I wish youâd write a fic where... Laura plays matchmaker for Derek and Stiles!
The car rolled to a stop outside of the fanciest restaurant in town and Derek sighed instinctively. He turned to his sister behind the wheel, who was severely underdressed for this place, and said,
âLaura, I asked you to stop doing this.â
She smiled guiltilyâactually guiltily, so at least she really felt bad about this time.
âI know, and I promise I wouldnât have set this up if I didnât think you two would hit it off. Butââ
Derek rolled his eyes. âYou said that about Marcus.â Laura nodded, accepting the blame. âAnd Rose. And Trevor. Andââ
âI get it!â she interrupted. âIâve misjudged, but Iâve taken all that feedback you gave meâloudly and with a lot of swearingâand Iâve really gotten to know this guy! I did background checks and everything!â
âThose online background checks arenât as accurate as you think.â Derek should know; two of his exes were squeaky clean according to those checksâŠright up until the assault and attempted arson and all of the organized crime.
âI know, I remember, and donât worry about it. That wonât be an issue with this one.â She grinned. âHe had impeccable references.â
âYou called references?â
âI talked to every single one of his coworkers, and a smattering of his Facebook friends, particularly ones from high school he doesnât seem to talk to anymore.â She shrugged at Derekâs raised eyebrow. âIf they donât talk to him anymore, I wanted to make sure it wasnât for a crazy reason.â
He had to admit, that was reassuring, if only minorly.
She smiled softly. âTrust me, Derek. I wouldnât put you through this if I didnât really think it would work.â
Derek held back his kneejerk response of, then why didnât you just introduce us at a friendly brunch like a normal person, and returned her smile. Somewhat.
âIf he sucks, Iâm never talking to you ever again,â he said, and got out of the car before she could respond. He didnât look back either, because she was probably watching him with a wistful smile on her face like a mom sending her child off to their first day of school.
A doorman led him through the formal lobby into the restaurant and up to the host, who greeted him warmly from behind his podium.
The host ran his finger down the handwritten ledger and checked his name off with a perfect checkmark. There was another name written next to his, but he couldnât read the loopy, old fashioned cursive upside down, and it felt odd to ask who his date was.
He was led through the dimly lit restaurant to a booth on the back wall. It was out of the way of server traffic to the kitchen, a little secluded with the high backs of the booths, and every table was lit with a calmly flickering candle. It was the perfect place for a cozy, romantic date. Laura knew what she was doing.
With nothing else to do and feeling uncomfortable about it, he glanced around the dim restaurant at the other diners. Most were nicely dressed couples, a few larger booths were clearly business meetings, there seemed to be a teenage girlâs birthday dinner happening in a private room behind closed french doors. It was crowded but not very loud; no one talked above a civil indoor voice, and even the small quartet playing in the corner kept it down.
This was really not his type of place.
He turned his attention to the menu to keep from obsessively watching the door for whoever he was meeting.
The menus were hefty, hardback books that only had two pages; one dish for each type of meat and a vegetarian option. It was all in French, which Derek could speak, but that wasnât always a good sign on a menu in America.
(There was a tiny part of his paranoid brain wondering if it was all part of Lauraâs plan. She was definitely the type to think that translating the menu for a date was adorable.)
âOh god,â a familiar voice said, and when Derek looked up to see who it was, he dropped his menu onto his platesâthree, stacked neatlyâwith a clatter.
A few of the surrounding tables glanced back at the minor commotion, which might as well have been a scream in the calm and hushed atmosphere of the restaurant, but Derek couldnât bring himself to care, because Deputy Stilinski was coming towards his table with purpose. Not about to arrest you purpose, not in that well fitting suit. But with I had no idea you were my date and Iâm not happy about it purpose.
