Chapter Text
Stiles has been going to the coffeeshop for a month when it happens.
“Here’s your usual.”
And Stiles, “what?”
The barista (Derek, Stiles knows because it says so on his nametag and he’s always there and always grumpy and absolutely not the reason he comes here even though there’s another -cheaper- place near his house) looks at him. “Your usual order. Vanilla latte, no sugar. Right?”
Stiles nods. “How do you know what I order?”
Derek raises his eyebrows (and they are very nice eyebrows, Stiles may or may not have tried to compose sonnets about them – they were awful and Scott still laughs when he remembers them but still) and looks at him like he’s an idiot. “You come here every day. I’m not daft.”
And really, it’s not a surprise that the place is almost always empty when Stiles is there. With that kind of service the wonder is that they have customers at all. Then again, they probably come just to gape at Derek’s jawbone or his eyes so it doesn’t matter if he’s rude to them or not.
“Thank you.” Stiles bites the words instead of saying them and grabs his coffee. He thinks he’s definitely not coming back, at least in a week (or maybe just until tomorrow morning, the walk is good for his legs, right?).
He pays without waiting for Derek to tell him the total, he already knows, he is here every day after all.
He’s almost outside when he notices the phone number scribbled at the bottom of his cup. It doesn’t say anything else, just the number, and Stiles thinks maybe is a mistake.
“What-“
Derek looks at him with wide eyes. Is he nervous? Stiles thinks he is and he suddenly understands why he had already prepared his coffee beforehand. “Never mind,” he says. “See you, Derek.”
He doesn’t stop smiling until he’s finished his coffee and has saved the number on his phone (under the name Grumpypants, Stiles is such a comedic genius). He thinks he’s going to let Derek sweat it out for a few days.
Oh, who is he kidding? He already knows he’s going to call him as soon as he gets home.