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Derek thinks that his life would be a lot easier if Stiles weren't 17. Or even if he were to remain 17 but stop working at Derek's favourite coffee shop.
ADHDecaf was the best café in the area, just around the corner from Derek's shop. He went every day, and every day he had to deal with Stiles' messy hair and perfect mouth and big hands with those long fingers. He had to watch Stiles' shoulders and arms stretch and flex as he made this or cleaned that.
Stiles was beautiful.
Stiles also looks about seventeen, making him thirteen years younger than Derek.
Derek's life is Hell.
It doesn't help that Stiles is always there when Derek's there. Even when he's not working he's lounging at a table by the window or bouncing in and out of the Employee's Only door. He's always around and it drives Derek mental.
The worst is when Derek goes in after a long day of fixing up an expensive car or doing a big project, because he knows that he's got grease on his hands and on his jaw, that his hair is wild and, probably, full of grease, too. Derek wanders in looking like a hobo and Stiles just leans over the counter at him, coffee in hand, smile bright and fingers stretched around the cup, looking like some kind of god.
Derek's just finished up a totalled big rig on an otherwise lazy Sunday and is in desperate need of caffeine, so he steels himself, and heads into ADHDecaf.
Derek almost throws up.
There's a beautiful girl with strawberry blonde hair sitting on the counter beside Stiles, talking away and laughing as he bounces around making a drink for a tall, lanky kid with curly hair. Of course Stiles has a girlfriend, he's beautiful and kind and wickedly smart from what Derek knows of him, he deserves someone like the redheaded girl, who turns and stares at Derek in a way that tells him she knows everything about him from one look.
Stiles glances over a row of cups and spots Derek as he's slowly coming up to the counter.
“Hey, Derek!” Stiles calls, waves as he hands the curly haired kid his drink. Stiles turns to his friend, “Move, bitch, customer.”
“I’m a customer,” The kid says sullenly, but drags his feet to a table a few feet away.
“The usual?” Stiles asks, doesn't request his girlfriend hop off the counter. She crosses one leg over the other and watches Derek.
“Please.” Derek nods and Stiles spins away with a grin.
“So, you're Derek?” The girl says, pursing her lips.
“Uh, yeah.” Derek says, eyebrows furrowing.
“Hm.” She looks him over, “I see it.”
“See what?”
Stiles appears out of nowhere, drink stuck out over the counter in one hand, “Nothing. She sees nothing.”
“Rude.” The girl huffs, but smiles at him. Ugh, they're sickening.
Derek takes the drink and reaches into his pocket for change.
“Nah, don't worry about it today.” Stiles says, ducks underneath the counter.
“Won't you get in trouble?” Derek asks, panicked for Stiles' job.
“No,” Stiles calls back, a little oddly, “I’m on pretty good terms with the boss.”
The girl snorts primly, covering her mouth with her hand.
"Shut up, Lydia!" Stiles says as he pops back up, then looks at Derek, "See what I have to deal with?"
"Oh, you love me,” The girl, Lydia, says with a smirk.
"Yeah," Stiles shrugs, meets Derek's eyes and laughs.
"I'm going to go, then." Derek says quickly, stepping back from the counter and turning on his heel.
"See you tomorrow," Stiles calls and Derek hears him hiss, quietly, "Seriously, Lydia?"
"You should say something." She says, "I mean it, Stiles."
He knows. Stiles knows about Derek's stupid crush and is freaked out that a thirty year old man is into him. Derek's going to get arrested, he's going to go to jail.
Dammit.
Derek avoids ADHDecaf like it holds every single spider on the planet. He hasn't had a good cup of coffee in a week when an old Jeep is towed in with a debilitating dent in the back bumper.
"Somebody got rear ended," Boyd says as the clunky blue monster is released off the truck.
"Ugh, we're going to have to deal with insurance," Erica complains, zips up her jumpsuit.
Derek hears the tow truck driver climb out but isn't really paying much attention to the passenger, is too busy bending down to inspect the bumper.
"So, you think she'll live?"
Derek freezes. Stiles.
"Uh," Derek slips standing up, slams his forehead against the spare tire. He swears and rears up, rubbing at his head.
Stiles looks at him, brows furrowed and eyes wide, "You okay, Derek?"
"Yup." Derek says quickly, gestures to the Jeep, "Shouldn't be too bad. What happened?"
I don't know," Stiles shrugs, "I was in the café and then all of a sudden Lydia comes in saying somebody must have hit the back of my Jeep because there's a huge dent."
"Well-"
Derek gets cut off as Erica rounds the side of the Jeep, "Stiles?"
Stiles spins, smiling, "Erica?"
"How are you?" She croons, moving forward to hug Stiles.
"Once my Jeep's fixed I'll be golden," Stiles jerks a thumb at the car.
"You've still got this thing?" Erica asks disbelievingly.
"She's beautiful, okay?" Stiles argues and Derek watches the whole thing in confusion.
"You two know each other?"
"Yeah, we went to high school together." Erica explains, shrugging, "He still had this piece of shit then, too."
Derek, thoroughly confused, steps back and goes over to where Boyd's talking to the driver.
