Chapter Text
It had been over two years since Stiles had come out of a long-term relationship with the man he thought he was going to raise a family and spend the rest of his life with. Five since he left his dad in Beacon Hills and moved into the house his grandma left him. At twenty one he'd figured it was time to live on his own, not that he and his dad got along anyway and Jackson had left him for a skinny twink . The story of Stiles life.
So here he was, twenty six, single, a fairly successful children's author, living in the house his grandmother left him and Lydia wasn't taking a blind bit of notice of what he was saying, who'd have his life or a best friend like Lydia Martin...
"Stiles,!" Lydia tapped her Jimmy Choo clad foot impatiently and tossed her long, strawberry blonde hair over her shoulder, " do you want to get laid or not?" The determined glint in her eyes was matched by the sharp edge to her voice.
"Yeah," Stiles whined, he was thinking more of a deep, long-lasting , loving relationship that led to kids and anniversaries. "but.........."
"But nothing," Lydia balled her hands and rested them on her hips, "Brett has got to go."
"But," Stiles protested, "I spent ages finding," Lydia's eyebrow rose disapprovingly, "ok, technically stealing, " Stiles corrected with a blush, "that guy's photo from the Internet and hours and hours making up that profile, couldn't we just keep some of it?"
Lydia glanced at the laptop. "Stiles sweetie," she said more patiently, "he's not you, he's a fantasy you made up and you deserve to be loved for who you are."
"Nobody's interested in who I am," Stiles sighed and looked at the screen, "at least with Brett I get some dates."
It was true, Brett Stilinski his alter ego was quite popular. Of course when Stiles turned up instead of Brett with his pale skin, dark moles, nervous insecurity and defensive sarcasm his dates suddenly remembered vitally important previous engagements, or their mother, sister, father or brother was lying close to death in hospital and they just dropped by to say they couldn't make it. Oh, they were polite enough about it, generally and the way Stiles looked at it, it got him out of the house. Jackson Whittemore had a lot to answer for.
But Brett never got him a second date.
Brett was like an old friend, Superman to Stiles Clark, the man he wanted to be and never would be. It wasn't as if he lied, really. The guy did look like him - sort of. He was dark haired and brown eyed, the same as Stiles and if you squinted, he resembled him slightly around the mouth. All the same Stiles had to admit it was a photo his mother wouldn't have recognized, even if she was still alive and hadn't died when he was nine.
At Lydia's command he removed his shirt and blushed hotly, not just because the pretty, pert red head (let's call a spade a spade) was his best friend and he'd known her since kindergarten, but at his thickened waist and roll of fat that he was too old to refer to as puppy fat. When Jackson was being kind he'd called him chunky when he wasn't, plain fat. At least his shoulders and arms weren't too bad. He had average muscled biceps and broad shoulders, his chest lacked definition, pale nipples with rather too many dark moles.
"Why do I have to strip off?" He asked frowning petulantly as Lydia snapped photos with her smartphone.
"How many guys on that site are wearing shirts? Some of them are bare ass naked."
"Lydia!"
"What? because I'm a Lesbian and happily married to Allison I can't look?" She grinned playfully. "Come on Stiles strike a pose!"
Embarrassed at first, Stiles soon loosened up, striking mocking super model poses like those he'd seen on America's Next Top Model.
Finally the time came to log in and delete Brett, consigning him to the digital graveyard. Sighing and hoping Lydia knew what she was doing he sat down and typed his user name and password into the gay dating site, Soulmates.Com. Stiles felt it was the most tasteful of the sites of it's type and their questionnaire both long and comprehensive. Of course there was still the usual close up's of the five, six, seven, eight, nine or oh my, ten inches members considered their best feature. Rampant cocks abounded, fat, thin, cut, uncut and all colors under the sun, some pierced and some tattooed, Stiles had inspected them all with a critical eye, It was purely research and it made sense to view the opposition. He fought off a panic attack when Lydia reached over his shoulder and deleted Brett's picture and then replaced it with one from her phone.
"Trust me Stiles, this is much better." So said the happily married Lesbian.
He groaned.
Mumbling to himself as he answered questions about age, likes and dislikes, religion, character, hobbies, political leanings, he felt he had lost a friend as he replaced the contrived profile with a new one. True it wasn't a very good profile, but it had been his crutch for over ten months and he felt lost without it. When it came to the more intimate questions about his body and sexual preferences he hunched forward hoping Lydia couldn't see, When it came to asking him what he was looking for in a partner he was very tempted to answer with one word, breathing. Necrophilia did not appeal.
Jesus he was a pathetic case.
Stiles wondered miserably where Brett had gone, where did pseudo-personalities go when they were deleted? His distress seemed to have little effect on the determined red head. "Someone is going to love you Stiles not Brett, you."
Oh God, she was humming Matchmaker from Fiddler on The Roof.
