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*
Stiles is blushing, smiling and biting his bottom lip in an endearingly familiar display of nerves, before finally threading his arms around Tyler’s neck. They’re swaying ever so slightly to the music the prom committee had selected and Ty’s hands feel especially broad against Stiles’ tuxedo-clad waist. He pulls Stiles closer, relishing the long line of heat against his body, the way they seem to match up perfectly; hip to hip, chest to chest, and nose to nose. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to Stiles – not in the entire nine years Tyler has loved him. It can’t get any better than this, Ty thinks, just before Stiles takes a deep breath, tilts his head to the right, and presses even closer --
Tyler’s attention is drawn back to the crowded cafeteria by Stiles’ overjoyed cackle – his gaze fastens on Stiles’ wide, laughing mouth just as Scott wins his quest for seat dominance and shoves Stiles to the floor. He sprawls exaggeratedly on his back on the dirty linoleum, before appealing to Tyler for help with his wide brown eyes and an outstretched hand.
“A little help?”
Tyler’s soft smile is quickly replaced with a scowl when he sees his (fraternal, thank you very much) twin brother, Derek, standing over Stiles with a slight smirk on his face. His hand is extended, waiting for Stiles to accept his help and Tyler – Tyler wants to bite it. Sometimes he really regrets not inheriting the werewolf gene like his brother, because he’s reasonably sure Derek would bite back. Harder. Probably with fangs.
Stiles is blushing, smiling and biting his lip as he reaches out his own hand to grip Derek’s, who pulls him up like the tall, broad-shouldered teen weighs nothing.
Tyler scoffs in his mind and tries to control his eye roll while Stiles reddens further and babbles his way back into his own seat.
The only thing more awkward than Tyler being in love with his best friend - is his best friend being in love with Tyler’s brother.
*
He should probably explain.
Tyler Hale met Stiles Stilinski when he was a weedy fourth grader; a nine year old who looked eight. Stiles and his best friend Scott were third graders; eight year olds who looked seven, though, so it was okay.
Ty had been sitting on the outer edges of the soccer field under the shadiest tree he could find - watching Derek kick a ball around with a group of fifth grade boys at recess, cursing his allergies and human immune system - when Jackson approached him. Jackson was in Stiles and Scott’s class, though Derek didn’t know that at the time. He would have assumed Jackson was older, a fourth grader like himself, maybe. The third grader loomed over Tyler, glaring at him like he’d taken personal offense to his very existence.
“Move, jerkface - this is my spot!” Jackson demands, tiny hands on his hips, foot stomping impetuously on the grass.
Ty is at a loss for words - he’s never been spoken to like this before. Most kids at their school barely acknowledge his existence and when they do, it certainly isn’t to bully him. Tyler is small for his age and generally considered to be a nerd, because of his thick, black framed glasses. But not many people would risk the wrath of his ever-present twin, Derek. Derek, who’s dark and forbidding for a fourth grader, and already bigger than almost everyone in their class and–-
not paying attention to the spectacle in front of the tree his brother is sitting under.
“Hey! I’m talking to you!” Jackson’s face clouds over in anger at Tyler’s continued, confused silence. “Are you stupid or something? I said—“
Jackson’s sentence is interrupted by the sudden arrival of a boy, who heralds his presence by pushing Jackson forcefully, who stumbles several feet away.
The kid is small, smaller than Tyler, even. But small as he is, his anger is fierce as he stands in front of Tyler protectively. “Leave him alone, Jackson!”
Jackson sneers back at Ty’s mystery protector, clenching his fist before taking a threatening step toward the kid - who doesn’t give an inch, though Jackson must have two inches on him and ten pounds.
A kid with big, teary brown eyes and curly brown hair is standing near Tyler now, bent over and wheezing.
“Stiles,” the kid gasps, holding out his hand toward the boy shielding Tyler from Jackson. Stiles, as the boy must be named, reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small inhaler before handing it to the curly-haired kid, who Ty will later learn is Scott.
Stiles glares back at Jackson harshly, taking a defiant step toward him before saying, “Beat it, Jackson. I mean it.”
