Stiles/Derek, 1.5K words, Rated G, AU, Meet Cute
I heard this story on NPR this morning and of course, couldn’t resist Sterek-ing it.
Stiles yawned, burped, and stood up. “Okay, I’m heading out.”
Kira pouted and leaned against his thigh. “Aw. You sure?”
“Yeah, definitely.” Stiles was still drunk, but it was fading and he didn’t really feel like drinking any more. “But you should stay, I’ll just take an Uber by myself.”
“Okay.” Kira yawned and flopped in the other direction, against Allison, who patted her absently on the knee. “I might stay here.”
“Text me if you do,” he said, waving, and she gave him a clumsy thumbs up. Stiles picked his way out of the house party, dodging games of beer pong as he dug his phone out of his pocket. He opened the Uber app with a grimace—three a.m. on the Saturday of Halloween weekend probably meant long wait times and/or surge pricing—but was pleasantly surprised to see only a five-minute wait.
By the time Stiles went to the bathroom and said goodbye to a couple of people, Rachel was idling by the curb in her promised red Camry. “Hello!” he said cheerfully as he climbed into the backseat, and she smiled at him in the rearview mirror.
“Hey. Happy Halloween.”
“What’s the weirdest costume you’ve seen tonight?” he asked, and she laughed.
“Let’s see…earlier I had a girl in a very large, very realistic-looking squid costume.”
Stiles laughed. “Awesome.”
“We’ve got one pick-up on the way,” Rachel said, and Stiles yawned as he rested his cheek against the cool glass of the window.
They only drove for a few minutes before Rachel glided to a stop at a corner. The other backseat door opened, and a tall guy startled as he ducked down into the car.
Stiles grinned. “Are you scared of clowns?”
“No.” The guy rolled his eyes and settled into the seat, stretching out his long legs.
“Are you sure? My costume’s pretty great.”
“It is,” he admitted. “But I’m also not scared of clowns.”
Stiles scratched at his wig. This guy was seriously hot, broad-shouldered and dark-haired, and Stiles temporarily wished that he wasn’t dressed as a freaky clown. “So what are you supposed to be?”
The guy tilted his head, raised one admittedly-magnificent eyebrow, and gestured at himself. “A lumberjack.”
The duh went unspoken, and Stiles gave him a flat look. “Seriously? So let me guess, you grabbed a plaid shirt out of your closet and didn’t shave for like 36 hours.”
“Are you shaming me for my dedication to my costume right now?”
“Your lack of dedication,” Stiles corrected. “And yes, yes I am.”
“I can tell that you really care a lot about Halloween.”
“Uh, yes I do. The sanctity of Halloween is to be respected, and you’re in clear violation of that right now.”
The lumberjack hummed and scratched at his dumb, beautiful lumberjack beard. “So what’s the punishment for such an egregious violation?”
Stiles made a show of thinking about it. “Being made fun of by me. And Rachel,” he added.
“I think your costume is fine,” Rachel piped in, and Stiles threw up his hands.
“Ouch. Wow, such a betrayal, Rachel, honestly. I was here first, does that not count for anything anymore?”
The lumberjack laughed and shifted in his seat so he was facing Stiles. “My friend showed up at the party I was at as an accountant. And that’s his job in real life, so he just wore his normal clothes.”
“Okay, that’s worse,” Stiles admitted. “But it still doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook.”
“Darn,” he said, his tone as dry as a bone. “You know, my greatest goal is to be in your good graces.”
Stiles huffed. “As it should be.”
The car stopped again, and the lumberjack unbuckled his seatbelt. “Bye, Pennywise,” he said, then waved toward the front seat. “Thanks, have a good night.”
Rachel waved back, and Stiles stared shamelessly out the window as the lumberjack took the stairs two at a time up to his building. “Wow,” he said absently. “I should’ve asked for his number, huh? He was hot.”
“He was,” Rachel agreed. “And he was totally flirting with you.”