Stiles was a desperate man. On the one hand his writing was booming, literary accolades were falling into his lap and his agent and publisher begging him to consider writing an adult novel, but his personal life lay in ruins. His twenty seventh birthday loomed on the horizon, his one long-term relationship collapsed behind him, half a dozen one- night- stands, brief relationships and a string of almost dates and ahead a lonely, desolate future. All the same he couldn't help but wonder if the well intentioned meddler had improved or ruined his chances of ever getting a date again.
He toddled home from Lydia and Allison's apartment carrying his precious laptop to look forward to yet another lonely weekend.
Stiles looked up when his office door opened and Scott entered carrying a few of his wood supplies for the burner. The sudden chill sent a shiver slithering down his spine and he rushed to help the smaller, dark haired man with his load. Working together the logs were quickly emptied from the truck and added to the small woodpile at the side of the outbuilding. Scott McCall joined Stiles by the stove in his office. They sat in couple of wooden rocking chairs and curled themselves around steaming mugs of hot chocolate.
Stiles rocked gently. "Hey Scott got any plans for the weekend?"
Scott took a gulp of chocolate and flashed a bright smile. "Mom's taking the kids this weekend so me and Kira are going to get a head start on the Christmas shopping."
"Christmas shopping?" Stiles twisted in his seat and looked at the large calendar on the wall above one of the book shelves. Oh My God, was it really that time of year again? November 24th was circled in red. Thanks Giving, just over two weeks! He'd forgotten all about it, he was snowed under with writing deadlines and there was no way he could go home to Beacon Hills and that meant he'd have to make the effort and spend another awful Christmas with his alcoholic father . But at least he'd be here turkey day.Guilt ensured Stiles returned to Beacon Hills once a year, more or less to check his father was still alive, he doubted anyone would think to notify him if his dad died.
"What about you Stiles? Any plans?" Scott's question drew his thoughts away from a turkey feast for one, perhaps he ought to get a large chicken? At least he'd be able to play his favorite video game uninterrupted.
"Me?" Stiles struggled for an answer that didn't sound pathetic. "Oh you know us single guys," he lied, "I'll head out to a club, sink a few beers, watch football," he flipped a hand dismissively. No need to tell Scott he'd probably spend the entire time he wasn't cooking or eating, on the sofa controller in hand saving the world from yet another alien invasion. There was no need to make Scott feel sorry for him, Lydia and Allison were bad enough.
Scott grinned . "Dude, you sure live life in the fast lane." He handed Stiles the wood order and he signed it off with a flourish. "I'll be heading out. " Scott stood and put his drained mug on the nearest surface and stretched. "Try to keep out of trouble buddy and I'll see you sometime next week with another order.
Stiles nodded. "You too dude, give my best to your mom, Kira and the and kids."
Scott raised his hand and winked before sauntering to the door. He wasn't to know the only trouble stiles was likely to get into involved tentacled aliens doing dreadful things to his body. Stiles would gladly suffer the pain and torment if it meant that he'd be rescued by Intergalactic Space Captain John Hart. The dashing, dark blond, high cheek boned, body to die for and sapphire eyed hero of his game and dreams.
How come they always had sapphire blue eyes?
Stiles watched Scott's black flatbed drive away and turned back to the office. He'd do another couple of hours before locking up and crossing the yard to the rambling old house he called home. That was one of the advantages of having the office in the yard, it kept home and work separate without commuting.
Left alone and occupied in the fairly automatic job of editing several paragraphs he'd just printed out, Stiles allowed his mind to drift to the demise of Brett. Soulmates.Com advertised itself as the online dating miracle, it claimed hundreds of successful matches but was unspecific about how many had developed into permanent relationships and it was this Stiles sought. He would die a thousand horrible deaths before he would reveal to anyone even Lydia the lengths he had gone to, to secure a mate. He let everyone think he enjoyed the single life once Jackson had ditched him and it wasn't until Lydia discovered his profile by accident (and what was she doing on Soulmates anyway), that she had suspected differently. The truth was he hated living alone, he envied Scott his loving family and Lydia her committed mate.
Hell, he couldn't even find a decent lodger, let alone live-in lover.
His one foray into the world of renting out a room had been a catastrophe. Liam had bitched constantly about everything but mostly his cooking habits (Stiles liked to cook, it relaxed him, he was good at it and helped with his ADHD. Liam liked takeout) and living in Command Central instead of a house, Stiles didn't think his preoccupation with video games was worth calling an addiction. Anyway Liam flounced out owing three months rent. stiles had chalked it up to experience, served himself right really for placing an advert on Craig's List and taking the first and only applicant sight unseen. He didn't try again, he missed the company but needed neither the money nor the hassle.