Jackson takes in Stiles’ grim expression, before glancing behind him at Tyler, who’d finally climbed to his feet sometime during their confrontation, to the still wheezing Scott off to the side.
“Whatever. You’re all losers, anyway,” Jackson says, running back presumably the way he’d come, toward the tetherball courts.
Stiles visibly relaxes once Jackson has turned his back and left, turning around to look at Tyler.
“Ignore that guy – he’s a total butt face,” Stiles says with a reassuring smile. “I’m Stiles, by the way.”
Stiles points over at the curly headed kid asthmatic kid, who finally stops wheezing, “And this is my best friend, Scott!”
Tyler blushes aggressively when he introduces himself to Stiles with a mumbled, “I’m Ty.”
He thinks that’s when it started.
*
That was nine years ago and whatever misguided crush he’d developed on his pint-sized protector that day . . . well, it’s only gotten worse.
And the worst part is – well, actually. There are a lot of worst parts, depending on the day, his mood, and whatever Derek does to set Stiles off this time.
*
Tyler thinks the worst part is the day he and Derek get home from summer camp, two weeks before the start of eighth grade.
It had been a two month long “commune with nature” type of camp and a very big deal in the Hale household. Their mom had finally decided that Derek had the control necessary to spend that long away from home, though his parents would be making a special trip out to “visit” the night of the full moon (just in case).
Their parents had picked them up from camp that morning, hoping to get home by late-afternoon, so they could still have time to barbeque for dinner.
Stiles and Scott are waiting on the Hale’s front porch when their car pulls up; Tyler pressing his face to the window and making smudge marks with his nose and forehead in his excitement to see his friends. Derek is rolling his eyes next to him in the back seat.
“Laura says they’ve been here all afternoon, waiting for you,” Talia says teasingly, smiling at her normally more reserved son’s excitement.
Tyler is the first one out of the car once his mom parks, running full speed toward his friends, before throwing himself at Stiles and pressing his face into his best friend’s neck. Ty may not be a werewolf, but he was raised by them, and he’s eager to put his scent back on Stiles. And Scott.
He’s hugging Scott next, playfully ruffling his curly hair, when Derek gets out of the car at a much more sedate pace. Tyler has a perfect vantage point of Stiles’ face next to him, which is why he notices when Stiles’ mouth goes a little slack and his cheeks begin to redden like they only do when he’s embarrassed about something.
Ty follows his gaze to where Derek is pulling their luggage out of the trunk, his powerful arm muscles bunching even with the small effort it takes to pull the large suitcases out. His white t-shirt fits him like a glove now, when it had seemed slightly baggy just at the start of summer. His parents say kids who are born werewolves develop much sooner than human ones, which certainly seems accurate when comparing Derek to his fraternal, human twin.
Stiles bites his lip and averts his eyes when Derek walks past with his suitcase thrown over his shoulder, blushing harder when Derek throws out a casual, “Hey.”
Ty sees Stiles’ gaze follow his twin brother into the house over Scott’s shoulder and feels his stomach coalesce into a leaden knot that drops down and settles somewhere near his feet.
Oh.
*
The next worst thing happens the night of Derek’s first full moon after Tyler and his brother start high school.
It had been a Saturday.
Ty remembers - because he’d went to the movies with Stiles that day – just Stiles. Scott’s mom had changed her mind about letting him go at the last minute; which meant it was just him, Stiles, and a bucket of popcorn.
They’d sat close together while watching Batman Begins, nudging each other at the parts they thought were the coolest, hands tangling whenever they both reached for popcorn at the same time, passing their shared drink back and forth because it was cheaper than getting two of them. Ty remembers thinking it was almost like a date. He remembers wondering what Stiles would say if Tyler asked if it could be a date, what he would do if he kissed Stiles on his front porch when he took him home after the movie (while trying to ignore the awkward factor of his mom waiting for him in the car).
None of that had happened though, because the Sheriff had been forced to take an unexpected night shift at the station, which Ty’s mom had informed them of when she’d picked them up from the movie. Tyler had been excited. His possible-first-date and a sleepover all in one! What could be better?
