“Hello,” Stiles said to the barista, bouncing from foot to foot as he eyed the board behind the counter. “Um, what would you recommend for someone who’s been up all night, and really needs to keep his shit together and act like a functioning adult for at least another few hours until he can actually go back to his hotel and face-plant on the bed for about sixteen hours straight?”
“A life coach,” the barista said, arching her perfect brows.
“Ha!” Stiles pointed at her. “I like you!” He looked at her name badge. “Erica. No, seriously though. I’ve had three Red Bulls in the last twelve hours, and while my gut says caffeine, my brain says this is how you die.”
Erica pursed her bright red lips for a moment, and looked at him with her head tilted as though she were some sort of sharp-eyed stork, and Stiles was a particularly tasty frog. “My good deed for the day is definitely getting you something without caffeine.”
Stiles nodded quickly. “Yep. Yep, that sounds smart. And also nice that you do a good deed every day.”
Erica leaned over the counter and dropped her voice. “Right? And if I get it out of the way this early in the day, that frees up my entire afternoon for criminal wrongdoing.”
“Ha!” Stiles said again. “I’m Stiles by the way. Stiles Stilinski.” He showed her his badge. “FBI. So, um, don’t tell me about your criminal wrongdoing, please. I’d hate to arrest you if you’re going to save my life with something decaf right now.”
Erica winked. “I’ll make sure to keep to petty misdemeanors, just for you.”
“I would appreciate that.”
“Also, I’m going to make you a tea,” Erica said.
“I don’t like you anymore,” Stiles told her. “Tea?”
“Lemon ginger roobios,” Erica said. “It will keep you awake, without the caffeine.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Erica smirked. “Then prepare to get your mind blown, g-man.”
“The last time someone told me that, I was very underwhelmed.”
Erica laughed. “Go and grab a seat. I’ll bring you your tea when it’s done.”
Stiles grinned, and shuffled toward a small corner table.
This was a nice coffee shop. It was modern without being too bright, and small without being too crowded. Stiles looked regretfully at a booth with an actual cushioned bench, but decided against it, because he really needed to stay awake and the booth looked way too comfortable for that.
He slid into a seat at the corner table, and pulled his phone out of his pocket. It was just past seven in the morning, which meant Stiles had another hour to kill before going to meet Dare. He could kill it with Candy Crush and whatever weird tea Erica brought him, right?
Erica brought him his tea, and sat down opposite him.
Stiles glanced at the counter, to where a large guy had appeared to take Erica’s place and deal with the growing queue.
Erica waved her hand. “I own the place, g-man. Boyd can handle the rush for a while. Now taste your tea.”
Stiles lifted the mug to his mouth and took a sip. The flavor burst over his tongue. “Wow. Okay, wow, this is really good!”
“Told you,” Erica smirked. “And it should definitely keep you awake. But if you’re that tired, why not go back to your hotel now?”
“I’m meeting someone,” Stiles said. “I’m only in the city for this work thing, and I fly back tomorrow. And we worked all last night, and only finished up an hour ago, and I figured I could power through, you know?” He took another sip of the tea. “The risk I took was calculated…”
“But man, am I bad a math!” Erica finished with a laugh. “How long until your friend gets here?”
“I’m supposed to be meeting him in an hour at some bakery up the block?” Stiles wrinkled his nose. “But I went there, and it was way too crowded, and who has all their tables reserved at this hour anyway?”
“Oh!” Erica raised her eyebrows. “That’s Duke’s. They make good cupcakes, but their drinks are shit. You did the right thing coming here, g-man.”
“It’s Stiles. I said that, right?”
“You did,” Erica grinned. “I just don’t usually have any reason to throw ‘g-man’ into the conversation, so I’m gonna run with it for a while.”
“Fair enough,” Stiles said. He caught a glimpse of the t-shirt she was wearing underneath her apron. “Who am I to judge, Catwoman?”
She fist-bumped him. “So you’re from DC?”
“I’m from a tiny town in California nobody has ever heard of,” Stiles said. “But I’m in DC at the moment, with the Bureau. This is my first time in New York, actually. You’re supposed to be rude and unfriendly, by the way. Maybe you didn’t get the memo.”
“I must have missed it,” she said airily. “So you’re catching up with your friend while you’re here?”
