I'm sure someone's already got one pretending to be you, anyway. The price of internet celebrity-ness. [ He's grinning by the time they pull into the suburban paradise that is the host's home--everything here looks like it was pulled straight out of a Home and Garden magazine, minus the snow. It's kind of nice, in a domestic kind of way, and it makes something deep in Stiles' soul remind him to never, ever, ever let any of these ladies see the hovel he calls home. Like, ever.

The next thing Derek says make him blink a little owlishly, startled by it. That is the second compliment he's paid his looks tonight, and he feels his ears go red as he turns his gaze out of the window to try and hide it, reaching down to undo his seatbelt as they pull into the drive. ] I wouldn't call it playing you up, dude.