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Kristina I blame you for this one too.
“I don’t want to come out tonight, Stiles. I want to stay in our stupid dorm room and make stupid puppy faces at my stupid girlfriend.”
Stiles scrunched his face up, mocking Scott in a voice that even he could admit was at least three times higher than Scott’s natural voice.
Or he would admit it if he wasn’t on his third drink.
Probably.
Stiles slammed his glass back against the wooden bar top, half because of the burst of anger and half because he was a quick drunk and had terrible limb control at the best of times. He blinked slowly at his now empty glass and the bartender appeared in front of him.
“Refill, kid?”
Stiles hissed, flying backwards in shock and barely remaining on his seat. Stool. Whatever. “Not a kid,” he mumbled, pushing his glass forward. Stiles refused to look up and see the smirk and laughing blue eyes that had been mocking him all night. Stupid bartender with his stupid smugness.
“Boyfriend troubles?” The bartender’s voice was light, casual, and seriously way too smug.
Now Stiles looked up, his face dropping into horrified shock as a small noise of disgust slipped out of his open mouth. “No,” he gestured emphatically, shaking his head so much he wasn’t completely sure when he stopped. “No, Scott is not my boyfriend. If he was, we might actually hang out.” Stiles scrunched up his face again, taking a big mouthful of the re-filled drink.
It wasn’t completely Scott’s fault. Stiles was just as surprised that Scott got a girlfriend. Stiles also encouraged Scott to talk to Allison all the time because Allison was in another state and could do much better than Scott so it was up to Scott to make sure she did not realise that. Stiles did not encourage Scott to ditch on bro night though. No-one ditches on bro night.
Stiles’ head snapped up at the amused laugh and glared into the blue eyes when he realised he had said all of that out loud. “You’re a stupid bartender.”
That really did sound better in his head. Much more sophisticated.
Blue-Eyes laughed again, eyes crinkling at the corners, and Stiles squirmed in his seat. On his stool. Damn it.
It was a great smile though.
“Erm, hello.”
Stiles did not yelp. He didn’t.
He did swing around to face the stage. And his jaw did drop. His stomach may or may not have flipped. It’s all a little hazy, really.
“I’m Derek,” A tall, dark, leather wrapped someone shuffled uncomfortably on stage, glaring out at the small crowd before cutting his eyes to the blonde Stiles belatedly noticed was next to him. A very pretty blonde. That was showing a lot of cleavage. Stiles’ eyes went back to the tall guy and he swallowed as he let his eyes skim over the wonderfully tight jeans Tall-Guy was wearing. Derek.
“Hi Derek!”
Stiles startled, looking over his shoulder in shock at the crazy haired guy that had been mumbling to himself all night. The bartender’s smile got a little ‘speak-again-and-I-will-eat you’ as he zeroed in on Crazy. “Coach, don’t make me cut you off.”
The crazy haired guy waved him off and saluted Derek on stage with his beer bottle.
“Yes, hi,” Derek’s voice was tight and he looked like he was about to launch off the stage and start ripping throats out. “This is Erica, and -”
“Hi Erica!”
Stiles flinched at the yell in his ear, turning back to glare at the guy. Could he not see that Stiles was very busy trying to memorize every feature of the guy on stage so he could happily jerk off later?
“Dude, this is not an AA meeting. You don’t have to greet them.” Stiles snapped and the bartender turned his grin back on him, a whole different type of predatory. Stiles gulped, meeting the blue eyes for all of two seconds before his eyes wandered back to the stage.
“We’re going to sing Witchcraft, originally by Sinatra,” Derek looked over at the blonde with glare-y eyes, and she smiled back through her lashes.
“We’ll be singing the ’93 duet version. When you’re ready, Isaac,” She nodded at a lanky guy hunched over an old looking system, and he nodded back before hitting a few buttons, and then music started.
Stiles wasn’t a big listener of jazz, or anything close really. He was only in this bar because it had been the first one he’d seen that didn’t have a line out the front a mile long, and he wanted to get drunk and out of the cold as quickly as possible. Now though, he was beyond glad that he’d come in. Watching the tall, muscly, guy in the leather jacket slowly relax as he sung was in the top five most erotic things he had seen in his life.
Those fingers in my hair,
that sly come hither stare that strips my conscience bare;
it’s witchcraft.
Stiles’ eyes locked on to his hands and how they wrapped around the microphone stand.
And I’ve got no defence for it,
The heat is too intense for it.
What good would common sense for it do?
How they slid down the stand and then back up.
‘Cause it’s witchcraft, wicked witchcraft.
And although, I know, it’s strictly taboo.
How his fingers tightened occasionally.
When you arouse the need in me,
My heart says yes indeed in me.
Proceed with what you’re leading me to.
How his hand would come up and cup the top of the microphone.
It’s such an ancient pitch,
But one I wouldn’t switch,
‘Cause there’s no nicer witch than you.
How he’d sometimes pull it a little closer before letting it fall back.
‘Cause it’s witchcraft.
