Chapter Text
Today was not his day. Scratch that- it was not his fucking week. When Scott had approached him two weeks earlier out of the blue and said there were two openings at Teen Wolf- the teen apparel store in the mall- Stiles had jumped at the chance to make above minimum wage with his best friend. His father had been badgering him to get a job and it would be nice to have some cash around in case- well in case of anything, really. In case Dad can’t pay taxes, or he needs to pay off more medical bills, Stiles brain supplied unhelpfully- which, fuck you too brain. But now? He wasn’t so sure the idea was so great.
“Scott. SCOTT.” Stiles tossed a hanger at his friend’s head and was glad no one was around to see him do it.
“What?” Scott hissed back, glancing towards Stiles and then back at the brunette who was working the make up stand across the way. This had been going on ever since they started working and it dawned on Stiles maybe this particular store hadn’t been a random choice after all. Figures.
Alison Argent went to the same high school as them, transferring in this year-her senior year. Whose parents forced them to move schools for their last year of high school? Stiles would have felt pity for her if she hadn’t immediately been swallowed up by Lydia and her crowd and become instantly higher up in social status then Scott and Stiles ever were or would be.
“You’re so so far gone buddy.” Stiles shook his head and began adding jean jackets to the rack, trying not to get too annoyed at his best friend who wasn’t helping, like, at all.
“Shut up.” Scott answered mindlessly and looked away, frowning down at the jeans he was folding.
“You look like someone ate your last cookie dude, cheer up.” Stiles offered him a smile, “Tonight we get to leave early and cure your broken heart with a date involving COD and a family sized bag of Doritos!”
Scott smiled at him but it seemed forced. Stiles could just eat the bag himself. No harm, no foul.
“Hey losers, Couldn’t help but overhear-“ Stiles and Scott looked over as their co-worker and Stiles’ ex-crush, hard emphasis on the EX, Lydia waltzed over. She was a manager but it seemed all she had to do was yell at the younger employees and give fashion advice to the “hopeless and needy” -her words not his. He kind of always wondered who actually owned this place since Stiles had never actually seen anyone who wasn’t an employee or manager. He bet the guy was rolling in money in a penthouse somewhere- Teen Wolf was admittedly one of the hottest clothing stores around, ‘on the rise’ was what the Teen magazines boasted and there were always people- of differing ages- trickling in and out, especially now when summer was coming to a close and back-to-school shopping commenced.
“I think I have a proposition for you, better than any video-game or.. bag of chips.” She looked pained just saying that and, rude, Stiles thought huffing and crossing his arms. She handed them both a paper, which Stiles snatched. An invitation? To a summer party. Correction- Lydia’s huge end-of-summer bash. Lydia looked down at her manicured nails impatiently and then smiled devilishly.
“Alison will be there.” Damn it.
Scott’s head shot up at that and he nodded like a bobble head on overdrive. So it was settled.
“Great!” She clapped her hands together and walked away, leaving Stiles to groan and punch his friend lightly in the shoulder. Well, kind of lightly.
“Ow dude, What the-“
“You are absolutely insane.”
Scott looked very confused and Stiles was tempted to punch him again.
“How are you supposed to go up and talk to Alison-“
“Lower your voice!”
“Alison-“ Stiles hissed quietly “- if you can’t even make eye contact with her here? Across from her booth?”
Scott wilted at that and then he looked towards Stiles with a sheepish smile.
“No.”
“Stilesss” Scott whined.
“La La La Can’t here youu” Stiles weaved through the clothing racks to get away from his friend who was now speeding up behind him. Teen Wolf was poorly lit and that’s what Stiles would argue when asked how he managed to trip over a stack of new arrivals boxes on the floor.
“Fuck” He groaned and noticed a group of teenage girls judging him from across the store. He waved and attempted a smile, professionalism at it’s finest, when Scott’s face leaned down and glared at him.
“Stiles do you remember when you had that crush on Lyd-“
“She who shall not be named!”
“Exactly. And I helped you by switching shifts so you guys could close up together?”
“You ended up reading the calendar wrong and I had to close up with Boyd. WHO DOESN’T TALK might I add.”
“Ok.. well.. still.”
“Ughhh” Stiles groaned loudly and they both instantly turned their heads when they heard somebody clear their throat from behind.
“Uh..” Isaac, sweet sweet, Isaac was standing there with his ‘New’ employee pin still on despite him already working here for one week. He was the shyest one here undoubtfully and normally kept to himself. Stiles respected him for that, but still had to try to make friends with all his co-workers, it was just who he was as a person- an annoying but persistent person.
“You going to the partay Isaac?” Stiles stared up at him from his position on the ground.
Isaac nodded slowly and shrugged and Stiles rose to his feet, patting him on the back.
“So will you do it?” Scott bounced up besides him and Isaac scurried to clean up the arrivals. What a guy.
“Fine.”
“You’re the best!”
“I know.” Stiles mumbled and watched Scott honest to god skip away. He briefly wondered if Derek would be going and then shook his head vehemently. Who cares? Derek is a capital A- Asshole, he reminded himself (An asshole who Stiles was madly in love with). Despite speaking minimally, ok, only once when Stiles got yelled at for spilling a blue slushy on the counter, the guy was literally a model and the whole mysterious vibe had Stiles determined to get to know him. Scott agreed this would be a hopeless endeavor- “you don’t know anything about the guy.. what if he’s like fifty?” “Scott, he’s definitely under 25”- but what did Scott know? He wasn’t doing too well in the romance dept. at the moment either. Stiles looked around to make sure said Mr.mysterious-and-broody manager wasn’t around and slumped his shoulders. T-minus 6 hours to party time, woo-fucking-hoo.