Archive of Our Own

Stiles is only a week into his new job at the Beacon Hills Bowling Alley when he learns that retirees and little kids aren't the only ones who go bowling.

"Is that -," he glances back at his co-worker, Boyd, who's organizing the shoes, while surreptitiously pointing at the group of people strutting toward the lanes. A large tattooed man - who looks an awful lot like someone his dad has arrested before - sees them coming toward his lane and his eyes widen with fear as he immediately drops his bowling ball, grabs his leather vest, and ushers his equally terrified biker friends toward the exit. "- are those the Hales?"

In hindsight, this was kind of a stupid question, seeing as how they were all wearing matching black bowling shirts with their last name stitched on the back, followed by the words "WOLF PACK" below it. Wolf pack? Stiles thinks incredulously as he watches them power-walk by before nodding thoughtfully. Huh. They kinda pull it off alright.

Boyd, unsurprisingly, ignores him. Stiles watches as the wolf - er, family automatically sets up at three consecutive lanes, including the one previously used by the guy who may or may not have been a convicted criminal, and proceeds to pull out their own individual bowling ball and pair of bowling shoes. The serious expressions on their faces seem more appropriate for someone preparing for battle rather than someone preparing to go bowling. The only one who looks even remotely like he's here to have fun is Alex Hale, the patriarch of the family. Stiles has seen him a few times at fund-raisers for the sheriff's department, never knew what exactly he did, but he was always amiable, cracking jokes with everyone, and pretty generous in his donations. He watches as Mr. Hale grins, nudging another man - Peter is the name on his shirt -, who shoots him a scathing glare. It looks like the easygoing gene didn't pass very well in the family.

Speaking of passing on genes, Stiles' gaze happens upon one of the three kids of the Hales, specifically one infamous Derek Hale, who happens to be cleaning his bowling ball. Hot like burning, the people at school whispered whenever they caught a glimpse of him, whether it was during high school whenever he went to pick up Cora or whenever he was spotted in college talking to Laura. Yeah, Stiles thinks dazedly as he watches Derek's hips wiggle and arms flex as he buffers his ball, I can see it.

Derek stops - unfortunately, that means his ass stops moving too - and his hazel eyes flick to Stiles', narrowing into a smoldering glare. Very impressive, Stiles notes with amusement as he winks at him just to see what would happen. To his utter glee, Derek looks completely baffled, like a dog that's been booped on the nose.

"Hello, Boyd," a voice brings Stiles back to his immediate surroundings, where Talia Hale is standing on the opposite side of the counter. He immediately stands to attention. "It looks like we'll be taking our usual lanes, seeing as how the last of them has been recently vacated."

Boyd nods and jabs his screen. "Of course, Mrs. Hale."

Mrs. Hale turns to look at Stiles, her expression completely neutral. It reminds him uncannily of Lydia. "New employee?"

Boyd sighs and Stiles tries not to be offended. "This is Stiles. He's mostly here so I don't have to sanitize the shoes anymore."

"Wow," is all he can say. And here he thought their relationship was making progress.

Mrs. Hale smiles pleasantly. "Nice to meet you, Stiles."

Stiles nods, glancing at the "Alpha" under her name. Is that her rank in the team? "Nice meeting you too, Mrs. Hale."

She turns back to Boyd. "Make sure to fill him in on everything, yes?"

"Was just about to." With that, she turns on the heel of her fancy bowling shoes and returns to her family. And, like on cue, three bowling balls simultaneously roll down the lanes and crash into the pins.

"The Hales have bowling night every Friday," Boyd explains as Stiles watches the Hale bowl in barely concealed awe. "They're pretty low-maintenance, all you need to do is input which lanes they're using, which will always be lanes 7, 8 and 9."

"Is this their big secret?" Stiles wonders aloud as Mr. Hale bowls another strike in the first lane. The Hales are kinda like Beacon Hills' Wayne family. They're always involved in the town's affairs, whether it be political, social, economic, and yet no one really seems to know anything about them. They could be vampires, for all he knows. The wolf pack thing is probably just to throw everyone off. "Are they a family of professional bowlers?" He whips around to look at Boyd. "Oh my god, is this a bowling gang?"

Boyd snorts. "Not really. They do compete though. Right now, they're practicing for the semi-annual bowling tournament."

In the lane next to Mr. Hale, Peter gets a spare and fumes as Mr. Hale makes faces at him behind his back. "Do they even need it though?"

