Chapter Text
Stiles prided himself on The Orient Expresso being a safe space for all his customers. He tried to keep the environment friendly and peaceful as well as efficient. And after the first year slog of barely breaking even and sometimes actually sleeping behind the counter when he opened late at night (for his fellow insomniacs when his part-time hires couldn’t make it), he was doing well.
He had his regulars; Mrs McAuley (who had been trying to set Stiles up with her daughter since he started the shop), aforementioned daughter, Abigail, who looked mock-affronted every time he stuttered out excuses not to go out with her (but then gave an extra-large tip at the end). There was Steve, the hardware shop owner from next door, and his adorable son Riley who Stiles always gave extra marshmallows. Then there was Scott.
Scott was like no other customer in the way that a few days after Stiles had met him, they had swapped numbers and amusing anecdotes and already knew they were bros for life.
Today he’d brought a couple of friends, promising to introduce Stiles to the love of his life and her to the magnificent Stiles and his coffeeshop that Scott wouldn’t shut up about.
“Scotty, my man! What can I do for you today? I’ve been testing out some new experimental muffins if you’re interested. Carrots and blueberries and stuff. They’re actually alright”
Scott wrinkled his nose at that as if he could tell Stiles was lying about them tasting alright and wasn’t trying to pawn them off to anyone with a healthy immune system.
The girl beside him followed Scott’s lead and politely declined the muffins.
“Oh, Dude! This must be Allison. This is so great!” He turned to Allison. “I know way too much about how amazing you smell to not have met you yet." That may have sounded better in Stiles’ head.
Allison responded with a look at Scott, who appeared deservedly sheepish. “I like the way you smell, okay?” he mumbled into his shirt.
Allison just laughed, “I’ll have whatever today’s special is, please.”
Stiles grinned. “Cheesecake coffee a la Stiles coming right up, this one does, actually taste better than it sounds, I promise.”
Scott’s freaky inbuilt lie detector seems to agree, and he nods at Allison. Scott orders his usual latte and their friend, who’s introduced as Isaac and has cheekbones that could slice the bread Stiles was making earlier, has the same as Allison.
Stiles relays their orders to one of his baristas, Emily, who goes to the high school in Beacon Hills and can make coffee so well that he’s still not convinced she isn’t some kind of coffee god spending time among mortals to learn the ways of man.
He takes in a few more orders before pulling his apron off over his head and telling Emily he’s taking his break. Then wanders over to where Scott, Isaac and Allison are sitting.
“So, how are you guys enjoying my special?”
Isaac gives him a thumbs up.
Allison smiles at him.“It’s surprisingly good actually, I might have to ask you for the recipe.”
He winks back at her and mimes zipping his mouth shut. “My coffee secrets will die with me, unfortunately for you my friend, though you are welcome to come buy more anytime, I’ll even give you a discount.”
“I think I’ll take you up on that offer Mr Stilinksi.”
“Please, it’s Stiles.”
“ Stiles .” Scott moans. “Stop flirting with my girlfriend.”
Stiles laughs and swats him on the head; as if someone who looks like Allison would go for someone like Stiles . Sadly Stiles can only flirt with people he’s not interested in and has absolutely no chance with, such was the way. “That girl won’t give you up if she knows what’s good for her, Scotty.”
Scott holds out his fist and he and Stiles do their bro handshake that they had ironed out the second time they met each other.
“So, Stiles,” Allison starts, looking over to him when he and Scott had finished. “Why’d you move to Beacon Hills? Most people move out of here, to be honest. And I don’t recognise you from high school or anything though you look around our age.
Stiles’ hands fidget with the hole at the knee of one of his jeans. Might as well give her the whole infodump now so he doesn’t have to explain it later in bits and pieces. “Well I uh, used to live here till I was about ten, but my mom died and my dad wasn’t in a great frame of mind, so I went to live with my Babcia. But I missed my dad, and Beacon Hills is my home so when I turned 18 and knew I wanted to open up a coffee shop with a wacky name, I came back here.” He says it all in a rush, so they don’t have time to feel sorry for him about the dead mom thing, though the pitying looks he gets after tell him the plan didn’t exactly work.
He laughs awkwardly. “But hey, let’s not dwell on my tragic past; I got perfect Polish out of it so who’s complaining?”
The conversation is then quickly steered toward films and how Stiles should go out with them on the weekend. Isaac said he couldn’t make it, and after receiving an ’abort abort’ gesture from him Stiles decided that Scott and Allison were not the couple you wanted to third wheel with, and told them an (admittedly true) tale about what happened last time he missed making brownies and instead tried to have a social life. Spoilers - angry masses of crying toddlers.
