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Stiles is only a little ashamed to admit that he freaked out when his dad told him that he had to be at the station on Thanksgiving. Meaning that Stiles would be going to his aunt’s house alone. For days, Stiles tried to weasel his way out of it, giving every remotely plausible excuse that he could think of that didn’t involve him actually saying the real reason: his aunt Karen and her kids were terrible people. He was willing to bet that they had a book of all the slurs they learned and they probably had an entire chapter of homophobic slurs just for Stiles’ sake. He never told his father about the things they said to him and about him. He didn’t want to bad-mouth his mom’s family to his dad. No, he’d suck it up and put on obnoxious amounts of mental armor to get through Thanksgiving. Anything to make his dad happy.
He found the Craigslist ad by accident. The “Casual Encounters” section was a guilty pleasure of his but he never interacted with the people that posted – until today.
HaleToTheKing:
Alone on Thanksgiving? Mad at your dad? I’m a 28 year old high school dropout who was arrested for murder but was exonerated (yes, really, I can show you my mugshot). I live in a loft above a bar that I own. Bartender and volunteer EMT. I drive a Chevy Camaro that’s stuck between “not new enough to call new” and “not old enough to be classic” but I still love it more than the sister that handed it down to me (and she knows).
I can play a stereotypical “bad boy,” a perfect bring home to mom type, and anywhere in between. Can be a platonic or romantic “date,” depending on what you’re looking for.
Am willing to:
Openly hit on family members and/or other guests while you pretend to not notice
Pick fights about religion, politics, other world views
Pretend to get very drunk throughout dinner/Act drunk from the start (I don’t actually drink)
No payment aside from the meal I’d get as a guest.
Only serious inquiries please.
Stiles immediately messaged the account before he could talk himself out of it. Besides, Thanksgiving was in 2 days.
NerdWithStile:
23 year old recent college graduate. Majored in criminal justice. Being dragged to Thanksgiving with family that have never liked me. Just heard that I have to go alone. Interested in your fake date offer if it’s still available. Sorry for the short notice.
To his surprise, a reply came only minutes later.
HaleToTheKing:
The offer is still available. What were you looking for? Bad boy, ex-con to piss off your parents? More of the perfect boyfriend that everyone will love?
NerdWithStile:
You don’t have to act like anyone but yourself. I just want a date to get through the day with. And the questions I know are coming. Significant other, marriage, future plans. You don’t have to pick fights (verbal or physical) with anyone but I won’t stop you from defending yourself and your beliefs from my closed minded family members. Some of them can be pretty nasty.
Quickly, Stiles sent another message: Shit! Probably should’ve mentioned that I’m a guy. That a deal breaker?
HaleToTheKing:
No, that’s fine. I’m guessing you’ve got some homophobic family but how “nasty” do you mean?
He sent a handful of screenshots of conversations he’d had with his aunt and her kids with some less than savory language. He had never seen someone use “faggot” as many times as his cousin managed to in three messages.
Anxiety started to crawl up his neck in the 20 minutes of silence that followed. He sent another message.
NerdWithStile:
You don’t have to come, obviously. I don’t want to force that shit on you.
HaleToTheKing:
When and where?
NerdWithStile:
Seriously?
Over the next two days, Stiles and HaleToTheKing, who he learned was actually a man named Derek, spent a lot of time messaging each other.
As it turned out, the ad was a dare from Derek’s younger sister, Cora. She was a nurse and had to work on Thanksgiving so she didn’t want Derek to be alone. The deal was, if Derek didn’t get a real offer worth taking, he was allowed to do whatever he wanted and Cora wouldn’t get a say but, if he did find a good offer, he had to go. What she didn’t know was that, if he didn’t get a bite for the ad, Derek had planned on covering someone else’s ambulance shift. Once again, Stiles told him that he didn’t have to come with and, once again, Derek assured him that it was fine.
He was cautious to give too much personal information away and Stiles understood that. They’d met through a less-than-reputable site and would be parting ways after Thanksgiving so information was on a need-to-know basis for the stranger on the other side of the screen.
They did video chat, much to John Stilinski’s relief, and Stiles damn near swallowed his tongue when he answered the call.
He hadn’t looked for Derek’s mugshot (but he did have his dad run a check on him, he wasn’t stupid) so he didn’t know what the man looked like. A little ashamedly, he’d admit that he was expecting an ugly guy or even an average-looking guy. What he absolutely was not expecting was the strong, stubble-dusted jawline or the green-blue-gold-flecked eyes under heavy brows or the adorable bunny teeth or the dark hair that he really wanted to run his hands through.
This guy’s beautiful.
Derek cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck, a light pink was dusting the tips of his ears.