Boyd doesn't say anything, instead electing to nod toward the third lane. Stiles watches as Derek coolly walks up to the lane, ball in hand, Laura walking beside him, her lips moving rapidly as she speaks into his ear. With one last encouraging clap on the back, Laura leaves him and Derek stares down the lane, a look of total concentration on his face. He frowns, his brow furrowing impossibly deeper, his eyebrows knitting together, and with a deep breath, he steps forward in his blessedly tight jeans and brings the ball back, his muscles rippling under his bowling t-shirt, Stiles tries hard not to swoon, Laura fidgets with anticipation, biting her lip as she clenches her fists, and Derek lets go, the ball hitting the ground and thundering -

Straight into the gutter.

"That's why they need it," Boyd says, completely straight-faced, while Stiles stares, stunned at the turn of events, as Derek huffs and stalks back to his seat, his family members giving him sympathetic pats and offering words of advice along the way.

-

Stiles has taken to watching the Hales practice to pass time. By the Hales, he mostly means Derek, not just because he's very easy to look at, but also because he's painfully adorable. He tries so hard, but when he inevitably fails, he gets so broody and sulky that it makes Stiles want to pinch his cheeks and give him ice cream.

He's endlessly amused by the fact that Derek sucks at bowling, mostly because of the jokes that come out of it. Derek can't handle his balls, Stiles chuckles to himself as he watches the Hales in between spritzing the rental shoes with sanitizer. As if detecting his ridicule, Derek shoots a glance at Stiles. Stiles blows him a kiss.

Another gutter ball.

Stiles ducks his head to hide his laugh and gets a mouthful of sweaty shoe stench. Coughing and gagging, he sees Derek smirk.

"No inappropriate quips today, Stiles?" Erica comments when she drops by the bowling alley, leaning over the counter to give Boyd a kiss. Stiles waves her away to stick his tongue out at Derek. Erica and Boyd share a knowing grin.

Somehow, they've found themselves embroiled in a battle of non-verbal communication. For the weeks to come, Stiles will continue to bat his eyes and make ugly faces at Derek to make him throw more gutter balls and Derek will continue to "accidentally" spill soda on the floor and somehow repeatedly jam the pinsetter.

Meanwhile, the patrons who were once subjected to Stiles' corny pick-up lines every time they rented shoes (i.e. Danny) have begun to feel oddly neglected.

-

It happens several weeks into his job, on a Tuesday. As it happens, it's also a week before the bowling tournament. Next to nothing happens on Tuesdays since most people are at school or working but Stiles likes working on Tuesdays for exactly that reason.

"I'd like to rent a lane for three hours."

Stiles likes to spend these days trying to clean all the shoes they have, if only for the fact that then he doesn't have to clean them until next Tuesday. Mildly annoyed that someone has interrupted his task, he only briefly glances up from his pile of shoes, wondering why this guy's wearing sunglasses indoors and a leather jacket in this heat. "Uh yeah, sure, just give me a -," he stops short, slowly looking up again. The man shifts uneasily like he wants to bolt. Stiles squints at him. "Derek?" He tries not to laugh as the man - Derek - tries not to react. "Why are you wearing sunglasses and a leather jacket?"

Derek looks like he actually wants to deny the obvious but apparently decides against it. "I was trying to disguise myself," he says, sounding awfully let down that it didn't work. He even shaved.

Stiles snorts as he shoves the shoes aside to assign Derek his lane, idly realizing that this is the first time they've actually talked to each other. "Yeah, you might wanna think of investing a ski mask to cover up those cheekbones."

The tips of Derek's ears turn pink as Derek whips his sunglasses off, glaring. "Just give me my lane."

Stiles snickers as he goes around the counter and gestures for Derek to follow, leading him to his lane. They both stare at each other for a short while before Derek speaks up. "Why are you still here?"

Harsh. Stiles plops down in one of the seats, looking around at the rest of the basically empty alley. "I don't really have much else to do." The shoes can wait.

Derek scowls but doesn't say anything as he sheds his jacket - Stiles decides that there needs to be a list of clothing that is illegal for Derek to wear, which will include his life-ruining jeans and this stupid v-neck - and sits down to take his bowling ball and shoes out of his bag. Both are black, presumably like his bitter soul.

"Boyd told me that this is your first tournament," Stiles mentions casually.

Derek looks up at him as he rubs his bowling ball with a cloth. "It's tradition for everyone in the family to join the Wolf Pack and compete together." He stands to stretch and hey, Stiles isn't going to pass up a free show. "I just joined this year."

