Sterek(oneshots)

Will you still be here tomorrow?

 Stiles swirled the last of the whiskey that sat watered down in the bottom of his glass. His mildly tilted vision suggested that he didn't need another but the ache in his chest was still too prominent.

"Can I get another one please?" Stiles held his glass up to the bartender before tipping back the last of it.

"Should you slow down?" Scott asked, taking a seat next to Stiles.

Stiles turned to his best friend, the bar stool spinning easily under him, or perhaps it was the floor, he couldn't be sure. "And why would I do that?"

"Because you've had four already and you're kind of a light weight," Scott frowned at the fresh whiskey placed in front of Stiles, replacing the empty glass.

"Scott, I came into town for my dad's retirement party. I did not come into town to face Derek fucking Hale. I was under the impression he had moved to Brazil or some shit," Stiles waved a hand through the air.

Scott laughed, "He didn't move to Brazil. And I thought you knew he was back in town. He came back like five or six months ago," he shrugged as if it were a known fact.

"Well, nobody told me," Stiles flailed both his arms, "Why was he even at my dad's retirement party?"

"Your dad invited him."

Stiles scoffed, spinning back around to face his untouched drink.

"Did you even talk to him?" Scott asked, glancing to where Derek was sitting at a table with Cora, Lydia and Isaac.

Stiles scoffed again, "No way."

"Stiles-" Scott sighed but Stiles cut in.

"I don't want to hear it."

"You can't avoid him forever," Scott continued despite Stiles' protests.

"Watch me," Stiles snorted before taking a swig of the whiskey. It was stronger without the melted ice. He enjoyed the burn though. He closed his eyes and hoped the burn would numb the pain in his chest.

"Well, I'm taking Malia home," Scott sighed in defeat as he pushed off his stool.

"I'll swing by tomorrow before I head out," Stiles promised, his eyes opening to the disappointment of the still nagging ache.

"Just...think about talking to him," Scott pleaded.

Stiles ignored him in favor of another gulp. His head spun as the alcohol filled his veins. He knew he'd be regretting tomorrow if he didn't slow down, but he needed to not feel just for a little while.

-

Derek cast his eyes to the bar where Stiles was nursing a half-filled glass. He had wanted to corner Stiles at the Sheriff's retirement party but was too afraid to cause a scene. After, when Lydia had suggested they go for drinks to 'catch up', Derek was determined to corner him. Stiles, however, had been careful to avoid him here as well. Talking with strangers and flirting on the dance floor kept Derek from approaching.

"Go talk to him," Lydia urged when she caught Derek's eyeline.

"He doesn't want to talk to me," Derek shook his head, dropping his eyes to his half empty beer glass.

"So make him. He's alone."

Derek looked back over to where Stiles remained alone.

-

Stiles slid his card across the bar towards the bartender, "I think I'm done." He was giving up on drowning out the pain, it wasn't working, and he was sure if he stayed too long Derek would corner him.