“That’s the plan.” Stiles sipped his tea and set the mug on the table. “Well, we’ve never actually met but—”
“Oh my god!” Erica’s eyes danced. “Is this a Grindr hookup? Here, in my shop? Right in front of my salad?”
Stiles laughed. “No! We did not meet on Grindr, I swear!”
“Where was it then?” Erica asked.
“Um…” Stiles felt himself flush. “Club Penguin.”
“I can explain,” Stiles said.
Erica rested her chin on her hands. “G-man, I am all ears.”
“Okay,” Stiles said, his gaze sliding back to the counter. “But first, are those macaroons?”
Erica’s macaroons were amazing. It only took one bite for Stiles to propose marriage.
“Okay,” Erica said. “But you’ll need to fight Boyd first.”
Stiles took another look at the guy behind the counter. “No, thank you. I’m sure you’ll be very happy together.”
“We already are,” Erica said, her grin softening at the edges into something a lot less evil, and much more genuinely sweet.
“I met Dare on my first day in Club Penguin. I was nine and he was twelve.” Stiles bit into the macaroon again. “Twelve! I thought he was so grown-up. And he had an awesome name like Dare, and he lived in New York City. Clearly he was the coolest person I would ever meet in my life.”
“Cleary,” Erica agreed.
Nine-year-old Stiles had liked Dare because Dare didn’t make him feel like a dumb little kid, and Dare liked Stiles because… well, actually, Stiles had never been brave enough to ask, but he got the impression that Dare was pretty shy in real life, and also he was surrounded by sisters so maybe he just liked having another guy to talk to.
“So, I showed him my igloo, and he showed me his.”
“You make that sound so wrong.”
“Right?” Stiles snorted. “Anyway, after Club Penguin we migrated to a bunch of other chat rooms, and now it’s fourteen years later and we’re still chatting a couple of times a week. Mostly we just send dumb jokes and memes and stuff, but there have been times that…” He drew a breath. “I could talk to him, you know, when my mom died. And he went through some stuff when he was growing up too. It’s hard to explain to people who don’t have online friends, I guess. That maybe you’ve never met these people, but their friendship’s still real. And sometimes when there’s nobody around you in real life you can talk to because they’re too close to what’s going on, your online friend is still there.”
Erica’s smile was soft again. “I get it.”
“I mean, Dare is the first person I came out to,” Stiles said. “Well, I didn’t come out so much as say ‘Hey, check this video out. Is it weird I got an erection from these two guys making out?’”
A woman at the table next to them choked, and Erica’s smile broadened.
“But he was totally cool and supportive,” Stiles said. “And he’s like the guy I vented to all through college about my asshole boyfriends, or the guys I thought were boyfriends right up until I caught them giving my roommate head. Which happened twice, by the way. Different asshole boyfriends, same asshole roommate. I really hate that guy.”
“I think I hate him too.”
“This is why I love you,” Stiles told her. “You are my new best friend and potential fiancée if I ever bulk up enough to take on Boyd.”
“Oh, g-man.” Erica reached over and patted him on the arm. “Boyd would snap you like a twig.”
“Oh, Jesus, he wouldn’t even break a sweat, would he?”
“Nope,” Erica said smugly.
“Erica!” Boyd called from over behind the counter, nodding at the queue that now reached the door.
“Gotta go, g-man,” Erica said. “I’ll bring you another tea before you leave though, okay?”
“Okay,” Stiles said. “Thanks, Erica.”
She flashed him a smile. “Stiles, you’re my new favorite customer.”
He laughed at that, and settled back in his chair and opened Candy Crush.
The bells above the door jingled merrily, and Stiles looked up.
Holy mother of God.
The guy stepping inside the coffee shop was as hot as the sun. He was—
Tall, dark and handsome didn’t do him justice. He was fucking gorgeous. He was the sort of gorgeous that should have been strutting down a catwalk in Milan except—except—he was also wearing a pair of lopsided black-rimmed glasses that also made him look strangely soft and nerdy.
And—holy fuck—he was looking at his phone, so he bumped into a chair as he made his way to the counter and apologized.
To a fucking empty chair.
And Stiles was completely head over heels, just like that. Because the guy was hot, but he was also fucking adorable, and Stiles wanted to suck his brains out through his dick and also pet his hair and make him hot chocolate.
He glanced over at the counter, but Erica and Boyd were both busy.
