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Stiles watches the diner boredly from behind the counter while Lydia reties her apron for the four hundredth time in an attempt to achieve the perfect bow and Allison refills sugar containers. He’s waiting for table 12’s order from Scott and Isaac, and from their laughs floating in from the kitchen, that’s not going to happen soon.
His eyes cut over to the door when the bell jingles, and two ridiculously attractive men walk in. “Mine!” Stiles nearly yells, rushing around the counter before Lydia even has time to look up from her crooked bow.
“Hey, no fair! It’s my turn!” she hisses, and Stiles feels no remorse at all when he stops in front of the table, out of breath and red-faced. The two guys look up at him, and even with the one look of confused amusement and the other of pure disdain, it is so worth it. God, Grumpy Beard is the hottest thing to ever enter this diner. Or maybe enter planet Earth. And, oh god, he’s wearing a fitted black button up uniform shirt like his companion. A fireman. Stiles tries not to pop a boner right there.
“Hey, welcome to Wolf Road Diner. I’m Stiles, I’ll be taking care of all of your needs, well, food wise, I mean, um…would you like anything to drink?” Stiles flicks his pen nervously against his pad, his face burning with embarrassment. Grumpy Beard’s friend, who is only slightly less attractive, gives him a creepy closed-lipped smile. Grumpy Beard looks like he wants to murder Stiles in his sleep.
“Two waters, and two burger plates,” he says, and wow, that voice is not what Stiles expected. It’s almost…soft. As Stiles nods and takes the scribbled order to the window, he briefly imagines what it’d sound like in his ear, with the fireman’s long hot –
“You ass!” Lydia slaps his arm, hard. “That was my table, and you know it!”
“Lydia, I…I had to. Did you see the dark-haired one? He’s like every wet dream I’ve ever had come to life. After this, I’ll have spank bank material for at least two months.”
Lydia wrinkles her nose. “Ew, Stiles, really? You’re disgusting. I don’t know why I talk to you.”
“You love me, shut up.”
Stiles manages to not embarrass himself in front of Grumpy Beard and Hot Friend, and he learns that Vernon Milton Boyd IV is the friend, and Grumpy Beard is a caveman who is afraid of debit cards. But he leaves Stiles a four dollar tip on an eight dollar meal, so Grumpy can stay in the stone age for all Stiles cares. Plus, stone age means no shirt, score.
*
A few days later, Grumpy Beard comes in with a terrifyingly hot blonde woman and another attractive guy. They’re all wearing blue fire department T-shirts, and Stiles is so lost staring at the way Grumpy Beard’s biceps swell from beneath the sleeves and his muscles ripple beneath the way too tight shirt, that he doesn’t realize Lydia, the backstabbing bitch, has sauntered over to their table and is taking their drinks.
When she returns behind the counter and hands Scott their order through the window, Stiles gives her his best glare. “You look like a wet, drowned puppy,” Lydia says. Then she smiles sweetly. “Call it payback for the other day.”
“I hate you so much. You are evil. Evil, and I’m no longer your bro.”
At the end of the meal, Lydia returns to Stiles having scored a date with one of the firemen, Jackson, and Grumpy Beard’s name. Which is Derek.
Stiles leans forward and kisses Lydia on the cheek. “I love you. You are wonderful, the best bro in the entire world. No longer evil, but if you take Derek’s table again, I swear, I will sprout claws and there will be a cat fight right here in the middle of the diner.”
“Stiles is a worse drama queen than you,” Allison says from behind them, where she’s rolling silverware. “Though no one is as much of a drama queen as Isaac.”
“I heard that!” they hear float from the kitchen.
*
Derek, Vernon Milton Boyd IV, and Hot Scary Blonde come in the next day for lunch. This time they’re wearing uniform jackets, which piques Stiles’ interest. “You seem a little overdressed for the diner,” Stiles says when he approaches them with his waiter’s smile.
The blonde eyes him closely, which makes Stiles’ skin prickle like he’s the prey to her predator. She glances at Derek and asks, “This is him?”
Stiles’ face scrunches in confusion as Derek sets the most horrifying glower on Erica, and Vernon Milton Boyd IV says, “Yeah, he’s the overly talkative waiter from the other day.”
