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Stiles was a freelance musician living in Sacramento. He eeked out a flexible living as a sideman and session player in the local music scene, either playing a gig as a hired hand or providing recorded bass or guitar parts on others' recordings. His skills as a guitarist, bass player, harmony singer, arranger and composer had gained a measure of notoriety in the underground shelf of the music industry.
This was not a happy week for him, however. His preferred musical instrument retailer had gone out of business. The proprietor, Bret Talbot, had been driven out by heavy property expenses on the part of his greedy property owner. As he liquidated his business, Bret had recommended another retailer on the opposite side of Sacramento, one whose property owners weren't trying to push him out. His name was Derek Hale.
Stiles walked through the door of Hale Music Center, a well-kept, well-stocked retailer marketing all the standard brands of guitars, amplifiers and keyboards (drums were not Derek's priority). On his way in, he spotted Vernon Boyd coming out.
"How are you, Boyd?" Stiles asked genially.
"Not bad, Stiles," Boyd responded very softly, "I like it here, even though it's not a haven for drummers. Derek is very friendly and has been welcoming to Bret's customers."
Stiles smiled, shook Boyd's hand and proceeded in.
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Upon making his way all the way in, Stiles spotted a tall, olive-skinned storekeeper, well toned, with black curly hair and green eyes. "Look at that living god," Stiles thought.
The storekeeper spotted a tall, lanky stranger with brown curls and amber-gold eyes entering his shop. "Who can that beautiful boy be?" he thought, "I think I've seen him."
Aloud, he said, "Welcome. Are you one of Bret Talbot's former customers?"
"Yes I am," Stiles replied with an embarassed smile, "I bet you've had a fair few newcomers over the last few days."
"Bret was my retailer when I began playing music," Derek said, "He actually suggested I open up a retailer of my own. He was having a difficult time keeping up with demand 5 years ago."
"He told me about that as he was prepping to close up shop," replied Stiles, "Do you mind if I take a look around?
"Help yourself," said Derek. To himself, he said, "And, you could help yourself to me anytime you like."
Stiles was thinking something similar. "If I didn't know how to behave, I would drag him into his own teaching space to have some fun."
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Stiles raked the lines of guitars on the wall before finally picking one by the manufacturer who was favored by Carlos Santana, Mark Tremonti of Creed and John Mayer. Sitting down and plugging into a well-favored amplifier made in Japan, Stiles tuned up the guitar and was goofing around with various classic riffs by Eric Clapton, Jimi Hendrix, Boston, Kansas, Thin Lizzy, Led Zeppelin, Yes and Chicago, among others. His volume was just high enough to hear himsef without disturbing anyone within earshot. Derek was fascinated and tried to listen while continuing to do business with other customers. Everything seemed to be alright - until Stiles suddenly begain playing the opening to Santana's version of Fleetwood Mac's "Black Magic Woman". Before he could finish the intro and cut to the main form, Derek had approached him and cupped a hand around the fingerboard of the guitar Stiles was holding.
"I'm sorry because you were sounding awesome, but I can't allow you to play that riff."
Stiles' mouth fell open. "Excuse me?" he said.
"I'm sorry," said Derek. He quickly turned tail and went back behind the counter.
Stiles sat dead still on his stool, not knowing what to think, feeling both indignant and crestfallen. "I was just playing a Santana riff," he thought, "And, I thought that guy liked me."
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The guy next to Stiles tapped his shoulder. He turned and recognized schoolmate Jackson Whittemire. Jackson said, "I heard him do that once with someone else. It's not your fault, Stiles."
"Thank you, Jackson," said Stiles, "It's good to see you."
"Likewise."
Stiles looked down at the guitar he was holding. He decided to purchase it, assuming the beautiful-yet-grouchy storekeeper would take his money. He approached the counter and offered to put it on his credit card. Smiling serenely, Derek nodded and accepted the card. His assistant, Jordan Parish, went to the storeroom and came back with a hardshell case.
"Thank you," Stiles said, "I might come back soon for a few accessories."
During the process of transacting the purchase, Stiles had put his business card on the countertop. Derek picked it up and saw that it read, "Stiles Stillinski: professional guitarist, bass player, vocalist, composer, arranger for hire. Reasonable fees," followed by a mobile phone number and web address.
"That man was Stiles Stillinski?" Derek thought in amazement, "I've heard his offerings. He's possibly the best musician in Sacramento. He was so beautiful and so friendly - and I forced him to stop playing! Me and my demons."
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A short time later, Stiles was at his preferred eatery the Coffee Klotch, run by his childhood buddies Scott McCall and Allison Argent. He had driven there and decided to bring his new acquisition in the shop instead of leaving it out in his Jeep for all to see.
"Oih, what's in the case, Stiles?" Allison had asked teasingly.
"I decided to get another guitar this afternoon," Stiles replied.
