Work Text:
7:23 AM
Saturday, June 28th, 2014
Stiles still wasn't used to being in Brazil. Everything was in Portuguese, which wasn't one of the few languages Stiles could speak. It was the World Cup. People were expecting foreigners, but all of the hotels gave a recommended list of places for visitors. It was for security purposes and for--believe it or not--communication reasons. It could get a little crazy if you didn’t know where to go, but Stiles had asked Scott out for coffee anyway. He figured Starbucks was the safe option. The few employees there who were fluent in English proved Stiles right.
It was about seven thirty in the morning, and Stiles found himself actually tired. He had adjusted to the time zone difference last week and knew going back home was going to be a bitch. He was supposed to be resting before regrouping with his teammates for preparation for the next game, but he honestly just couldn't keep himself asleep for more than four hours last night. Super early game jitters maybe? Oh well. He didn’t have to regroup today.
Scott eyed Stiles across the table they were sitting at. Stiles was leaning back in his chair with his feet propped up onto a vacant seat in between the two of them. He was turned sideways to where he could rest one of his arms across the table while he held up his phone in his other hand. There'd only been one day of rest, and Stiles was already sporting a slate gray beanie and glasses.
Scott snorted. A smile formed as he shook his head. "¿Dormiste bien?"
Stiles's eyebrows raised in question when he looked up. "Hm?"
"You look like you're on vacation already," Scott joked after taking a sip of his latte.
Stiles grinned. He wiggled his shoulders around in an exaggerated display of getting more comfortable in his seat. "Is that jealousy I hear?"
Stiles’s eyebrows twitched up twice in a lewd display, and Scott chuckled. Scott wondered after a minute, "Did you go out last night?"
"Nah." Stiles shrugged. He picked a bagel off of the plate in front of him and bit off a chunk before saying, "Better things to do than sleep."
"Oh.” The previous spirit faded from Scott’s voice. “That kind of night."
Stiles lifted an eyebrow at him in amusement. "I know I'm a hot mess, and I'm flattered by your confidence in me, but I'm still miserably single."
"Oh," Scott said again. He glanced Stiles over for a minute, eyeing back and forth between him and the bagel in front of him before a smile resurfaced. "So... Better things to do like eat food you don't even like?"
Stiles paused. "I like the coffee."
Scott tilted his head down and lifted an eyebrow at him. The edge of his lips twitched as an incredulous grin started to take shape when he reminded, "It's Starbucks. Everybody likes their coffee."
“Yeah, and so I got up for the nice coffee at Starbucks in Brazil while on vacation!”
“Nobody likes coffee that much.”
“Pfft,” Stiles pouted, slumping back into his seat. “Je bent een idioot.”
Scott’s mouth dropped open as if offended, but his eyes and slight dimpling of his cheeks gave him away. “I understood that!”
Stiles smiled but shook his head from side to side and ridiculed, “Well, good for you!”
The guy sitting at a nearby table lifted his head at their conversation, and an employee paused in their sweeping for a moment to glance over in their direction. Both Scott and Stiles turned their heads down. It wasn’t even eight o’ clock yet. It was still way too early for outbursts. Scott took a quick bite of the muffin on his plate, and Stiles looked back down at his phone. It was bizarre when Stiles really thought about how English wasn't either of their first languages but was the only language they could truly communicate in.
Scott cleared his throat. “Are you watching the matches later today?”
Stiles was still looking down at his phone when he shook his head. The vowel was drawn out when he replied, “Nooo.”
“You’re not?”
Stiles frowned and placed his phone back on the table again. “Was I supposed to?”
Scott huffed out a chuckle and shook his head at him in disbelief. “I guess not.”
“Just because I play doesn’t mean I have to watch everybody.” Stiles sat up to lean over the table. He pressed both of his elbows against the surface after scooping up the remains of his bagel. He took a bite and pestered while chewing, “Stereotyping. Shame on you, Scotty.”
“Priorities. Right.” Scott nodded his head slowly. The wheels turned inside his head for a moment before a smirk became evident on his face. “I thought you said Cora was hot?”
“Yeah…” Stiles squinted his eyes across the table, catching the change in Scott’s tone but not catching on. “And?”
Despite his best efforts to conceal a smile, a goofy grin made its way to Scott’s face anyway. “And what about Colombia too?”
Stiles’s eyes widened. The tips of his ears began to burn red. “What?”
“I just thought you didn’t want to miss it, that’s all.” Scott shrugged a shoulder, playing off being unaware. “You said something about Parrish the other day. What was it? That even if he was dripping in sweat, you’d still lick every part of his body, and--.”
“You’re a liar, and you can’t prove it,” Stiles cut in. His face was rosy, and his eyes darted about the room half expecting a camera team and video crew to materialize out of thin air. Meanwhile, Scott beamed with silent laughter.
“Eat your muffin.” Stiles pinched off a piece of his bagel and flicked it at him. After a moment, he stressed, “I was drunk by the way.”
The laugh that left Scott’s lips was light and good-natured. It was the Scott McCall equivalent to ‘I know the truth, but I won’t say anything.’ So, Scott McCall wasn’t at all the saint everyone believes him to be in Stiles’s opinion when he said, “Right. Of course.”
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