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Stiles has a final in forty-five minutes. But before that, he should probably reverse the spell he drunkenly cast last night when Scott said he couldn’t make a Groot.
It was a dumb dare, but he did it. And now he has to find that wandering tree and undo it.
First, though? He needs coffee.
Stiles slips on a t-shirt from the floor and heads to the cafe across from his dorm. He frowns when he sees some grumpy buff dude with a beard behind the counter at Holy Hale.
Very much not his friend Cora. Although also hot.
The guy raises an eyebrow at him. “Basic witch,” he says, and Stiles is affronted until he realizes the guy is reading his shirt.
“You should try inflection,” Stiles informs him.
Buff dude huffs and Stiles notes the lack of nametag as the guy says, “And what does the ‘basic witch’ want?”
“I could almost hear an emotion there, buddy. Nice job.” Stiles smirks and the guy looks amused for a second, then closes off again. “Dirty chai,” he decides and forks over a five dollar bill. He narrows his eyes. “Do you even know what you’re doing back there? I’ve never seen you here before.”
The guy pulls a face, glances at something on the wall before turning to the espresso machine. Stiles follows his gaze to the framed photograph of the Hales themselves. He spots Cora first, then Laura, Talia, then…
“You’re Derek?” Stiles asks, appalled. Cora had always described her brother as a loser. A nerd. Not…this.
Derek—Derek?—doesn’t respond as he finishes making the drink and hands it over.
Stiles takes it, still gaping. “You’re Derek?”
Derek glances at Stiles’s t-shirt, his mouth, settles on his eyes. “You must be Stiles.”
Stiles grins, leans over the counter. “You know,” he says softly, waggling his eyebrows, “I specialize in charms.”
It’s not exactly flirtatious, but Derek starts to smile back. Just as quickly, however, he frowns, focus suddenly out the window. “Is that tree walking?”
Stiles’s eyes widen, then he pumps his arm victoriously. “I’ll be right back!”