"You want some pointers on bowling?" Stiles shrugs when Derek casts him a suspicious look. "I'm told that I'm really good with balls," he says with a leer. Derek rolls his eyes as he picks up his ball.

"Why not," he grunts before his first throw. It skews left and hits two pins. He sighs.

"Alright, here's your problem," Stiles stands, grabbing Derek's ball off the return rack and handing it to him. "You focus too much on looking cool."

Derek raises an eyebrow. "You got that just from watching me once?"

Stiles deftly side-steps the question with a mehhhh and a shrug. "Look, I get it. Your family apparently has the special ability of not looking completely ridiculous when they bowl. But they're like bowling prodigies and you're -"

"Not," Derek finishes dejectedly, sighing with frustration. "I'm just not any good at this."

Wow, it should also not be legal for that expression to be on Derek's face. "No," Stiles says fiercely, jabbing his finger at Derek's sad face. "Don't be like that. You can do this. You just need to get back to the basics." He turns Derek forward, putting his hand on his really firm shoulder. Man, his body is so wasted on bowling. "Don't think about putting your limbs in the right place, just focus," he points right down the middle of the lane with his other hand, "on getting the ball to the pins. You don't have the time to learn anything too advanced for the tournament, so just focus on getting your balls straight to the right spot."

"It's hard to take you seriously when all you do is make bowling innuendos," Derek remarks wryly.

Stiles pulls back. "That wasn't - huh," he thinks for a second before humming. "Yeah, I can see it."

Derek huffs a laugh. Stiles feels himself smiling. "So just, throw the ball, huh?"

"Uh huh," Stiles affirms. "Loosen your arms and legs, let your butt shake a bit. Just make sure the ball goes straight."

A pause. "I can't do that if you don't step away."

Stiles looks down at where he's pretty much pressing his body up against Derek and quickly jumps back. He flushes, muttering a sheepish sorry - he thinks he sees Derek quirk a grin -, and Derek takes a deep breath, draws his hand back and swings his arm forward. He lets go and his hips wobble and his limbs flail about and for a second, he's as majestic as a baby giraffe, but the ball goes, it goes and goes and goes -

Very, very slowly.

"Okay," Stiles coughs awkwardly as they wait for the ball to make it to the pins. Derek glowers at the ball as if that will make it go faster. "It looks...like...-," the ball bumps in the middle pin, just barely tipping it over, "- yes! Now you just need power. Look, it's no secret that you've probably got a lot of it, but you've gotta focus it, alright? You have to channel that power into the ball. Just think of something that will make you focus -," Stiles makes some complicated hand gestures, losing steam upon seeing the blank look on Derek's face, "d - do you get what I'm saying?"

After a few moments, Derek nods slowly, understanding dawning on him. "I need an anchor," he says, like it's deep and meaningful.

"Uh, sure," Stiles replies tentatively. "An anchor. Whatever works. As long as it keeps you focused on throwing the ball where you want it to go and throwing it hard."

They spend the full three hours, and four more after that until the end of Stiles' shift, talking about anything and everything, with some bowling in between.

-

Stiles has been waiting eagerly for the next Hale family bowling night, to see how much Derek has improved, but unfortunately, by the time it comes around, school's out and that means more people, which in turn means there's actual work for him to do. Thankfully, the Hales had pre-booked their lanes, but Stiles still has to do his job, and that means renting out shoes, serving food, resetting pinsetters, fixing any technical difficulties. Boyd is incredibly efficient, but he's currently being held up by a fight that broke out on lane 3, so Stiles is on his own.

It also doesn't help that there's these college girls that started talking to him just when he got the chance to settle behind the counter to try to watch Derek bowl.

"Wow, a party? That's really nice and all," Stiles strains to look past the girls, but they continue to block his line of sight, "but I'm super busy. So busy. Gotta clean these balls and stuff."

The girl - Katie? Kathy? - giggles. Stiles briefly wonders if this is what it's like to talk to him sometimes. "C'mon, it'll be fuuuun. I'm sure tons of girls would love to see you there -"

Over her shoulder, Stiles finally catches a glimpse of Derek. He waves his arms frantically, managing to catch his attention, and Derek looks, well, less than pleased, for some reason. Maybe he hasn't been doing well. Stiles gives him an encouraging thumbs up. Still frowning, Derek nods tightly, facing forward as he gets ready to throw.