Stiles feels himself blush. “Yeah, I tend to ramble, part of the job.”
“The redhead who got Jackson to take her out didn’t ramble,” Erica says, glancing at Derek, whose glower has barely lessened in intensity. “Jackson didn’t stand a chance. I just don’t get what it is about this place.”
“Three loaded grill cheeses,” Derek quickly says, turning towards Stiles. For a moment, Stiles gets lost in his eyes, bright and colorful and intense. Stiles wants to lay in bed with him on Sunday mornings and memorize the individual flecks of color and laugh as Derek drags his stubble across his chest.
“Yep, three loaded grill cheeses, roger that.” The three of them share a weird look as Stiles goes back behind the counter.
When Stiles brings out their order, Derek says, “We’re giving a fire safety demonstration at the elementary school.”
“Aww, that is the most adorable thing ever,” Stiles says, and he may have imagined it, but he thinks Derek blushes. “Do you have the red plastic fireman hats and everything?” Derek nods. “Can I have one? I loved those things when I was a kid. I once toured a fire station on a field trip, and despite the teacher’s instructions, I jumped on the fireman’s pole on the second floor. And I got stuck there I was so scared. They had to rescue me, it was really embarrassing…as is admitting this story to a table of firemen.” Boyd’s smirking, the woman is watching them curiously, and Derek is laughing quietly. “Um, good luck with the kiddies. Teach them all about stop, drop, and roll.”
“Can you be in love with a stranger?” Stiles asks Allison as he watches Derek eat his sandwich, a long string of cheese stretching between his mouth and the bread.
“It’s not love,” Allison says softly. “It’s called getting laid.”
“You just lost your position as diner favorite,” Stiles grumbles, and she leans over and kisses his cheek.
After they leave, Derek jogs back into the diner, carrying a red plastic fireman’s hat. He kind of shoves it at Stiles awkwardly and leaves again without a word.
Stiles wears it the rest of the day.
*
Derek comes in alone, and Stiles glares at Lydia, pointing his finger. “I’ll kill you.” She flips her ponytail and puts more pies in the case.
“By yourself today,” Stiles greets. “Where’s the rest of the trusty fire department?”
“They wanted sushi,” Derek grunts out.
“And you didn’t?”
“I don’t like sushi.”
“Dude!” Stiles exclaims. “How can you not like sushi? Sushi Heaven is the best sushi restaurant, ever. Their maki rolls are to die for.”
“I’m more of a meat and potatoes kind of guy.”
“I can see that,” Stiles blurts, and bites his lip in embarrassment. But Derek’s ears are burning, and Stiles thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. After Derek orders his burger, Stiles drops into the empty side of the booth across from Derek. He looks up from his phone in irritation. “It’s the dead hour, the post lunch rush lull. You’re here late today. Your band of merry firemen usually come around noon.”
“Busy day,” Derek replies, putting his phone back into his pocket.
Stiles nods. “So, how long how you been a fireman, Derek? Did you always want to protect the people of Beacon Hills?”
“How do you know my name?” Derek asks.
Stiles mouths wordlessly for a few moments, before settling on, “Lydia told me. Jackson told her.” Derek seems satisfied with that answer, and Stiles takes an internal sigh of relief.
“I’ve been a fireman for about eight years,” Derek says. “How long have you been a waiter?”
Stiles snorts. “Dude, this is so a means to an end. We’re all in school. Allison and I are working on our master’s, Lydia’s breezing through to a PhD and does this to help pay rent, Isaac’s in med school and Scott’s in vet school.” He shrugs. “We’ve been working here since undergrad, and the pay is decent, and it beats working at the drive thru.” Derek nods and opens his mouth to speak, but the bell dings. “Order up.”
After Stiles drops Derek’s plate off, he starts to walk away, and Derek says, “I don’t mind.” Stiles cranes his neck over his shoulder, and Derek looks pointedly at the seat he had just occupied. Stiles slides into the booth and starts asking Derek about his favorite TV shows.
