‘And you’re looking lovely today Mrs Bernstein may I add. Have you done something to your hair? Or is it just your natural glow?’ Danny says, presenting her bagel with a flourish and a half bow, making her blush like a virginal nun, which Stiles knows for a fact isn’t the truth seeing as she has 18 grandchildren. Stiles snorted where he stood at the coffee machine, Danny was laying it on especially thick today but the lil' ol' ladies or LOL’s, the staff liked to call them, were lapping it up. It was that and Danny’s irresistible dimples that were making the grannies blush from the roots of their tightly permed white hair to the soles of their ‘comfy’ shoes.
Despite the fact that Danny was old enough to be their grandson and gay as the fourth of July, they always took off giggling like schoolgirls and leaving a huge tip in his tip jar. Stiles would be happy about that if it weren’t for the fact that it was all for the Game. The Game that Danny was the undisputed champion of because of the dimples and the compliments and, let’s face it, the tanned muscled arms encased in a too tight white t-shirt, that Stiles, could not get away with, not in a million years. Not to mention his cross gender appeal, because despite being gay, Danny managed to charm just about anyone, from 16 year old schoolgirls on their way to the mall to ‘straight as a pin’ business men who always left with a spring in their step and a slightly confused grin on their face after being served by Danny.
Yep, Danny even had the ability to make even the straightest, sexually repressed of men momentarily question their sexuality and for them to be ok with that. Because it was Danny and Danny was fucking brilliant.
And Stiles would usually love him for it except for the fact that Danny won the Game almost every fucking day of the week. Which meant he got to keep all the tips, and not just his own, but Stiles’, Isaac’s as well.
The Game had been a competition conceived by the owner of ‘Coaches’ Cupcake Coffee House’ Coach Finstock (which he insisted on being called coach despite retiring from Beacon Hills High school for two years) who had decided that the customer service skills of his barista’s and sales staff wasn’t cutting it. It also may or may not have been a reaction to Stiles’ inability in calling homophobic Mr Lockburn anything but Mr Cockburn instead. So after that Stiles was relegated to the coffee machine and Coach bought in the Game instead. Whereby sales stuff were encouraged ‘by any means possible and I mean ANY means’ to sell coffee, cakes and get tips and the person who got the most tips by the end of the day got to keep everyone else’s.
So, naturally, Danny had performed an almost full striptease the very next day that bought the house down and packed Coaches’ Cupcake Coffee House for the whole day and week after. Thus he won that Game and almost every day since whilst Stiles was the one who stood off to the side and did all the work ie, making all the coffee, and Danny got all the glory. Well not ALL the glory seeing as Isaac had actually managed to win it once, when his entire family had come in for breakfast. But even then Danny had managed to seduce (‘Flirt Stiles, all I did was flirt!’) Isaac’s hot older brother Camden and they were now going out. No one could resist Danny. Not even Camden ‘Supposedly Straight Soldier’ Lahey.
And from behind the coffee machine Stiles could attest to it. Every day he saw people getting put under Danny’s spell, buying more pastries, coffees and cupcakes then they ever meant to because Danny was apparently some kind of warlock, witch or similar. Everyone was caught up in the pure awesomeness that was Danny. And where Stiles’ pitiful tip jar in front of the coffee machine always stayed relatively empty Danny’s was constantly overflowing, sometimes with so many $1 notes anyone would be forgiven for thinking they worked at a strip club.
So everyone was caught under the spell. Well, almost everyone that is. There was one exception to the rule, a very good looking, stubbled exception named Derek H.
Now Derek H had been coming into Coaches’ Cupcake Coffee House since they opened, since before the implementation of the Game. In fact the first time Stiles had actually seen Derek H was on opening day when Stiles had been frantically pouring coffee’s for the morning rush, practicing his latte art hearts when he had called out the order, ‘Standard double shot latte for a Derek H?’ and had almost choked when he handed it to the most stunning specimen of a man he had ever seen, their fingers brushing minutely and Stiles reeling back as if he had been branded.
Derek, apparently unimpressed with the heart, had huffed and promptly shoved a lid on top of Stiles beautiful creation (beautiful for back then anyway, he had since become much more adept in the science of latte art).
