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Stiles is annoyed. No, scratch that. He’s pissed.
"You’re telling me that the reason you quote-unquote offered up my services, is because you knew I like guys as much as I like chicks. Is that what you’re telling me, Scotty? Because if so, I’m gonna pluck you in the throat.”
Scott has the grace to look abashed, hand coming up to rub sheepishly at the nape of his neck. “I also maybe wanted you to keep an eye on her?” He says it like it’s a question.
Said eye twitches. Not because he’s basically been put on babysitting duty, oh no, it's because he’s offended. On Allison’s behalf.
"Here’s a novel idea, how about you try this thing called trusting her!"
"I do trust her! It’s other guys I don’t trust!” He cries out, hands tugging on the ends of his hair. “I just don’t want some asshole to approach the girls and do something inappropriate.”
Stiles holds up a hand, one finger held out to make his first point. “Look at me, Scotty, really look at me. No one’s gonna take me seriously if I tell them to back off.” Another finger pops up under Scott’s nose. “You’re also talking about the very same girls, who knocked out a dude clean in some ninja combo because he grabbed Lydia’s ass, made a foursome reference to Ally and tried to kiss Kira. I’m pretty sure they’ll protect me if something was to go down.”
It’s then that Stiles knows he’s going because in that moment, Scott pulls the puppy eyes from out under his lashes, bottom lip having the nerve to protrude and shake slightly. “Please, buddy? For me?”
God motherfucking damn it.
Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair. “Fine, but you owe me your first child. Don’t laugh. I’m serious, Scott! I’m gonna turn that kid into evil incarnate and there's not a single thing you can do about it!”
~
"Stop looking as if someone’s pissed in your last ever bowl of cereal." Kira laughs, elbowing his side lightly. She brandishes her arm to swoop across the barely lit room, oily and half naked men as far as the eye can see. "It’s a buffet in here; let your hair down and go nibble on something, before putting it back for something else."
Stiles snorts, grinning around the straw he’d been chewing the fuck out of. He’s thankful that she decided to stick by his side, Lydia and Allison - the happily bride to be - disappearing in a flurry of curls and cash, the words let’s go find us a better six pack than Jackson and Scott, left behind in his ears.
He fought against the urge to gag because eww, gross.
"Alright, off to the bar we go. I think I hear Tequila calling my name." He says, tossing the rest of his beer down the hatch. He holds out a hand, still grinning when Kira twists their fingers together and basically drags him to the bar.
They wait for five minutes and then it’s Kira ordering, “Can I have two Tequila shots, two Wet Pussies, a beer and another Vodka lemonade?”
The bartender smirks at her, accepts the cash before turning his face to tap at a smooth cheek. Letting out a delighted laugh, she leans over the wooden counter and plants a red lipped kiss over his cheekbone.
Stiles nudges her when she pulls back to his side, rolling his eyes at the dirty wink he receives as she splits the four shots up and slides his two over.
“If only I were that lucky.” He tells her, downing one shot and then the other. “To have a guy, hell, even a chick show blatant interest in me like that.”
It’s Kira’s turn to roll her eyes, mimicking him in taking the shots. She scrunches her nose up adorably when she downs the Tequila but recovers easily, eyes widening though at something over his shoulder.
She fists a hand in the front of his shirt, stretching the tight material over his torso. He resists the urge to bat her hand away with a whine about do you know how much this shirt was?
“There’s a guy behind you and he’s staring at your ass. If that's not blatant, I don't know what is.”
He freezes, mouth still wrapped around the rim of his new beer bottle. Swallowing, he takes a generous swig before licking his lips. “Good looking?”
“Insanely.” Kira says, head tilting to the side slightly. She bites her bottom lip, glances over from under her eyelashes. “And so is the chick he’s with. They look alike. Brother and sister, maybe.”
Well. He has to look now, doesn’t he? It'd be sacrilege not to stare at insanely good looking siblings.
Head bopping along to Jason Derulo asking for someone to talk dirty to him, he slowly slides his gaze over, just managing to stop his jaw from hitting the alcohol covered floor because, Lord baby Jesus, he’s seen the light.
If the light came in a tanned Adonis, with a pair of multicolour hued eyes, leather jacket, tight jeans and stubble. Stubble he wanted to have dragged all over his body.
“Fuck, they’re coming over here!" Kira hissed, jabbing him in the side. "Stop drooling, you idiot!"
He wonders if it’ll be soft to the touch and — wait, what?
