Work Text:
Stiles taps his fingers on the counter, eyes flickering from the door to the half-full but slowly emptying tables littered around the coffee shop. He sighs, staring at the vacant entry, the little bell announcing the arrival of a new customer not having rung for over 15 minutes.
Stiles was bored.
He swirls around on the spot, letting out a small (manly) squeak when he almost trips on his untied shoelace. Grumbling, he leans under the counter to tie them up, head jerking up to smack against the wooden counter-top when he hears the little bell jingle. He hisses, grumbling under his breath, and rubs at his head.
A laugh interrupts his angry mumbles, and Stiles grimaces, quickly finishing tying his shoe. He mutters angrily one last time before standing back up.
"Hi, and welcome to Full Moon Brews," Stiles says, slowly raising his head from under the counter to face the customer, "what can i get you-."
Stiles' voice trails off as he gets a good look at the customer in front of him. The guy standing there was in his late 20's, with piercing blue eyes and an infuriating smirk in place. His hair was artfully styled back to look as if he'd just woken up, and he donned tight black jeans and a deep green V-neck sweater. The man looks at Stiles, eyebrows raised slightly, whilst Stiles blatantly checks him out. God, is that Lord of the Rings in his other hand? Stiles might be in love
"I, uh," Stiles starts to say, before mentally face palming at his awkwardness. He clears his throat, pasting on a smile, and tries again. "Hi, what can I get you?"
Stiles internally grimaces at himself whilst the man in front of him looks like he's trying not to laugh, eyebrows still slightly raised in amusement.
"Large black coffee, two sugars," he drawls out, voice low and sticky sweet like honey. He hands over a crisp ten dollar bill, and Stiles blinks at it before nodding, moving automatically.
He rings up the purchase on the cash register, and hears the man murmur "keep the change." Stiles smiles slightly, moving over to the coffee machine as he starts on making the order.
Stiles has to bite his lip several times not to talk. He knows anything he says will embarrass himself even further, so he keeps his eyes focused on the coffee and on not letting out remarks like what his favourite book of the Lord of the Rings trilogy is, or that that the new hobbit movie was kind of a let down, don't you think?
It seems like hours, but Stiles finally finishes the coffee, fumbling to put a lid on. He slides it across the counter, reflexively licking his dry lips. The man's eyes darken slightly from where they're focused on Stiles face, before blinking a few times, accepting the coffee with a nod of thanks, and moving to go sit down.
He ends up sitting at one of the tables near the back of the cafe (no, Stiles wasn't watching, he was just scanning the shop for new customers, seriously), feet propped up on the other chair as if he owned the place. He opens up his book up at the bookmark, flicking through the pages every minute or so. He ends up staying close to an hour, not that Stiles is counting (he isn't), before closing his finished book and clicking his neck.
He stands up, stretching, and walks over to the bin to throw his empty coffee cup away. He saunters to the entrance and exits, but not before turning around to send a small wink at Stiles.
---
Stiles sees the mystery man (no Scott, I didn't ask his name, I was too busy tending to my bruised ego) twice more that week. He always orders the same thing, black coffee, two sugars, keep the change.
The forth time he enters, he has a laptop bag strung over his left shoulder, a small frown twisting his lips.
Stiles smiles slightly at him, though it falters when the man doesn't offer up his trademark smirk back. He trudges up to the counter where Stiles has already started on his new order.
He puts the laptop bag on the floor at his feet with a sigh, hands moving to rub at his forehead. Stiles watches this from the corner of his eye, wondering what happened to the slick, smug man.
Before his brain-to-mouth filter can tell him otherwise, he aks "what's up?"
The man in front of him snaps his head up when he hears Stiles' question, as if off in his own world. He blinks, looking around, like he's not sure where he is or how he got here.
"Nothing," he responds a few seconds later. Stiles bites down on a disappointed frown, mixing the two sugars into the coffee and putting the lid on. He's just about to hand it over with a cheerufl 'have a nice day!' when the man elaborates.
"It's work problems," he sighs, and runs a hand through his hair.
Stiles nods in understanding, although he has no idea what that means, still stuck on how the man's hair is sticking up at different angles, and before he can bite back another comment, he asks "so what do you do?"
"Oh, financing," the man answers, "real boring." He runs his hand along the counter, and Stiles realizes he's still holding the coffee made and is just standing there.
"Sure beats slaving away in a coffee shop all day," Stiles responds, passing the coffee over and taking the ten dollar note handed to him to ring up the purchase.
"I'm not so sure," the man responds, taking a sip of his coffee and smiling. "Just what I needed. Thank you Stiles."
Stiles gawks slightly when he hears his name, and almost misses the "my name is Peter, by the way." He watches as Peter sends him another wink, moving to sit down at a new table closer to the counter.
