A/N: Just a short Oneshot, cause I've hit writers block and hope to nudge it out of hybernnation. Based on the song Swing by Trace Atkin. I love this song and while listening to it the other day this popped into my head. I have used some lyrics.

Hope you like. It's just a short one shot so it hasn't been beta'ed.

Stiles was pretty sure if he had to sit on the bleachers and watch Derek Hale strike out on more time, he was going to have to kill himself. He didn't know why the ball player even bothered; everyone in the world knew he was playing for the wrong team. - Okay, so maybe Stiles was the only one that knew that. But it was just so humiliating to watch.

Like right now. Stiles was sat on the long bench, gazing over the top of his glasses, his Chem book on his lap, while Derek stood leaning. The girl, he knew to be Jamie Reed, was smiling up at the brooding oaf with a bright interested smile and Stiles was just counting down the minutes before the inevitable happened and that smile vanished. He could only imagine what the man was saying. Stiles pulled the buds to his iPod out of his ears and listened, grateful that Derek didn't understand the concept of a private conversation. - And that the rest of the team had vanished into the showers.

"So…do you come here often?" Derek asked with his fixed charming grin.

Stiles rolled his eyes and watched as the girls smile faulted slightly. Seriously, that was the best opener he had? he shook his head. Strike One.

"Say, what's your sign? I'm a Leo."

Stiles almost burst out laughing but instead pressed his lips into a tighter line. Strike Two.

Derek shifted his shoulders, a gesture Stiles had learnt long ago meant he was determined to get a homerun. Huh, some hope. The man's smile got wider. Stiles held his breath and waited. "Say, you know, I know the Sheriff…"

Stiles smirked; he knew what was coming now. He'd heard this one before and it never EVER worked. Oh this was going to be awesome.

"Oh?" Jamie frowned.

"Yeah. Maybe I should call him."


"To arrest you." Derek replied with as much charm as he could muster.

Stiles bit hard on his lips.

"Huh?" Jamie's eyes bulged.

"Cause it's got to be illegal to look that fine."

Stiles couldn't help but laugh this time. It just rumbled out of his throat in a burst of un-containable energy. He watched as Jamie raised an brows at Derek, huffed, turned around on her heels and marched away. "Strike Three! She's out of here! - Who's next?" Stiles yelled getting to his feet, making a show of looking around the empty field.

"Blow me Stilinski!" Derek shouted back.

"Anytime you're ready to come out the closet Hale!" he blew the guy a kiss across the field, scooping up his books and heading for the exit. Pausing for a moment he turned back. "See you at dinner. Don't be late because Dad will kill you."

"Fine." Derek huffed, turning right and heading for the showers.

Stiles was walking up to the porch with his book piled in his arms when he saw them. Derek was leant against his shiny black Camaro, that cheesy grin on his face again talking to a woman maybe a year or so older than him. Stiles smirked and turned, resting his shoulder against the open door frame.

"Hey." his dad said from beside him.

"Hey Dad. You heading out to the station?"

"Yeah." The sheriff followed Stiles gaze. "That must me the new neighbour."

"Uh." Stiles shrugged, his eyes locked on Derek. "How long's he been out here?" he felt his dad's eyes on him but ignored them. "Oh this is going to be good; you've got to watch this."


"Here it comes." Stiles grinned shifting his shoulders, though the smile didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah, I went to Harvard." Derek said proudly.

"Really, what you study?" the woman asked with interest.

"Pre-Med." Derek grinned.

Stiles bit his lips. He was always so proud of that little nugget, and rightly so really. The woman looked impressed too, as they always did. Of course it wouldn't wait long, because the next bit always blow it for him.

"Only stayed for one semester though…"

"Yep, there it goes." Stiles sighed as he saw the woman's face change.

"Huh?" the Sheriff frowned, looking from his son to the pair a few feet away.

"Five. Four. Three. Two. One."