After a good 10 minutes of Stiles wowing everyone with witty anecdotes, his break was almost over and Scott, Isaac and Allison got ready to leave.
“It was nice meeting you Stiles.” Allison said whilst giving him a quick hug. Isaac gave him a nod and a wave after Stiles and Scott did their customary goodbye fist-bump.
***
The next time Stiles saw Scott he was being half-carried, half-dragged along by a big black dude in a leather jacket. Stiles guessed it was Boyd from when Scott had described his friends in detail while Stiles was trying to make pastry (emphasis on trying , Stiles hated pastry; or more likely, pastry hated him).
“He said it was safe here.” Boyd said whilst putting Scott on one of the more comfortable seats and going over to close the blinds.
Stiles ran his hand through his hair and glanced over at Scott nearly passed out on the seat before turning back to Boyd. “Does he need to be taken to hospital? I’ve got a jeep, I can drive him.”
“No. He’s fine. We just need a place to lie low for a few minutes.”
Stiles peered over at the Batman clock on the wall - 11:36 PM on a Thursday wasn’t exactly peak business hours. He opened the door and switched the sign around to say closed before shutting it again and pulling the bolt at the top.
“Well I don’t know what you guys are into and I don’t particularly wanna, Scotty’s the best, so I trust you’re not all wandering around killing people?”
He looked over at Boyd who nodded.
Stiles clapped his hands, “alrighty then, I’ll ask you no questions and you can tell me no lies.” He strolled over to the coffee machine (Helga) behind the counter. “Pick your poison Boyd, my man.”
“You know my name, how?”
“Scott’s talked about his friends before, I don’t just ramble on about myself for hours.”
Boyd gave him a disbelieving look. “Black coffee. Please.”
Stiles coaxed Helga into working her magic, admittedly as Helga took a while to start up and was quite slow and old, for simple black coffee it would be easier to just use the coffee pot in the back but Stiles needed something to keep himself distracted from whatever shady business his friend was into.
Stiles put a lid onto Boyd’s cup and scrawled his name on the side, which yes, slightly pointless considering Boyd was the only customer, but it was part of the routine.
Boyd had just taken a sip when Scott started to stir. He rushed to him immediately, Stiles stayed where he was, sitting on the counter.
“Stiles?” Scott slurred when he moved his head up to view the whole room.
Stiles waved at him, “Tis’ I, Scotty my dude.” Scott’s face was still a picture of befuddlement.
Stiles poured a glass of water and walked over to hand it to Scott. Boyd nodded approvingly. Stiles sat back down next to Scott and gave him a tight smile whilst resolutely fixing his gaze on the wooden tiles of the floor to prevent himself from grabbing Scott’s shoulders and shaking him to make him tell Stiles whatever the fuck was going on. He could put on a cool facade of not caring in front of Boyd but he was a curious guy, he was recruited into the FBI after all, but he liked the small town coffee shop life. He only sent in tips about cases he read about if he was extremely bored.
After a few minutes of Stiles’ staring contest with the floor (he was losing) Boyd’s phone pinged and he suddenly shot up from where he was lounging at Scott’s side. Scott jumped up too, the effects of whatever happened before seemed to be forgotten. He gave Stiles a quick hug and Stiles ruffled his hair.
“Well it’s been fun gentleman, but alas, I must open my shop again, soon we’ll be reaching ‘dead college student’ time. Stiles opened the door for them and turned the sign back to open.
Boyd gave him a grunt that sounded like ‘thanks’ and Stiles waved at them both before turning back into the shop and putting his head in his hands. He couldn’t have a normal life for once?
***
Boyd, Isaac and Allison had now joined Scott in becoming regulars at The Orient Expresso. Sometimes together, most of the time any of them would just wander in alone looking in desperate need of caffeine. Stiles happily obliged.
Today though, was a new one.
She had just ordered a coffee when Stiles asked; “So why doesn’t Scott get a leather jacket? Not that he’d suit one anyway but, it’s the principle that counts right? Is he not officially in the ‘gang’? I’m saying gang with inverted commas, I hope you’re all not really in a gang…
She stared at him for a moment then laughed delightedly. “I knew I would like you.”
“Right back at you, Catwoman.”
She held her hand out over the counter to shake. “Erica.”
“Stiles.” He shook it.
“So how’d you know who I was?” she asked after Stiles had given her her drink.
First, the leather jacket (obviously), second, the predatory smirk that from Scott’s description only Erica could have. Third, the self-assuredness that all of the ‘gang’ seemed to radiate as if no one could touch them. Fourth, Stiles was a pretty damn good detective.
“Magic.” He said instead.