*
The next time Stiles sees Derek, he’s with a beautiful dark-haired woman, and they’re both dressed nicely. He feels his heart drop to his feet. A date.
“Take Derek’s table,” he tells Allison. Derek looks around, and when he catches Stiles’ eye, he smiles and waves. The woman turns around and glares in Stiles’ general direction. “Please, Allison.”
“Okay,” she agrees reluctantly.
Stiles spends the next half hour in the kitchen, reorganizing, refilling, and rerolling. Scott and Isaac try to cheer him up, and he laughs, but he can’t ignore the overwhelming disappointment he feels. He’d though after the other day, where he’d sat and talked to Derek through lunch, that maybe there was hope. But Stiles had been an idiot. There was never any hope for a guy like him. Derek was a gorgeous firefighter, and he was an awkward comp sci guy. The two didn’t mix.
Allison sticks her head through the kitchen window. “He’s gone.” Stiles shuffles out from the back. “You’re a moron.”
“Way to kick a guy when he’s down, Allison.”
She huffs and rolls her eyes. “That was his sister, and he asked about you twice.”
“His…sister?” Stiles perks up at that.
“Yes, his sister. She flew in from New York or something, I don’t know. He kept looking around the diner, and I’m pretty sure he was looking for you.”
“Well, shit,” Stiles says. Allison rolls her eyes again.
*
“Do you smell smoke?” Lydia asks right before the smoke alarms go off. She’s already on her phone as Isaac and Scott come running from the back.
“Fire!” They rush towards the door.
“Wait, did you try the fire extinguisher?” Stiles asks, but they’re all gone. He does not want his place of employment to burn down, so he pushes his way into the kitchen. The room is really smoky, and his eyes water and he coughs. He takes a moment to look around, assess the situation. He can’t see the fire, so he grabs the extinguisher and makes his way through the room. It’s kind of hard to breathe in the thick smoke, but he figures if he can just get the fire before it’s out of control, a little coughing and burning eyes is worth it.
Before he can find the source of the fire, two strong hands grab him and lift him over a shoulder. “Isaac, Scott,” he coughs as he struggles. When he’s out of the back room, he tries to take deep lungfuls of air as he stares in confusion at the yellow coat, but the air burns and he coughs, his eyes watering so much it looks like he’s crying. When he’s outside, the two hands set him down carefully, and he’s face to face with Derek.
“Are you fucking insane?” Derek yells. Stiles feels lightheaded and looks around, not realizing that a fire truck is flashing in the parking lot, Jackson and Erica already inside neutralizing the threat. “You could die from smoke inhalation.”
“Derek,” an EMT says as Derek leads Stiles to an ambulance. The woman takes Stiles and smiles at him. “Hey Stiles, I’m Kira. Let’s get you checked out.”
Stiles is sitting in the back of the ambulance, covered with a blanket and breathing through an oxygen mask when Erica and Jackson exit, fire out. Stiles hears that there’s just some minor appliance damage in the kitchen, and minor smoke damage.
His eyes are closed when he hears someone come up to him. “How do you feel?”
Stiles opens his eyes in surprise. It’s Derek, frowning at him, his face smeared with black ash. “Like someone set off a firework in my esophagus.”
Derek breathes heavily through his nose. “That was the stupidest thing you – “
“Hey,” Stiles snaps. “I was trying to save my place of employment. There wasn’t a large fire. I didn’t even know if anyone had called the fire department! That’s what fire extinguishers are for!”
“We’re just down the street,” Derek says. “Why do you think we’re in here all the time?”
“The great cuisine,” Stiles jokes, but he ends up coughing. Derek puts a hand on his shoulder, and Stiles leans into him thoughtlessly when the coughing fit is over.
“It’s not the only reason I come here,” Derek says. “There’s this ridiculously stupid, annoying waiter that I’ve been trying to get the nerve to ask out.”
Stiles looks at him in shock and pulls the oxygen mask away from his face. “I have it on good authority that said waiter would say yes, if you ask him out.”
Derek smiles and sits down beside him on the edge of the ambulance. He looks at Stiles nervously for a minute, then reaches out and grabs his hand. “Still fucking stupid.”
“Shut up.”