So Stiles did the next best thing, and opened his chat app on his phone.
- Dare! Omigod! The hottest guy in the world just walked in to this place! I want to climb him like a tree!
The guy was still looking at his screen, so he didn’t notice Stiles’s slack-jawed stare.
Dare was online, and Stiles only had to wait seconds for an answer:
- What’s stopping you?
Stiles snorted at the screen.
- Societal conventions, and the fact I’m meeting you in 30 mins? I’m quick, but I’m not that quick.
Dare didn’t reply. When Stiles looked up from his screen, the guy at the counter was putting in his order, smiling at Erica like they were old friends. Were they old friends? Could she put in a word for Stiles? No. God, he was probably just a regular or something.
Stiles tapped away at his phone.
-Holy shit, Dare. He’s hot like burning. Dark hair, gorgeous eyes, and a jaw line you could get a paper cut off. He has glasses. Newsflash: I now have a thing for hot guys in glasses.
Stiles sneaked another glance at the guy at the counter.
- I would suck him so hard I’d make him see Jesus.
The guy at the counter moved aside to wait for his order, and moments later was distracted from Stiles’s leering by his phone.
-Stiles, that’s not what Jesus is for.
- He’s wearing a Henley. It’s forest green like his eyes. I want to tear if off him and do unspeakable things to his body. Dirty, dirty things. Oh god, and his jeans. They’re so tight. I want to bite his ass.
It took a moment for his next reply:
-What else is he wearing?
Stiles sneaked a glance at the guy.
- Just the Henley and those dark jeans. Black boots. He’s so fucking HOT. I WANT HIM! I WANT TO PUT HIS DICK IN MY MOUTH! I DESERVE NICE THINGS!
He looked up again, just in time to see the guy walking toward him with a crinkled brow.
Oh shit. He’d been busted staring. He tried to look relaxed and innocent, and instead flailed and dropped his napkin on the floor. He dived down to collect it, and when he straightened up again the guy was standing right there.
“I can explain,” Stiles lied, right as the guy said, “Stiles?”
It was hard to talk over Erica’s howls of laughter.
It was also hard to talk when Stiles really wanted to just curl up into a ball and die of humiliation.
“What happened to your ears?” he managed at last, his voice strangled. “You used to have… ears.”
Dare looked confused.
“You mean he used to look like a Volkswagon with the doors open!” Erica yelled from the counter. “I’ve seen your middle school pictures, Derek Hale!”
Dare—Derek—threw her a narrow stare. “I grew into them.” He cleared his throat and looked back at Stiles. “What happened to your buzzcut?”
“I grew out of it.”
Derek set his takeout cup down on the table, and sat down.
“Oh god,” Stiles muttered, hiding his face in his hands. “How did this even happen? You weren’t supposed to be here! We were supposed to be meeting at the bakery!”
“Their coffee is shit,” Derek said and then, more softly, “Do you want me to leave?”
“No!” Stiles peered at him through his fingers, and then sighed and put his hands in his lap. “This is what happens when the only time we exchanged pictures was at least ten years ago, right?”
“Right.” Derek had a nice smile.
Derek had a nice everything.
He stuck his hand out over the table. “Good to meet you at last. I’m Derek Hale.”
“Stiles,” Stiles said, shaking it. “Stiles Stilinski.”
“Stiles isn’t a screen name?”
“Nope. Nickname.” Stiles tapped his fingers along the table. “Okay, Derek, I’m gonna level with you here. I am incredibly sleep deprived because our op lasted all night, and my brain shut down at least four hours ago. Ask Erica.”
“It’s true!” Erica yelled from the counter. “He’s a hot mess!”
“So I’m really sorry about…” Stiles waved his hand at his phone.
“Oh.” Derek raised his eyebrows.
“Nothing,” Derek said, the corner of his mouth lifting in a slight smirk. “Just, you know, if you really wanted me to suck me so hard I’d see Jesus, I’d be totally down for that.”
Stiles’s jaw dropped.
The woman at the next table almost choked again.
Derek lived in a second floor apartment in a brownstone at the end of the block. It was a small apartment, but the open plan living area made it seem bigger. And it was a hell of a lot nicer than Stiles’s place in DC, but maybe that was because Derek hadn’t decorated with empty pizza boxes and dirty clothes.
“This is what a teacher’s wage gets you in New York, huh?” Stiles asked him.
