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a shot of whiskey (in your eyes)

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Stiles really really was not planning on getting this wasted.

He agreed to himself before he got here: two beers, maybe three shots, water, that’s it. Or at least, that was it before he suddenly decided that with all the shit junior year at NYU brought he deserved a break and a little something to help him get out of his head for a bit.

Terrible idea, actually, because next thing he knew he was dancing on a table after dancing with some strangers then dancing with some strangers on said table then kissing two of said strangers when the clock hit midnight because it’s New Years and why the fuck not? 

Now he feels sick and the room is spinning and he has no clue where any of his friends are because there are at least eight hundred people in this massive club and the only lights there are to guide any of them are the laser lights that are seriously not helping his situation.

Stiles has been stumbling around the club with a half empty drink still in hand but he hasn’t touched it in the last five minutes. Active bodies keep bumping into his own, making it even more difficult to navigate through the room.

He was planning on heading for the bathroom but Stiles currently has no idea where he’s going and just hopes that somehow he’s right about the direction. 

His unsteady feet lead him to a door, thank you god, thank you fucking god, that leads him to... the alley out back. Not the bathroom but Stiles lets himself out with a defeated sigh and leans up against a brick wall while the heavy metal door of the club slams behind him and—

“Bastard,” he mutters, the banging in his head nothing but relentless.

He takes a few breaths then decides to take a few more steps, hand against the wall to support him but still somehow manages to trip over a bottle and fall to the concrete floor with a weak groan that would’ve probably been stronger, maybe even a shout, if he had the energy right now. 

Stiles is pretty sure he blacks out for a moment but he isn’t certain, what he does know is that when he bats his eyes open, blurry vision finally gaining some focus after a second, he’s met by the most beautiful man he has ever seen in his entire life.

The beautiful man is saying something, he knows, but he isn’t quite listening, too distracted by his chiseled jaw dusted with stubble and his dark and incredibly soft-looking hair, his broad chest and defined arms, the two prominent teeth in the front that soften his entire look and those eyes, goddamn it, those fucking eyes, bright and shining even under the terribly lit alley. Stiles can’t tell the color but they’re so clear he might have just gone weak at the knees from seeing them for the first time.


The stranger’s lips stop moving, and his body starts instead, apparently in attempt to help Stiles up. Attempt probably isn’t the word though because he does it with an arm around Stiles’ waist and the other keeping one of Stiles’ arms around his neck. He does it with absolutely no struggle even though Stiles does nothing to help which practically makes him a dead weight and sure Stiles is skinny, weighs less than this guy, no question about it, but he’s put on weight over the years, okay? He’s actually got a little bulk now and he’s nearing 200 pounds so how this man was able to just pick him up with so much ease is strange, not that he’s complaining, it’s just strange.

Beautiful Man helps him lean back against the wall before taking a few steps back himself to put space in between them.

“No come back,” Stiles whimpers, knows he’s pouting and probably shouldn’t have even said that. In his sober state he wouldn’t have let it slip even though the words would’ve been in his mind but fuck it, he’s drunk.

Pretty Eyes does take a step or two closer though, so there’s a win. 

“I would ask if you’re okay but—“

“Me?” Stiles questions rhetorically, totally cutting Huge Arms off, “me? No, I’m great. Really, I am. Matter of fact, this is probably the best I’ve felt all year.”

The man gives him a sympathetic look and suddenly Stiles feels the urge to just hug him or something. He doesn’t though.

“Sorry to hear that.”

Stiles waves it off, “nah it’s all good. Just dealing with a lot of shithead teachers, my dad’s health problems, tons of sexual frustration because I have had absolutely no time to get off properly because of said shithead teachers giving a shitload of work, not even being able to spend much time with my friends even though my best friend is my roommate because I have so much fucking work, oh and an asshole boss who gives me unholy hours because he hates my guts for having sex with his daughter once but at least I didn’t get fired right?” At that point, he knows he’s spilling too much and probably doesn’t make much sense either, especially by the way Broad Chest raises his brows, but what’s out is out, not much he can do about it now. “I’m a big boy though, I’ve got this. I’ve got this. 20gayteen has not been my year and knowing my life 2019 probably won’t be either but I’ve got this.”

He earns a chuckle from his company, possibly at the last comment.

The man looks absolutely breathtaking, smile wide, bunny teeth revealed, dimples prominent. Stiles might just pass out for real this time. 

