he seemed distracted. Amy was encouraged.

"How was that?"

Derek knew that guys – especially guys his age – weren't normally very observant. Many times, he pretended not to be in order to fit in, to do what was expected. But he'd have been lying if he'd said he didn't detect the change in the pitch of her voice. Her tone became husky, infinitely more seductive.

"Fine." One-word answers were his only defense.

"I want to live in the city. I'm going to LA for college – I can't wait to get out of this place."

He would never tell her, but he empathized. The only reason he was back in Beacon Hills was because Isaac didn't deserve to be alone, and he was his only remaining family. They were the lone survivors; it was his duty to make sure that tragedy didn't strike again. The mention of her impending matriculation made him feel slightly better about staring at her chest (not that she noticed. At least, he didn't think she did. But what could he do? He had eyes, and she was putting her cleavage on full display. He was no saint).

When they were finished, he paid (Amy, thankfully, remained calm) and the pair walked back to his car; Derek was still wary of even accidentally laying a finger on her and kept a significant distance. But little did he know, Amy was clever. He could try to resist her, but that didn't mean he would be successful. She had one last trick up her sleeve.

oxOxo

He drops her off where he picked her up.

"Thanks," she says simply, still in the car.

"Yeah." He isn't looking at her because he is well aware of what girls expect at the end of the night. And he has no intention of giving Amy what she so clearly desires. Averting his eyes seems like the safest option.

But suddenly, he's thrown through a loop. Amy's hand shoots out of nowhere and grips his chin, forcing him to turn towards her.

"I said, thanks," she drawls.

His heart beats almost imperceptibly faster and he castigates himself. He can't help that he likes a woman to take charge, but right now he hates himself for it. "You're. Welcome," he annunciates through gritted teeth. He seems angry, but he isn't. He doesn't know what he is. Yes you do, part of his mind taunts, You're turned on.

Shut up, says the other.

By this point, Amy's very tuned into the fact that Derek finds her attractive. It's this precious knowledge alone that gives her the audacity to do what she does next.

Without any visible hesitation, she lurches forward and presses her lips to his, assaulting his mouth with her tongue. Before he has the chance to even consider responding, she's out the door. Her hips sway like a pendulum as she walks away. Derek, for the first time in a long while, doesn't utter a word not because he doesn't want to, but because he can't. He hasn't been speechless since Kate. Fuck.

Author's Note: LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK, MY LOVES. The scene with Amy and Stiles where Amy doesn't want to drink is straight from life (I was Stiles lol). This may seem fast (it's only chapter 5! I hate myself for this! It took me like 20 chapters in Fast Times!), but remember that Derek doesn't really like her beyond the fact that he thinks she's hot ;-) Let me know if you hate this or not! Also I hope the switches in tense aren't making your eyes bleed! I wanted to try something new...