But, despite seemingly unimpressed with Stiles’ coffee making skills, Derek H had come in like clockwork every day since. At exactly the same time, 8.10, and ordering exactly the same thing. In fact seeing Derek every day at work had soon become the highlight of Stiles’ morning. Derek was not only good looking but he always tipped, despite Stiles’ coffee being as bit substandard or ‘craptastically bad’ according to Coach.
So for those first few weeks Stiles would offer Derek a weak smile with his latte art heart coffee every morning and getting almost nothing in return, a glare or a snort if he was lucky. So, as Stiles became more talented with his milk he started becoming more creative practicing his leaves and flowers for an entire week before he poured one for Derek, seeing as Derek never seemed impressed by his (admittedly amateurish) hearts.
That fateful morning had been the biggest letdown of Stiles’ (short) latte art career. Derek had taken one look at the leaf painstakingly shaped just for him and had looked almost disappointed? He definitely hadn’t looked happy, or what passed as Derek H’s happy face at least. Taking one look at the coffee, his lips downturned and shoving a plastic spoon in it until the leaf was completely ruined. ‘Dude’ Stiles had breathed, staring at the ruined leaf like his life was completely over making Derek look up and go slightly red, as he muttered his thanks and rushed out the door.
So, ever since Stiles had made Derek latte hearts because apparently they weren’t offensive to his sensibilities or at least didn’t make him want to shove a spoon in them or whatever. Guy had issues, clearly. But despite that Stiles kind of liked him. Derek was as regular as clockwork and always tipped him, not a lot, but it made his tip jar look less pathetic by 8.30 am in comparison to Danny.
And Danny, that was another reason Stiles liked Derek. Danny had almost lit up like a fucking light house when he had seen Derek, Derek’s absurdly expensive looking jeans, and his lovely muscled forearms on the first day of the Game and had promptly laid on the granny panty dropping charm. Flashing his dimply, toothy grin, leaning on the bar showing more cleavage then a stripper (Danny had great pecks, too) and generally acting like getting into Derek’s pants was possibly the only thing he wanted right then and there.
And Derek? Well Derek looked up from the dazzling display at the sound of Stiles’ sigh and had promptly ignored Danny in favour of grunting his coffee order at Stiles. Stiles who had gaped liked a fish for a few moments before throwing a cocky grin at Danny and ringing it up because he was a bit of a shithead like that.
For the next week all bets were off. Danny tried absolutely everything and anything to get Derek to tip him. He tried flirting, he tried chatting, he tried his super low rise skinny jeans that made his butt look fuck-a-licious, he even came down the front when Derek arrived seemingly forgetting that shirts were a necessary part of the uniform at Coaches Cupcake Coffee House. And Derek, to Stile’s delight, ignored all of it in favour of tipping Stiles. Stiles tried and failed to be too smug about it, despite Danny creaming him, and Isaac, in the Game.
It all came to ahead when Danny managed to accrue an astounding $200 worth of tips on a particularly loud and busy Saturday. And Stiles couldn’t help but be incredibly jealous. He had college to save for too, he had a jeep that needed a service and a huge amount of really fucking expensive textbooks to buy for, for next year, and his tips were being stolen by Danny and his stupid grin and stupidly perfect arms and stupidly pretty face.
He was still grumbling about his lack of tips when Derek came in the next day, Stiles was so pissed he didn’t even give Derek his customary bright grin and awkward wave that he was sure Derek absolutely cherished, instead Stiles kept his head down and kept mumbling to himself about, ‘Stupid…no tips…Danny and his stupid fucking grin….i have college to save for too….’.
Stiles had cleared his throat to call out Derek H’s order even though Derek was the only one in the store and no one else had ordered a medium double shot latte. When he passed it over Derek was giving him a weird look, although to be honest anything that wasn’t a scowl or an outright glare could be considered new and exciting for Derek’s facial expression range.
Stiles blinked owlishly back, ‘What?’
Derek cleared his throat awkwardly for a few moments, seeming to decide whether to say something or not, finally coming up with, ‘You don’t get many tips?’ and Stiles almost died. Derek had never actually spoken to him before and his voice was….nice. Not growly like he was expecting but not unpleasant either, just nice.
