Summary:
Derek shows up to the Halloween rave in his loft but instead of tossing the DJ's table half way across the room, he simply steals Stiles away from the dance floor and weasels a confession out of the teen in a way that only he can.
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Author/s: Tainted_Grace on ao3
"Ethan! How the hell did you get Derek to agree to this?!" Stiles yells into the werewolf's ear over the pounding bass of the music filling the black lit loft.
"I didn't ask. It's not like he's here, right? He's down in Central America visiting Cora!" Ethan responds, losing interest in explaining his genius plan when he sees his boyfriend walk in the door with Isaac and Allison.
"Whatever. Go get him, E. I'll talk to you later." Stiles smiles, winking at the shirtless male covered in fluorescent paint.
"Thanks, Stiles." Ethan beams, disappearing into the crowd of people dancing in the center of the loft with drinks in their hands and paint glowing on their skin.
Stiles doesn't respond, simply looking around and taking stock of where everyone is in case some monster decides to attack and he needs to know where the nearest werewolf or banshee is. He sees Lydia leaning against a pillar by the spiral stairs in the corner, Aidan leaning over her and trying to get her to dance. Stiles chuckles at the annoyed eye roll she gives the wolf and lets his eyes wander farther. He looks to the left and sees Scott and Kira dancing by the wall, faces close enough to kiss but not quite touching. He sighs, wishing the two would just shag and get it over with so the sexual tension surrounding them would disappear. Isaac and Allison appear next to him, the huntress's dark plaid shirt missing and replaced with a fluorescent pink sports bra. Isaac's face is covered in green and yellow paint and Stiles leaves himself a mental note to go get painted at one of the five stations around the loft.
"You aren't gonna dance?" Isaac asks, voice holding a slightly competitive edge.
"Not right now, no. I'm doing a mental check to see who all I have to babysit." Stiles shoots back, sarcasm and sass dripping from his voice.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" He asks defensively, and Stiles sighs at the chip the wolf still has on his shoulder despite the human's obvious joking tone.
"It means I wanna know who all I have to look out for if someone decides to attack, seeing as I am basically the only one who is gonna be sober enough to watch out for you all in a few hours. Face it, Lahey, you and little Argent here aren't just dancing around the obvious thing, you're leaping around it. Don't worry about Scott, I can take care of him. Just go, before I just knock your heads together myself." He says with an eye roll that makes Isaac growl and his eyes flash yellow before Allison puts a hand on his bicep and pulls him away while mouthing 'I'm sorry' to Stiles.
He shrugs and continues his mental checklist, finding all of the usual suspects among the crowd. Content with his list, Stiles makes his way to one of the empty paint stations and tells the girl sitting there to do whatever she wants. She ends up making him take his shirt off so she can do an extensive tribal pattern down the length of his spine before doing another pattern on his torso that ends with two thick lines of neon blue running parallel to his v-lines and curling up around his navel like ivy. She continues to smear the blue, green, and yellow paint onto his skin, assuring him that it'll wash off with his next shower. By the time she's done, almost half an hour later, Stiles is glowing brightly under the black light and decides to let loose and dance for a bit, completely forgetting his favorite Batman shirt on the stair rail by the girl's shoulder.
He grabs a cup of beer from the table by the wall before shoving his way between the sweaty bodies and moving to the beat of the bass-heavy song flooding his senses. Once his beer is drained he tosses the cup in the nearest trash bag and continues moving, letting himself get lost in the beat as his hips twist and turn with the music. His eyes close and his arms snake into the air above him as the next song starts to play. He doesn't recognize the Top 40 song, but it shakes through his bones and sinks into his muscles, making his body move even more, undulating in sensuous waves in the center of the dance floor. Say what you will about his usually spastic movements, but Stiles Stilinski is nothing but grace when it comes to dancing. Thanks to the supernatural occurrences that keep interrupting the school dances, though, he hasn't really gotten a chance to show off his skills.
