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The bar is quiet. The only people here aside from Stiles are Scott, who is restocking the tequila, and Isaac, who looks bored out of his mind. Stiles had been pissed at Derek when he’d left the Beta behind to “watch over” him. Stiles has ignored his bodyguard from the moment Derek left. He’d started feeling guilty about it after a day, but then Scott had started to entertain Isaac. Stiles has caught them making out in the store room twice already.
Stiles rubs at the little spot on the glass he’s cleaning. At least he thinks it’s a spot. He’s not so sure anymore. Maybe the hormones are messing with his vision.
‘You’ll rub a hole through it if you keep going like that,’ Scott says, gently taking the glass out of Stiles’ hands.
‘I just want everything to be perfect,’ Stiles mutters in his own defence.
‘I doubt he’ll notice if the bar was on fire, as long as you’re okay,’ Scott snorts.
Stiles can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips and starts wiping his towel over the bar, trying to get rid of the rings that have been there for years. Scott chuckles and disappears into the back. When Stiles catches sight of Isaac smirking at him, he squints and flashes his yellow eyes. It doesn’t help. Isaac only smirks wider and flashes his blue eyes in answer. Stiles starts scrubbing at the counter a little more aggressively.
Finally, when Stiles’ hands and arms start to get sore from all the cleaning, he hears the distant sound of motorcycles approaching. He perks up for a moment, but deflates when he can’t hear Derek’s bike among them. Scott always tells him that all the bikes sound the same, but Stiles will insist that Derek’s bike sounds a little more growly than the rest, just like the Alpha is a little more growly than the rest of his pack. Or any one Stiles has ever met.
The door slams open and Stiles greets his customers with a smile. It’s three guys and two women, all wearing matching, leather outfits. The guy in front is clearly the leader, about the size of a truck and obviously an Alpha. The way he walks in like he owns the place immediately sets Stiles’ teeth on edge. The other two guys, twins, and the dark haired woman aren’t much better. At least the brown haired woman with the scars on her cheek looks a little more friendly. Stiles just hopes they’re not going to be any trouble and that he’ll need Isaac’s help getting rid of them. Derek’s smug “I told you so” face is insufferable.
‘Hi, what can I get you?’ Stiles asks.
‘A couple beers,’ the tank-sized guy orders.
Stiles nods and turns to grab five glasses.
‘Nice ass,’ Tank leers.
Stiles ignores the comment. He’s an Omega who owns a biker bar, he’s heard worse. The comments had lessened after mating with Derek, most people having the decency not to hit on a claimed Omega.
‘You can get me that too,’ Tank continues, and one of the twins chuckles.
‘I’m taken, buddy,’ Stiles says sharply, starting to fill the glasses. Jeez, this guy must not only be blind, but without a sense of smell too. Stiles not only has his claiming mark on full display, but his pheromones clearly are not those of an unmated Omega.
‘Then where’s your Alpha?’
‘I don’t need someone to take care of me.’ Stiles pulls out the baseball bat he keeps under bar and places it in front of him. It’s not made of wood, but of thick aluminium. Derek had the words “fuck off” painted on it for him. ‘I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.’
There’s a flicker of doubt crossing the Alpha’s face, and the other bikers have already grabbed their beers and taken a seat, excited to see their leader get his ass kicked. At the scraping of Isaac’s chair over the floor and the door to the back opening, revealing a pissed off Scott, Tank throws up his hands and backs away. Just in time, because Stiles can hear the sound of Derek’s broody bike approaching.
Two minutes later the Hale pack stumbles into the bar. There’s some loud cheering at the sight of Stiles, then silence when they see the other pack sitting around a table. Derek raises his eyebrows at the sight of Stiles’ bat. Stiles wants to reassure him that everything is fine, but Isaac steps forward and whispers something in Derek’s ear. Derek’s face clouds over with fury and possessiveness. Stiles gets ready to leap over the bar and stop him from fighting. But Derek doesn’t move towards Tank to punch him the face, he stalks to where Stiles is standing behind the bar and pulls him into a dirty open-mouthed kiss.
Fingers dig into Stiles’ ass and back, and stubble scrapes over his chin. He’s about to complain about the beard burn he’ll have for the rest of the day, when Derek slides their tongues together and Stiles stops caring about the beard burn, and the fact that they’re not alone. He threads his fingers in Derek’s hair, pulling slightly and eliciting a soft growl from his Alpha’s throat. Heat curls in his belly, and when he presses himself against Derek’s body he can feel Derek getting hard.
Stiles pulls back, gasping for breath. ‘We should-‘ he starts, but Derek cuts him off by ducking his head and scraping his teeth over the mark on Stiles’ neck. Stiles feels his leg give out a little.
‘Alright, you two need to take it somewhere else,’ Scott interrupts them, earning a growl and a flash of Alpha red from Derek. Scott continues unimpressed, ‘You’re starting to make people uncomfortable.’
‘No they’re not,’ Erica says. She’s taken a seat on one of the barstools and is watching them with rapt attention.
Stiles looks at the others. They’ve simply taken a seat and are talking amongst themselves. Nobody seems to feel uncomfortable, all used to the open displays of affection from Stiles and Derek.
‘Well, you’re making me uncomfortable,’ Scott persists.
‘Fine,’ Stiles sighs. He grabs Derek’s hand pulls him into the back.
‘You’re not having sex in the office!’ Scott yells.
‘It’s my bar! I can do what I want!’ Stiles yells back.
‘I take my lunchbreaks in there!’
Derek slams the door to the office closed and covers Stiles’ mouth with his own before Stiles can yell back again.
‘I missed you,’ Derek mutters against his lips.
‘I missed you, too, Big Guy.’
Stiles pushes Derek onto the little couch in the corner, straddles his lap and continues kissing him. They stay like that until Derek flips them so Stiles is lying on the couch with his mate between his legs. Derek pushes up Stiles’ shirt to place a soft kiss right above his belly button. Stiles giggles when Derek’s stubble tickles his skin.
‘And how’s the little one?’ Derek asks, his voice soft and full of wonder and happiness. He pets the small bump reverently.
‘Fine. They missed you, too.’ Stiles tugs at Derek’s jacket until he’s hovering over him and he can place a kiss on Derek’s nose. ‘Which brings me to the fact that you’re never allowed to leave again.’
‘Really?’ Derek smirks, raising his eyebrows.
‘Yep.’
‘Does this have anything to do with the fact that the bar reeks of cleaning supplies?’
Stiles feels a blush crawling on to his cheeks. ‘Shut up. I wanted things to look nice.’
Derek chuckles and sits up to shrug off his jacket. He manhandles Stiles onto his side and lies down behind him. They’re too big to fit comfortably on the couch, but Stiles doesn’t want to move.
‘Scott will probably be more pissed if we fall asleep here, leaving him to deal with those douches, than if we had sex,’ Stiles mumbles. His eyes are falling shut already, and a tension he didn’t realize was there leaves his muscles.
‘Do you care?’ Derek asks, pulling Stiles tightly against his chest and splaying one hand over his belly, stroking it softly with his thumb.
Stiles only hums in answer. He doesn’t care. He’s warm and comfortable, his mate’s arms wrapped around him and his mate’s chest pressed firmly against his back. There is still a warm curl of desire flowing through him, but they can deal with that later.
~
Scott was pissed. But Stiles covered one of his shifts so he could go on a date with Isaac, and all was forgiven.