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“Well what do you think he does?” Erica asks for the umpteenth time, leaning over Stiles’ shoulder to get a better view of The Guy.
The Guy has been coming into Beacon Lighthouse Coffee & Roasters nearly every day for two months, always ordering the same latte before migrating to an open table and busying himself with his laptop.
After two months they know his name is Peter––Erica had asked after the first week––but they know little else and “The Guy” had already kind of stuck. He always pays in cash and tips well (this had led to a debate in the break room if he was the kind of person who had a job that also dealt in cash tips or if he had just worked in food service before); he always spends at least an hour and half at the cafe, but sometimes is there closer to three hours, hardly looking up from his screen. He seems friendly enough, but keeps small talk to a minimum during his interactions with the staff.
Beacon Hills isn’t the biggest of towns, but it’s one of the last stops before you hit Shasta Lake. So, The Beacon Lighthouse has their old timer regulars, as well as the folks passing through towns. It’s not often they suddenly get a new regular.
“Well, he doesn’t have a normal 9 to 5,” Stiles says. “Not if he’s here every day.”
“People can work from anywhere. Boyd said that one of the guys he games with is like actually some software guy who like travels around Endless Summer style and just logs in from wherever,” Erica says.
Stiles rolls his eyes. “Forgive me if I don’t trust Boyd’s second hand knowledge of corporate America via Fortnight.”
“Suit yourself,” Erica shrugs and moves over to the register to take an order.
Stiles busies himself with taking inventory but, as is becoming increasingly more frequent, he’s distracted by The Guy. The thing is that Stiles is a sucker for a mystery. And on top of that, it’s been months since he’s gotten laid, and The Guy is a mystery wrapped in a package that is so Stiles’ type it isn’t even funny.
And so, naturally, Stiles’ mind goes down rabbit hole after rabbit hole of fantasies that range from The Guy being an Ethan Hunt type agent who is just waiting to rope Stiles in on some adventure that is critical to the security of America (in which Stiles’ ability to make a stellar cup of coffee along with his charming wit will be just the thing they were missing); to The Guy being a Mister Darcy type who is so self absorbed and socially awkward that he can’t even express how much he already admires Stiles (a man who’s sole conversational involvement has been a coffee order), but once they both come around to it, they will see they are perfectly suited for one another and will go off and live in a giant manor together; and so on.
He’s pushing away the random thought that The Guy could be some movie star or socialite who is “slumming it” in Beacon Hills to hide from the press, and is about to start on his third attempt to count muffins when there is a commotion at the door.
The bell jangles twice in quick succession as a group of people who almost everyone in Beacon Hills knows bustle in: Laura, Derek, and Cora Hale.
“Way to hold the door, jerk,” Cora snaps, slamming into the shop behind Derek who definitely did not hold the door for his sister.
“‘Sup Hales,” Erica calls. “What can I getcha?”
Derek and Cora head to the counter and Erica immediately turns on the charm, leaning forward and batting her eyelashes as Cora. Derek and Stiles both roll their eyes and shift further down the counter.
“Coffee?” Stiles asks.
“Sure,” Derek says, but he’s distracted, looking around the cafe then back at Stiles over and over.
“Is something wrong?” Stiles asks, pouring Derek’s plain coffee with room for cream, and sliding a lid on top. “Erica can ring you up when she and Cora are done with…” he waves his hand vaguely in their direction.
Derek looks like he’s about to say something but is interrupted by Laura’s voice cutting over the indie rock playing on the speakers.
“And when were you going to tell us you were even in town?” She’s not yelling, but there is an exasperated edge to her voice.
“Apologies for not coming to you like The Godfather and announcing my arrival,” The Guy says.
Stiles’ head snaps around and he can now see Laura standing over The Guy, hands on her hips, tapping one foot impatiently. And The Guy is relaxed, leaning back in his chair and smiling up at her, like this all very amusing.
“Uncle Peter,” Laura says coolly.
Stiles looks over to Erica who has also stopped flirting with Cora to watch. “Uncle Peter” Erica mouths at Stiles who just shrugs.
“So you’ve been back in town for months, and what, just hanging out here?” Laura continues.
Peter’s eyes lock with Stiles and he smirks for a moment before looking at Laura. “I’ve been busy,” he says simply.
Laura looks over her shoulder at Derek, Cora, Erica, and Stiles all watching her and Peter, then sighs. “Yeah, that checks out,” she says. “But now that we know you’re back: dinner at the house. Tomorrow. Bring him if you want.”
And with that she stomps off.
“I should probably––” Derek says, grabbing his coffee and shoving a handful of bills at Erica before following his older sister out.
Cora gives him the once over. “It does sort of make sense,” she says, picking up her iced coffee and raising it in a salute. “I guess we’ll see you tomorrow.”
Erica and Stiles watch the three Hales leave and then turn to each other.
“What just happened?” Erica asks as the same time Stiles say, “What the fuck was that?”
“That,” Peter says, sidling up to the counter, “is what happens when you make Laura mad. Best not to let it happen a lot, so I’ll pick you up at, say, six tomorrow? No need to bring anything.”
“I… what?” Stiles says.
“I mean, it’s not an ideal first date, but since you already know them it shouldn’t be too bad,” Peter says, glancing at his watch.
“Oh, right.”
Erica is making some sort of wild gesture behind him but Stiles’ brain has stalled somewhere on the word “date.”
Peter packs up his table, and as he passes by the counter again, he leans towards them and says, “I’m an author, by the way, so your friend is right, I really can work from anywhere. Stiles, until tomorrow.”
And then he’s gone, and Erica and Stiles are left in the mostly empty Beacon Lighthouse Coffee & Roasters and all they can do is say, “Oh my god,” over and over and collapse on each other in a fit of giggles and excitement.