"You know, you're really cute -"

Stiles sees a flash of anger on Derek's face as he swings his arm forward -

"- guy like you shouldn't be in a lame place like this -"

He holds his breath as Derek lets go, the ball rolling fast down the lane -

"Hey, are you li -"

Stiles lets out a triumphant shout, fists pumping in the air as the screen above Derek flashes STRIKE, the cartoon bowling pin falling over in defeat. The bowling alley is noisy enough for people to not really notice his outburst, but his enthusiastic yell fizzles away and his hands drop as he scratches his neck self-consciously as every single one of the Hales stop their own cheering to look back and forth between him and Derek, exchanging a series of looks and gestures that he isn't going to bother to try to understand. The girls seem to have disappeared, hopefully with the thought that he's crazy and will therefore leave him alone, and are soon replaced with someone infinitely better. He beams, throwing his arms open, as Derek makes his way over to the counter. "You did it!"

Derek nods, offering a small smile. "Yeah. I've been doing really well today."

Stiles pulls up the scoreboard for his lane and it's true; that was Derek's fifth strike in a row. "Oh my god, Derek, that's great!" He grins, giddy with what must be pride. "Your skill in ball handling will almost be on par with mine."

Derek rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn't falter. Stiles feels his heart do a little somersault.

"So you uh, found your anchor then?" Suddenly, his skin crawls like several people have begun to stare intently at him. Even Derek tenses up too.

"I think so," Derek answers softly.

Stiles nods, feeling relieved but also a little awkward, and his eyes happen to fall on the subtitle below Derek's name on his bowling shirt. He blinks, double-takes, stares some more. Derek, confused, follows his gaze and immediately tries to cover it with his hands, his face bright red with embarrassment. But it's too late.

"'Pup'?" Stiles says, his cheeks hurting with how hard he's grinning. Derek's mouth opens and closes uselessly, unable to produce a sound.

Stiles gives up and bursts out laughing when Derek eventually manages to stammer out, "I-It's a family tradition!"

-

It's the day of the tournament and it's probably the most intense event Stiles has ever experienced in his entire life. Basically, there are only two teams in the entire tournament, the Hale Wolf Pack and the Argent Archers, mostly because all the other bowling teams in town are either terrified of one or both of the teams or they don't want to accidentally win and prevent the two sworn enemies from duking it out. Even the spectators are clearly divided. It's ridiculous.

And apparently tempers are particularly volatile this time around. "During the last tournament, Kate Argent tried to sabotage us," Cora tells Stiles as he's setting up the scoreboard. "She messed with our equipment. Luckily, Peter found out and she was disqualified and kicked out of her team. Haven't seen her since."

Stiles' marker squeaks to a stop. "You mean, like, never again at a bowling event, right?"

Cora shakes her head. "Like I said. Haven't seen her since."

"...Aren't they a family team, like yours?"

"Bowling is a serious business, Stiles," she replies solemnly. "Not everyone can live this kind of life."

Jesus. Before Stiles can ask, he's interrupted by the blow of a whistle. "Alright, the tournament's about to begin, get to your places, people!"

"Here we go," Stiles says with a sigh as the teams step up to shake hands, exchanging glares and sneers. Man, he hopes he won't end up having to clean blood off these floors.

- 

Stiles has watched his fair share of bowling movies, but most of them were comedies.

This? This is like a dramatic war movie. All it's missing is an emotional death scene - wait, no, scratch that, there were a few damp eyes when Peter sprained his wrist trying to get the 7-10 split and ended up delivering a poignant speech to Mr. Hale.

It's been brutal. The Hales outnumber the Argents, but it doesn't seem to even matter. The Argents are insanely good at bowling and the scores between the two teams have been neck to neck throughout this entire tournament. Mrs. Argent is terrifying, both in terms of skills and demeanor, but Mr. Hale must be basically the most unflappable human being on the planet because he doesn't even flinch under her soul-crushing gaze. Grandpa Argent was the Argents' wildcard with his unorthodox bowling methods but luckily, Cora managed to counter with some of her own. Mr. Argent fell behind when matched with Mrs. Hale, but Allison just barely managed to close the gap against Laura.

Meanwhile, Stiles has been nervously watching from behind the counter with Boyd, nervously chewing on his bottom lip, nervously eating anything within his reach and nervously breathing. Nervously existing. God, how long can a tournament between two teams be? "Derek's last, right?" Stiles asks Boyd in between uneven breaths, who's been watching on passively. "Who's he going to go against?"

Boyd sighs uneasily, which hikes Stiles' anxiety even higher. "Victoria," he replies, crossing his arms over his chest. "Peter's injury messed up the line-up."