Stiles slapped a hand over his mouth. His brain-to-mouth filter, apparently, wasn’t working right now. He tried to apologize but it came out as a muffled garble around his palm.
The grin he saw grow on Derek’s face was worth every bit of embarrassment.
“Um, hi,” Derek said.
His voice also wasn’t what Stiles was expecting; it was just a little higher and more melodic than the deep gruff that looked like it might accompany those grumpy eyebrows.
The conversation was a little awkward at first, until Stiles’ father walked in.
He leaned over the back of the couch where Stiles was sitting and interrupted his son.
“So, you’re my son’s ex-convict buffer, huh?”
The look on Derek’s face was akin to a deer in headlights. It occurred to Stiles then that his father was in the middle of getting ready for work when Derek called and would now be in his uniform and looking every bit the town Sheriff that he was.
“Dad!” Stiles yelled, incredulous.
“Uh, yes, sir,” Derek nodded, ignoring Stiles’ outburst.
John stared at him in silence that dragged on too long before he nodded. “Alright, take care of him.” He pointed threateningly to the screen.
Derek just sat there, mouth gaping like a fish out of water and Stiles couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled out.
His dad clapped him on the shoulder and walked away with a chuckle.
“If you scare him off, I’m hiding the bacon and the good ice cream!”
A full-body laugh resonated through the house.
On his way out the door, John called, “I’ll see you later, boys. Love you, Stiles.”
“Love you, Dad!” he called back.
The rest of Stiles’ and Derek’s conversation was a breeze. They joked and laughed and Stiles was surprised by how easily they got along. Stiles wasn’t willing to admit how sad he was when they had to hang up so Derek could go to work.
Even though they decided that Derek would come to pick Stiles up and they’d drive together to his aunt’s, he was still antsy (and maybe a little giddy) when the knock on the door came. He was still fussing over his hair in the bathroom mirror but he damn near threw himself down the stairs when his dad yelled, “Stiles, your boyfriend’s here!”
He reached the landing just in time to see Derek pass something off to his father that looked suspiciously like a package of the expensive Applewood bacon that Stiles only bought for special occasions. It was hidden away quickly before Stiles could get a good look.
“Go on,” John said, “you’ve got a bit of a drive ahead of you and you don’t want to be late.”
Sure enough, they were lucky to leave when they did. Traffic that Stiles absolutely should’ve planned for turned the hour and a half drive into a two hour drive. They didn’t talk much, preferring to listen to music and judge each other’s tastes. As Stiles’ self-labeled hellscape drew closer, he started to fidget. The leather seat protested occasionally as he moved.
Derek’s large, warm hand moved from the gearshift to Stiles’ knee and he squeezed lightly once.
“Do you want me to turn around?”
Stiles shook his head.
“You’re about to jitter out of the seat, Stiles. It’s just a dinner. It’s not worth all this stress.”
“It’s my mom’s family.” His answer was barely audible over the music but he knew that Derek heard him when his hand tightened. He didn’t move it for the rest of the drive.
They arrived after the last 30 minutes of a decidedly tenser silence. Derek jumped out of the car and walked smoothly over to Stiles’ door and opened it for him.
A couple deep breaths and they were headed across the yard.
“So, how do you want to play this?” Derek asked, suddenly. “I don’t think we established that.”
“Whatever you’re comfortable with,” Stiles said.
“I’m here for you.” Derek’s response was dismissive.
“No, hey,” Stiles stopped him with a hand on his shoulder, “I know you’re here for me and you’re doing me a huge favor but I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. Chances are,” he gestured to the house, “they’re going to make this bad enough but I don’t want you to be any more uncomfortable than that.”
Derek swallowed and nodded. “Okay. We’ll play it by ear.” Stiles couldn’t quite name the emotions he saw flash across Derek’s face.
“That sounds good to me.” Stiles smiled. “Come on.”
They climbed the steps side by side. Stiles knocked on the door and steeled himself. He didn’t realize how tense he had become until Derek bumped their shoulders together and grabbed his hand. He took a deep breath and forced himself to relax the tension in his shoulders and unclench his fists as he exhaled.
Movement on the other side of the door had nerves freezing his lungs and he could practically feel himself tensing back up no matter how deep he tried to breathe.
Fingers slipped between his and Derek leaned into him.
“It’s okay,” Derek whispered in his ear, “We got this. You can do this.”
Stiles ducked his head and smiled, heat crawling up his neck.
Before Derek could move away, the door opened to Stiles’ aunt. Her face morphed into thinly veiled disgust.
“Stiles,” she said, giving him a tight lipped smile. Her eyes slipped to Derek and raked over him from head to toe. On her way back up, her eyebrows rose. Derek shifted under the scrutiny, moving only slightly away but squeezing Stiles’ hand.