Stiles wrenched his eyes from Derek’s lips and shook his head trying to remember the question.
‘Uh no? I mean Danny gets most of them, not me. We have this stupid game where the person who gets the most tips for the day gets to keep all the tips, so I’m pretty pissed that I never win.’
Derek had frowned slightly and Stiles was kind of mesmerised by Derek’s awesomely pretty face, especially his eyes. They had stared at each other for a few seconds before Derek seemed to come to his senses clears his throat, dropping his customary tip in the jar and leaving.
Stiles doesn’t notice anything different about his tip jar until they got to close that night and he, Danny and Isaac dropped their tip jars to Finstock to count. Danny’s, as always, almost overflowing, Isaac’s three quarters full because Isaac with his curls and angelic good looks did pretty well and Stiles’ tip jar, as always, depressingly quarter full.
As they cleaned up, Danny entertained Stiles and Isaac that days story of the creepy guy who came in and stared at Danny’s chest as Danny tried, and failed, to get him to order anything before leaving a twenty in the tip jar and shuffling out. It had been a pretty slow day all things considered so Stiles wasn’t surprised that Danny didn’t seem to care the guy basically came in for the free ‘Danny’s Pecks Show’, as long as he left a tip. Apparently Danny was more equipped to work for the Chippendale’s then at a tiny coffee shop in downtown Beacon Hills.
As they finished up Finstock came out of the office, a look of complete shock on his face.
‘You OK coach?’ Isaac asked cautiously, Finstock was an explosive character at the best of times.
‘Isaac! Yes, of course I am! I’ve just finished calculating today’s Game tips and I tell you what ladies and jelly babies, we have a surprise winner and its one for the books.’
Danny’s smile faltered, ‘what do you mean Coach?’
Finstock looked wildly around until his eyes landed on Stiles, ‘Bilinski! It’s you! Unfathomably, despite your complete lack of charms and chest muscles, you have managed to win today’s Game for the first time, since well, ever.’
Danny and Isaac both rounded on him, ‘But how?’ Stiles choked out.
‘Seems like someone liked your monstrosity of a coffee so much they tipped you $100.’
Stiles gaped as Finstock handed him the official Game winning envelope, stuffed full of notes and a shiny hundred dollar note.
‘Holy shit.’ He breathed.
‘Jesus Christ Stilinski, who’d you blow for that?’ Danny asked incredulously.
Stiles was at a bit of a loss because he could only think of one person who would even consider giving him money like that.
‘Derek. Fuck, I think it was Derek.’
‘Derek H?’ Danny asked, ‘You gave Derek Hotcakes a blowjob under the coffee machine?’ Danny said looking impressed at Stiles’ apparent dedication to the job, ‘Damn Stilinski you’ve been holding out on me.’
Stiles looked at Danny wildly, ‘What? No, Jesus Danny, no. I was just angry, I guess. This morning I was muttering about tips and he asked if I got many and I said I didn’t, not really, and I think he may have tipped me a hundred fucking dollars.’ Stiles finished, his voice squeaking attractively at the end.
Isaac whistled lowly, ‘Jesus.’
‘Yeah I know. What the fuck does that even mean?’ Stiles said beseechingly, turning to Danny because Danny was the Yoda, master, expert in all things gay and even remotely queer.
Danny looked at him as if he were crazy, ‘It means he wants to ride the dick Stiles.’ He said slowly, as if talking to the mentally insane.
‘Ride the dick, my dick?’ Stiles asked weakly.
‘Figuratively speaking of course, Derek looks more like a topper to me. And you, my friend, are a twink of the most twinkiest standards, but I’m not one to judge.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’ Stiles admitted, finding himself in a weird crouch-like stance that he apparently now adopts when he’s overwhelmed about finding Derek Hotcakes wants HIS hotcakes.
‘What Danny’s trying to say is that Derek may want to do the sex. With you.’
‘Oh yeah, most definitely Derek wants to sex you up. And he looks like he’s be good at it too.’
‘How do you know that?’ Stiles asks breathlessly, how does one know such things?’