That crazy witchcraft.
My heart says yes indeed in me.
Proceed with what you’re leading me to.
Stiles was completely unaware of the fact that the bartender had not moved away from him, or even taken his eyes off him. Instead, Stiles was tense on the stool, transfixed by the man on stage. The way his voice seemed to melt into the microphone and ooze out into every corner of the little bar. There were other people in the bar, conversations going on, and Stiles wanted to shout at all of them to just shut up because couldn’t they notice perfection when it was right in front of them?
It’s such an ancient pitch,
But one I wouldn’t switch,
‘Cause there’s no nicer witch than you.
When the song came to an end Stiles wasn’t even sure if he’d taken a breath the whole time. Or even blinked really. He was loosely holding his drink in one hand and it was surprising that it hadn’t crashed to the floor sometime during the song. As it was, he watched as Derek nodded sharply at the small crowd and gestured to the blonde to step forward and sing another song. Stiles kept watching until the dark haired man moved out of sight. Then he took a deep breath and a big gulp of his drink.
He winced and gingerly put the glass back on the counter.
“Was that good for you, Stiles?”
There was no denying it. Stiles definitely yelped this time.
“You should wear a bell,” he hissed at Blue-Eyes, glaring despite the wide grin he was faced with.
“Did you want a repeat performance?”
Stiles choked on the last mouthful of the drink he had been finishing, just barely stopping himself from spraying it everywhere. Blue-Eyes wordlessly handed him a napkin, smug grin still in place.
“Peter, stop terrorizing your patrons.”
Stiles started choking all over again at the new voice. He slumped over the bar, coughing and probably going completely red as he struggled for air.
“Are you ok?”
A warm hand settled between Stiles’ shoulder blades and he inhaled sharply, the air burning his throat. He went completely tense, turning his head to look over his shoulder at the guy that had been on stage but was now touching him.
“I’m great,” Stiles croaked. Then his eyes widened as he realised the position he was in. The guy, Derek, was standing mostly behind Stiles and Stiles was leaning forward over the bar, butt off the stool, with Derek’s hand between his shoulder blades. He wasn’t wearing his jacket anymore.
Stiles cleared his throat, about five hundred per cent sure he was blushing from head to toe, and slowly lowered his butt back onto his stool. He kept his eyes fixed on Derek, reluctant to so much as blink lest the very attractive guy stopped touching him. Instead, Derek used his free hand to pull the stool next to Stiles out slightly and then slowly lowered himself onto it. Instead of just removing his hand, Derek slid it slowly across Stiles’ shoulder, fingers brushing bicep and causing Stiles to give a full body shudder.
Derek smirked, dropping his eyes to the bar top. Stiles wasn’t sure if he was getting his head screwed with at the moment, and he couldn’t even bring himself to care. Because that little smile was so much better than Blue-Eyes’ smug grin.
“Are you thirsty, nephew?”
Stiles was imagining how pornographic that sounded, right?
Judging by the sharp glare Derek shot the bartender, who was apparently his uncle, he was not imagining anything. “Water, Peter.”
Stiles was a little amazed at how quickly he was able to change from handsy and flirty to dark and growly.
Blue-Eyes held his hands up in mock surrender, got Derek a bottle of water, and then disappeared somewhere.
“Sorry about him.”
If Stiles hadn’t been staring at the man next to him he wouldn’t have even noticed that he’d spoken. Derek spoke softly but stared right back, and Stiles was completely entranced by the finger that was circling the mouth of the water bottle. Stiles’ mouth went dry and he was suddenly very thirsty. His head whipped around, frantically looking for that stupid smug grin and the drink that would come with it.
“What are you -” Derek was looking at him with a confused frown pulling his eyebrows together.
“That stupid bartender is around all night except the one time I want him to be,” Stiles muttered, eyes darting along the length of the bar and finding no sign of the bartender.
“You want Peter?” Derek sounded shocked and when Stiles glanced at his face Derek’s eyebrows looked hurt.
“God no,” Stiles vehemently shook his head. “I just want a drink.”
Derek gave another small smirk and then stood up. Stiles watched as Derek scanned the bar, probably looking for his uncle, and Stiles continued watching when Derek lifted himself onto the counter and swung his legs around to land on the other side of the bar. Stiles opened his mouth to say something and then shut it again when he came up blank. Derek’s shirt was thin enough for Stiles to see the outline of a tattoo in between his shoulder blades that Stiles now wanted to lick.
“Show off.”
Stiles narrowed his eyes at the guy with the crazy hair that was still in the stool next to him. Why did Stiles always get stuck with the crazy?
“I wont tell if you wont, cupcake.” Derek shot Crazy a huge smile and Stiles ignored the way his stomach flipped at the sight of it. Even Crazy looked a little unsure of how he was meant to react. Derek grabbed another beer from somewhere under the bar, twisted the lid off with the bottom of his grey shirt of hotness, and then slid it over to Crazy. Crazy seemed mollified and Stiles was too busy staring at the spot where Derek had lifted his shirt to show a slither of stomach. His shirt had dropped again almost instantly but Stiles’ mouth felt like he’d been licking sand.