“No,” Derek said with a snort. “This is what wealthy parents gets you in New York. My mom is my landlord.”
Well, that probably explained the lack of pizza boxes.
“Bedroom?” Stiles asked.
Derek led him through.
“Okay,” Stiles said, crouching down to unlace his boots. “This is weird. Like usually I don’t know anything about my hookups. But dude, I remember your igloo! It had an indoor swimming pool!”
Derek threw back his head and laughed. “And yours was made out of gingerbread.”
“I was very worried that my penguin would get bored only eating fish.” Stiles straightened and kicked his boots off. Then, struck by sudden, unaccountable shyness, he paused with his fingers on the buttons of his shirt.
Derek sat on the bed and beckoned him over. “Come here, Stiles.”
Stiles shuffled across the floor in his socks. “Maybe I should just pretend you’re a hot, sexy stranger, and not my friend Dare?”
“Whatever works.” Derek raised his hands to Stiles’s belt buckle. “God, you were such a scrawny kid. What the hell happened?”
“I discovered puberty and protein,” Stiles said. “Also, they make you run a lot of laps at Quantico.”
Derek pulled Stiles’s belt free, and shoved his shirt up. He ran his hands over Stiles’s abs, and Stiles tried his hardest not to just shove Derek onto the bed and mount him then and there. Derek’s thumb swept down his treasure trail. “I see that.”
“Your tax dollars at work,” Stiles said with a grin. He shrugged his jacket off, noticing Derek’s gaze go to his shoulder holster and firearm. “Um, where can I put these?”
Derek pointed to the bedside table. “Do you carry all the time?”
“Oh, shit no.” Stiles wrapped the straps around the holster and set it on the table. “But it was either this, or leave it in the hotel safe, you know? Like, I’m not packing heat at the local grocery store or anything.”
Derek laughed suddenly.
“Just… you’re Stiles. You’re the kid who once got your hand stuck in a toaster, and they let you have a gun!”
“Hey!” Stiles shucked his shirt off. “The toaster was unplugged, and I wanted to see if my hand would fit. It could have happened to anyone!”
“You were seventeen,” Derek reminded him with a smile.
“I regret ever telling you anything,” Stiles lied, and straddled Derek’s thighs. He pushed him back onto the bed. God, he was beautiful. And not just because he’d won the genetic lottery, but because he was looking at Stiles with that fond smile. Because he wasn’t just some hookup. Derek was Dare, and they’d been friends for years.
It was the strangest feeling. They had years of history, but this was the first time they’d touched.
Maybe he didn’t want to pretend Derek was a sexy stranger after all. Maybe he wanted to do this with his hot-as-fuck friend.
Stiles pushed Derek’s Henley up, revealing the skin and muscle underneath. Fuck. Stiles had jerked off to porn stars less hot than Derek. He helped Derek tug the Henley over his head, and then spent a few moments mapping the planes of Derek’s abdomen and chest with his hands and then, flashing a wink at Derek, with his mouth. He left goose bumps in the wake of his tongue, and reveled in the way that the muscles under Derek’s skin jumped when he licked them. He could feel Derek’s dick hardening under him, and his own dick was pressing uncomfortably against his suddenly constrictive underwear. He was turned on, alive with heat, and he sure as shit wasn’t tired anymore. He was pretty sure he could scale a mountain, provided Derek’s dick was waiting for him at the summit.
He shifted back, fumbling with the fly of Derek’s tight jeans, and popping the button at last. He tried to tug the jeans down but no, they were pretty much painted on.
“Fuck!” He growled. “Derek, you need to get these off right now!”
Derek rolled out from under him, and stood up to peel the jeans off.
“I mean, aesthetically they’re amazing,” Stiles said. “But practically? A big fail.”
Derek stood before him in just his boxer briefs. He cocked a judgmental eyebrow. “You never stop talking, do you?”
“Nope,” Stiles agreed happily, eyeing Derek’s not insubstantial package. He reached out for Derek and did grabby hands. “But I bet you can think of one way to shut me up, right?”
He hooked Derek around the waist and pulled him back onto the bed. Then he stood and shucked off his khakis, and sank to his knees at Derek’s feet.
