Like it or Not

Give in

Stiles finished his story with a wave of his hand, "Anyway, that's why I had to pretend to be Lydia's boyfriend."

Derek couldn't help the grin that pulled at his lips. Stiles had such a way with words. He knew how to make any story entertaining.

Stiles downed the last of his drink and frowned at Derek, "Did you not like the drink? You barely touched it," he pointed out.

Derek glanced down at where the mint leaf had shriveled atop the mostly melted ice. The drink wasn't even half gone. He blinked at it, realizing he hadn't felt the need to reach for it as often.

"Oh," he started, I sort of forgot about it."

Stiles rose his brows, "The last time we went to dinner together, you drank the table." His tone was only slightly teasing.

Derek gave him a look that he couldn't place. It was almost ...fondness?

"I guess you don't make me want to drink until I can't feel," Derek shrugged as if that comment didn't hit Stiles like an ice pick to the chest.

He put on his best smile, hoping it would hide the confusion, "I'm glad."

At that moment the waiter returned with the check.

Stiles slid his card out and gestured towards the exit, "Shall I take you home? I know you don't like late nights out on workdays and I'm gonna guess you have plans to be at the office early due to leaving early so..." he trailed off as he shoved his wallet into his pants pocket. He was careful to avoid eye contact. Something about the last few moments had Stiles feeling vulnerable in such a way that he couldn't place. And he didn't like it.

"It is almost eight," Derek glanced at the time at the top of his phone. He promptly dismissed the texts from Alaric. He would read them later.

Stiles led Derek out of the restaurant with a knew sense of nausea and he guessed it had nothing to do with the meal he'd just had.

"Thank you for dinner," Derek said once they were back in Stiles' jeep.

"I'm glad you liked it," Stiles put on a wide grin before starting the engine.

"Is something wrong?" Derek noted Stiles sudden discomfort.

"Uh, no, no, I'm just hoping tonight wasn't a total failure," Stiles lied. While it was a concern, his current concern was the ache in the pit of his stomach.

"Honestly Stiles," Derek looked at him with a sincere and intense frown, "I think this has been one of the best nights I've had in a while. I've learned I'm a terrible painter. Baseball is a great stress reducer and I like Belgian food."

Stiles made himself relax but the ache in his stomach turned into a writhing knot. He focused on backing the jeep out of the parking spot.

"I hope that true, cause I was only trying to help."

Derek's heart leapt. He bowed his head, debating his next words.

"I really expected to be...eager for this date to end. I thought I would have to humor you and pretend to enjoy myself. I don't think it's anything personal. I think that's just what I've come to expects of dates. But this was...refreshing and I found that...I don't entirely hate your company."

Stiles' hands clenched the steering wheel, thankful for the distraction of traffic so that he didn't have to meet Derek's eyes.

"Surprisingly, I don't hate you either. You can actually be a decent guy when you're not being an ass," Stiles glanced at Derek to catch a glimpse of an expression before focusing back on the road ahead of him.