"You must've liked Hale Music Center," said Scott with a wink.
"It's great," said Stiles, "And the storekeeper was very nice. Escept - "
"Hmmmm?" Scott and Allison said together.
Stiles was embarrassed. "For some reason, he got sore at me for playing the lead from 'Black Magic Woman'."
Allison's mouth hit the floor. "Everybody I've ever known loves that song. What did you do wrong?"
"Apparently, nothing," said Stiles, "He just stopped me cold with no explanation."
Before he could place an order for any food, Stiles' phone buzzed. He had a text message.
"To Stiles Stillinski, this is Derek Hale. You just visited my retailer and very graciously purchased the PRS guitar after I cut you short. If possible, I'd like to talk to you about something."
Stiles was intrigued. The same storekeeper who'd cut him off while playing Santana wanted to converse with him. Checking the business card for the Hale Music Center, Stiles noted that it was closing time there. He quickly wrote back: "I'm about to get dinner at the Coffee Klotch. You're welcome to join me here, Derek."
Derek responded with, "Ten Four, Stiles."
Stiles looked at Scott and Allison and said, "I'm going to wait a few minutes before I order. Derek Hale will be here soon."
"Ooooooooh!" the restauranteurs intoned.
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Within 15 minutes, there was Derek coming into the coffeeshop. Stiles waved to him from the back corner opposite the cash register. Derek was quick to notice he was still holding the guitar.
"Did you walk here from the music center?" he asked after they'd shaken hands.
"Nope," Stiles responded, "but I drive that blue Jeep out in the parking lot. This guitar would be kind of 'exposed' just sitting out there. Don't want it ripped off before I've even finished paying for it."
"Most of my customers don't think that way, Stiles," said Derek, "Many are kind of nonchalant about their equipment. I once had someone tell me they'd lost a whole PA system out of the back of their car. I had just sold it to them the same day. It's good to know that you're as careful a customer as you are a skilled guitar player."
Stiles blushed.
They went to the counter to place an order. Derek said, "I'll pick this up, since your pal just gave me business earlier today."
Everyone in earshot laughed.
They took a seat at a secluded table, Derek passing out the coffee and sandwiches while Stiles put his new guitar on the floor against the wall. With little preamble, Derek whispered to Stiles.
"I owe you an apology. It wasn't that you weren't playing well. You sounded magnificent. When I looked at your card, I felt kind of bad. I know your name from a few resources. People in this city know who you are, and I've even heard some of the parts you've recorded. Also, I think I've consulted with your father, the sheriff, when my store was burglarized."
"Dad mentioned that when I told him about possibly bringing you my business," Stiles said.
"I frankly felt lousy after I told you to stop," said Derek, "no matter who you are. That wasn't called for."
"Is there something about that particular song you don't like?" Stiles asked.
Derek held still for a moment. Stiles wondered if he was going to lose his temper."It's kind of personal," Derek finally said.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Stiles replied.
They ate their food in relative silence. When Stiles was getting up to leave, Derek took his hand. "Stiles - "
Stiles looked down at his new instrument retailer, wondering what Derek was going to say next.
" - would you object if I followed you home?"
Stiles smiled broadly at him.
"Just to make sure you and this thing make it home safely," Derek said somewhat slyly.
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Stiles drove up the street slowly so Derek in his black Camaro wouldn't lose track of him. When they reached the Stillinski house, they both noticed that the sheriff was in the kitchen removing his holster. As they got out of the cars, Stiles said to Derek, "His shift musti've just ended. Come on in."
In the foyer, Noah Stillinski approached Derek and shook his hand. "I see my son has just given you some business, Derek," he said with an evil wink at his boy, "I hope it'll be repeat."
Stiles blushed. "Dad, don't you think that's pushing it?"
"In this house, Stiles, I'll always be your father, and I've got the right to yank your B string," said Noah.
Everyone laughed.
"It's good to see you in an unofficial capacity, Noah," said Derek.
"Likewise, Derek," said Noah, "Now boys, try to keep it down up there. Have a good night"
Both Stiles and Derek shook their heads in mild indignation.
Upstairs in Stiles' bedroom, Derek was quick to note how openminded and flexible Stiles' father was.
"Dad has always been in my corner," said Stiles, "He was the first one I told about being gay, and he was patient when I told him I wanted to be a professional musician. It woud've been different, I guess, if I hadn't always been able to market my skills."
"What about your mother?" asked Derek.
Stiles' eyes filled momentarily with tears. "She's been gone for 8 years now," he said, "She passed away from pancreatic cancer when I was 12."
"Aw Stiles, I'm so sorry," said Derek,"That wasn't a fair question to ask."
"I don't mind, Derek," said Stiles, "I still carry her with me, mainly since she taught me to play guitar and sing, and she encouraged me not to give up on my dreams. She made Dad promise me he would help me stick it out."