It couldn’t have gone better. Until you accounted for it being the night of the full moon and Stiles’ innate sense of curiosity.
They’d went to sleep around twelve, in sleeping bags on Tyler’s bedroom floor, whispering the best lines from the movie to each other before Ty must have fallen asleep. He has no idea whether Stiles fell asleep there next to him or not, but he’s gone when Tyler wakes suddenly and inexplicably at 1:30 A.M. The sleeping bag next to him is empty and so is his bed. The light in his and Derek’s adjoining bathroom is off and Ty gets a sudden, horrible feeling.
The full moon hangs high overhead when Tyler runs out the front door of his empty house and makes his way into the forest, heedless of the dark, the cold October air, and his bare feet scraping over rocks and branches.
He hears howling in the distance and pushes onward recklessly.
He finds them in a clearing in the forest, staring at each other - at an impasse.
His twin brother in full beta form; fur, fangs, and claws on display for the world to see. But there’s only a PJ’s-clad Stiles, though he’d at least taken the time to put on shoes, Tyler is glad to see.
“Derek?”
The word is more of a suggestion of a whisper than an actual word, Stiles’ breath barely visible in the frigid air.
Tyler is shocked when his brother gains enough control over himself to shift back completely, only his eyes retaining some of their golden glow. Ty thinks he must be trying very hard.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Derek says darkly, glaring at Stiles, who simply stares back.
There’s a surprising lack of screaming that Tyler would have expected from Stiles in this situation, if he’d ever considered this eventuality, which he hadn’t.
“You’re a werewolf,” Stiles whispers, seemingly to himself. Tyler expects the screaming, or possibly running away in fear to begin now, he thinks.
But the boy who’d stood up to Jackson for Tyler the day they’d met is the same boy standing in front of him now, staring at Derek inquisitively. Stiles squares his shoulders and takes a step forward before saying boldly:
“Show me.”
*
That encounter had spawned a new keeper of the Hale family’s most closely guarded secret and a nickname for whenever Derek began to act especially prickly.
Sourwolf.
Gross.
*
Tyler had thought for sure, for sure, that the worst part was the summer before junior year.
The summer that Kate Argent was a lifeguard at the Beacon Hills Community Pool.
*
As cold as Beacon Hills could get during the winter - where snow was not an uncommon occurrence – its summers were brutal. And if the blazingly hot sun wasn’t bad enough, the humidity more than made up for it.
Scott, Stiles, and Tyler practically lived at the pool during the summer, as none of their houses had them and that summer set record temperatures for Northern California.
And besides, there was always a little something for everyone.
Scott had it bad for the beautiful brunette working the concession stand, buying cans of ice cold soda as fast as he could drink them, if only for an excuse to speak with her for ten seconds. That was eventually cut down to five, the exact number of seconds it took for her to grab a Coke, the only soda Scott would drink.
Tyler, of course, enjoyed spending any length of time with a shirtless Stiles laid out on a deck chair next to him, supposedly working on his “tan”, but really sneaking glances at his best friend from behind his sunglasses.
Stiles and Scott had joined the lacrosse team during their freshman year – and though they’d only ever warmed the bench, the training had still done the duo surprisingly well.
One day that had been passing much like the one before, and the one before that, Ty is surprised to glance over at Stiles and find his gaze glued to the concession stand, along with Scott. He follows the stares of his two best friends to see an unusual sight.
Derek - whispering flirtatiously in the ear of a tall blonde woman, wearing the red swimsuit of a lifeguard and a white jacket with ‘Head Lifeguard’ printed on the back. Their body language does most of the talking for them, despite how far away they’re standing from Tyler and his friends. Derek is leaning in close to the woman, her hand lightly gripping his bicep and his arm just barely glancing her breast. Ty has never seen his brother act so obviously interested in anyone before. Their fingers tangle together briefly before Derek shoots her a teasing smile and pulls her around the corner of the building, just out of sight of any onlookers.
Stiles lets out a soft, seemingly unintentional noise, if the way he flushes and mumbles unintelligibly before standing abruptly and heading towards the locker room is any indication. He never comes back out and when Ty goes looking for him later, his stuff is gone.