Danny licks his lips, his eyes slightly glazed, ‘He walks like he knows how to sex pretty little virgins like you. That or he’s totally packing. Either way you should get on that. Preferably as quickly as possible before I decide I want his monster cock for myself.’
Stiles chokes and Isaac shouts, a little offended that his brother would get so casually tossed aside. Danny only grins roguishly, ‘Don’t worry your lovely little curls Isaac. Camden’s definitely got enough to keep me happy.’
Isaac’s offended face soon turns to one of horror as he throws a damp dishtowel at Danny’s laughing face.
Stiles is nervous and fidgety the next morning, stuffing up four coffees before he hears Derek’s grunted coffee order to Danny who had tripped Isaac with the broom in order to serve Derek first.
‘No problem Derek H. I will just get our esteemed and very pretty barista Stiles, here, to make that one for you.’ Danny says, grinning like a shark as he throws an arm around Stiles shoulder and squeezes with his inhumanely strong arms. Stiles tries not to get suffocated.
Derek narrows his eyes at the point of contact between Danny’s arm and Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles can’t help but be a little smug about that. Neither can Danny apparently as he simultaneously lets go of Stiles, chucks him under the chin and winks at Derek. Because Danny will always, and forever, be a smooth bastard.
‘Uh-h so just the usual today Derek?’ Stiles asks, smiling crookedly.
‘Yes, thank you Stiles.’ Derek answers, rather stiltedly and Stiles just fucking melts because Derek is equal parts adorable, cute and sexy as fuck.
Stiles makes the coffee distractedly now with complete awareness that Derek is watching him and now with the knowledge that Derek apparently wants him, sexually.
So he hands the hearted latte over, purposely brushing his hands against Derek’s as he does because Stiles might be a little late to the ‘wanting to sex Stiles up’ party but he’s got game, not much, not as much as Danny might have, but enough.
Enough for Derek goddammit.
Stiles looks up and Derek’s looking back, slightly awkwardly but determined none the same before he drops a notes in the tip jar and leaves.
Just fucking leaves.
Stiles stands there, not quite understanding what had happened. Danny clucks his tongue disapprovingly coming over to check the tip jar.
‘Motherfucker! He’s just tipped you $200 Stiles! Maybe he thinks you’re secretly a prostitute who uses the clever guise of a crazy pants coffee house as a front for all your illicit activities.’
Stiles groans, ‘What the hell. I thought he was into me Danny. You told me he was into me!’
‘Calm down Stiles, I think it’s safe to say he wants to tap dat ass. He just needs, a push? Something a little more, leave it to your uncle Danny. We’ll get Derek hotpants in your bed and de-virginalizing you by the end of this week.’ Danny says, a determined glint in his eyes as he turns back to flash the soccer mums his mouth pantingly gorgeous grin.
According to Danny ‘a little more’ means spray painted on jeans and a deep v-neck t-shirt, a spray of cologne and serious sex hair. So much so that even Danny looks at him appreciatively after he’s finished, ‘Jesus, you look good cleaned up Stilinski, like my own little elfin princess. I’m almost tempted myself. If it weren’t for Camden and his wonderfully talented m-‘
‘Yes, ok, Stiles looks hot. Its almost 8, you should get down there.’ Isaac interrupts shooting Danny a glare as he hustles Stiles tight denim clad ass down toward the coffee machine.
For the first five minutes it’s a little uncomfortable but eventually Stiles gets into it, enjoying the surprising amount of attention his new look seems to be getting, especially from the flock of teenage girls getting their skim, decaf, caramel, half strength, no cream mocha’s who giggle and flirt with him for the first time in his (short) coffee making career.
He’s having so much fun that he doesn’t even notice that he’s making Derek’s coffee until he calls it out, looking up surprised.
Derek looks a little stunned as he gazes at Stiles, his eyes taking in the hair, the tight jeans and almost unable to take his eyes away from the three chest hairs dotted on Stile’s half bare chest.
Stiles tries very hard not to preen under the scrutiny. The smug smile on Danny’s face tells him he’s not trying hard enough.
‘Uh Derek? Coffee.’ Stiles says when Derek doesn’t respond.
Derek seems to shake himself out of his daze, shifts his gaze to Danny at the end of the counter and takes his coffee and, once again leaves, without saying anything.
