Chapter Text
Derek looked up expectantly as he heard the pleasant ring of the bell above the door indicating that someone was entering the coffee shop. His heart skipped a little and he hid a satisfied smile behind his coffee cup. He was here again.
‘He’ was the young man who had be devouring all of Derek’s attention, thoughts, and dreams for the past three weeks.
The young man had short dark brown hair that stuck up messily due to his habit of pushing his long slender fingers though it. His eyes were also a brown but they were light, almost golden in the sunlight. His frame was thin but muscular with long arms and legs. He was probably shorter then Derek, he had mused, maybe 5’10 or 5’11, but it was hard to tell as the young man spent most of his time bent over books or his laptop. As he entered the shop he headed straight for the till where there was no queue, it was only a small shop, and ordered his usual – a tall latte with an extra shot of espresso. As he absentmindedly looked round the shop Derek quickly bent back over the newspaper he had been reading. He didn’t read any of the text but instead focused on memorising the way the young man’s tight fitting baseball shirt clung to his chest so Derek could just make out his nipples. Then, after a few seconds, Derek chanced a looked back up and continued watching. The young man had pulled out his phone and had started typing.
He must be about 18 or 19 years old Derek had worked out. Not that that took much deducing seeing as he looked only a few years younger than himself. Also, he always carried a heavy laptop bag on his shoulder and arm full of Criminology textbooks. Derek had positioned himself nearer to the young man’s usual spot (Derek’s usual spot was near the window which was where he sat now) a week earlier and saw that he was typing up notes from a ring binder which had written on the front in an untidy scrawl: ‘Yr 1 first term’. The ring binder was full of the same hurried scribble. Derek had once had to quite severely suppress a broad fond smile from replacing his usual look of stony indifference when he had seen the young man looking perplexedly at his own notes clearly not understanding his own writing.
Although Derek was now accustomed with nearly every adorable quirk and mannerism that this young man presented he still however did not know his name. This bothered Derek. However being the aloof and brooding recluse that he was Derek had resigned himself to the fact that he will probably never know, let alone talk to him.
Derek was pondering, for the umpteenth time how this scrawny, often hungover looking, but adorable kid could make him, the allusive enigma that is Derek Hale – freelance photographer, turn into a mess of butterflies and clammy hands just by entering the shop.
Derek continued discreetly watching as the young man collected his coffee, jostled with his laptop and books for a moment then picked his way clumsily though the little tables which filled the shop. He was desperately trying not to spill his beverage but wasn’t making it easy for himself. He had balanced it on top of one of his many text books so that in his other hand he could hold his laptop bag, who’s strap seemed to have broken. Derek swallowed back an “aw” as he watched the young man finally plop down on his favourite seat by the power socket but then almost spill his coffee all over his textbook. Something about this his demeanour made Derek’s inside melt – not something Derek’s insides were known for doing that’s for sure. But this was not the only part of Derek that the young man had control over it seemed. Derek watched, totally engrossed, as the young man took a sip of his coffee. Derek felt his jeans gradually becoming tight and uncomfortable as the young man slowly licked the white frothy milk from his lips. Then, as if teasing Derek personally, he ran his thumb across his lower lip to collect the last traces of the milk and placed the tip of his thumb into his mouth and sucked. Derek’s jeans were now becoming extremely uncomfortable. Then the young man bent down and picked up his laptop.
Derek took another sip of his coffee willing his semi stiff cock to remember that he’s not 16 and shouldn’t be this horny. Gradually this worked but Derek kept watching, inconspicuously he hoped, as his lanky object of affection opened his laptop and furrowed his brow. Derek looked back down at his newspaper and realised he had been reading the same sentence since the young man had walked in. Embarrassed at this he turned the page taking another sip of his now lukewarm coffee. He took a swift glance in front of him to see the young man was also taking a sip of his coffee and making a face. He then reached for the sugar and poured an enormous amount in and stirred it. Derek again marvelled at how he can be completely immersed by someone he has never even spoken to, or even knows their name.
Derek then almost spilled his own coffee as he jumped at the sound of his phone ringing and looked down to see it was vibrating menacingly across the table. Derek’s put his cup down with a clatter and answered it. It was Laura - his sister. Laura sounded stressed (as usual). Laura, unlike Derek, still worked for the family run magazine and website that specialised in auctioning glamorous grand houses often depicted with equally glamorous people lounging around them. Derek loved his family, deep down, but hated working for the magazine. Laura shouted down the phone. Derek held it a few inches away from his face.