Stiles tipped his head back against the seat and groaned.
Kira shuffled through their front door around noon. “Please tell me that there’s coffee.”
“Of course!” Stiles called out from his spot on the couch. He’d woken up with only a minor headache, miraculously, which had been swiftly taken care of by an egg sandwich and two cups of coffee.
Kira sat down next to him, cradling her giant coffee mug against her chest as gently as she would a baby, and gestured to the small pile of flyers on their coffee table. “What’s this?”
“My, uh, morning project,” he said, handing her one.
“I was Pennywise,” Kira read, “and you were a low-effort lumberjack. We met in the back of an Uber at three a.m. last night, and I’m kicking myself for not asking for your number. Text me the name of our driver if you’d like to get a drink sometime, I swear I’m handsome under all the makeup.”
Kira started cracking up, and Stiles grinned. “You like it?”
“That’s amazing. So you met a lumberjack last night?”
Stiles nodded. “He was hilarious. And really attractive. And our driver thought he was flirting with me, so y’know, take from that what you will.”
Kira laughed again. “Where are you gonna put them up?”
“He got dropped off first, he lives just a few blocks from here. So I’ll just do that block, probably. That’s not too creepy, is it?”
Kira hummed. “No. It’d be creepy if you, like, knocked on the door of his building. But this is cute. And he can just ignore it if he wants to.”
“Okay.” Stiles collected up the flyers and reached for the stapler. “Wish me luck, then.”
Stiles got a bunch of random texts that afternoon, most that either wished him luck or just said “lol.” His phone buzzed again around six p.m., and he dove for it, like he’d been doing all day.
Now my whole neighborhood knows that I didn’t put much effort into my costume, so thank you for that.
Stiles grinned down at his phone like an idiot. He saved the number in his phone as “The Lumberjack,” even before the second text came through.
(Her name was Rachel, by the way.)
That’s your fault, dude. If you’d had a better costume, I wouldn’t have had to publicly shame you.
I got invited to a party last minute! I didn’t have many options.
Then you should have unbuttoned the plaid and at least gone as a SEXY lumberjack.
Ah. Next year, then.
No, next year I’ll be inviting you to a Halloween party with plenty of advance notice. So you should start brainstorming now.
I’ll have to ask you for advice.
So will I seem too forward if I ask you for a drink tonight?
I literally printed flyers and put them up outside your building, I really don’t think you have to worry about “forward.”
That bar on the corner at 8?
Dude, I will be there with bells on.
And I’ll be able to recognize you by the costume?
Stiles stopped outside of the bar at 8:02 and hopped up and down a couple times, trying to shake the nervousness out. He’d been giving himself a pep talk for the whole walk over, and he almost believed it.
Worst case scenario, the guy was just fucking with him, and then Stiles would have a funny story to tell. Best case, he’d get to kiss a cute guy, and Stiles was comfortable with those odds.
After one last deep breath, Stiles pulled the door open. He shrugged out of his coat and scanned the bar. He spotted the guy almost instantly, sitting in the corner and half-facing the door. The lumberjack beard was trimmed down a little bit and the plaid shirt had been replaced by a henley, but otherwise he looked exactly the same. And exactly as handsome as Stiles had remembered, score.
Once he was halfway across the bar, their eyes met. Stiles felt it, the same connection he felt in the car last night, and he swallowed.
“Hey,” he called out, once he was within earshot, and the guy smiled at him. “Sorry if you were expecting Pennywise.”
The guy stood and moved his coat off the bar stool next to him, gesturing to it. “This version is much nicer,” he said sincerely, and Stiles huffed out a laugh, ducking his head.
“So I fully plan to keep calling you ‘The Lumberjack’ in my head, but I should probably also know your real name,” he blurted out, and the guy laughed. There were dimples underneath the beard, and Stiles was going to die.
“Derek.” He held his hand out, and Stiles shook it.
“Stiles. Very nice to meet you again.”