Like it or Not

Elijah

Stiles straightened his tie as he stepped out of the car he and Derek had taken to the awards dinner. He felt strange being here, dressed up. He wasn't one for wearing ties, but Derek had insisted.

"Stop fidgeting," Derek growled, leaning towards Stiles. "And at least act like you want to be here."

Stiles rolled his eyes but didn't say anything.

"And pay attention, I brought you because whatever Mr. Salvatore has to say, it'll involve you too."

"Anything else?" Stiles huffed in response.

Derek's jaw clenched, "Just follow my lead."

"Yes sir," Stiles gestured for Derek to lead him.

Derek regretted, not for the first time, bringing Stiles along.

"I don't know what you're complaining about, people would kill to be in your position."

"I'm complaining because I had plans that didn't involve spending the evening with you," Stiles answered simply as he gave a nod and flashed a smile to a passing couple.

"You mean the weekly dinner with the team?" Derek scoffed.

Stiles turned and narrowed his eyes at Derek, "Yes."

Before Derek could respond they were approached by a young blonde woman in glasses with her hair pulled into a messy half updo. "Mr. Hale, I was sent to escort you to your table. You'll be dinning with Mr. Salvatore this evening."

"Thank you..." Derek trailed off, trying to remember the woman's name. She'd worked with Stefan Salvatore for several years and yet her name escaped him.

"Becky," Stiles finished for him. "Please lead the way," he smiled at the now beaming blonde before shooting Derek a glare.

Becky led the pair to a table in the front. Derek knew this to be Stefan Salvatore's table.

"I wasn't aware you would be bringing a guest, so I'll have another placement brought over immediately," Becky gestured to the table with five place settings.

"Guess we'll be dining with company," Stiles took a seat at the empty place at the table.

"He typically dines alone," Derek frowned.

"He didn't mention anyone else in his message," Stiles shrugged, glancing around.

At that moment a young waiter came over with dishes on a small tray. "My apologies."

"No worries, thanks man," Stiles smiled at the waiter as he set the table.

"Fuck," Derek swore as the waiter scurried off.

Stiles whipped his head towards his boss. He'd never heard him swear before.

"Whoa, what's wrong?" Stiles asked.

Derek's eyes were set on the glass of water in front of him.

"Stiles, listen to me, I need to you to pretend to be my date," Derek looked at Stiles with pleading eyes.

"I'm sorry what?" Stiles blinked at the man next to him. Had he heard that right?

"My ex is on his way to our table right now, please just go with it," Derek's tone now matched his desperate expression.

"What? No way," Stiles looked over up to see Becky was now leading a tall dark-haired man, with a jaw line sharper than Derek's, towards their table. Next to him was an equally tall man with lighter hair. The pair had their arms linked.

"Stiles, please, I'll give you that week off I keep denying you," Derek's tone was growing more desperate. Stiles would be lying if he said it didn't please him.