Derek’s hands found his hair as Stiles peeled Derek’s boxer briefs down, freeing one of the nicest dicks he’d ever seen in his life. Derek was uncut, and it had been a while since Stiles had got to play with one of those. His mouth watered at the sight. Derek’s dick was a good size, thick and engorged at the moment, and Stiles wanted to trace the vein on the underside with his tongue.
He leaned in and did it, and Derek almost bucked off the bed.
Stiles pulled back, licking his lips. “You saw him already?”
Derek looked at him for a moment, wide eyed, and then burst out laughing. His laugh was loud and bright, and his eyes shone. “Fuck, you’re the worst!”
Stiles grinned. “Come on, Derek. Let me suck your dick. Want me to beg?”
Derek’s laughter faded, and he swallowed. “You’d do that?”
“Yeah.” Stiles leaned in and breathed heavily against the wet head of Derek’s dick. He looked up at Derek, his eyes wide. “Please, Derek. Please let me suck your dick. I’ll make it so good for you.”
“Shit,” Derek whispered, his chest expanding as he sucked in a breath, and his dick twitching. “Do it, Stiles. Suck my dick.”
Apparently Derek folded like a cheap suit, but Stiles was glad. He was dying to get his lips around Derek, and while begging could be fun he was also a fan of instant gratification. He leaned in again, and licked the head of Derek’s dick, the sharp taste of precome bursting over his tongue.
He relished the way that Derek squirmed, the muscles in his abdomen tightening, and his fingers curling into Stiles’s hair.
Stiles wet his lips again, and then slid his mouth over the tip of Derek’s dick. He shifted his knees further apart, adjusting his stance so that he could get his free hand inside his underwear. As he worked Derek over with his mouth, he squeezed his aching dick through the fabric of his underwear.
He slid slowly forward, taking Derek’s dick in inch by glorious fucking inch. Derek tightened his grip on his hair, but didn’t try to force him to take him any deeper than he could.
Stiles closed his eyes.
Derek’s breathy groans, combined with the girth and the weight of his dick in his mouth, were all the incentive he needed to push through the twinge in his jaw. He licked and sucked, his chin wet with spit, squeezing Derek’s balls gently while he worked over his dick.
And then he opened his throat and swallowed Derek down.
“Fuuuuuuck.” Derek jerked like he was having a seizure.
Stiles jerked himself off quickly.
And then Derek was coming, the springs in his mattress squeaking faintly as he shuddered. Stiles stilled while Derek came, and then shifted back to sit on his heels. His dick was almost painfully hard. He gazed up at Derek, at his wide eyes, his crooked glasses and his slack jaw, and finished himself off in three quick strokes, catching most of the mess in his hand.
Derek panted for breath, staring down at him. “Holy shit, Stiles. That was amazing!”
“Right back at you, big guy,” Stiles said, climbing awkwardly to his feet. “Um, bathroom? I have a handful of come.”
“Shit, right.” Derek stood, tugging his boxer briefs up. “It’s through here.”
Stiles followed him through to the hallway, grinning as Derek blushed.
He washed his hands, humming to himself, and then stretched.
He was tired again now.
He headed back to Derek’s bedroom. Derek was tugging his impossibly tight jeans back on. Stiles paused for a moment, just to enjoy the view, and then cleared his throat. “Okay, so I sort of imagined us getting to know each other better over coffee or whatever, but this was a lot more fun, I think. Ten out of ten. Would recommend.” He raised his hand to cover a yawn.
“You really did work all night, didn’t you?” Derek asked.
“Yeah.” Stiles flashed him a sleepy smile. “And I was kind of running on empty before we both, um, emptied my tank completely there.”
“Stay,” Derek said suddenly. “Crash here for a few hours, and I’ll take you out for a late lunch when you wake up.” He looked suddenly shy. “I mean, if you don’t have anywhere else to be.”
Stiles looked from Derek to Derek’s very comfortable bed, and then back to Derek again. “There is nowhere else I’d rather be right now, honestly. If you’re sure you’re cool with it.”
Derek’s smile was beautiful. “I’m totally cool with it, Stiles.”
Lunch turned out to be at four p.m., after Stiles yawned himself awake and Derek blew him in the shower. Reciprocity for the win. They dressed again, and Derek made a pot of tea—more decaf, which just, no—and they sat in his kitchen and talked. They talked about Stiles’s job, and Derek’s, and about their family and friends. Stiles learned that Derek’s sister Laura lived in the apartment beside his, but she was away on a work conference this week, so Derek had to feed her cat.