“Jesus christ, you are so fucking gorgeous.” It almost comes out as a whine, it probably does, actually. But it’s unfair.

And at that, he honest to god blushes with a little head tilt and everything. Seriously unfair.

“I- uh, thank you,” Bunny Teeth responds, smile never leaving his face.

“What are you doing out here, anyway? Guy like you and all, I’m sure tons of people wanted to be around you. You don’t seem drunk so can’t be to cool off. No one else is out here so you’re not here for conversation or a little back alley hook up,” which has the man raising his brows again, possibly at Stiles’ bluntness, “so what’s the deal?” 

Nice Shoulders shrugs, “not really my scene. I let my friend Erica drag me out here, decided the best way to help me settle in to my new life in New York is to go to a club so, here I am.”

“Not from around here then?”

“No, Cali actually, you?”

“San Francisco, born and bred.”

“Los Angeles.” 

“An actual angel born in the city of angels, would you look at that?” Stiles knows it’s a lame comment but Pretty Eyes lets out a full blown laugh because of it, shoulders shaking and eyes squinting with his head thrown back.

“You use that line on everyone?”

“Other lines, but not that one.”

“Oh? I was feeling special but now, I’m not so sure.”

He thinks there’s less space between them then there was before, he’s not sure though.

“I have a feeling you’re one of those people who doesn’t have to be told that they’re special to know they are. 

“Still nice to hear.” 

Okay, they are definitely closer now just like the way his voice definitely got lower when saying that and god, Stiles wants.

Maybe he leans in, at least a little, but Bunny Teeth leans back at the same time, turning his head slightly so that even if Stiles were to land a kiss, it wouldn’t be on his lips. 

It’s pretty embarrassing especially since he clearly knew what Stiles wanted to do but it’s understandable, they just met and Stiles probably reeks and the guy is as far out of his league as it gets but Stiles chooses not to believe in that kind of stuff especially after he slept with Danny on more than one occasion after years of believing he’d never get the chance because Danny probably wouldn’t notice him. He was wrong then, he probably is now. 

“I would,” says Pretty Eyes, “I want to, actually... but you’re drunk so I don’t know if you want to.”

Stiles knows he wants to, knows he’d want this while sober but also can’t argue with that logic because the guy’s totally right.

He just smiles appreciatively, heart getting warm because the stranger is such a sweetheart.

“We should... we should get you sobered up, or as sobered up as we can with you in this state.” 

Stiles grins, rolling his eyes before trying to stand up straight but apparently leaning back for that long then making a movement so sudden is enough to make him dizzy which is how he ends up throwing up all over the Beautiful Man’s shoes.


He feels so humiliated he doesn’t even want to look up but staying like this after throwing up only makes his head spin more so Stiles has to.  

“I am so so sorry oh my god I can’t believe I just- I swear to god that has never happened I will pay for them to get cleaned I’m—“ 

“Woah, woah slow down, it’s fine. It’s fine.” Stiles would’ve still been rambling if it hadn’t been for the fact that Beautiful Man didn’t have a hand lightly placed on his upper arm right now to keep him steady. “They’re just shoes, I have a lot of them and I can get another pair tonight if I want.”

He stays silent because he has no idea what to say and is thankful for that because it gives Pretty Eyes enough time to continue with, “besides, I got to talk to a really cute guy tonight which has been the highlight of my weekend. If the price I have to pay is getting some vomit on me, I guess it’s worth it.” 

Stiles knows he’s blushing by the way his cheeks heat up and he almost comments on that but then he’s puking again.

This time, all over Beautiful Man’s henley.


They’re now out at the front of the club after Stiles chugged down four bottles of water inside where he had to shout his flirtatious remarks because of the too loud music and could barely see Derek’s silent reactions because of the blinding flashing lights. 

That was disappointing. They’re better out here.

Stiles feels better too, still woozy but way better. He’s on his fifth bottle with Pretty Eyes standing beside him. He had taken the liberty of getting Stiles an Uber with his own card even after the whole barfing mess which clearly does not deter how cute he thinks Stiles is since, well, he’s still here. 

Stiles just shot Scott a text a minute ago to catch him up on everything and tell him he’s heading back to the dorm, the text was pretty incoherent but Scott has known Stiles long enough to understand all his forms of English.

“So,” Stiles trails off awkwardly, “sorry again about—“

“I promise you, it’s okay.” 

