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This had to be against a law in some cosmetic way, or it was that someone upstairs had a sick mind and wanted to see Stiles suffer in some way. He wanted to go with that option. Derek Hale, the grand old master of sour, had agreed to take him to not only one school dance but too. It had been something to process. First, the process started with why in the seven levels of Donkey Kong had he asked Derek in the first place? Second, the process continued with why in the name of Lara Croft and her unlimited handgun ammo had possessed Derek to agree? The conclusion had calculated to that either Stiles was insane, Derek was insane, or that he had been trapped in a sitcom of hilarity outtakes and endeavours. Had that been the case, Stiles had started to think about time slots, and days that his sitcom would air. The theme song, and the cast of characters. It pretty much dominated his entire thought process until Saturday rolled around and he finally had decided that the show would air for six seasons and have it's own made-for-television movie that would resolve any unanswered questions about plot and characterization.
Maybe Stiles was insane.
It was a Saturday, and here he had been in his room with no plans with anyone but Derek. He had cancelled on Scott, and had cleared the rest of his business gaming time in order to wait for a werewolf who more times than not nearly got them all killed because he offered to take him shopping for a dance in which he had asked him to. He played it off as no big deal, because that had to be the saner option. Derek was a loner, and Stiles was something else and too difficult to place. His pencil drummed against the desk as he stared at the Youtube video that played on his laptop but he wasn't honestly paying much attention to it. His mind had been a whirlwind. Different scenarios and conversations all happening at once that he didn't even remember that he should have been downstairs to answer the door instead of upstairs. The medicine hadn't kicked in yet to focus his attention, and that was apparent since his thoughts became a montage of Fast and the Furious. He didn't even notice when he had got up and opened the window to let in fresh air. Because, by time he pulled it up and went back to his desk to drum the pencil against the wood and not pay attention to the video on the screen he was thinking about Vin Diesel and how much he should really watch the Chronicles of Riddick again.