"I've got to go, stuff to do. It was great meeting you Derek." the woman said in a rush, turning and walking away.

"They never let him get to why." Stiles sighed, shaking his head, pushing himself off the door frame. He huffed as he pushed past his dad and headed for the kitchen, the older man watching after him.


Derek dropped down at the kitchen table with a huff of frustration, his head falling into his hands. Stiles was making dinner as scheduled and was stood cutting a bright yellow pepper at the counter. He looked over his shoulder at the brooding ball player and sighed. Marching to the refrigerator her yanked open the door and pulled out a beer, closing the door to the rattling sound of jars and bottles he headed over to the table, setting it down in front of the slightly older, by like a year, man.

"Everybody strikes out, nine times out of ten." Stiles said as Derek took the beer. "But you've got to step up to the plate, man. Cause every now and then…."

"Shut up Stiles." Derek grunted, pushing back the chair and getting up.

"Jeez, man. Just saying that you can't give up." Stiles said, strolling after him, dinner forgotten.

"Stiles." he said in a warning voice.

"Look I know it's hard, and well after…." he shrugged. "But maybe that's your problem."

"I don't have a problem." Derek snapped.

"Really, cause in the six months since you moved back here, you've stuck out with every girl on campus…and off it. Maybe you should think about…I don't know, broadening your horizons."

Derek huffed. "I pay you for the room Stiles, not the advice." he snapped, sending Stiles a bitch face of epic proportions.

"Dude, first of all you don't pay me anything…" Stiles swallowed. "…and second, you're a jerk."

Derek huffed watching Stiles vanish back into the kitchen.

"And your going to die alone surrounded by cats." Stiles called back. "Because you're a damn moron."

"Meaning." Derek snapped back, not moving from his spot in the lounge.

Stiles head peeked around the door frame. "Work it out your damn self."

The pair glared at each other for a long moment before Stiles went back to making dinner and Derek headed for the coach to watch the ESPN sports news. Stiles words ringing around his head like a hammer on steel.

Derek was stood on the pitchers mound, his glove making his hand sweat. They'd been practicing for an hour and his arm was getting tired. He glanced up to the bleacher, knowing who he'd see sat there watching, and like always there he was, head bowed over his text books. Derek could never figure why the idiot studied out here in the heat when the library had air conditioning. And didn't the sound of leather hitting wood distract him? Derek shook his head and dropped his gaze to the ball in his glove. Shaking out his arm and searching the field for Jackson. He was so getting that guy out. He rolled his neck and stretched his back before lifting his eyes to where Isaac stood on the plate. He pulled his arm back to throw only to get distracted by something over the umpire's shoulder. Red hair. Derek cursed as the ball flew right past Isaac, and the umpire.

"Hey Hale, want to aim next time." the coach yelled.

"Sorry." he caught the ball as it was tossed back to him and shook off whatever it was that was throwing his game. When he lifted his head again, his eyes once more moved to the bleachers. The red head had taken a seat next to Stiles and he was smiling at her. Brightly. Flirtaously. Derek's fingers tightened around the ball without him really knowing why and his jaw got painful.

"Hale, you going to stand there all damn night?"

Derek shook his head, dropping his gaze, shaking out his body. This time when he looked up he kept his gaze on Isaac and let rip. The crack of wood on leather caught him off guard. That shouldn't have happened. Isaac wasn't that good. No one was when it came to Derek's fast ball.

"I'm sorry are we playing pee-wee baseball!" coach Finstock yelled. "Does Isaac look like a ten year old girl to you? Actually forget that because yeah he does. But that doesn't mean you have to throw at him like he's one. Dammit Hale."

"Sorry coach!" Derek called back. He turned his back on the plate and the bleachers and pinched the bridge of his nose. Groaning at himself.

"Dude, what the hells wrong with you?" Scott asked from in front of him.

Derek looked up and stared at him, his jaw tight. He wished he knew. God how he wished he knew. "Who's the girl talking with Stiles?" he heard himself ask in a deep hushed voice.