“Look Derek, before you say anything I just want to you to know that I don’t want to hear it.”
Derek rolled his eyes. This was typical Laura.
Laura continued “I don’t want to hear about how you’re freelance now, how you don’t want to work for Peter because he is creepy as shit, or how you’re fed up with me asking if Cora really is old enough not to have to call home every day…” she takes a deep breath and goes on “or how the magazine is elitist and pompous, or how you think everyone who works here are morons, or how…”
Derek finally cuts her off. “If you’re about to ask me to fill in for one of your ‘morons’ then maybe listing why I don’t want to is not the best idea.” He can almost hear her eyes roll.
“Less sass more action please Derek!” she said.
Derek smiled in spite of himself. Even if he thought Peter was a creep he still liked and got on with Laura.
Laura continues “But yes, I need a favour - you free?”
Derek was very free. Since turning freelance he had been probably freer than he would have wanted to be but he didn’t want his sister knowing that. He especially didn’t want her to know he was spending his unemployed hours hiding out in a coffee shop watching students (or rather a student).
“When would you need me?” He replied in an exaggerated weary tone.
Laura cheered up at these words. “Now if possible! You know I wouldn’t ask you if it wasn’t an emergency.”
Laura’s pleading tone made Derek smile, ever so slightly, again and he absentmindedly looked up from his coffee that he had been stirring. And when he did look up he was met with a surprise. Him. The young man, the student, the gorgeous, adorable, object of his affection was staring right at him. They locked eyes and then the young man seemed to blush, or did Derek imagine that, and duck behind his laptop again. Derek was speechless.
“Derek? Look I’m not going to beg… well I might, but come on! I really need you! Are you coming or not?” Laura cried.
Derek roused himself from his stunned stupor. “Yeah I’m coming.” He replied weakly.
He then hurriedly got to his feet grabbing his belongings haphazardly. The sudden eye contact had taken him by surprise. He felt like a teenager again, crushing on someone and then when they notice you not being able to handle it.
“Great! Come to the office ASAP. I’ll drive us to yours for the equipment if that’s fine?.” Laura asked cheerily, apprently not noticing Derek’s sudden change in tone.
“Right” He replied not really listening to her, he was too busy rushing out of the shop trying to convince him self that he was rushing because Laura needed him and not because he had made eye contact with his ‘crush’.
oOo
Stiles leaned back heavily in his chair and distractedly ran his fingers through his hair. He let out a long slow breath and then reached for his coffee and took a sip trying hard to think. Then his phone vibrated and he picked it up. It was a text from Lydia.
‘Well? xxx’ was all it said.
Stiles quickly replied.‘He just left. Got a phone call or something. Seemed urgent x’
There was a pause. Stiles didn’t put his phone down knowing that Lydia wouldn’t take long to reply. He was right.
‘Aw sweetie! Always next time :) xxx’.
Stiles smiled warmly and thought back, like he often did, to Beacon Hills.
Stiles had fallen in love with Lydia the second he had laid eyes on her in third grade. He had stayed loving her until he was 17 when to his surprise they became close friends. Stiles’ best friend, Scott, had started going out with her best friend, Alison, when they were 16 so Stiles and Lydia were suddenly thrust together on group outings and at lunch. Stiles had tried his luck with her many times but she was cold and thought little of him but he didn’t give up. Soon after that Lydia’s crazy and possessive on-and-off-boyfriend, Jackson, had moved to London and Lydia had opened up a lot more. Strangely to Stiles the more time he spent with a new open and friendly side of Lydia came through (though she could still be cold and indifferent when she wanted to). They became closer as friends rather than as lovers and now it has gotten to the point that it makes them both cringe to think of their relationship being any other way.
Scott and Allison had stayed in Beacon Hills, Scott continuing his job at the vets until he saved up enough money for university and Allison training to become an archery instructor. Stiles and Lydia had both managed to get into quite a prestigious university that luckily was still fairly close to Beacon Hills. Lydia, who was something of a genius, was taking Advanced Mathematics and Stiles, who wasn’t lacking for brains either, was doing Criminology.
