Chapter Text
Friday was Valentine’s Day. Stiles couldn’t escape from that fact. Restaurants in town were decorated in pink roses. People were picking cards out of their lockers. And Scott had been going on for almost a month about his plans for his date with Kira. Stiles endured school, where no one could shut up about Valentine’s Day all week. He spent the whole time hearing date plans on all side from at least half of the student population, and told himself that this year would be better for him. At least he wouldn’t be alone on Valentine’s Day this year.
Because Valentine’s Day was a Friday this year. And Friday was his night with Derek. They had a routine, a simple enough one but one which worked for them. Stiles would show up at Derek’s place straight from school and make a start on his homework. When he couldn’t take it anymore, they’d have sex. Then Derek would call for take-out and they’d watch something on TV while they ate. Then they’d have sex again. It was about as romantic as a dead possum, but it worked. And having two rounds of sex with a smoking hot guy was definitely better than spending Valentine’s Day alone.
But still, Stiles saw Scott presenting Kira with a bunch of roses and a handmade card, and he felt a stab of jealousy. Not over Kira. Definitely not over Scott. But over the roses.
He told himself for the thousandth time that he’d known what he was getting into with Derek. Roses weren’t part of the routine. The routine was sex and take-out. It worked for them. It got rid of the simmering sexual tension that had been between them and let them achieve a state that, in poor lighting, could be mistaken for friendship. Stiles knew what he was to Derek. He’d known since the start of their, whatever the hell they were. Stiles knew that Derek was with him simply because he was convenient.
Stiles wasn’t going to let a little bitterness and jealousy get in between him and awesome sex, so he got in his jeep and drove over to Derek’s after school like he usually did. He left his bag in the car, thinking that maybe he could skip the homework tonight and try for three rounds of sex instead. He needed to do something to forget those roses.
He headed up the stairs and reached Derek’s loft, opening the door without bothering with knocking. Derek would have heard him coming anyway. He let himself in and then stared in confusion at the table by the window. That table was usually used only when they had battles to plan for or occasionally by Stiles for his homework, but now there was a cloth on it, and cutlery, and even candles. What the hell were candles doing on the table?
“Hi, Stiles,” Derek said, walking into the room from the direction of the bathroom. Stiles was still staring at the table.
“Candles. There are candles.”
“Your powers of observation never cease to amaze me.”
“Why are there candles?”
“It’s Valentine’s Day.”
Derek looked awkward, almost embarrassed. He stood there in the middle of the loft, just looking at Stiles for a moment, and then he looked away, staring at walls and floor and anything but Stiles. He walked past him towards the kitchen corner. He clearly didn’t know what to say now.
But Stiles could figure a few things out. It was Valentine’s Day and Derek was hot enough that he probably got hit on a dozen times just going to get groceries. He’d probably got a date, a real date, and now he didn’t know how to tell Stiles to get lost.
“Hey,” Stiles said, hoping he sounded casual, “if you have a Valentine’s Day date with some hot girl, you could have just texted and I’d have known to stay away.”
So a lonely evening for one and a family size tub of ice cream looked like it was on the cards tonight. Except that Derek gave him the look that said that Stiles was being an idiot. Stiles got that look quite often when he made a bad joke. It was as familiar as their routine. Derek seemed to shrug his statement off like a joke and he went to the fridge.
“Drink?” he asked. That was as close to an invitation to stay as Stiles ever got.
“Sure. Soda.”
Derek got a can out of the fridge and handed it over. Stiles held the can but didn’t open it yet. There was still something weird about this whole situation.
“No homework tonight?” Derek asked.
“Yeah, but I’ll do it tomorrow. Doesn’t seem right on Valentine’s Day.”
Derek nodded and then went to his oven. He stared at the controls like a guy trying to translate ancient hieroglyphics.
“Are you actually cooking dinner?” Stiles asked.
Derek gave him another of those stop-being-an-idiot looks.
“I’m not going to poison you for Valentine’s Day,” he said. “I got some stuff from the Italian on Main and I’m just going to warm it up.”
“I didn’t know they did take out.”
“I was persuasive.”
“Did you threaten people so we could get nice food?”
“Not... explicitly.”