The rest of the summer goes much like that day had - Derek and the mystery blonde woman (whom he carefully never mentions by name and outright refuses to speak of when Tyler asks) disappearing frequently from the public pool area for short (sometimes longer) intervals, Stiles leaving soon after. Meanwhile, Scott learns the name of the concession stand girl and essentially abandons them.
“Allison.”
And Tyler vacillates between being more annoyed at his secretive brother or his oblivious best friend. Sometimes it’s a toss-up.
So he works on his tan, always following Stiles home after a reasonable amount of time to give him space, stopping on his way to pick up video games and ice cream by the gallon. They pass the majority of the summer alone in Stiles’ bedroom with the air conditioner on, having Call of Duty and Assassin’s Creed marathons. All in all, Ty thinks it’s the best summer he’s ever had.
Until he comes home from a day not spent with Stiles, to find his best friend having a screaming match with his brother in their front yard.
“She’s using you!” Stiles yells, flushing with the intensity of their argument.
Derek actually growls, eyes flashing beta gold, before taking a step forward. At which point Tyler puts himself bodily between them, still confused as to what brought all this on. Stiles and Derek have always seemed to enjoy snarking at each other, both possessing similar senses of humor; but they’ve never actually fought before. Not even that time
“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Stiles! Mind your own goddamn business!”
Stiles laughs brokenly.
His heart aches just hearing it.
Stiles pushes against Tyler’s back, forcing himself as close as he can to Derek from his position behind Tyler, “You don’t know the first thing about her, and if you think you do - you’re fooling yourself. I’m just trying to protect you. All of you! And my business? You are my business!”
Derek stares at Stiles darkly, aggressively pressing back as close as he can without physically removing his brother from between them, “I know what this is about, Stiles.”
He catches Stiles shaking his head at Derek preemptively before Tyler looks back at his brother.
“You’re. Just. Jealous.”
Stiles’ eyes fall shut, his head stilling suddenly mid-shake, he opens his eyes to stare back at Derek.
Stiles nods once and his eyes become clear, focused. He looks hurt, as though Derek has crossed a line he’d never expected him to. He doesn’t seem crushed the way Ty would have predicted, though.
But then again, Stiles has never done what Tyler expects him to. Stiles walks away with a careless wave tossed behind him at the Hale brothers, not once looking back.
Derek shifts to his Beta form and takes off through the forest in the opposite direction, a lone howl echoing back minutes later.
And Tyler is left alone, utterly confused.
*
Two days later, Ty finds his brother having a whispered conference with their parents in the kitchen. They all stop talking when he enters the room and his mom and Derek’s werewolf senses ensure he gets all the way up to his room and shuts his door before they continue speaking.
A week later, the Argents leave town in the dead of night without a word of explanation, or so much as a forwarding address. Scott is crushed, but Derek seems surprisingly okay with this turn of events.
Stiles apparently learns of the news and starts coming back to the Hale house just before school starts, things somehow resolved between him and Derek. A new understanding sheltered carefully between them. Neither ever speak of the fight in front him, and he never asks Stiles how they’d fixed things.
Tyler thinks it’s only a matter of time, now.
*
Out of all the times that came before, Tyler was wrong, because this is the actual worst part. Tyler and Derek’s senior year.
Three weeks before Prom.
*
Stiles has been acting off for weeks now, has developed a sudden, all-consuming need to learn to play guitar; he takes to carrying a beat up acoustic that once belonged to his mom everywhere he goes. Derek stares stonily at him across the dining room table at dinner every night, like he has something to hide, reminding Ty of that awful summer two years before. Even Scott seems to know something, though what, he’ll never tell Tyler.
He catches hints of a catchy, acoustic song Stiles practices constantly - ‘I can be a little bit awkward, a little bit shy’ -always cutting it off abruptly whenever he catches sight of Tyler. He brushes his questions away with a laugh or distracts Ty with a random tangent about what Mr. Harris has been up to lately.
He feels like the three of them have been on a collision course for years now, or at least, him with them. He’s always known it was only a matter of time.