“I know you said that I just—“

“It’s okay,” he repeats, voice so soft it makes Stiles want to melt.

“Thank you... ya know, for tonight. Helping me up and chatting with me for a bit, making sure I was okay and generally being an all around gentleman. Also, for your face because that’s the perfect view,” he teases with a wink.

The still stranger but not really snickers, “likewise. I mean aside from the fact that I’m covered in vomit, tonight has been the best night I’ve had since I’ve gotten here.” 

“If it’s any consolation, you still look completely bang-able even covered in puke which is kinda unfair, man.”

“Good to kn—“


He whips his head around too fast and feels a bit dizzy again but Pretty Eyes is right beside him again, supportive hand on him like it’s become a reflex. 

Scott jogs up to them, pulling Stiles in for a tight hug as if he’d been missing for a week, “dude I got worried, none of us could find you.” 

Stiles shrugs it off, “I’m fine, just had a bit too much to drink and ended up going outside but real life Superman here saved the night and helped me out.” 

His best friend averts his puppy eyes over to Stiles’ company and gives him a grateful smile, “thanks for looking out for him, man. I know he’s a lot to handle and when he’s drunk? Whew, forget about it.”

Stiles smacks Scott upside the head defensively, “I’m right here, dude!”

This only makes both the men before him laugh right as a black Toyota pulls up in front of them. 

“I think that’s your ride,” Pretty Eyes points out.

“Yeah.” Stiles thinks there’s something he should probably say but the words don’t really register so he sticks with a wink and finger guns with a “thanks for tonight pretty eyes” before he starts stumbling towards the vehicle, Scott following quickly after to help him into the car.

“I’m coming along just stay in here for a second,” Scott says before closing the door.

Stiles nods slowly and rests back in his seat, muttering something to the driver about ringing in the New Year. 

He’s already fallen asleep by the time Scott joins him in the car.

Stiles doesn’t want to sound dramatic but he quite literally wants to die when he wakes up feeling like a mini bomb went off in his head.

“This is my punishment,” he moans, “I deserve it.” 

Bits and pieces from the night before come back to him and the first thing that truly registers is that he forgot to get the beautiful man’s number or even his name.


The second thing that registers is the glass or orange juice and the pills on his bedside table which he swallows down the moment he sees them. Thank you, Scott.

The third is that it’s 2:37 in the afternoon and Stiles is still in bed but it’s fine.

The fourth is that among several missed calls and texts, there is an unfamiliar number that left him four messages and naturally, that’s what he launches into first.

1 (347) 555-2748: hey sorry if this is weird but i asked your friend scott for your number last night. just checking in to see if you’re feeling alright now.

1 (347) 555-2748: i was also wondering if you’d maybe wanna hang out sometime? grab coffee or something. i enjoyed last night and i’m sure you’re just as funny and cute sober too so i’d like to get to know you more. maybe you can show me around the city. 

1 (347) 555-2748: also try to stay hydrated today and eat light foods and have some fruits, it’ll help you feel better faster.

1 (347) 555-2748: this is derek btw or real life superman/pretty eyes as you called me. hope you have a nice day stiles! :)

He’s smiling so hard at this point his cheeks hurt because the guy, Derek, is literally an angel. 

hey dude, thanks for checking up on me that was... really fucking sweet honestly

hoping you got home alright and got cleaned up, sorry again about the whole puking thing, cant believe you still wanna get to know me after that but not complaining at all i swear

and yea i would love to meet up sometime, give you a tour and whatnot, i’ll show you all my favorite spots

including my bedroom ;))

Stiles’ eyes widen at the screen, mortified that he just sent that. He wasn’t even thinking, didn’t take time to realize that Derek isn’t just some random person he wants to hook up with or just a friend who’s used to his behavior. He actually wants to get to know this guy and he just made himself sound like a dick.

omg please forget i even said that


i swear im not always like this

i actually really wanna get to know you better, take you on a date, hold your hand, walk you to your door 

all the really cute corny stuff because you deserve it and more 

please im such an idiot do not take me seriously when i say stupid things god please

can i start over

derek: god you’re adorable 

Stiles’ heart leaps at the sudden message, finds that he’s blushing.

derek: i’d love to go out on a date with you if that was you asking??

derek: and get to know your bed

derek: eventually 

It’s at that moment Stiles realizes that he’s one lucky dude.

Maybe this year won’t be as bad as last after all.