[ Stiles is not going to survive this dinner. Between Derek who has been--god, he could swear he's been flirting with him for the past half an hour, and the housewives, who tend to be meddlesome at best, he is probably just going to have to hang himself with his shoelaces before the night is over from sheer embarrassment. ] Someone, somewhere, is probably making fun of me. It's the constant sensation you learn to shut out when you're the Star Wars geek in high school.

[ Passing the casserole over, Stiles opens the door to the cruiser and slides out of the front seat, tugging down his sweater and putting the tupperware full of cookies on his hip as he comes around the other side of the car to walk with him. Comically, Stiles looks from Derek to the house and puts on a mock serious expression. ] I hope you're ready for war, private.