He types on his computer for the rest of Stiles' shift, not leaving until a minute before closing
---
Stiles has a few days off from work to cram for upcoming tests, surviving on 2 minute noodles and redbull. Who even needs sleep, anyway?
He comes in for his morning shift several days later, with a raging headache and a massive craving for caffeine.
He whines to Scott, his best(est best) friend ever about how life hates him and are Mondays the devils work? when the little bell on top of the door rings. Stiles grumbles under his breath, turning to face the customer, when a smile pulls at his lips.
"Hi Peter," he smiles, ignoring the knowing smirk Scott sends him from the side, "the usual?"
"Please," he drawls, fingers dancing along the spine of his book.
"Enders Game, hey? Finished Lord of the Rings?" Stiles asks, before biting his tongue and working on the coffee. He can feel Scott watching him, laughing at just how awkward Stiles is.
"Noticed, did you?" Peter asks, smirk in place as he watches Stiles' fingers move naturally along the machine handles. Stiles blushes slightly, face hidden.
"Yeah well, it's not everyday a guy like you walks in. I mean. Er. I haven't seen the movie yet. Enders Game, that is. Never got round to it. I've heard it's not as good as the book though," he jumbles out. Smooth, Stilinski, smooth.
Peter smiles slowly, all teeth, at the opportunity he's just been given. He leans against the counter, fingers fiddling with the note in his hand as if nervous. He's anything but.
"I was actually planning on watching it tonight. I don't suppose you'd like to tag along?" he smirks, watching the way Stiles lights up, moving from behind the coffee machine to smile at him.
"Me? Uh, yeah! I mean, yeah. Sounds good. I get off at 4."
Peter laughs, taking a napkin from the pile on the counter and writing something on it, handing it over to Stiles.
"Perfect," he murmurs, eyes on Stiles as he unrolls the napkin to see a mobile number and 'coffee shop - 6pm' written on it in black pen, smudging slightly, "it's a date."
And with that, he picks up his coffee, taking a sip. He licks his lips before turning around, walking right outside the door, his book left on the counter
---
The date (it's not a date, is it Lydia? Oh god it is. I'm going to die) in the end, is perfect.
Stiles spends over half an hour in the shower, scrubbing off coffee stains that disappeared long ago. He spends an hour after that searching through his clothes before he gives up and calls Lydia in a panic, who tells him to calm down, and to go with the dark grey jeans and the navy blue button down.
With everything sorted, he paces in his dorm, eyes burning a hole in the clock before giving up on waiting and making his way down to the coffee shop.
Peter arrives a few minutes later, pulling up in a sleek black car that is literally sex on wheels. Stiles almost goes to move his hand under his mouth to make sure he isn't drooling, but stops short when the window closest to his is rolled down, Peter looking over at him from the drivers side.
"Getting in?" he asks with a smirk, gesturing to the closed door. Stiles looks at it, before looking down the street at the mall with the small cinema located on the second floor.
"I though we were going for a movie?" Stiles asks, biting his bottom lip softly. Peter stares at him, before looking up, eyes dark, excited.
He smiles slowly, teeth glinting in the street light, sending shivers down Stiles spine.
"I'm taking you somewhere.. nicer," he responds, eyes roaming over him slowly, before reaching over, opening Stiles' door, and pulling him into the car.
-epilogue--
They've been going out for several months now. Stiles is sprawled out on Peter's couch as if he owns it, Peter laying over him. Lord of the Rings is playing in the background, their leftover Chinese spread out over the glass table in the middle of the lounge room.
The movie's forgotten as Peter presses lazy kisses up Stiles' neck, tongue outlining the moles dotting Stiles' skin.
"I have to confess," Peter murmurs, nibbling on the skin of Stiles' neck, "when I first came into that coffee shop, you were not what I was expecting."
"Hrrmph?" Stiles responds, and Peter snorts.
"My friend," Peter starts, and Stiles raises a lazy eyebrow at that, "mentioned you. Just in passing, but I knew I had to see you for myself."
Stiles can't really find it in himself to be surprised.
"And do you like what you see?" Stiles waggles his eyebrows, and Peter stares at him as Stiles licks his lips unconsciously.
"Would you like me to show you how much?" Peter responds with a leer, and Stiles starts to laughs at how cliche that line sounds before his mouth is caught in a searing kiss.
He lets out a groan that's muffled against Peter's lips, before pulling back to catch his breath.
"Okay, though," Stiles pants out, "I have to admit that stalking me is a little creepy."
"Stiles, darling," Peter drawls, fingers tracing along Stiles chin and over the constellation of bite marks scattered across Stiles' neck, "you wouldn't have me any other way."