The laptop sat on his desk in the corner of the office, Stiles deliberately avoided looking at it but it called to him like a siren's song. He hadn't logged on to Soulmates since Lydia had changed the photo and he had updated his profile with, (God) the awful truth about himself. Why had he let her interfere? He'd been quite happy with Brett, the handsome, athletic, sports loving hunk who had attracted lots of attention. The way Stiles figured it, it was only a little white lie, he wasn't a bad person for embellishing the truth a little, was he? He thought that the men who wanted to meet him would forgive the lie when he showed up instead of Brett. They would get to know him, love him for himself. Of course they didn't hang around long enough to get to know him, most didn't even wait around to learn his real name. But it had been exciting, the prospect of each new date, hope springing eternal. Nobody could accuse Stiles Stilinski of not trying. Besides if he presented himself he'd never meet anyone, nobody wanted a comfortably padded, needy author of children's books .
"You're not fat," Lydia would comfort, "you've got big bones." And that was true, he had the shovels for feet and long boned fingers to prove it.
Sadly even his alter-ego hadn't managed to secure him a second date.
At last the siren's song proved too alluring to resist. He put away his pen and rubbed his sweaty hands on his pants, sat at his desk and fired up the laptop. In a couple of minutes he'd logged onto Soulmates. He winced at the new photograph, he looked like a lower class Italian mobster with his shaggy, dark hair, dark eyes and snub nose.
Why wasn't he Teutonic looking like Jackson? Blond, blue eyed, handsome. He had no bother getting dates despite signing his name with an X and wearing a Mickey Mouse watch. Come to think of it, it was a miracle they ever got together, of course he was a stone maybe two lighter then and four years younger.
He could easily tell even from the photo Lydia had added that the guy in it would benefit from some exercise. There again he had heard the camera added ten pounds, nearer twenty in his case. And who in their right mind would want to date a guy whose one claim to fame was that he won the Newbery Medal two years in a row? JK Rowling he wasn't.
There again, sanity was vastly overrated. Interests: (and this was where it got really depressing) good food, cooking, gaming, movies, television (particularly police procedural dramas), sci-fi conventions, comic books, reading, research, pets (especially cats ). Surely there was a man out there appreciated those qualities in a prospective mate?
He quickly scanned the list of men that Soulmates had matched him to, strangely they were the same men they had matched to Brett. This only went to solidify Stiles belief that the long, detailed, comprehensive questionnaire they had him fill out played absolutely no part in the process.The site simply lobbed profiles at members and hoped one stuck. He scrolled through reply after reply getting more and more depressed as each prospective candidate had ticked the Not Interested box on his profile. So much for Lydia's assertion of someone loving him for himself.
Depressed and despondent he was about to log off when he noticed the icon in the corner of his profile that indicated he had a message. Hope flaring to life he clicked on it, only to find it was a message from Lydia. "Don't you dare think about changing your profile mister! You deserve someone who will love you for you."
She knew him so depressingly well.
Stiles logged off, closed down the laptop and reached for his jacket, tucked the laptop under his arm and locked up. He stepped out into the chill night, it was crisp and cloudless the stars twinkled brightly above him in the black sky. Stiles looked up, what was that about wishing on a star? "Starlight, star bright, first star I see................" He wished for the man of his dreams, turned and walked toward the house.
He'd barely gone two steps when there was a flash of gray and black striped fur and Toodles joined him, wrapping herself around and between his legs with a deep, rumbling purr. Stiles looked down at the over sized feline that resembled a small, gray tiger more than anything else. "Hey, trying to walk here." She looked up with emerald eyes and Stiles chuckled."C'mon it's time to eat." She ran ahead and dived through the dog flap in the back door, she'd out grown the cat flap.
Stiles pulled the ring on the large tin of cat food. Toodles jumped up on the counter, ignored Stiles disapproving look and supervised the proceedings. She only jumped down when he put her ceramic bowl onto the floor, next to the matching one of water.
As he wiped down the counter, Stiles stomach growled and he felt miserable so decided to whip up some comfort food, pasta and thick, spicy, tomato sauce. Tomorrow he'd go down the grocery store and get the makings for Thanksgiving. A turkey with all the trimmings and pumpkin pie though he'd probably buy the pie from Flo's, no matter how he tried he couldn't make pie like Flo. He turned on the radio while he cooked, a country station and it wasn't long before the mournful love songs full of woe moved him from miserable to depressed and he added a tub of Ben and Jerry's Boston Cream Pie Ice Cream to his tray. A sure sign it was going to be a long night.