Stiles fists his hands in his hair, slowly going insane with anxiety, as Derek steps up to the lane. Mrs. Argent smirks condescendingly at him, having bowled a strike and a spare. Derek looks past her and looks straight at Stiles. You can do this, Stiles thinks as loud as he can, holding Derek's gaze, hoping that if he thinks hard enough, it'll reach him. Do your anchor thing. You've got balls the size of bowling balls, okay, you are the freakin' champion of my rapidly failing heart, oh my god please don't lose.

He watches as Derek grins briefly at him and faces the pins, smoothly stepping forward as the ball leaves his hand, hitting the ground with a crack and speeding down the lane -

"STRIKE!"

The smirk slides right off of Mrs. Argent's face and onto Derek's as he picks up his ball and calmly lines it up. Stiles is practically crawling onto the counter. Derek lets out a breath as he throws and the ball goes and goes -

"STRIKE! The Hale Wolf Pack wins!"

The bowling alley fills with deafening roars and cheers of victory, but Stiles only cares for the blinding smile on Derek's face as his family tackles him with hugs.

-

"Stuck with cleaning duty?"

Stiles looks up from his mop to see Derek at the start of the lane, his hands shoved in his pockets. "Yeah. I kinda underestimated how hard bowling enthusiasts could party though."

Derek looks around. "Where's Boyd?"

"Date with his girlfriend," Stiles answers, resuming his task of mopping down the lane. "I told him I could take care of this."

Derek nods, looking side to side before stepping forward carefully. "I never really thanked you," he says, his shoes tapping softly against the hardwood floors. "For helping me improve."

Stiles plops the mop back into the bucket with a shrug. "It was nothing. Besides," he grins wryly, "I didn't want you to bring dishonor to your family or something. They're really serious about bowling."

Derek lets out a soft laugh. "Yeah."

"Seriously, was Peter's speech about 'being proud to be his brother-in-law' true? Did your dad really win over your mom's family by beating Peter in a round of bowling?"

"More or less."

"Oh my god," Stiles laughs. His heart pounds harder as Derek nears. "I have to ask," he blurts. Derek cocks his head. "What was your anchor?"

Derek stops a little ways from him, turning away from him. Stiles' hands tighten around the mop handle. "You."

If Stiles had the upper body strength, he would've snapped the mop in half.

"I was thinking," Derek says when Stiles is rendered speechless, casting him a side-long glance, "'If I get better at bowling, maybe Stiles will notice me and stop flirting with every person who comes into the bowling alley'."

Stiles gapes at him, flustered, before shutting his mouth and glaring at Derek's impression of him, batting eyes and pouty lips and all. "You're just humoring me, aren't you? That was all just facetious."

Derek drops the act, an amused half-grin on his lips. "Mostly. It was more of a 'If I get better at bowling, maybe I'll have the balls to ask Stiles out on a date'."

Stiles' eyes widen as Derek takes another step forward. "Derek, no, watch -"

It's too late. Derek steps firmly on the wet patch on the floor and slips, pitching forward as he yelps in surprise, and Stiles instinctively tries to catch him but only succeeds in getting taken down to the ground along with him. Stiles lets out a quiet groan from where he's lying partially on the gutter, having narrowly dodged the bucket of dirty water at the last second, with Derek on top of him, Derek's face in the crook of his neck, his stubble rubbing pleasantly against his skin. For a while, Derek doesn't move and Stiles thinks that maybe somehow Derek lost consciousness out on the way down, but the heat radiating from Derek's face says otherwise.

"That didn't go as planned," Derek eventually mutters, his voice muffled.

Stiles slides a hand to the back of Derek's neck, fingers tangled in his hair. "All things considered," like a slightly aching back, "this isn't a bad place to be." Derek hesitantly pulls away as he leans up on his forearms and Stiles smiles at him. He kinda really wants to be here forever. "I think you're supposed to kiss me now."

"But I haven't -"

"C'mon," a mischievous grin spreads on his lips, "I've always wanted to touch ba - "

"No."

Stiles blinks. "Wha - you didn't even let me fi -"

"Stop." Derek silences him with a firm shake of his head. "Don't say it."

Stiles scoffs. "Don't pretend you don't love my bowling themed pick-up lines."

"You're going to kill the mood."

"Oh," Stiles waggles his eyebrows. "Now whose head's in the gutter?"

Derek rolls his eyes and, against his better judgment, leans down to kiss him.