He’s All That ch. 1
Title: He’s All That
Summary: In a desperate bid to get Lydia Martin to notice him, Stiles bribes Beacon High’s most popular senior, Derek Hale, into teaching him how to get the girl…and winds up getting the boy instead.
Stiles was a planner. He was a mover and a shaker. He carved his own path in life and didn’t take shit from nobody. He…didn’t actually believe in anarchy, because having no system of government was a bad — not to mention, stupid idea (as his U.S. Government teacher so helpfully taught the class their first week of school), but if someone were to accuse Stiles of being a rebel without a cause, then he would shrug and give up a smile at the compliment.
Because, yeah, okay, he wasn’t really a rebel, and he usually did have a cause, but to be compared to James Dean would still pretty damn cool.
Simply put, Stiles believed in challenging authority. Not just because he was a teenager, but because he liked to poke at the monotony that was his high school life, thanks to living in a town as boring as Beacon Hills.
He liked to poke at it with a big ol’ Fun Stick, right in the eye. Repeatedly.
Mostly on weekends and holidays.
This is why he had stayed up all of the previous night, researching pranks he could pull for the upcoming April Fool’s Day that were both epic and wouldn’t land him in jail.
Unfortunately, his dad, who happened to be Beacon Hills’ very own sheriff, had long since learned to be wary when Stiles started asking questions in mass quantities. His cop senses probably started blasting alarms when he received a bulk of text messages around 2am while working the night shift, all of them revolving around asking about the numerous and vastly inappropriate (not to mention, questionably legal) uses of Skittles.
“Because I was thinking ‘taste the rainbow’ jokes will never grow old, plus—” Stiles held up a hand to emphasize the awesome point he was about to make. “Plus, it’s spring, and people totally associate rainbows with springtime, so it’ll be like we’re brightening up everyone’s lives!”
Scott looked up from loading books from his locker into his bag to send his best friend an inappropriately dubious glance. “And this is legal? Your dad is seriously okay with it? Because I don’t want to get ‘almost arrested’ again like we did on Abraham Lincoln’s birthday.”
Stiles shrugged, adjusting the grip he had on the one shoulder strap of his backpack. Because ever since seeing the new 21 Jump Street, he was determined to be cool the old school way.
“Actually, if anything, all I really did was tip him off to be prepared for any dispatcher calls involving public indecency. Aaand he might have put in a call to his financial advisor as soon as he got home this morning to ready a wire transfer for a potential bailout on April first. Oh, for – I’m kidding!” He really wasn’t. “Come on, man!” He gave Scott a light shove. “Why aren’t you acting more excited about this?”
Scott remained quiet as he closed his locker and began to slowly zip his bag, finally giving a reluctant shrug. “I don’t know. Don’t you think we’re getting a bit old for April Fool’s Day?”
Stiles’ mouth fell open in righteous indignation. “Uh, no. Dude, are you seriously going to make me launch into the same speech you force me to give every year about all the famous celebrities, bigwig CEOs, and internationally known corporations that organize gags for April Fool’s Day that are awesome enough to make it onto credibly cited internet news pages?”
A hint of a smile pulled at the corner of Scott’s mouth as they started walking down the hall side by side. “No.”
“Well, I’m gonna!” Stiles threatened. “Because I know it’s the only way to get you into the spirit of pretty much any holiday.”
“Would it kill you to lie low for one year?” Scott shot back with little bite. “Or even just one holiday? Or one scrimmage holiday? Or one practice holiday?”
Stiles’ indignation turned to outrage. “What? Okay, you are not allowed to half-assedly twist the motivational speeches I give you for lacrosse and use them against me – it’s mocking, and it’s a low blow.”
“Irony…” Scott tried to sing out as Stiles often did when making a point, failing a bit as the end lilted up, forming it into more of a question than a statement.
“Dude, no.” Stiles stared at Scott, only looking forward when he bumped into a passing student. “Just no. Look, this is the last year we’ll be able to prove ourselves worthy enough of being in charge of the senior class prank next year. As in, when all of our classmates are sitting around, thinking to themselves, ‘Gee, what could we possibly do to make the Class of 2013’s prank the best prank ever?’ a light bulb will go off in their heads. ‘Oh! I know! We can ask Scott and Stiles!’” He sang out their names and added jazz hands for a flourishing touch.