"Well, thanks for bringing it." Boyd smiles and gestures towards the bay doors opposite them, "You should fit out that way." Boyd glances at him, "You okay, Derek?"
"Yeah, fine."
When Stiles is gone and they've got the Jeep rigged up, Derek asks, "Erica, how old is Stiles?"
"A year younger than me," She answers from underneath the car, where she's checking the underbelly for damage, "Twenty five."
"Is he still in school?" Derek asks, innocently.
"No, he graduated last year." She says, slides out from under the car, "You know that coffee shop around the corner? ADHDecaf?"
"I think so," Derek lies, wipes grease off his hands.
"That's one of thirteen locations in the state. He started the company after he graduated." Erica tells him, adjusts her ponytail and narrows her eyes, "Why?"
"No reason." Derek says, too quickly, "Don't worry about it."
Derek, because he's stupid, tells Laura about Stiles.
“Oh my God,” She squeals over the phone, “I’m coming over.”
Derek, elbow deep in dish suds with the phone in between his ear and shoulder, freezes, “No, you’re not.”
“Derek,” She whines, “My baby brother is finally behaving like a normal human being, it’s a momentous occasion!”
“I always behave like a normal human being,” Derek mutters, rinses off a plate and sets it on the drying rack.
“That’s a big fat lie,” Laura laughs, “I’m just happy that there’s someone you like, Der.”
“Hmm,” He says softly, thinking about the way Lydia perched on the counter.
“Ask him out,” Laura says, smile in her voice.
“No,” Derek says, pulls the plug out of the drain, “No.”
“Why not, Der?” She asks, desperately, “The worst he can do is say no.”
“Yeah, and then I’ll have to deal with Dunkin’ Donuts for the rest of my life,” Derek snaps, grabs a towel and dries his hands.
Laura huffs, lets it be. For a second, “What’s he look like?”
“Does it matter?” Derek asks. Laura doesn’t say anything. He sighs, “He’s tall, probably as tall as me, but thinner. He’s got this messy hair,” Derek pauses, “No, you know what-”
“Does he have nice hands?” Laura asks suddenly, “I know about your thing for nice hands.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Derek snaps, “I don’t have a thing for nice hands.”
“That’s a lie, baby bro, I know you.”
“Fine, yeah, he’s got nice hands,” Derek growls, thinking about the way they wrap around cups or flail as he talks. That leads him to thinking about them wrapped around his- “I’m gonna go.”
“How old is he?” Laura asks, “C’mon, Der, give me something.”
“He’s twenty five,” Derek says, “I thought he was seventeen but apparently he went to school with Erica. He actually owns the café, it’s one of thirteen, isn’t that-” He stops, realizes he sounds like a proud boyfriend.
Laura, because she isn’t 100% evil, ignores that, “You thought he was seventeen?” She cackles, “You probably felt like a pedophile! God, that’s hilarious!”
“He looks young, okay?” Derek snaps, defensive, “Fuck you, Laura.”
“Whatever, Der,” She snorts, “I’ll let you go.”
“Fuck. You,” Derek snaps, hangs up as she’s cackling loudly.
If, when Derek goes to shower later that night, he jerks himself off thinking about Stiles’ fingers wrapped around his dick or putting his mouth against Stiles’ long neck and marking him up with red bruises, then no one needed to know.
Laura, because she's a dick, brings it up at the next family dinner.
"Derek's got a crush," She says the second food is served.
"Laura." Derek hisses, "Shut. Up."
"Derek's got a crush on a guy that owns his own business." Laura continues, "But Derek's an idiot and thought he was seventeen until Erica told him that the guy's twenty five."
"Oh?" His mother says from her end of the table.
"I hate you." Derek says to his sister, kicks her under the table. Beside him, Cora is snickering.
"What's his name?" His mother asks, feigning innocence and sipping her wine.
"Stiles."
"That is not a name," Cora snorts.
Derek glares at her.
"The Sheriff's son?" His dad asks, "Stilinski?"
Oh. It's a good thing Stiles is of age, then.
"I guess." Derek answers, takes a bite of his steak.
"You should ask him on a date," His mother urges, smiling, "He's a nice boy."
"He's got a girlfriend." Derek snaps, thinking of Lydia and her dainty, pretty smile.
"Oh." Laura says quietly, "Sorry, Der."
"Yeah," He shrugs, "S'okay."
It gets worse when Derek thought it would get better. He returns Stiles' Jeep, fixed up in more ways than just the bumper because Derek is pathetic, and he figures he'll deal with Dunkin' Donuts' shitty coffee. Then, he sees the Sheriff in the grocery store.
"Derek Hale, right?"
Derek looks up from deciding between Mars and Snickers ice cream bars to see the Sheriff standing in front of him.
"Uh, yes, sir." Derek stammers, shakes the hand the man offers.
"You fixed up my son's Jeep." The Sheriff says, as if it's a big deal.
"Yes, sir." Derek answers, "It wasn't that big of a deal, just a bent bumper."