"Huh?" Scott frowned, looking over Derek's shoulder. "Oh, that's Lydia. Lydia Martin. He'd been totally in love with her since eighth grade."

Derek's jaw almost broke.


Derek didn't answer. He couldn't answer. Instead he turned around and sent the bleachers one last angry glare, catching Stiles gaze for a second before dropping his own. He shifted his weight, rolled his shoulders, adjusted his fingers and then looked up, his eyes burning red hot into Isaac. Then he let rip. The ball flew through the air, right past Isaac and straight into the glove of the umpire, with a very loud yell of pain.

"Shit!" Derek swore as he watched Boyd pull the umpires mitt off and cradle his hand. When he raised his eyes to the bleachers Stiles was leaning over the bar with Lydia looking concern and just a little freaked out.

"He broke his hand. I didn't even know that was possible." Scott said in a rush, marching towards the parking lot. "How is that possible?"

"Hell if I know?" Stiles shrugged. "I knew Derek had a hell of a fast ball but seriously, that's just…..freaky. Like supernatural freaky."

"Yeah. - And he was so weird before."

"How could you tell?" Stiles joked.

"I mean really weird. More than is normal for Derek."

Stiles frowned. "Why?"

"He was fine all practice. You saw that right? He didn't break anyone's hands for like an hour and then he suddenly got….creepy and strange." Scott shrugged.

Stiles paused by his jeep, fishing out his keys. "Something must have set him off. Didn't he say anything before destroying Boyd's ball career?"

Scott leant back against the jeep's hood to think. "Huh…Nah. I don't think….oh, he asked who Lydia was."

Stiles head snapped around. "What? Why?"

"I don't know. Maybe he's planning on trying to hit on her." Scott laughed, shrugging once more.

Stiles face was almost stone as he slipped the key into the door. "Yeah, cause striking out with normal girls isn't enough humiliation he has to strike out with the only girl in the world that will literally destroy him for trying."

"Yeah. But I doubt he'll try though." Scott laughed.

Stiles frowned. "Why?"

"Well first Jackson would try to kill him, so….yeah. - And second I told him you've been in love with her since eighth grade, and you know what's Derek's like. He'd almost Barney Stinson in his strict keeping of the bro'code." Scott replied lightly.

Stiles eyes almost bulged out of his head. "You told him what?"

Scott frowned over at his friend. "I told him your in love with Lydia."

"Why would you do that? I - I haven't been in love with Lydia since sophomore year of high school. Jeez, keep up man."

Scott stared at him. "So, it's no big deal. It's not like you've got a thing for…." his mouth fell open. "Shit…fuck….damn….Really? Derek?"

"Shut up." Stiles blushed, yanking open his car door.

"But Derek? Like Derek Hale? - You know he's straight right? And I mean straight straight, not like you in high school straight."

"Meaning?" Stiles frowned.

"Meaning….well you know. He's not like curious or anything. You've seen him; he's always hitting on girls."

Stiles smirked wickedly. "All I've ever seen is him striking out with girls. For like six months. If he struck out as much on the field as he does outside it, he'd have lost his scholarship."

"That doesn't mean he's….gay, Stiles. It just means he's socially…..useless."

Stiles smirked, his mind already running away with him. Yeah Derek was socially useless, he also never got a girls number because he dealt out terribly embarrassing pick-up lines, and he never even tried to tell girl why he'd dropped out of Harvard. - And he'd broken Boyd's hand after hearing about his love for Lydia. Stiles smirked morphed into a grin. A wide wicked grin.

"Stiles? Stiles what are you going to do?" Scott asked in a panic.

"Oh Scott, old buddy, old pal. I'm going to prove once and for all that Derek Hale is playing for the wrong team."

