read it on AO3 at http://archiveofourown.org/works/582798
Stiles had a really really bad day and all he wanted to do was to drown his sorrows in whisky and then…
“This seat taken?” An all too familiar voice asked.
Derek fucking Hale.
Stiles couldn’t suppress a groan. As if this day wasn’t fucked up enough already. He rested his head on his arms, that were folded on the counter. Why couldn’t life give him a break for once?!