Like it or Not

Off the Cliff

Stiles let out a slow breath as he climbed out of his jeep, a bottle of what he assumed to be Derek's favorite wine wrapped in one hand and Derek's suit in the other. He repeated the text Alaric had sent, in his head.

'He'll never make the first move, you have to be the one to do it.'

He swallowed the thump forming in his throat. What if he screwed this up? Derek was his boss. He could lose his job.

"Stiles." The familiar voice of Thomas pulled him from his spiraling thoughts.

"Thomas." Stiles grinned.

"You're here late. What can I deliver for you today?"

Stiles liked Thomas, his grey eyes, though dulled with age, still glinted with enthusiasm and life. He wore a wide grin. Despite being shrouded in wrinkles it was a beautiful smile.

"Actually, Thomas," Stiles held up the bottle of wine, "I'll be taking the delivery myself."

Thomas' brows rose to meet the white thinned hair that sat atop his head. "Oh?"

Stiles' eyes dropped, and a grin tugged at his lips. "Yeah."

"Well, that's a new one."

"It is very new and very...complicated." Stiles gnawed at his lower lip.

"I don't doubt it. Derek Hale seems like he'd be the complicated type," Thomas laughed.

He had no clue how true that statement was.

"Have fun."

Stiles' cheeks burned as he stepped inside and passed Thomas. He didn't know how tonight was going to go, but the fact that Derek had even invited him over was something. He wasn't sure what, but something.

He leaned his head against the elevator wall and let out a slow breath. He needed to calm his nerves. Maybe Derek was going to break things off. Maybe he just felt guilty about showing up at Stiles' drunk. He had said it was an apology.

The ping of the door made Stiles tense. He had arrived at Derek's floor.

With one last breath, Stiles approached the apartment door. When he reached out to knock, he saw how his hands shook. He wiped his hand down his pants as if that would get rid of the shaking.

"Hey," Derek stood in a button-down and slacks. It was casual as far as Derek went. Stiles liked this look on him.

"Hey, uh, your suit for tomorrow and—" he held out the suit and then the bottle of wine.

"Catena Zapata." Derek raised his brows at the bottle, "My favorite. How did you know?"

Stiles licked at his bottom lip. "Lucky guess."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "Did you talk to Alaric?"

"No," Stiles lied. He hadn't talked to Alaric about Derek's favorite wine, but he had talked to Alaric.

Derek's scrutinizing gaze didn't leave Stiles as he took the suit.

"It was the bottle Elijah ordered at dinner. I guessed it was a favorite of yours by the expecting look on his face as it arrived at the table."

Derek's eyes averted. "Oh. I forget how observant you can be."

Stiles swallowed.

Derek hung the suit in the nearby coat closet and reached for the bottle of wine. "Shall I pour us a glass?"

"Yeah," Stiles was glad to see Derek didn't seem upset, more caught off guard. Perhaps bringing a wine with ties to his ex not was the right move.

He followed Derek into his kitchen. It was a smaller kitchen, decorated simply in neutral tones. He noted the nearly empty whiskey bottle on the counter next to an unopened one.