Scott still failed to look significantly impressed. Hell, he failed to even look remotely impressed.
Stiles lowered his hands. “Okay, fine. Be a spoilsport about it and drag the truth out of me.” He glared at his friend as they stopped by the wall outside of their homeroom. It was time to drop all pretenses and guilt Scott into going along with his plans by using the cold, hard truth. Stiles raised his shoulders as if to brace himself from the impact of his own words. “If nothing else, this is how I plan to leave my legacy at Beacon Hills since both lacrosse and my complete lack of love life have let me down.” His sentence ended with a sad droop of his valiant shoulders as he stared forlornly at a banner decorating the outside of their chemistry class.
He considered his mission a success when Scott looked appropriately guilty over his plight. The expression morphed into one of support as he settled his hand on Stiles’ shoulder. Their eyes met and Stiles bit back his mental cheer, waiting for the magical words that would signify he had his partner in crime back.
Instead, he got: “You know, you could always put a bit of effort into one of those and see where it takes you.”
Stiles threw his hands in the air. “You sound like my dad,” he complained, pulling a face. “Besides, it’s not like I don’t try. Watch.”
He nodded his head at an oncoming group of girls. “Hey, ladies. How’s it going?”
Not a single pair of eyes flickered in his direction, even after Stiles tried complimenting one of them on her arm warmers.
Stiles’ head nod continued on into something a bit more vicious as the group rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. “See? One of the two great mysteries of the universe. ‘Is Stiles just invisible to women?’ and ‘Am I attractive to gay men?’”
Scott’s sympathy was aborted with a frown. “Wait, why would you want to know if you’re attractive to gay—?”
“It was a phase,” Stiles quickly interrupted. His eyes flickered away from Scott’s disturbed stare and rested back on the banner. “It was…It was barely a phase. A blip of a phase. If anything, it was more of a brief mental debate on whether or not it would be worth it to keep my options open.”
Scott’s face scrunched with courage. “And…how long has this ‘brief mental debate’ been going on?”
Stiles refused to wince. “Was, not has,” he correctd. “And in the grand scheme that will be my overall lifetime, it won’t even matter. It was a desperate and dark time in my life and we’re not going to talk about – oh my God, no. What is that?”
The arm across Scott’s chest not only stopped him from trying to go anywhere, but forced him to follow Stiles’ line of sight to the poster he had been staring at.
“It…looks like a poster for prom.”
Stiles shook his head at the banner. “No. That’s not — no.”
“Uh…I’m pretty sure it is.” Scott pointed at the cursive, glittery letters. “Because ‘prom’ is written right there.”
“Prom,” Stiles spat out the word like it was the no-longer mysterious ingredient in the school’s Mystery Casserole Thursdays, “is not ‘just around the corner.’ We haven’t even had Spring Break yet, and that’s not even around the corner. Dude, I can’t handle this type of stress when I’m supposed to be thinking about where I can hide mass quantities of Skittles for two weeks!” Rubbing his hands over his hair, the tension in Stiles’ face suddenly melted away as his brain effortlessly worked things out. “No, wait. Wait, this is perfect.” He turned back to Scott and grabbed both of the boy’s backpack straps to make sure he had his full attention. “We can make this work to our advantage.”
“Scott, when we were in fifth grade, I made a promise to myself. That I would be the one to take Lydia Martin to prom. Considering our obvious separation within the high school cliques, general social standing, and invisibility to women, I cannot afford to lay low this year and hope she’ll magically notice me next year. Now I need to know, are you with me on this?”
Scott’s eyes were wide with excitement and trust. “Of course, man. Anything that will take your mind off April Fool’s Day. What’s the plan?”
Stiles stopped and drew himself back. “Dude, almost getting arrested because of Abraham Lincoln seriously traumatized you.”
“Uh, yeah! I’m still grounded because of you! And my mom’s taken to checking my phone and stuff for evidence of any more of your schemes.” Scott’s arms went out helplessly. “At least if she finds out I’m helping you get a girlfriend, she’ll be more supportive. She’s always telling me how you need either a girlfriend or a puppy to calm you down a little.”