“Huh. Cool.” Her phone started buzzing repeatedly and she picked it up. “Derek.” “Yeah,” “coffee,” “ Stiles ,” “duh.” “Yeah alright whatever, love you too dickface”
He coughed into his hand. “Did I um, hear my name there, Erica?”
“Well why wouldn’t I want to tell everyone I’m hanging out with the famous Stiles?” she winked at him. “But I got to run, bye Batman.” She blew him a kiss.
“See you around Catwoman,” he said, almost to thin air as Erica whisked out the door.
‘Famous Stiles’ he mouthed with a smirk at Emily over by the coffee machine, she laughed into the chai tea latte she was making (to the disapproval of the customer).
***
Erica was now also a regular almost daily fixture at the shop and turned up at least once a week with all the ‘crew’ (Stiles had yet to find a suitable name for the group, they seemed more like family than a group of friends or colleagues).
He was still curious about the mysterious Derek, who Scott had barely touched on in his grand (heavily edited for the audience, Stiles could tell) ramblings about his friends.
What Stiles knew about Derek was this:
- Scott was scared of him (even though he tried to disguise it as petty anger)
- He was incredibly good looking (hearsay from some gossiping mum’s in the cafe)
- The leader of the group. Though Scott seemed to be slightly bitter about that.
- Older than the rest of them.
- A coffee hater?? Why else wouldn’t he turn up with the rest of his posse (nope that still wasn’t it)
If Stiles went on much longer without meeting the man he might have to do some investigating, just to make sure the kids were alright of course. Yes, they were probably all the same age if not older than him but as he fed and watered (coffee’d?) them every day and made Isaac put on more layers than just a scarf when it was cold, he felt entitled to care about them, twas his civic duty.
So Stiles kept looking after the (team?) he got introduced to Lydia (his new favourite, she hated him but it was fine, he knew they were secretly bonding)
The door opened creakily (Stiles really needed to oil it) and Isaac walked in, he yawned and woke Stiles up out of his musings as he shuffled slowly towards the counter, he came to a stop and blinked blearily at Stiles.
“Isaac, when was the last time you slept?”
“Umm,” He scratched his head “I don’t know… yesterday? maybe? We’ve been busy.”
“Right. Have you got anything you need to be doing right now?”
He blinked again. “...No? I was supposed to help Scott with uh, something but I think Boyd is, so no not really. Do you need a hand with something?”
Stiles sighed, this boy was too sweet for his own good. “What I need is for you to get some sleep. If you go home now will you be able to?”
Isaac gave him a pained look that said ‘ if I go home now I will certainly be put to use doing something by my kind of father/brother/mafia boss figure Derek in our weird gang culture where everyone seems hurt all the time, please look after me, Stiles ’. Though maybe Stiles was paraphrasing a bit there.
“Right Isaac, come with me” He sidestepped around the counter and took Isaac’s arm to lead him to the room in the back of the shop where employees took their breaks. The room was small and mostly bare with an old green patterned wallpaper that was here when Stiles had bought the shop and most likely 100 years before that. He had never bothered to take it down. There was a microwave and a coffee pot on the side and a grey Ikea couch in the corner of the room. Stiles was proud of that couch, when he bought it he felt like maybe he was actually being a responsible adult and doing something with his life. There was a tartan blanket screwed up in the corner and a couple of mangy cushions. Stiles used this couch for sleeping on more frequently than he’d like to admit, when walking upstairs to his apartment was too much for him to bear or, more likely, he had no other cover for a shift, he berated himself on being too lenient a boss but the kids he hired needed sleep, especially when they had exams coming up! (Nevermind he was only a year or two older than most of them) and at least it was an upgrade from the bedroll.
He patted the couch. “So, Isaac. Lie down.”
“Well are you really sure-” Isaac put up a token protest but Stiles could see in his eyes he was grateful.
“Yep, no bother, happy to have you. Anytime.” Isaac lay down and Stiles got up and began to exit the room. He turned around was about to ask if Isaac wanted a hot chocolate to help him along but he was seemingly already asleep, his soft puffs of breath evening out. Stiles quietly closed the spider-man patterned curtains and grabbed the blanket to lay over Isaac, he was slightly too tall for the couch but he looked peaceful in his sleep. Stiles vowed he would make sure Isaac and the rest of them were looked after as at the moment no one seemed to be doing it. He took one last look at Isaac’s sleeping body and left the room, closing the door silently behind him.
He apologised to the woman waiting and gave her young daughter a free gingerbread to make up for it. The little girl's big toothy smile when he handed it over made him want to do it more often. No, Stiles, you cannot save everyone, and you are not rich enough to give away all your stock for free. This was a mantra he found himself repeating in his head often, but thinking of Isaac in the back, maybe he could save a few.