*
The actual worst thing happens at lunch, three weeks before prom. He should’ve known something was up when Derek had sat down next to Tyler at his usual table in the cafeteria, smiling cagily before stealing some soggy French Fries from Ty’s tray. Derek never eats lunch with them.
Scott is acting strangely, as well. He sees him stop to talk to Danny Mahealani on the way to their table, pointing in Ty’s general direction before noticing he has his attention and whispers furiously before making his way over. Another of those times he wishes for some werewolf mojo, as Stiles calls it.
Stiles is conspicuous only in his absence, as his class is the closest to the cafeteria and so he’s usually the first one to arrive. Tyler is just thinking how strange it is that Stiles isn’t there, when suddenly he is. Appearing out of nowhere, like that first day under that shaded tree near the soccer field.
He’s strumming his guitar, summoning up the same elusive, catchy tune he’s been practicing for weeks, launching into the first verse with a nervous lilt to his otherwise pleasing singing voice.
My heart is beating, my pulse is rushing
It's been in my head, I'm losing focus
There's just been something on my mind
The chance arrives, but my mind clouds up
The words escape me, I'm all choked up
I just never thought I'd be enough
Tyler throat feels tight suddenly, taking in Stiles’ nervous smile, concentrated so hard on plucking out the right notes. He looks to his left and sees Derek gazing at Stiles with a rare, wide smile. Scott is nodding along to his right, smiling at Ty when he catches his eye. He’s going to be happy for them. He is.
So as you can see, I can be a little bit awkward, a little bit shy
I just, get so nervous every time
One thing, one question, that I've been meaning to ask you
So please, could you give it a try?
He really is. Right after he dies a little inside.
Tyler can see Mahealani off to the side of them now, camera pointed at Stiles strumming his guitar, angled to catch Derek’s reaction beside him perfectly.
It really is a good song, at least. Stiles has obviously been working his ass off on it.
So what do you say, you and I,
Let's put our lives, our work, our feelings aside,
And dance, just dance the night away
Well they’ve certainly done that. Ty hadn’t been sure they’d ever manage to patch things up after the Kate Argent disaster, as he refers to it in his own mind. But they did. And it’s a testament to how much Stiles cares for Derek. And vice versa.
Tyler looks at his brother again, genuinely pleased to see how happy he looks listening to Stiles’ song, nodding his head along in time like he’s heard it before.
Looking back toward Stiles - who seems to have hit his stride and is strumming the song confidently, despite the crowd they’ve drawn -Tyler is startled to find Stiles staring directly at him when he sings the next verse.
Yeah, just one night, I'll try, my best to make it worth your while
And so, on the count of three,
(One, two) will you go to prom with me?
The crowd around them claps along with the song and someone wolf whistles, but it’s all just background noise to Tyler now.
If you say no things will be alright,
In the end it was worth a try,
I wish you could see, I'd rather have you standing next to me,
I couldn't ask for anything better,
So what's it gonna be?
Stiles is still staring directly at him, singing the words Tyler would have given anything to hear. He wonders if he’s dreaming.
He pinches himself. Hard.
Not a dream then - cause that really hurt.
Yeah, just one night, I'll try, my best to make it worth your while
And so, on the count of three,
(One, two) will you go to prom with me?
Stiles strums the last few notes of the song and he’s looking at Tyler with his heart on his sleeve, the question visible in his eyes.
Oh.
*
Three weeks later . . .
Stiles is blushing, smiling and biting his bottom lip in an endearingly familiar display of nerves, before finally threading his arms around Tyler’s neck. They’re swaying ever so slightly to the music the prom committee had selected and Ty’s hands feel especially broad against Stiles’ tuxedo-clad waist. He pulls Stiles closer, relishing the long line of heat against his body, the way they seem to match up perfectly; hip to hip, chest to chest, and nose to nose. He doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to Stiles – not in the entire nine years Tyler has loved him. It can’t get any better than this, Ty thinks, just before Stiles takes a deep breath, tilts his head to the right, and presses even closer, their lips finally meeting.
Actual best thing ever.
*