"See, I checked under the hood and around the car in general. You fixed the transmission, you fixed the anti-freeze leak, you even tweaked the engine. But, you only charged him for the bumper." The Sheriff raises an eyebrow as Derek blushes, "Stiles knows nothing about cars, he won't notice." Derek must visibly relax because the Sheriff laughs and claps him on the shoulder, "You know about his shop?"
"Yes, sir. I go in every once and awhile."
"You see Stiles there, then?" The Sheriff clarifies.
"Yes, and his girlfriend and his friends," Derek shrugs, "Why?"
The Sheriff snorts, "My son does not have a girlfriend."
"What about Lydia?" Derek asks, too quickly.
"They're just friends," He says, "Besides, Stiles is gay."
Oh. "Oh."
"Is that an issue?"
"The opposite," Derek says and promptly wants to dig himself a hole and die in it.
The Sheriff looks at him knowingly, "Just so you know, a hot mechanic generally comes up in our weekly phone calls. He can't seem to shut up about you." The Sheriff leaves Derek holding ice cream, by his cart, with his mouth open.
Derek tells himself that the next time he goes into ADHDecaf, he'll ask Stiles on a date. But, he's not there. For once, when Derek actually needs to see him for his own sanity, he's not there.
Scott, a guy that Derek's seen working there a few times, stares at Derek for a moment before snapping his fingers at him, "Got it! Just your usual?"
"Please," Derek says, peers over his head to see if he can spot Stiles. He sees a few younger kids, definitely in their teens, and a guy with a ridiculous jaw that looks extremely miserable, but no Stiles.
Scott brings him his drink, "It's his mom's birthday."
Derek jumps a bit, looking down at him, "What?"
"It's Stiles' mum's birthday, so he's not here," Scott smirks, hands him his drink, "Stiles says not to charge you, so," He shrugs.
"I can't just never pay," Derek objects, forcefully shoving a five in Scott's face.
Scott smiles, dopey like a small dog, "He told me that we should have to pay you whenever you come in here, because you're so hot."
Derek stares at him, slowly accepting the coffee and putting the bill away, "What?"
Scott puts on a fake apologetic tone, "Oh no, I wasn't supposed to tell you that. Oops."
He glares at Derek until Derek speaks, "Will he be back tomorrow?"
Scott smiles, "Yes. Come back tomorrow."
"Okay."
Derek goes back the next day after work. It's slow again, other than Stiles, no one but Lydia and the curly haired kid are there.
Stiles brightens up when he sees Derek, waves, "Hey, dude!"
"Don't call me dude," Derek says, smiling.
Lydia groans, rolling her eyes, "I do not need to be here for this." She hops off the counter, "Come on, Isaac."
The curly haired kid sighs and heaves himself away from the counter, "Maybe he'll calm down once he's getting some."
Derek watches Stiles' face turn red.
"We can only hope," Lydia sighs, does a finger wave at Stiles and waits for Isaac to open the door for her, "See ya!"
Stiles opens his mouth to speak, stops, snaps it shut again.
Suddenly, Derek is extremely nervous. He glances down, sees grease embedded in the lines in his hands, knows that he never completely got rid of the grease that lined his jaw despite the fact that Erica told him he had. He’s wearing a grey Henley with the sleeves rolled up, jeans with a hole in the knee and combat boots. Stiles looks put together and beautiful, black polo underneath the red apron bearing white lettering.
"Do you want to go for dinner?" Derek asks, quickly, because if he waits it’ll never happen and he and Stiles will stare at each other for the rest of eternity.
Stiles smiles, "Yeah, I do,” Stiles just kind of stares at him for a minute, then sighs, “God, why did you have to come directly after work?” He sounds breathless.
“What?” Derek asks, because he isn’t sure if that’s an insult or not.
“You look so fucking hot with grease on your hands and messy hair,” Stiles says, smirks, “I really think you should kiss me.”
Derek crosses the tiles, reaches across the counter and grabs Stiles by the collar of his polo. Stiles makes a small, undignified noise, before Derek is pressing their mouths together.
Stiles makes the best noise Derek thinks he's ever heard. A breathy moan as he lets Derek tangle one hand in his hair and use the fingers in his shirt to pull him closer. Stiles gets his fingers on Derek's jaw the second that someone clears their throat behind them.
"I'm very happy for you two, I am," The Sheriff says, "But I think this is against the health code."
Derek pulls away first and Stiles kind of flops back over the counter, rocking on the balls of his feet.
"Hey, dad," Stiles says and Derek watches him lick his kiss swollen lips and attempt to smooth his hair.
"You forgot your phone at my house yesterday," The Sheriff comes up beside Derek, slides a cell phone across the counter. He nods at Derek, "I assume I'll see you for dinner at some point."
Derek swallows hard, "Yeah, sure."
"Good," The Sheriff claps him on the shoulder, "I'm off. Bye, son."
"See ya, Dad."
As soon as the Sheriff is gone Stiles meets Derek's eyes, and they both promptly erupt into laughter.
Derek hasn't laughed that hard since Laura threw up on her prom date. But, there was no puke involved, just Stiles, laughing and looking at Derek like he was the best thing in the world.