Although they had stayed close Lydia did now have a gaggle of girls who she liked to hang out with, but she always made time for Stiles and always took a great interest when it came to Stiles’ love life (or lack there of). Stiles had found it slightly harder to make friends than Lydia. He had always had Scott at home and even when Scott started going out with Allison they still spent nearly all of their time together. Stiles had made friends with his roommate, Isaac Lahey, but Isaac was kind of quiet and when he did talk he was cynical and quite often rude. However they had found a happy medium between Stiles’ hyperactive sarcasm and Isaac’s cool dry wit and were already planning on finding a place together next year with Lydia and maybe some of her girl friends. Stiles was happy. He had Lydia, he had Isaac, Scott visited often (probably so often it was going to take him another year to save enough money to go to university), he was enjoying his studies and the university life. In fact the only thing that bothered Stiles at the moment was the fact that he was still a virgin.
Stiles rubbed his nose absentmindedly as he mulled over this subject for the hundredth time. Stiles knew very well why he was a virgin and cursed himself daily for it. Stiles fixated on people, and said people were completely out of his league. He couldn’t help it! If he liked someone he just couldn’t look at anyone else. Lydia is the prime example, she was the main reason he came to university a virgin (he liked to tell himself at least). And now it was happening all over again.
Stiles started browsing facebook but wasn’t really looking at any of the posts. He was instead thinking about how it started. How he had gotten himself into this mess.
Stiles had been hungover. He had been rushing to campus when he suddenly thought that he should probably get a coffee otherwise his was going to fall asleep (again) and miss the whole lecture. Spotting a small pleasant looking coffee shop, which would probably be cheaper than a chain, he had darted in only to stop dead in his tracks when he laid eyes on the adonis that was Derek Hale. Derek had been sitting at what Stiles had later learnt was his favourite seat by the small window reading a newspaper. Stiles’ first thought was that he must be still drunk. Surely no one looks that good unless you have beer goggles on. Stiles was so taken aback that he had almost forgotten why he had walked in to the small coffee shop until the curvy woman behind the counter had called out to him.
“Can I help you with anything?” She had called in a sweet sing song voice.
Stiles visibly had to pull himself out of his daze and tried not to stumble as he walked over to the counter.
“A tall latte with a extra shot of espresso to go please.” He had managed and the woman nodded and started busying her self with the machine.
Stiles tried to sneak a glace back at the man in the corner and to his surprise the man seemed to be doing the exact same thing. He was bent over his paper but had his head tilted to the side and was squinting at Stiles with a furrowed brow and a steely expression. Stiles was at first taken aback by this intense look. However, Stiles being Stiles, he had not taken it as a deterrent. When he had liked Lydia he had dealt with a lot worse then an intense look as a rebuff. This time, as Stiles was late, he had taken his coffee and left but he made sure that the next time he came to the coffee shop he sat down a few seats in front of Derek’s seat last time and low and behold Derek had gone and sat down there again.
Stiles, because of his frequent visits, had now grown a kind of rapport with the curvy woman who worked there and one day brought up the courage to ask her about the brooding man by the window. Leaning over the counter, so as Derek couldn’t hear, he called her over. Looking rather pleased she came over and lent in.
Stiles said in a hushed voice “That guy who sits in the window.” He gestured and the woman looked mildly confused but nodded. Stiles continued, “What’s his name?” The woman’s look of warm faded instantly and she looked crestfallen. Stiles couldn’t understand why.
Eventually the woman replied. “Derek Hale. He’s a photographer.” She then turned on her heel and strutted off the clean the coffee machine.
Stiles turned to ogle at this ‘Derek Hale’ and thought to himself that it must be a crime for this man to be behind the camera rather than in front of it.
Once Stiles had, on a drunken night out, told Lydia about his crush and Lydia had since not ceased in her questions about him. Stiles, who had never actually spoken to Derek, was starting to run out of stories and Lydia had since been nagging him to make a move. Stiles had so far, today included, failed to make a move.
Stiles pulled himself out of his reverie and looked longingly over his laptop and at the space where Derek had been sitting. Then something caught Stiles’ eye. There was a wallet sitting on the table. Stiles nearly fell off and then tripped over his chair in his mad scrabble to get to it. Breathing heavily in anticipation he opened it to see Derek staring sourly up at him out of his drivers licence.
The woman behind the counter called over to him having (obviously) noticed his loud movements “Oh did he leave his wallet? Want to hand it in? I’m sure he’ll come back for it.”
“No it’s ok.” Stiles called back over not turning around. “I can give it to him.”
The woman shrugged and turned back to her duties. Stiles stood rooted to the spot for a moment before he, in a manic display of long limbs and frantic flailing, collected his things then left leaving his half drunk coffee behind.