"That's so beautiful," said Derek. They hugged.
After a few seconds, Stiles said, "What about your own family, Derek?"
Derek briefly had the same look on his face he had worn when they were at the Coffee Klotch and Stiles had asked him what his issue was with "Black Magic Woman". Finally, Derek said, "That's at the center of why I have had such a tough time with 'Black Magic Woman'. You see, my parents danced to that song when they were married Now - they're both gone."
Suddenly, Derek broke down. Stiles took him in his arms and pulled him close. He let Derek weep onto his shoulder unrestrainedly. Very slowly, Derek pulled himself together and stopped.
"I'm so sorry, Derek," said Stiles.
"No, don't be," said Derek, "If anything, I should be apologizing to you."
"I don't mind at all," said Stiles, "You obviously needed someone to tell that to, and I'm honored that it was me. You see, between being a sheriff's son and having had to hustle as amusician, I've learned how to read people. I kind of suspected you were holding something back earlier this afternoon. That's one of the reasons I bought the guitar, not just because I wanted it or could afford to buy it. I hoped it would show you that you were dealing with someone who understood."
"I know," said Derek, "and I felt I could trust you. However, I didn't want to air that in public for now. You see, I can't prove it, but I think my parents' deaths (which only happened 2 years ago) were caused by Allison Argent's grandfather."
"Dad's told me stories about him," said Stiles, "Gerard Argent. Supposedly, he was a mafia boss. Allison's father, Chris cut himself and her off from Gerard after her mother, Victoria got killed. When she met Scott, she made it clear that she just wanted a normal life. So, they opened the Coffee Klotch. You can trust them, Derek."
"I know, but in public, even walls have ears," said Derek, "I want to keep this between you and me for now."
"That's fine with me," said Stiles, "Hopefully, something will take a turn for the better soon."
Now, they looked at each other warmly and tenderly. Suddenly, they both were glowing. Stiles readched over and put a hand on Derek's cheek. Derek did the same. They leaned forward and began to kiss, first gently, then passionately. They held each other tightly and kept kissing.
Finally, they broke apart and said in perfect unison, "I want you."
They undressed each other quickly and beheld each other's appearance in the dim light of Stiles' bedside lamp. Then, they fell onto his bed, kissing, panting, trying to lick each other's ears and nibble each other's nipples. They were both moaning and pulsating with delight.
Stiles quickly laid Derek on his back and made his way down from Derek's face to his treasure trail with his tongue. He quickly closed his mouth around Derek's erect penis and lowered himself onto it, absorbing it fully. Derek pulsated and moaned in ecstacy. "That's it, Stiles! You got it, man!" He moaned and climaxed, shooting a mammoth load into Stiles' mouth.
After a few seconds of wonderous afterglow, they changed positions. Derek did the same to Stiles, beginning with his face and mapping the way down to his treasure trail with his tongue, then enveloping Stiles' erect penis in his mouth. Derek worked Stiles until Stiles seized up and climaxed, crying, "OH YES! YES, DEREK! I LOVE IT!"
When the afterglow had subsided, Stiles guided his new lover into the nearby bathroom. They brushed their teeth and used mouthwash, then returned to Stiles' bedroom.
"I love you, Stiles," said Derek.
"I love you, Derek," said Stiles.
They shut off the light and fell asleep in each other's arms.
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Within the following month, a mole from Gerard Argent's mafia ring materialized in the Sacramento sheriff's office, Matt Dahler. Matt had apparenty been trying to evade detection by Gerard but had been intercepted by fellow hitman Theo Raeken and hit with a single bullet to his abdomen. Matt only made it into the sheriff's station because he was tough and resilient. Before passing out from his wound, Matt drew from the inside pocket of his jacket a folder containing corroborating evidence that Gerard was responsible for the murders of the Hales. (Fortunately, his blood hadn't damaged the evidence.) As Matt's limp form was being carted off to the morgue, Noah Stillinski summoned the district attorney and sent for Stiles and Derek. When he hung up the phone, Stiles cryptically said to Derek, "We had a black magic squealer come from he who made an orphan out of ye."
Derek understood straight away.
After Matt's death and the indictment of Gerard Argent for the murders of Derek's parents (Theo Raeken being charged with Matt's murder), Stiles did a solo engagement at a local venue in Downtown Sacramento called Martin's, accompanied on bass by Jackson, drums by Boyd (Derek had pointed him toward an electronic drumkit) and clubowner Lydia Martin on keyboards. Before playing the last song in his set, Stiles smiled and spoke into the microphone, "I'd like to dedicate this Fleetwood Mac & Santana song to the love of my life, Derek Hale, in loving memory of his parents, James and Talia, who danced to it."
Then, Derek joined his love onstage where they sang his parents' song together. The frustration and tears were now in the past, and Derek could enjoy not only hearing "Black Magic Woman" performed but could also participate.