Stiles could picture Derek glaring the restaurant staff into submission until they served him their delicious food in take-out containers so that they could have something better than usual for tonight. He gave a little snort of laughter at the mental picture. Derek looked hurt.
“Sorry,” said Stiles. “I was just picturing you all growly-eyebrowed demanding nice food.”
“How could my eyebrows growl?”
“You’d find a way.”
Derek turned away from the oven and went back to Stiles, who was still standing in the middle of the loft, somewhat bewildered. He was fidgeting with the soda can. Enough so that opening it now would probably be a disaster as it was all shaken up. Stiles put the can down on the coffee table and fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie instead.
“Are you OK?” Derek asked.
The level of bewilderment just shot up. Derek acting all concerned was weird. Stiles wondered if he should be on the look-out for mind-altering magic. The seemed a lot more plausible than candles and nice food.
“Why wouldn’t I be?” Stiles asked.
“I don’t know. You just seem weird about this.” Derek jerked a head towards the table and the candles. “Do you mind that I did this?”
“Do I mind that I’m going to get better food than usual this week? Of course not. It just caught me by surprise is all. Candlelit dinner, table cloth. It’s almost like a date.”
Derek gave him a sharp look, confused and hurt in the same instant.
“It is a date,” he said.
It was a bit off for Derek to look hurt at that. It wasn't like they ever did dates. How was Stiles to know to expect it? Still, there was something sad written on Derek’s face now, and Stiles felt bad that he was the one who put it there. He tried to backtrack quickly, to get things back to something resembling normal so that they could have fun.
“Sorry,” he said. “I guess the candles should have given me a clue. It’s just surprising. I mean, we don’t really do that.”
“Do what?” Derek asked.
“Dates.”
“We have a date every Friday.”
“No, we have sex every Friday.”
“We have dinner too.”
“And that constitutes a date in your world?” Stiles asked.
Derek looked hurt again. That hadn’t been the intention. Stiles had been trying to get things back to a happy place again. He needed to do better at this.
“Sorry,” Stiles said. “This is coming out all wrong. It’s just... different, OK? I always knew where I stood with you and candlelit Italian dinners weren’t part of the equation. I’m not complaining or anything. I’m just surprised.”
Derek hadn’t moved all the while Stiles said that. He was still staring at Stiles, that hurt expression on his face.
“You don’t think what we’ve been doing is dating?” Derek asked.
“Well, no, but that’s OK. I knew coming into this that it was never going to be flowers and romance. It was just... sex.”
The hurt expression faded from Derek’s face, but someone that was almost worse because it was replaced with a blankness, like he was shutting his emotions away deep inside. Stiles hadn’t realised how much more Derek showed what he felt lately until it was gone, that face an impassive mask that gave nothing away. Stiles knew he must have said something awful, but he couldn’t think what. After all, Derek was the one who’d set the terms of what they had.
“You think this is just sex?” Derek asked.
“Well, yeah,” Stiles said. “That’s what we said. Someone convenient to have sex with, right?”
Derek’s face was showing emotion again, but it was anger this time. Hard, cold fury set his jaw.
“Get out,” Derek said.
Stiles took a step towards him, “Derek, if you want to change how we are then – “
“Get out!” Derek yelled, the words leaving his mouth as a roar of fury. Stiles stumbled back, heart racing. He didn’t think Derek would ever hurt him, not really, but there was still something terrifying about that expression, about the animal rage.
“Derek, just – “
“Out!” It was a definite roar that time, with power behind it that seemed to shake the room. Stiles decided that this wasn’t the time to have any sort of calm and rational discussion. He fled.
He pelted down the stairs and out to his jeep. Only when he got there did the racing fear subside to pain. He felt like he must have done something terrible. He’d rarely seen Derek look that hurt and Stiles knew he was the source of that pain and that was awful to consider. But he still didn’t understand what he’d done wrong. Derek was the one who’d said he only wanted convenient sex. Stiles had spent two months feeling miserable that that was as good as it was going to get for him, and Derek had the nerve to get angry when Stiles was surprised to get something more.
Derek wasn’t the one who should be angry here. Stiles was the one who felt like someone had yanked the floor out from under him and left him floundering with no support. He didn’t understand what was happening. He didn’t understand how he’d screwed up.