Stiles wasn't in the bleacher. He hadn't been there all afternoon. It had been the first thing Derek noticed has he walked out onto the field with his team mates and it sent an uneasy feeling though him. Stiles was always sat in the stands. Always. So not seeing him there felt wrong? - But then the last few days had felt wrong. Stiles had been acting weird since Tuesday's practice. Always sending him strange looks and smirk, like he knew something Derek didn't. It had made him really uncomfortable. Even the Sheriff had noticed, though he couldn't tell him what was wrong with his son. At least Derek had found out the truth about Lydia, that she was Jackson's long term girlfriend. He hadn't known why really but he'd been on edge ever since he'd seen her in the stands with Stiles. Jackson introducing them at the coffee shop in town had lifted a weight from his shoulders.

Trying to forget about Stiles absents, Derek threw himself into practice and wasn't doing a particularly good job at it. He'd screwed up his time on the mound, allowing took many of his team mates to make runs. Now he only hoped he would do better with a bat. He stood on the plate and took a few practice swings, bracing his feet he rolled his shoulders and raised the bat, his eyes locked on Scott's, waiting for the ball. - And waiting. - And waiting. What the hell was wrong with him? "You going to throw that thing!" Derek yelled out to the mound.

Scott shifted his feet and dropped his gaze to his glove and Derek readied himself once again. - But still nothing. Huffing with frustration, he lowered the bat and glared, looking around for the coach, who was stood in the dug-out glancing down at his watch.

"coach!" Derek yelled.

"Alright, hit the showers."

"Huh?" Derek frowned.

"Huh, Derek." Scott coughed.

His head snapped around to meet his team mates gaze. "What?"

Scott swallowed hard and nodded towards the bleachers.

Derek's head turned, following his gaze to see Stiles heading towards him. Derek's brows knitted together and his heart absolutely did not skip at the look of determination of his face. Or the confident smirk that was spread across his lips. Derek glanced around at his team mates as Stiles got closer, swallowing nervously. They were wall staring at him. His final glance fell on Scott who looked intrigued, amused and concerned all at once.

"So….practice over?" Stiles asked with a cheeky grin.

Derek looked back at him, his fingers tightening around his bat. "So it seems." he grunted.

Stiles nodded, glancing around the field. "Huh…So, could I take you home?" he asked in a low seductive tone.

Derek swallowed again, looking behing behind him like he expected to see Lydia or someone, then turned back to Stiles. "Huh?"

Stiles was still grinning, and his eyes were shining with something Derek hadn't seen in anyone's gaze in a long time.

"Dude. Do you have a band-aid?"

Derek's brows furrowed with confusion at the sudden change in topic. "What?"

"Cos I just scraped my knee falling for you."

Derek's jaw dropped open. "What?"

Strike One

Stiles took another step forward "Dude, I lost my number, can I borrow yours?"

Derek took a deep breath, his lip twitching and his heart beginning to pound in his chest. Stiles was not doing what he thought he was doing. There was no way he was trying to pick him up. Right?

Strike Two

Stiles took another step, putting himself toe to toe with Derek. "Do you believe in love at first sight? - Or should I come in again?"

Derek's lip curled up and he couldn't stop the laugh that slipped past his lips. Oh My God as Stiles would say. He was. It was actually using God-awful pick up lines on him. And Derek had to admit it was working. - Why hadn't it ever worked for him though? Because he wasn't using them on the right person. Derek looked into Stiles warm brown eyes then glanced down at his uniform. "You know..." he said softly, his tone seeping with humor and desire. "...this outfit would look great in a crumpled heap next to your bed."

Stiles laughed, reaching up to hook his hand behind Derek's neck and bring their mouths together, mindless of the teams eyes on them.





"About time one of those lines worked." Derek whispered, pulling back a little.

"Trust me Dude, it wasn't the line...well, at least not the one coming out of your mouth." Stiles laughed, groping Derek through his uniform pants. "Now what was that about a crumpled heap?"


A/N: Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it.

I'm still working on my new Teen Wolf fic, hopefully it'll be up soon.