Shaking his head, - and making sure he didn't dribble from the corner of his mouth - Stiles was shocked to see that Kira was right. They were moving forward through the crowd of people trying to get served at the bar. And straight for them. He promptly chokes on his tongue, Kira thumping him on the back in an attempt of solidarity.
A woman now stood in front of him, eyebrows raised above similar multicoloured eyes and a cheeky smile tugging at crimson painted lips.
Stiles has to admit there is nothing sexier than a woman with red lipstick on. Especially if said woman happened to be a boss ass bitch who didn't take shit from no one.
Case in point; Lydia, Allison and Kira, even though they're like his sisters. And Stiles just knows that she fits into the B.A.B category.
What can he say? He has his kinks.
"Couldn’t help but notice that we caught you and your friend’s eye." She says in a surprisingly husky voice, gaze sliding over Kira before darting towards his. "I’m Laura, this is my brother Derek."
He’d have laughed at the shiver Kira failed to suppress, but he wasn’t coping any better when Derek’s eyes dragged down the length of him in one smooth glide too.
"My name’s Stiles, this is Kira." He replied, realising too late that he just put up two finger guns and pretended to shoot.
God, he was an embarrassment to humanity. No wonder he didn’t get laid as much as he wanted to. He’s still gonna send Scott a sarcastic ‘Thank You’ note because this was fucking ridiculous as it was embarrassing.
He sees the woman by his side wince from the corner of his eye. At least he wasn’t the only person who thought so. Derek’s face hadn’t so much as twitched when his sister introduced them, and said sister was looking on in amusement. He wasn’t so sure whether or not that was a bad thing.
"Tell me something, Stiles." Laura smiles, hand resting on a bare hip, thumb pushing down on the waistband of her jeans. He can practically hear Kira swallow the whimper. "Will you be joining in on the Wet T-Shirt competition? Not that the shirt you're wearing now doesn't leave much to the imagination as my brother so carefully pointed out, I just think you'd look good wet."
"I -- no." Stiles splutters as Derek growls at his sister, the first thing he’s said so far.
Kira, in all her awkward glory, butts in with a blurted, “Are you?” and then blushes slightly, when all Laura does is laugh.
"No, not me, cutie." She explains, winking. "Rules state only the boys can enter. I was trying to persuade Derek to go in. It’s a three hundred and fifty dollar prize if everyone picks you. With all the time my baby brother spends at the gym, it just might pay off now. Literally."
Stiles blinks a few times, presses his lips together and tries to keep his gaze above neck level. It all proves to be a difficult task, because he’s now imagining what drops of water slowly sliding down Derek’s body would look like.
"I don't know what to tell you," he answers weakly.
What he does know is that he’d chase every single drop of water, with his tongue, like he’d been lost in the dessert for forty years and was parched. Famished. Hell, even if he got a tickle at the back of his throat.
Speaking about things at the back of his throat -- Kira elbows him hard in the ribs, like she knew where his mind went to.
He smiles sheepishly at her before facing Laura with a shrug. Tequila makes him horny. It's a blessing as it is a curse.
"Hm, too bad." She pouts, eyes falling over his shoulder like Kira's had minutes beforehand. And that’s when she grins over at Derek, shoves his shoulder hard and watches him stumble into the club owner, Erica Reyes, who's collecting men interested in entering.
She takes one look at him, hooks a purple painted nail in the loop of his jeans and tugged. "Let's go, pretty eyes."
Stiles and Kira watch him go obediently, mouth open in half assed splutters, while Laura guffaws by his other side.
"What the fuck just happened?" He says, bewildered.
Laura calms down, takes a deep breathe in and glances at Kira with an impish smile, hand held out before her. "Let's go find a good spot, cutie."
Glowering a little at how Kira so willingly stepped further into Laura's space, he followed at a more sedative pace, eyes still locked on Derek being herded onto the stage and out of the leather jacket he wore.
And sweet, merciful God on high.
If the sight of Derek wearing a leather jacket was indecent, him out of one was just downright sinful.
Funnily enough or fortunately, he was wearing a white v-neck; the wings of his collarbones on display and the bands around his biceps stretched deliciously. Stiles wondered if anyone would see him adjust the situation in his pants.
He loses Kira and Laura in the crowd, but finds himself not minding much as he steps up to a table to the left of Derek, fingers tapping against the smooth wooden surface.
The music playing cuts off and there's the sounds of feedback from a mic, then Erica's voice filtering out from the speakers. "Ladies and gents, who's ready to get wet?"
Cheers and screams answer her, the then dark stage, now lit up to show all the male contestants standing in a line.