That revelation necessitated an immediate visit to Laura’s apartment. Derek cleaned out the cat’s litter box while Stiles got all the cat smooches.
Stiles told Derek that his dad was finally making noises about retiring, but he’d believe that when he saw it. He also talked about his friend Scott, who’d just taken over the vet practice he’d been working at since school, and how sometimes he was jealous of Scott, because he’d been with the same girl since high school, and they were stupidly in love, and they were expecting their first baby in the fall, and how a part of him felt like he was getting left behind.
Derek scratched the cat’s head, and used his free hand to bump his glasses back into place. “You wanted to be in the FBI since you were a kid, though. And you did it. That’s pretty amazing.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
“It’s not a competition,” Derek said quietly. “Marriage and kids and stuff. Some things are worth waiting for.”
“Yeah.” Stiles smiled and ducked his head. Warmth spread through him. “I guess they are.”
They said goodbye to the cat, locked Laura’s door, and walked back to Erica’s coffee shop, shoulders bumping along the way.
Erica was still working, and she screamed and pointed when they stepped through the door. “Derek! G-man!”
“Erica,” Derek said with what looked to be an unwilling smile. He was blushing again, which was probably the cutest thing Stiles had ever seen.
“Catwoman,” Stiles said, dragging Derek to the counter. “You do food, right? Because this guy here owes me lunch. Also, I have slept, and my heartbeat no longer sounds like a hummingbird’s, so I would love a coffee. A double shot.”
“Coming right up.”
“The sandwiches are great here,” Derek told him. “I’ve been coming here since Erica opened the place when I was in grad school.”
“His caffeine addiction was worse than yours,” Erica said.
“You’re a terrible caffeine pusher,” Stiles told her. “You should be encouraging people to buy all the coffee. Why do you want to bankrupt yourself like this?”
“I also push tea.”
“Fair point,” Stiles said, scanning the board. “And can I also get the sandwich special? Roast beef?”
“I’ll have the same,” Derek said.
They took a seat in the booth this time, and Stiles played with the napkin dispenser. “So, I fly back to DC tomorrow.”
Derek nodded, his expression unreadable.
“Is this going to be weird?” Stiles asked. “Like, will you still send me dumb memes and stuff?”
“Yes,” Derek said. “I mean, yes, I’ll still send you dumb memes. And it will also probably be a little bit weird. I don’t usually sleep with people I’ve just met, but…” He shrugged.
“But we were never exactly strangers, were we?” Stiles asked.
“I’ve known you for most of my life,” Derek said. “Laura used to tease me about my secret internet boyfriend.”
“Oh, god. My dad worried for years that you were some forty-year-old creeper trying to groom me.” He snorted. “Guess you were playing the long game, right? Ha!”
Derek gave him a dubious look.
“But yeah,” Stiles said. “You’ve been my friend since I was nine, Dare.”
“DC isn’t that far away,” Derek said. “It’s an hour by plane.”
“That’s true,” Stiles said, his heart skipping a beat. “And there’s an awesome Moroccan restaurant just around the corner from my apartment. I’d love to take you there sometime.”
“I’d like that a lot,” Derek said. “And we could be more than friends, if you wanted.”
He looked shy again. Adorably fucking shy.
“Yeah,” Stiles said, and reached out and took his hand. “I want that. I want that a lot.”
Derek leaned over the table and kissed him and, from behind the counter, Erica cheered.
They spent the night in Derek’s apartment, and the next morning Derek farewelled Stiles with bed hair and sleepy kisses.
“Come see me soon,” Stiles whispered to him.
“I’m free every weekend,” Derek said. “Let me know when you’re not working, and I’ll book my flights.”
He pressed a box into Stiles’s hands as he left. It was full of macaroons from Erica’s coffee shop.
Stiles carried them all the way back to DC, refusing to share them with his colleagues on the plane.
And as soon as he was home he opened up a chat.
- Dare. Had an amazing weekend. I met a guy, and he’s pretty wonderful.
- You sound happy.
- I am. I’m sitting in my apartment eating a whole box of macaroons and thinking about how amazing he is.
- You were supposed to share those, Stiles.
- What are you gonna do, Dare? Fly down here and tell me how selfish I am face to face?
- That’s the plan.
- Excellent. I have next weekend off. Bring more macaroons.