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Derek walks into Pop's Coffee with Laura and Cora in tow, the scent of coffee a warm welcome. It seems brighter in here than outside and a lot quieter. Though the latter is probably due to the lack of customers in the lobby.
He doesn't blame anyone for not wanting to be out today. It's a downpour outside, and people just want to get home where it's safe and warm. Like he did, but Laura and Cora insisted on stopping for coffee first.
The coffee shop is small. Booths line the front of it, with a few tables and chairs on the left side. There's a display case to the right of the counter filled with delicious-looking pastries that have his mouth watering. The other side of the counter has shelves on the front lined with different bags of coffee beans and cocoa mixes.
But what really catches Derek's eye is the young man behind the counter, smiling at something his coworker said. Moles dot his pale skin, and his amber eyes light up as he smiles, showing off the cutest dimples. He's got his work hat on, the name of the shop in white text on the front, and a navy blue long-sleeve shirt under the apron.
He's probably the most beautiful man that Derek's ever seen.
Right as the barista turns to look at him, there's a light tap on his arm.
Laura gives him a knowing smirk before signing, 'Why don't you go up and order this time?'
'Me?' Derek asks, brows furrowed.
Laura smiles and nods, but Derek frowns. After ten years, he still gets anxious whenever he needs to speak with people.
His hands fly as he explains, 'You know I hate trying to talk to people because then they assume I can hear them. Makes the rest of the conversation awkward when I tell them I'm deaf and they ask how I'm able to talk to them. I lost my hearing, not my ability to speak.'
'I know.' She places a hand on his arm. 'But you clearly find that guy cute. Go on. Cora and I will get a table.' He glares when she pushes him toward the counter, signing, 'Latte for me and hot chocolate for Cora, please!'
He sighs heavily. He could insist that Laura go up—she's not cruel enough to force him if he really doesn't want to—but then he glances at the barista. He's cute, and Derek wonders what he smells like. It's too hard to tell from this distance with all the different scents lingering in the air. So, he walks over, waving slightly as he tries not to scowl.
Resting bitch face probably isn't the best way to impress a cute guy.
The barista—Stiles, as his name tag states—smiles. It's big, bright, and beautiful. A truly genuine smile as he waves back.
Derek's not used to it. People don't usually smile at him like that. The most they'll do is twitch their lips or just nod because he scowls too much. Or, it's fake. It's a sly grin, one laced with intent because of how he looks. He's not cocky or conceited, but Derek knows he's attractive, and he works hard to maintain his physique. But the way some people look at him makes him feel…gross.
Not Stiles, though. And his scent—a sweet lemon mixed with lavender—only reveals genuine curiosity.
Derek pulls out his phone and starts to type out the order, but movement catches his eye.
'Don't worry about that!' Stiles signs, albeit a tad slowly. 'I know some sign language.'
Derek raises an impressed brow. It's not every day he comes across someone who knows sign language. 'Where did you learn?' he asks as he pockets his phone.
Stiles runs a hand through his hair as he takes a deep breath before he signs, 'High school.'
Derek nods. 'You know a lot.'
Stiles shrugs. 'Just enough. But thank you.'
There's an awkward pause while Derek figures out what to say. He's never been the greatest conversationalist, especially when meeting new people. And there's something about Stiles that makes him metaphorically tongue-tied.
'So, could I get you something?' Stiles signs as he speaks, his movements stiff and self-conscious. It's obvious he hasn't done this in a while. 'Did you wanna make out?'
Derek's brows shoot up in surprise, heat rising in his cheeks. That couldn't have been right. 'I'm sorry. I think I misunderstood. Could you repeat that?'
Stiles tries again, and this time there's no mistaking it as he crosses his wrists and bobs his hands up and down as if they were two people making out. But it's a good thing that Derek can read lips because he's clearly saying, "Would you like a coffee?"
Ah. Now Derek sees what the issue is. He chuckles, barely managing to suppress a grin as he signs, 'Well, usually I prefer going on a date before making out.'
"What?" Stiles tilts his head in adorable confusion.
'May I?' Derek reaches across the counter and, after Stiles nods his permission, adjusts Stiles's hands, placing one fist over the other. Then he signs, 'Coffee,' keeping his bottom hand still as he turns his other hand like a crank, similar to an old coffee grinder.
Stiles repeats the motion without Derek's help. 'Coffee?'
Derek chuckles again. 'Yeah.'
'So what did I sign before?'
'You asked if I wanted to—' Derek clears his throat, not used to using his voice. "Make out."
A flush rises in Stiles's cheeks, and he lets out a nervous huff of breath.
'It's alright,' Derek tells him. 'An honest mistake.'
"The signs are similar," they say at the same time, making them laugh.
"One time, I accidentally signed, 'fuck you,' to my instructor when I meant to say, 'thank you.' Needless to say, I was a little embarrassed."
"I bet," Stiles says after he laughs, still signing.
Warmth blooms in Derek's chest at his thoughtfulness. Besides his family, no one has taken the time to speak with him this way. Once someone knows he can speak, they don't want to deal with the hassle of waiting for Derek to write or type whatever he needs. And if they do, it's accompanied by eye rolls or impatient sighs.
"If you two are done…" Stiles's coworker, a pretty blonde with cherry-red lips, places three venti cups on the counter between them, along with a chocolate croissant and two blueberry scones. "That'll be $24.32."
Stiles sharply turns his head to his coworker, causing Derek to miss whatever he says.
"What?" Erica, according to her nametag, picks at her nails, smirking at Stiles. "You were taking forever and his sisters are tired of waiting."
Derek raises a brow as he stares at the order. One of those cups is definitely his caramel macchiato. 'How did you—'
She taps her ear, and her eyes flash beta gold as she glances over to where his sisters are sitting.
Ah. A Werewolf.
Derek should have noticed, but he'd been so focused on Stiles. It was like the world had faded away, and they were the only two people in the room.
He smiles at her with a light blush as he mumbles a quiet, "Thank you," before paying and grabbing the carrier tray off the counter. He takes one last glance at Stiles. "It was nice to meet you."
Stiles beams as he signs, 'You too!'
Derek joins his sisters a moment later and sets the tray down, ignoring their twin smirks until Laura kicks him.
'You're welcome,' she signs.
Derek rolls his eyes and picks up his drink. However, he notices something black scrawled on one side. It's Stiles's name and phone number. He can't help but grin as he looks over to the baristas. They're in a heated conversation before Erica nudges Stiles, nodding her head in Derek's direction.
Stiles meets his gaze with a nervous smile. 'Sorry, I didn't ask her to do that…'
Derek smiles back, pulls his phone out, and shoots Stiles a text. It's okay. Now you have my number, too. Text me sometime?
He glances back to see Stiles checking his phone. His face lights up with a bright smile as he nods and signs, 'I will!'
As much as Derek hadn't wanted to get coffee today, he's glad he did. Otherwise, he wouldn't have met such an amazing guy or experienced the start of something great.