Stiles gets another $150 in tips that day but no Derek.
Danny seems to take it as a personal insult that Derek’s not tempted by ‘Stiles’ epic hotness’.
‘He’s not straight. He tips you like you’re a stripper giving him a lap dance, so what the fucks his problem?’ Danny rants. Pacing across the floor ignoring Isaac and Stiles’ amused glances, Danny, apparently, doesn’t like it when people don’t conform to his expectations.
‘We need to kick it up a notch.’ He says, eyeing Stiles in contemplation.
Stiles is only a little bit afraid.
Kicking it up a notch seems to mean Danny deciding to flirt outrageously with Stiles when Derek comes in the next morning, touching him and winking at him when Stiles is distractedly trying to make Derek’s coffee, so much so that he makes a leaf pattern instead of a heart when his mind is thrown by Danny taking the opportunity to pinch his ass. Stiles can’t hide the blush that springs to his cheeks when Danny’s all over him, peeking up to see Derek looking slightly hurt and just a little bit crestfallen.
What? No, no that wasn’t what was supposed to happen. Derek was supposed to go wild with jealousy and lunge over the counter to claim Stiles’ mouth (and ass) as his. But, no, Derek wasn’t an animal and they lived in a civilised world where people’s feelings weren’t something to be played with for fun. Fuck, Stiles might have fucked whatever it was between him and Derek for good. And for what, so Danny could play matchmaker?
Which is why, when Derek hurries out, head down, hands in pockets, Stiles turns to Danny, hands on hips, ‘Enough.’
‘Enough? No way, he hasn’t gotten the message yet Stiles.’ Danny says eyeing Derek in his dark jeans as he walks past the shop.
‘What message Danny? That he probably doesn’t have a chance with me because I look hot and Danny “man-eater” Mahealani is completely into me? Jesus, he might be hot but it doesn’t look like he thinks he could/can compete.’
Danny looks a little dismayed, ‘It would have worked on me.’ He says a little quieter.
Stiles snorts, ‘Yeah, because you’re about as subtle as a brick to the face. Just, just leave this one be. Ok?’
Danny smiles, ‘Think you can handle this one Stilinski? I’ll leave you to your emotionally damaged, socially awkward hunk of man meat then.’
Stiles laughs, relieved that Danny doesn’t want to push it, ‘Thanks.’
Except Derek doesn’t come in the next morning, or the next or the one after that and Stiles becomes increasingly depressed and frustrated. Jesus, he was crushing on the guy, just found out Derek liked him back; and Stiles then manages, in the space of a few days, to fuck it up.
Great, classic Stiles.
In fact Derek doesn’t come in for a week.
Stiles spends the week in a sulk and is moping at the coffee machine the following Monday, when Danny elbows him in the ribs, hard. Man doesn’t know his own strength Stiles thinks angrily looking up, ‘What?’
‘Looks who’s coming in with what looks like his little sister?’ Danny whispers, grinning like a loon and gesturing to the door.
Stiles whips his head up so fast he swears he gets whiplash and sure enough there’s Derek, looking as delicious as ever and what looks like his opposite gender twin practically dragging him in. She’ petite, but muscular, makeup free and her hair’s in a high bun. She looks like she’s just come from the gym.
Stiles laughs a little at the stubborn look on Derek’s face and the woman looks up, locks her eyes with his, mouths elfin princess to herself and lets go of Derek’s bicep making a beeline for the counter and Danny and Stiles behind it.
‘I take it you’re Stiles.’ She says, her eyes sharper then lasers and Stiles kind of feels like he’s being x-rayed.
‘Uh yep. That’s me. Stiles Stilinski.’ He says, clearing his throat.
‘Great, Stiles Stilinski. So, just to make things clear, you are currently single, yes?’
Stiles gulps, ‘Uh yes?’ he can’t help but make it a question and glancing over at Derek who looks like he wants to floor to swallow him whole. Stiles swallows compulsively and looks back to Derek’s sisters’ quirked eyebrow.
‘So you.’ She says, turning to Danny, ‘Over gelled, over muscled man whore, are not currently fucking Stiles Stilinski?’
