Red Light's Already Off

                                    

                                          
Red Light's Already Off by KuriKuri
🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨🚨
It all starts when catering runs out of coffee.
                          
Or, well, technically it starts when Stiles Stilinski, a student at UCLA, manages to land a small part on The Beat, an up and coming crime drama. Granted, his role might not be the most glamorous on the show - and boy hadn't that been awkward when his dad had insisted on watching his debut episode as an actual paid actor - but it's actually kind of nice. Tommy's a flirty hooker and sometimes informant, and not to toot his own horn, but Stiles plays the role well. Well enough to get written into extra episodes, even.
                          
The costumes, though, are hell. Which is why Stiles is trying not to fidget too much as he waits in line at the local Starbucks. He can feel multiple pairs of eyes on him as he adjusts his low-slung jeans. Not that it does much good - they're tight enough that he's pretty sure they're restricting his circulation, so they're not about to budge.
                          
Instead, he has to settle for crossing his arms over his chest and the thin fishnet shirt covering it. (Although maybe "covering" is too generous a word for the flimsy material.) He sighs and wonders if coffee is really worth it.
                          
He yawns and decides that yeah, it really is.
                          
Or, well, it is until he gets to the register as sees who's manning it.
                          
Derek Hale, a fellow student in his French 300 course, is staring at him, looking more than a little shell-shocked.
                          
"Heeeeey Derek," Stiles says with an awkward, strained laugh. "Fancy seeing you here."
                          
"What are you wearing?" Derek blurts out, continuing to stare.
                          
"Oh, it's, uh," Stiles stammers, his face heating. "It's for work. I mean, like, this isn't how I normally dress! I don't just - with the fishnets and the - "
                          
"Work," Derek repeats, his voice just the wrong side of strangled.
                          
"Yeah," Stiles replies, cheeks flushing even brighter. Not for the first time, Stiles wishes he'd landed the part of a police officer, or - or a murderer or something. At least then people might be able to take his acting career seriously.
                          
"Right," Derek manages, posture oddly stiff. "Right. What would you like today?"
                          
Stiles blinks at him. It takes a moment for the dots to connect in his mind, before he stammers out an, "Oh! Oh, just a grande - it's grande, right? - light roast coffee."
                          
He fumbles for his wallet as Derek nods, ringing up the order. Only, as Stiles pulls his wallet from his pocket, something else comes flying out along with it.
                          
Stiles watches in horror as a condom packet skitters across the counter and comes to rest right in front of Derek.
                          
It's only a prop, really. He'd completely forgotten it was even there, left for the scene where he's supposed to taunt Jason - the show's hero and heartthrob - about all the fun they could have together if Jason wasn't such a stickler for the law.
                          
It's supposed to be used for comedic purposes, but right now Derek Hale's staring at it like it just insulted his dead family.
                          
... or, well, maybe that's too harsh, but Derek sure as hell doesn't look happy to see it.
                          
"How about we just forget this ever happened?" Stiles squeaks, stuffing the condom back into his pocket and shoving a wad of dollar bills at Derek.
                          
"Right," Derek says, his tone gruff and awkward. "Let's forget about it."
                          
In his haste to hightail it out of there, Stiles almost forgets his coffee.
                          
---
                          
Stiles isn't entirely sure how to play things in French class, two days later. He and Derek don't actually talk much, but it's a small class, and it's not like they can avoid all contact without it being purposeful.