Here he was, about to reach twenty seven and he didn't even have a steady boyfriend let alone someone to come home to each night and share his life, his dreams, someone to grow old with, except Toodles. He'd had friends with benefits but they had eventually moved on to steady relationships or left town. They were still friends but without the benefits. Then out of the blue Jackson happened and for a while and he thought he'd cracked it. Just over two years they were together and eighteen months as live in lovers. He didn't see it coming, there again Stiles had a tendency towards the oblivious. Their relationship began to slide after a year and soon it was familiarity keeping them together more than affection. Just past their second anniversary Jackson announced he'd found someone else, a slim twink and the next day he was packed and gone. He left Stiles with a hole in his world , if not his heart. He threw himself into his writing and had all the renovations done to the house he'd always promised he'd do after he inherited it from grandma Stilinski and then the wonders of Soulmates. The thought of cruising the Gay clubs and bars horrified him and there was a certain safety and anonymity in digital matchmaking.
For a while the chopping, stirring, simmering and food preparation distracted him but it ended up in a plastic bowl stacked in the fridge, the thought of eating simply turned his stomach. He stared at the empty kitchen from the doorway and tried to picture someone there, laughing, leaning on the counter while he cooked and trying to steal a taste of his sauce. He couldn't imagine the face. He sighed heavily, snagged the tub of Ben and Jerry and a spoon. Before he switched out the light his last thought was, I hope that star was listening. He went up to bed and Toodles followed him.
It was Saturday. Stiles had disciplined himself not to work weekends and Toodles made herself comfortable on the window sill in the den. She dozed in the Winter sun or lazily watched the world go by. Stiles occupied himself for the best part of the morning cleaning the house and changing the litter tray, then getting in the old jeep that he was too sentimental to scrap and making the short journey to the local Mall. He bought a medium sized turkey and various items from the fresh produce section of the grocery store, avoided the young couple snogging in aisle seventeen and tried not to notice that he appeared the only one flying solo. He pulled several large tins of Toodles favorite cat food from the shelves in the pet section. When he glanced down and saw chocolate, ice cream, chips and cookies in his trolley that he didn't remember putting there, he knew it was time to leave. He made is way through the checkout, and drove home. He unpacked and put things away with the practiced ease of someone used to living alone and then wandered into the den. Toodles was gone, no doubt out terrorizing the local canine and rodent population alike.
The laptop called to him from the coffee table and he fired it up and entered his user name and password for Soulmates, even as he did so he wondered at a masochistic streak that enjoyed torturing himself. Since yesterday five more profiles appeared on his homepage, four of them had already ticked Not Interested.
Oh well, he expected nothing else.
He clicked on the fifth profile and looked at the photo. His first thought was 'what a stunning man' and then he smiled. The guy had done the same as him, yanked some model's photo from the Internet. He wanted the guy's photo manipulation program too, because nobody could look like that in real life, could they? The guy in the photo was wearing a white wife beater, standing sideways, head turned toward the camera and a large colorful tattoo on his left shoulder and arm. Stiles was ambivalent about tats and on this guy it looked hot. He was ripped, slender, toned and had muscular biceps and sculpted chest, but elegant not bulky. He was tanned with thick black hair artfully styled and startling pale green eyes and a black scruff shadowing his cheeks and square jaw.
Stiles stared.
Someone who looked like that wouldn't be using a dating site, it had to be a hoax. He immediately thought of Lydia and then felt guilty, she wouldn't be as mean as that.
With difficulty he pulled his eyes away from the photo. "Derek Hale.Gay male, self employed, twenty nine, 6 feet. Looking for a needy guy of my very own." Stiles read aloud to himself. It went on to say Derek had a thing for unusual or old fashioned names, outdoors, reading, healthy eating, murder mysteries and thought men who were good with their brains were hot. Of course that could mean anything from an ability to read and write to Mensa membership... Perhaps he was a serial killer, he had the looks... Stiles dismissed the notion with a shake of his head.
He clicked on Derek's hobbies folder: Baseball, good food, reading, movies, fishing, long walks, sci-fi, pets (especially dogs, but I don't mind cats), working out. Stiles looked down at his roll of fat his mood dropping, that was something they didn't share.
He clicked on his 'Interests' folder and Stiles spirits lifted seeing International Cuisine listed along with Tattoos, Classical Art, History and Artisan Crafts.
"I suck at cooking big time." Derek's blurb stated.
Stiles smiled at the image on the screen, "Gotcha covered there dude." Derek really did seem too good to be true and life had taught Stiles that things which appeared to be too good to be true generally were, like Jackson. There again if his profile were true they had a lot in common, a match made in cyber- heaven. He sighed, this guy was a Greek God, he was more like an overweight Shaggy Rogers, he'd never be interested in him. If he contacted him would he take one look at his photo and click 'Not Interested' before he even read how compatible they were? For one second Stiles thought of pulling Brett out of the digital graveyard and then he saw Lydia's angry face. "Don't you dare mister!" Shrugging and with a 'here goes nothing' attitude Stiles left Derek a simple two word message. "Hey There!" Logged off and closed down the laptop as Toodles arrived looking for her lunch....