"Too late!" Someone yells out when the cheering dims, sending the room into laughter and catcalls. Stiles just snorts with a shake of his head, grinning against the mouth of his beer.
His grin widens though when he sees a few people he knows; Danny standing in all his dimpling glory, Kyle Parrish, now out of Deputy uniform and smiling handsomely down at the crowd. Even a set of identical twins were up there too, lapping up the attention they both received from the women before them.
"Now ladies and some of you gents, you know the rules. We soak these fine men up here in water and we leave the winner to your capable hands." Erica announced, looking beautiful in a silky purple dress, the material hugging her in all the right places and stopping before her knees. "So, if you want your boy to win, scream for him." She grins. "Loudly."
She's off the stage then, golden curls behind her like a banner.
A song begins to play, full of bass but Stiles couldn't be fucked in identifying what it is, when Derek is the first one to get hit with water, hands coming up to cup his head and a grin tugging at his lips.
Stiles' eyes trail down as his mouth slowly drops open. He needs to take a photo because no one's gonna believe this. He needs to find Allison and Lydia, because he's found something better than Jackson and Scott's six pack.
An eight pack.
A wet, now see through T-shirt covered eight pack, with a line of dark hair leading down from the naval and to the promised land.
"You know what they say about high belly buttons, right?" Kira suddenly appearing by his ear, murmuring just loud enough for him to hear, because she's an asshole like that.
He doesn't look away from Derek though, who's beginning to blush at all the catcalls and whistles he's receiving, the ruddy colour fanning from his cheeks down his neck and at the tips of his ears.
Stiles wants to know how far that blush can go.
Erica struts back onto the stage when it's safe and she's grinning. "My ladies, looks like we've outdone ourselves tonight." She laughs into the mic, hand reaching out to the right to slide down the wet chest of a dark skinned man, fingers coming to a stop at his belt buckle. "What's your name, baby?"
He raises an eyebrow at her, the side of his mouth hitching up as he gives her an open once over. Stiles laughs and lets out a loud wolf whistle.
Gaze not leaving hers, he leans down, licks his lips and says into the microphone, "Boyd."
Humming thoughtfully, she faces the crowd and while keeping it from Boyd's line of sight, bites her bottom lip and fans herself.
From the way he smirks at the ladies' screams, he knows anyway.
She goes down the line then, asking the guys their names but Stiles doesn't even care. His gaze is still locked on Derek's wet torso. It's like every fantasy all rolled into one. All he needs now, is to be pinned against the nearest vertical surface and fucked to within an inch of his life.
He fights against the urge to fan himself.
When Erica finally gets to Derek though, the room explodes in cheering and delightfully, Stiles finds out the blush can fan out over the thin skin of his collarbones.
"Looks like we might have a winner ladies," she laughs, with a smirk. She pulls out three hundred dollar bills and one fifty and hands it to Derek. "Here you go, pretty eyes."
Ducking his head, he smiles in thanks, forgoes the stairs to his left and jumps off the stage with ease, all the while tugging his shirt up over his head, turning to the side to slip it under his belt.
He spots Stiles when he scans the room and makes his way over, dodging people and the occasional hand. "Where's Laura?"
Noticing then that Kira had disappeared again, he shrugs, takes another pull from his beer before saying, "Probably shoving her tongue in my friend's mouth."
Derek wrinkles his nose, "Gross. That's my sister you're talking about."
"And mine," he answers, eyebrows raised.
A look graces his features, one that says fair enough.
"Why didn't you stay up there?" He asks, chin jutting towards the stage where one of the twins named Ethan and Parrish were standing talking to a few ladies with knowing smirks playing on their faces.
Boyd happened to be talking Erica, heads bent closely together and whatever she was saying making him grin and her laugh.
Stiles throws a thumbs up as Danny walks passed with Ethan, his hand clasped in his own. He gets a wink in return and the slow realisation that some of his friends are a bunch of dirty fuckers. Not that he was any better.
"Stage fright," Derek answers, leaning a bare hip against the table top and startling him from his thoughts.
"Oh," he says, ripping at the paper tag wrapped around his bottle. "You did alright for someone who looks like he stepped out of a modelling magazine."
"Thanks." The blush returns. "You're not so bad yourself."
It's silent then and Stiles panics, thinks that's it. This Adonis is gonna leave him here high and dry, not to mention hard enough to rival diamonds.
To his surprise, - and by the wide eyed look gracing the other man's face, Derek's too - what he gets instead is a, "Well. I've just won some cash. Wanna drink?"
Stiles grins and thinks, thank you Scotty.