Stiles grinned and gave Scott a pat on the chest before wrapping an arm around his shoulder and leading him into homeroom. “That’s awfully sweet of her. Now come on. I may or may not need to draw a flow chart to explain it all to you.”
His plan was a relatively simple one that had grown more and more elaborate due to various observations he made as the years since fifth grade had passed. In no particular order, they were listed as follows:
1. Get good at lacrosse.
“Not to be mean or anything, but I’m pretty sure that will take a bit of a miracle…”
“Shut up and listen.”
There were only two people in the world that Lydia ever allowed her eyes to appreciatively sweep over. Jackson Whittemore and Derek Hale, the co-captains of the Beacon Hills lacrosse team. Lydia, like the typical female member of any social animal species, was attracted to physical prowess.
“I thought it was power they were attracted to?”
“No. A lot of males attract females by dancing, ergo physical prowess.”
Now, Stiles held no delusions that he would ever rise to the position of captain for the lacrosse team. In fact, according to his calculations, about four of his teammates would need to benched before Coach Finstock would even decide on letting him play. Even better, if they were hospitalized and/or dying, he’d stand a chance of being allowed the honor of first-string.
Scott, on the other hand, stood the chance Stiles knew he didn’t have. Because Scott actually had a modicum of talent. But – and it was a big but here — he was a severe asthmatic, something that wouldn’t be such a problem if Scott actually bothered to use his inhaler at the prescribed times of day. And maybe before games and practices to play it safe.
But because he didn’t, he tended to have attacks on the field. The first time it happened, Coach Finstock nearly had a heart attack, called an ambulance, called the principal, called Stiles’ dad (because as the Sheriff, he would be good help in this situation, right? Stiles saw the panicked logic in that), and then called a second ambulance for himself because he was convinced he had given himself a seizure. Now, all the coach did was glare, chuck the spare inhaler he kept attached to his clipboard at Scott’s head, and send the kid to the bench.
It was an easily fixable problem, overall. Stiles would just nag Scott to take his medication when he was supposed to, Scott would be able to get full practices in, Finstock would see how awesome of a player he could be, and with a bit of luck, he would be the team’s next co-captain.
“Great! So…why are we making me good at lacrosse?”
“Association. Lydia will start looking at you, and since we’re attached at the hip, she’ll start noticing me as well.”
“Oh, okay. But lacrosse season is over.”
Stiles never said his plans were flawless.
2. Find a fashion sense that will compliment Lydia’s.
The way Stiles saw it, Lydia was beautiful, smart, and ambitious enough to have any man she wanted. She wanted either Derek Hale or Jackson Whittemore. Both men came from well-off familes, drove nice cars, and had pretty defining senses of fashion.
Jackson Whittemore looked like something out of a GQ magazine considering the only places he shopped at were the types that you could smell before spotting them at the mall. Stiles was terrified of such places. They had what appeared to be guards at the entrance, making sure only beautiful people that met the clothes’ required physiques walked through their doors. While Stiles considered himself neither ugly nor scrawny, he knew there was something wrong with him just from the way the guards would always glare at him if he looked at the store for too long as he walked by.
So the magazine model image was out for him. He wouldn’t be able to afford it, anyways.
Derek Hale fit the bad boy persona to a T. Both he and his twin sister, Laura, seemed to favor the jeans, cotton t-shirt, and leather jacket look, and hey, Stiles wholly approved. Because both Spike and Faith from Buffy were awesome.
But Stiles was pretty sure that if he tried to start dressing like a badass, his dad would start asking questions. An even sadder thought was that he probably wouldn’t be able to pull off such an image at this point in his life.
“Yeah, you’re too nice.”
Stiles found that to be a completely inadequate reason. Rumor had it that even though Derek hardly ever smiled, he was still a pretty okay guy. And Stiles believed it since he had seen first-hand how Derek could carry the lacrosse team to victory through actual teamwork.
Plus, Jackson was a douche.
“What does that have to do with anything?”