“Derek, this is my aunt Karen. Aunt Karen, Derek.” Stiles gestured to them each in turn when he introduced them.
Derek stuck his hand out. “It’s nice to meet you, ma’am.”
She looked at his hand as if it might bite her but she took it, nonetheless, and shook it once before dropping it like it burned her. Not at all subtle, she wiped her hand on her pants.
In the house, Stiles was pleasantly surprised to see his aunt Jamie. He whispered to Derek.
“Aunt Jamie’s cool. This may not be as bad as I thought.”
Famous. Last. Words.
Everyone’s eyes had been glued to them since they stepped into the kitchen. Conversations weaved around them but pointedly did not include them. It was a tension that no one dared to address.
Derek let go of Stiles’ hand briefly and returned with two glasses of water. He handed one off to Stiles and leaned in.
“If I overstep, let me know,” he murmured, breath tickling Stiles’ ear, “but I’m dying to make them squirm.”
Stiles barely kept his smirk at bay and only hummed in answer.
Since they were of similar height, when Derek stood behind him, it only took a minor dip of his head for him to press his nose into Stiles’ shoulder through his shirt.
Heat spread into Stiles’ hip where Derek’s hip came to land. Stiles shifted his weight so that his back was pressed almost completely against Derek’s front. He refused to let himself think about how good it felt when Derek’s arm circled around his waist.
It’s fake. Stiles reminded himself. He’s just pretending.
Surprising to absolutely no one, Jamie was the first one that spoke to them. “So, Derek, what do you do?”
“I’m an EMT,” he said from over Stiles’ shoulder, “and I own a bar.”
Her interest was genuine. “You must have a lot of crazy stories.”
“Watch this,” Derek breathed. Louder, he said, “I don’t think anything would top the time I got arrested for murder.”
As if in slow motion, Stiles watched Karen choke on her wine and then everyone’s heads snapped in their direction.
Stiles was quick to muffle his snort into Derek’s neck and he felt Derek laugh with him.
“I was exonerated,” Derek assured with a grin and a shrug. “Minor misunderstanding.”
No one knew what to say for a long stretch and Stiles was living for it.
Karen broke the silence. “Your father must be so disappointed,” she said, not even trying for tact.
“Nah, Dad likes him.” Stiles smiled. “He laughed for a long time over the irony-”
“-But I’d say we’re on the way to being friends,” Derek finished.
“Well, if you keep giving him bacon! Don’t think I don’t know about that,” Stiles shot him a look and Derek laughed, ducking his head with a sheepish smile.
They ended up sitting next to Jamie with two chair between them and their other tablemates. Derek’s chair was close enough that their thighs were pressed together and Derek’s arm was draped over the back of Stiles’ chair, hand on his shoulder.
“How long have you been together?” Jamie asked.
“Not long. We met online and we’re still getting to know each other,” Stiles explained.
She leaned closer and whispered conspiratorially, “We’ll if you two stay together after this, I’d say you’re golden.” She winked.
A blush ran up his neck and bloomed over Stiles’ cheeks. He risked a glance at Derek and his heart tripped over the fond look in those impossible eyes. His gaze flicked down to his lips then quickly away.
“Could you get a picture of us, please?” Derek asked Jamie, holding his phone out to her. "We don't have any yet."
“Of course!” She snatched his phone giddily and her grin was infectious.
Stiles leaned into Derek’s side and twined his fingers with the hand on his shoulder. His eyes were soft and his smile held a fondness that he was almost willing to admit to. The phone clicked and Derek shifted, burying his nose in Stiles’ hair. Closing his eyes, Stiles let himself enjoy the attention, the feeling of being in the arms of someone who cared for him, a feeling that he was starting to think wasn’t just an act.
Stiles desperately wanted to kiss him.
Derek shifted again, his nose trailing to his temple then to his cheekbone as Stiles started to turn his head.
“That’s it,” Karen snapped, standing up. Her chair screech on the floor. “Get out of my house.”
Stiles jumped at the outburst but didn’t pull too far away.
“What?”
“Get out of my house,” she repeated, emphasizing each word. She looked seconds away from spitting fire.
Stiles was more than ready to leave but he needed to know one thing.
“Why did you even let us come if you knew that you didn’t want us here?”
“I thought that I could make you see that what you’re doing is wrong. It’s disgusting. I thought that you’d just get passed this nonsense and be normal,” she sighed, sounding put upon. “I thought that I could fix you.”
Stiles was a breath from firing back at her but she spoke again.
“But I should’ve known,” she shook her head, looking at him with disgust and pity battling for dominance on her face, “when your mother’s death didn’t fix you, there was nothing I could do.”