“What do you want?” Derek braced his palms on the bar top and leant forward, towards Stiles, and Stiles’ eyes snapped up to Derek’s mouth. What was a polite way to say that all he wanted was those lips wrapped around his -
“Water.” Stiles croaked, forcing his eyes away from Derek’s mouth. He couldn’t even blame the alcohol. Any effect it had been having had been scared out of him.
“That all?” Derek’s voice sounded innocent enough, but the smirk twisting his lips was more pornographic than anything Blue-Eyes had done the entire night.
“Yes.” Stiles bit out. He would not be one of what had to be hundreds of guys that hit on the dark haired man in front of him.
Derek huffed out a small laugh, grabbing a bottle of water and opening it the same way he had opened the beer. Stiles let out an indignant little sound that was a manly squawk, thank you very much Scott, because stupid Derek was doing it on purpose. Derek’s pleased little smirk and happy eyebrows told Stiles just how on purpose Derek being all flirty was.
“Anything else you want me to do?” Derek reached out and snagged his water that had been sitting on the bar, leaving behind a ring of condensation. He took in a mouthful and Stiles greedily watched him swallow. Watching Derek’s throat was practically watching soft porn. Really.
When Stiles didn’t answer Derek leant forward against the bar again, this time propping himself up on his elbows with his hands under his jaw.
He should have looked ridiculous. Honestly. He was a grown man leaning over a bar at another grown man. It just wasn’t done. Except Stiles could see how Derek being bent over was a good thing. And that wasn’t even taking into account that Stiles could see the shirt shifting over obvious muscle, or, if he was to look, that Derek’s collarbones were at the perfect level for Stiles to lean forward and bite. Instead, Stiles kept his eyes locked on Derek’s left bicep, if only to avoid staring directly at his lips. Which were also at a great level for Stiles to lean forward and bite.
“What’s your name?”
Derek’s voice startled Stiles into looking up and meeting his eyes. Now that their faces were really close Stiles could see, even in the low lighting, that Derek’s eyes were hazel. Stiles liked hazel.
“I don’t appreciate this, y’know.” Stiles moistened his lips. His entire mouth felt too dry. Derek’s eyes snapped down to his mouth but Stiles would not be distracted. He was going to stand his ground. Even if he passed out from dehydration along the way.
“You don’t appreciate this?” Derek sounded amused. His eyebrows looked amused. He had very expressive eyebrows. He was also not even trying to hide his staring at Stiles’ mouth. “You don’t appreciate being hit on by the person you were mentally undressing ten minutes ago?”
Stiles winced. “You noticed that, huh?”
Derek hummed, finally looking away from Stiles’ mouth but looking like it physically pained him to do so. “I appreciated it.”
Stiles huffed out a nervous laugh, eyes instinctively darting around but not really seeing much. “So, um,”
Stiles froze when one of Derek’s hands came around behind his neck, tugging Stiles closer until his nose was almost touching Derek’s. Stiles’ had his ass in the air again and was going cross-eyed trying to not break eye-contact with Derek.
“I have an apartment two blocks from here.” It wasn’t quite an invitation, but Stiles was only ever going to give one answer.
He leant forward and closed the short gap between their mouths. The kiss was a little awkward for a few seconds, unfamiliar and uncoordinated, but Stiles had always been quick to pick things up. Stiles made an eager little noise and tried to shuffle forward, closer, but there really wasn’t any way to make this a more comfortable position to make out in.
Derek was the one to pull back first but he didn’t go far. “Meet me outside in two minutes.” He waited for Stiles to nod before sliding his hand off Stiles’ neck slowly and then turning to disappear through some door.
Stiles let out a slow breath, scrubbing his palm over his mouth. He stared blankly at nothing in particular, trying to process the fact that the hot guy singing smooth jazz wanted to take him back to his apartment. Stiles’ luck. Man.
Stiles took another swig of water and then pushed himself away from the bar. He really hoped this wasn’t an elaborate way to kick him out of the bar for eye-fucking the performers.
“Ready?”
Stiles jumped, half way out the door, and spun around to face Derek who was back in his leather jacket. He nodded quickly, eyes wide from a mix of being petrified for the fiftieth time in one night and the sight of Derek standing really close in tight jeans and a leather jacket.
“What’s your name?” Derek steered him down the street and Stiles chose to assume it was in the direction of Derek’s apartment rather than the direction of a dark alley that Derek was going to kill him in.
“Stiles,” Stiles shoved his hands into his pockets, staring at his shoes and trying to bite back the words.
“Stiles,” Derek repeated it back to him, like he was tasting it on his tongue, and Stiles decided fuck it.
“Yeah, remember it,” he shot his fingers into fake guns at Derek, “you’ll be screaming it later.”
When Derek laughed long and loud, Stiles was glad Scott had decided to stay in their stupid dorm room and make stupid puppy faces at his stupid girlfriend.