“Dude, if I can’t dress like Derek, that means I’ll have to dress like Jackson. Or at least a Target version of Jackson. I’d rather not have him thinking I’ve suddenly joined his little fanclub when he catches me eyeing his jeans. Or…scarf.”
“At least we know Lydia likes how Jackson dresses?”
Scott winced at the frown Stiles gave him. But with a heavy heart, Stiles had to admit that Scott did have a point, which prompted him to write out the next part to his plan.
3. Break up Jackson and Lydia.
Stiles would have felt a bit guiltier about this one if the couple didn’t have a constant on-again-off-again relationship. He had given extensive thought as to why Lydia chose Jackson over Derek considering how often they broke up, and he could only think of two reasons:
Derek wasn’t interested, which, given his past relationships, would make perfect sense. And Jackson was just easier to manipulate than Derek.
There was also the potential factor that Derek was a senior while the rest of them were juniors, but Stiles couldn’t imagine such a mundane fact stopping someone like Lydia from taking what she wanted.
Back to the point, the real challenge in this was breaking Jackson and Lydia up either permanently, or just long enough for Stiles to make his move. All he needed was an opening to convince Lydia he was worthy of one date and he knew he’d win her over.
“Just don’t take her out to eat.”
Scott gave his friend a pitying look before pulling the paper over to his side of the table and adding another item to the list. He slid the paper back just as the final bell rang and Stiles was forced to tilt his head in order to read Scott’s chicken scratch.
4. Learn how to eat like a human being.
“What’s wrong with the way I eat?” Stiles demanded as he and Scott burst out from their homeroom once class was over.
Scott winced and was actually slow to answer, a quick indication that he was trying to figure out the best way to spare Stiles’ feelings.
“Maybe…it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to sign up for a few etiquette classes before asking Lydia out?”
With his concentration torn between staring incredulously at Scott and keeping his gaze forward as they weaved through the crowd of students, Stiles couldn’t decide if he should be offended by the suggestion or not.
He felt the need to point out, “I can be a perfect gentleman if the occasion calls for it, you know.”
“I know! I know,” Scott placated, turning to face his friend at the juncture where they would need to part ways for their next class. “All I’m saying is maybe it would help things along if you got a third party to help you out with a few steps on the way.”
Stiles scoffed and rolled his eyes. “What? Like someone to teach me how to get the girl?” He froze as soon as the words left his mouth.
“Uh, sure, something like that. I just think it’d be pretty tragic if you go through all this work to get her and in the end, all it takes is the sight of you shoveling fries into your mouth to scare her off completely…What are you looking at?” Scott turned to look over his shoulder, only to be grabbed and forced back around.
“Scott, you’re a genius.”
“Yes.” Stiles gave Scott’s shoulders an affectionate squeeze. “I’m going to get Derek Hale to teach me how to get the girl.”
Scott’s normally impassive eyes nearly doubled in size. “What? Derek Hale? Why?”
“Because even when she’s with Jackson, Lydia still looks at Derek. And the potential threat of my enemy is my Yoda.”
Scott’s brow furrowed as his brain tried to make sense of the jumps Stiles was suddenly making. “Okayyy, how are you going to convince Derek to help you?” His face went from confused to stern and he leaned forward. “You’re not going to just stalk him around and take notes from behind bushes are you?”
Stiles gave a resigned nod. “Thanks, Scott. Your confidence in me is nothing short of inspiring.”
“Are you?” Scott stressed.
“No! Alright? I’ll – I’ll think of something and it will be completely not creepy and you won’t be dragged into it in any way, shape, or form.”
Scott’s shoulders sagged in relief. “Hey, do you think if this all works, Lydia will agree to making prom a double date with best friends and maybe me and Allison could hook up?”
This second nod was a mockery of the first. “Sure thing, man. I’ll just add that to the list of priorities I hand to Derek after I convince him to go along with this whole crazy scheme.”
“Great!” Scott’s glee disappeared as he realized his first question was never really answered. “So, how are you going to convince Derek again?”
The warning bell rang as Stiles shrugged. “I have a vague plan. If it works out, you should see it in action during lunch. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a few favors I need to go and collect on.”