Danny chokes out a laugh, not seeming too bothered by the description, ‘I am not, as much as I would be like to be, milady.’
‘Great.’ She says, shooting at look at Derek saying both ‘I told you so’ and ‘stop being a ginormous baby’ at the same time as she marches back out the door.
Derek slinks closer to the counter, fidgeting as Isaac and Danny try and make themselves scarce. At least Isaac does, Danny just finds something to do still in the hearing distance of Derek and Stiles, not being very subtle about his eavesdropping, Danny and subtle don’t go well together.
‘I, uh, sorry about her. That was my sister, Cora. She’s a bit much, sometimes.’ Derek says, scratching the back of his neck.
Stiles grins back at him, ‘That’s ok. Did you really think I was fucking Danny?’
Derek’s eyes bulge as he goes an adorable shade of red, ‘Um yeah, I did.’
Stiles is delighted, not only did Derek think he was hot enough to ‘hit dat’ but Derek was also jealous. No one’s ever been jealous over Stiles before. And it makes him a little dizzy, so much so that he almost doesn’t even realise when he finds himself leaning across the counter to lightly brush Derek’s dry lips with his own. Stiles suddenly realises what he’s doing as he attempts to rear back and apologise profusely, before Derek’s making a small noise at the back of his throat and dragging Stiles mouth back with his own. Cupping his cheeks and drawing him in for a chaste kiss that quickly turns not so chaste when Stiles plunges his tongue into the Derek’s mouth. Derek seems to like that very much as he tighten his hands around Stiles cheeks and angle him better the kiss soon turning filthy. So filthy in fact that its Danny who reluctantly clears his throat to interrupt, ‘As much as I am enjoying the view boys, and I assure you I am. But we are currently in a shop full of customers and unless you guys are into that kind of thing I suggest you save it for the bedroom.’
Derek springs back, hair mussed and slightly breathless and Stiles is sorely tempted to get right back in there and kiss him again but manages to restrain himself.
‘Great, now Derek you ask Stiles out. Stiles, you say yes. Have sex, and then, if you’re interested give me and Camden a call, because that right there’ he says gesturing between them, ‘that was fucking hot and we would definitely want in on that.’
‘Jesus fuck Danny, can you save talking about your sex life with my brother for when I’m not here!’
‘Sorry Isaac love.’ Danny says, grinning back at Stiles and Derek.
Stiles, isn’t listening, because kissing Derek was superhot and Derek’s currently smiling at him like Stiles hung the fucking moon and Stiles is feeling all warm and hot in his stomach.
‘By the way, why did you keep tipping me ridiculous sums of money? Danny thinks you thought I was going to give you a blowjob under the coffee machine.’
Derek chokes at that and goes red, his eyes darting down to Stiles’ lips as Stiles unconsciously licks them, thoughts still on kissing Derek, ‘Uh no, you just seemed so down the other day when you weren’t getting tips and not winning your game and I didn’t really know how to get you to notice me so I thought I’d give you money?’ Derek says faintly, eyes still glued to Stiles’ lips.
‘And you just have money to give away, just like that.’
‘Oh, yeah, I work at Hale Corporation uptown.’
‘Dressed like that?’ Stiles says a little incredulously gesturing at the rather casual clothes Derek seems to wear every day, jeans and a dark green Henley.
‘Oh, yeah, my last names Hale, I own Hale Corporation, with Cora. She wears whatever she wants to work as you could see, so I do to.’
Danny whistles lowly next to him and Stiles is a little shocked, it never occurred to him to ask Derek’s last name, or where he worked.
‘So, seeing as you’re single despite evidence to the contrary I was wondering whether you wanted to go out with me some time?
Stiles grins back at Derek’s tentative smile, ‘Tonight, at seven. Pick somewhere nice to take me.’
Derek grins back, ‘Deal.’ He says handing over his card, ‘Here’s my number.’
Stiles watches as Derek leaves the shop wincing when Danny turns to him after Derek’s left, ‘Seriously though, my offer still stands, Camden has a very gifted tongue.’
Stiles is saved from replying by the ‘Jesus Fuck Danny!’ that Isaac practically sobs from out back, his hands over his ears as Danny laughs evilly.