“Karen!” her sister yelled, flabbergasted.
Derek growled, honest to God growled, but Stiles couldn’t hear him over the ringing in his ears. Vague and muffled, as if he was underwater, he could hear Derek’s voice, dangerously low and calm.
“Did you, really, just imply that his mother died because he’s gay?”
Karen turned a glare at him. “He was punished-”
“He was a child!” Derek roared.
Stiles didn’t hear what was said after that.
There wasn’t enough air. Not in his lungs, not in the room, not in the house. He had to get out. Out, out. Like his stomach and his heart fighting tooth and nail to crawl out of his throat. He stumbled out of his chair, letting go of Derek’s hand and feeling the world pitch and churn beneath his feet. The crashing waves of his pulse in his ears drown everything else out but somehow, in the surrounding wreckage, his cousin’s sneer echoed, weaving through the whine of a flatline. His mother’s face swam before him, betrayal painting her features. Flailing for the door knob, he smudged out the mirage like smoke, ripped the door open on protesting hinges, and tripped outside and down the steps. He landed hard on his hands and knees. He gasped, fighting against the ice in his chest and the black spots dancing in his eyes.
He jerked when heat plastered against his back and wrapped like steel bars around him. Vaguely, he heard Derek’s voice in his ear, steady but noticeably tight like he was working to keep himself calm. He couldn’t make out what Derek was saying but he still clung to his voice like a lifeline. One of his hands was pressed over Stiles’ heart, keeping it and its erratic beat from exploding. Stiles had lost track of the other one until it clamped over his mouth and nose. His lungs spasmed, struggling to take in air that wasn’t coming.
In the back of his mind, Stiles knew what Derek was doing. Forcing him to hold his breath definitely wasn’t the best way to deal with this but it worked in a pinch; however, that didn’t stop him from death-gripping at Derek’s arm, blunt nails digging into his forearm. A lulling beat came into his awareness and Stiles realized that Derek was counting.
He had no idea what number Derek had reached when he moved his hand and Stiles’ lungs finally expanded.
He leaned forward, trying to curl in on himself and wishing the ground would swallow him whole but Derek didn’t let him hide. He forced Stiles’ shoulders up and back.
“Give yourself room to breathe,” Derek instructed, still close to Stiles’ ear.
He swallowed and nodded.
Derek continued, “I’m gonna go grab our stuff and we can get out of here, okay?”
Stiles nodded again, not yet trusting his voice.
But, Derek’s comforting presence didn’t move for several seconds. Instead, he rubbed Stiles’ back, slow and smooth. After a while, he kissed Stiles’ hair, got to his feet, and Stiles heard his boots on the wooden steps.
It was only a matter of minutes and Stiles’ breathing was back to normal and Derek handed him his coat. Derek helped him into the car and they left without a backward glance.
They drove in silence until Stiles’ stomach growled. Neither mentioned it but Derek still pulled into the first decent looking restaurant he found that was open.
With Thai take-out on the floorboard between Stiles’ feet, they made the rest of the drive to Beacon Hills.
But Stiles didn’t want to go home. If he went home, Derek wouldn’t have a reason to stick around and he desperately wanted Derek to stick around but, all too soon, Derek parked in front of his house.
Stiles didn’t move, opting to stare down at his hands instead. “Do you want to come in?” he ventured.
“I was hoping to.”
His head snapped to Derek. Cautious hope took root in his chest.
Derek shrugged and ducked his head but he couldn’t hide the blush dancing across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “I promised that I’d stay for dinner.”
When he answered the Craigslist ad, Stiles never thought anyone like Derek would be on the other end. Yes, Derek was attractive. Like, surface of the sun hot. But that was just extra. He was funny and sweet and charming and had the patience of a fucking saint and Stiles didn’t want to let him slip away. He thought – hoped, prayed – that Derek liked him too, that Stiles wasn’t the only one that lost himself in the “act” they put on, but he didn’t know how to ask. He didn’t want to just say hey so I know we agreed to no strings and going our separate ways and everything but I think I might really like you.
Derek’s eyes met his, wide and filled with the same hope that Stiles felt.
“I said that out loud, didn’t I?”
Derek nodded.
“Is that…is that okay?”
Derek nodded again and a slow grin spread across his face.
“If I overstep, let me know,” he echoed his words from earlier, “but I’m dying to kiss you.”
Stiles threw his head back and laughed before reaching over the center console, careful not to get tangled in the seatbelt he had yet to take off, and pulled Derek in by the back of his neck.
Their first kiss was more grinning against each other’s lips than an actual kiss but it was the best kiss Stiles ever had.