AU: So basically 6 years on from high school, Scott died before college and now Stiles is in the real world. After not seeing anyone from his past, bumping into Derek in a small, empty coffee shop is certainly unusual.
STILES
"Vanilla latte, please." I say, quickly smiling up at the waitress stood next to me.
"Anything else?" She asks, a grin plastered on her tanned face.
"No, thank you." I say, glancing up at her again from my computer screen.
She walks off to behind the counter, her heels clicking against the wooden floor. I like it here. It's empty and quiet, not many people know it even exists. The whole place is pretty cool; hundreds of vintage posters hung from the walls and each chair is different around the mismatched tables. Nothing matched. Normally this would annoy me, but here it was nice because that fact that it wasn't perfect made it perfect. It also played pretty good music and had wifi. It was great for me to work in, though. I type at my laptop, every once in a while looking up to take in my surroundings. I was subconsciously tapping my foot to the beat of the music and drummed my pen against the table. A splay of papers were spread out next to my laptop in a mess of work. I loved my job, though, don't get me wrong. It was fun to travel, which I got to do often. I was a charity manager; I got to visit a lot of poor countries as well as help with children neglected by parents, in poverty, or homeless. It was certainly an emotional job, but I enjoyed it. It was satisfying, forfilling, rewarding. I tapped away at my computer for a while before the bell above the door went off. I looked up; not many people come in here. What I saw made my heart quicken. Derek freaking Hale. In this coffee shop?
"Here's your latte, sir." Spoke the familiar voice of the waitress I had recently given my order to.
"Thanks..." I trailed off, letting my words hang in the air, as I kept my eyes on the man- he must be thirty by now- in the brown leather jacket. Clearly the colours he wears these days arent as harsh as his old all-black ensembles.
Luckily I was neatly tucked behind a wall so he didn't see me, and I pulled my beanie forward a bit and pushed my glasses slightly up my nose. Please tell me he's getting take out. Wrong. He takes a seat in a chair next to the window and whips his phone out of his pocket. I wander who he's texting. He never had many friends back in Beacon Hills.
Beacon Hills.
The memory of my hometown feels like a lifetime ago; I think back to Scott. God, I miss him. He died a year before I went to college. After that, our group split up- I've barely kept in contact with them since. I shared the occasional Facebook message to Malia and Lydia, but only on one of our birthdays or something. I miss Scott often, but our fading memories together feel so distant now. I sigh and hunch over my keyboard.
How on earth did he even end up here? I'm in Oregon, now. Portland, and here he is. He just happens to turn up in my favourite coffee shop in the smallest, emptiest corner of town. God.
When I pull out my phone I have one text from my Dad. I'm surprised he even knows how to use his phone.
From: Dad
Hey son, how was the move? Can't wait to visit your new place. LOL.
As if he literally just wrote that. I sigh and chuckle to myself. Yesterday I moved out of my shabby old apartment and into a new one; it's big and light and had a nice view of town. Plus, I bought it all on my own. It also means I don't have an annoying room mate anymore; I'm not much of a people person and I don't like parties, unlike my ex- roommate Max. My job also pays pretty well. Whilst I'm off in my own thoughts, a certain someone goes up to get a sachet of suger for his coffee- I always knew that man had a sweet tooth- but then sees me. I stare at him expectantly. He's quite far away from me, on the other side of the café, but he stares at me in disbelief. As if he's not really sure it's me or not. But then, when I thought it couldn't get worse, he begins to walk toward me, the look of shock still on his face.
"Stiles..." He breathes, his eyebrows furrowed slightly.
"Derek... Hi." I say, half smiling awkwardly.
"Uh, may I-?" He demonstrates actions towards the other chair at my table.
"Yeah, sure." I nod, grabbing my papers and putting them into a pile.
"So, uh... Hi. Wow. What are you doing here?" He asks, looking at my laptop.
"I live here, actually." I say, he nods.
This is so awkward, oh my God.
"You?" I ask. He shrugs.
"Oh, uh, I'm just visiting. Small world, I guess." He says.
"Clearly."I reply back.
"So, uh, you live here? What's your job?" He asks, his eyes meeting my gaze, temporarily melting my heart and giving me the inability to speak for a moment.
"Oh, I'm a charity manager." I say finally, and he raises an eyebrow, indicating he has no idea what that is.
"I travel a lot, to different countries, helping the poor, poverty, children in need, etcetera. I also taught at a school in Africa for a year, too. " I say, and a smirk appears on his face, making his eyes shine.
"What?" I ask. He shakes his head, chuckling.
"Nothing. It's just... This is so weird, you know? Seeing you- Stiles; whom I only knew as some idiot kid- in the real world, you know? An adult." Says Derek. I chuckle.
"I'm not a kid anymore." I smile, shutting my laptop to look at him better. I push my glasses up my nose again.
"I didn't know you wore glasses." Says Derek, staring at my black frames. I nod.
"Yeah, I got 'em a couple of years ago." I say.
"So, how are old are you now?" Asks Derek.
"I'm 24." I say, a small smirk on his face appearing again.
"Jeez. It's been a while." Says Derek, a distant look on his face.
"What?" I ask.
"It's weird, we all have these new lives in the 'real' world." His grin fades suddenly though. "I wonder what he would be doing right now." Derek murmers. I know exactly who he is; Scott.
"Yeah... I prefer not to think about it. But I do wonder what they're all doing, actually. Y'know, Liam, Isaac, Malia, Lydia. Actually, Lydia's a teacher now..." I say, picturing my old friend in a classroom of young children.
"I bet she's pretty great at that." Chuckles Derek, and I nod in agreement.
"Malia lives in New York. I think." I say, thinking back to when I stalked her Facebook. "I'm not too sure about the others, though. My dad's still in Beacon Hills." I say, which makes me wonder who's still there.
"Cora's back." Derek states plainly, shrugging slightly.
"She is?" I ask, and Derek nods.
"She came back a year ago, I think." He says, squinting as he tries to work out the math of it.
"There's not many of us left." I whisper sadly, making the conversation take a rather morbid turn. Derek sighs and rolls his eyes in agreement.
"We should get everyone together, y'know? Like, all of us." Suggests Derek.
"Yeah." I say, nodding.
"Here's my number." Says Derek, quickly scrawling some digits on a piece of my paper.
I needed that sheet, but oh well. He hands me the paper and for the second when my skin brushes against his, it sends a tingling chill through my body. I take my work stuff and pack up everything into my brown leather messenger bag, along with my laptop.
"Thanks. Uh, I gotta go to work, I guess. I'm kinda late." I say, glancing at the time on my black watch.
Derek looks a little disappointed.
"Oh. Have a nice day. And, Stiles, it was really great to see you." He whispers kindly, a small smile hanging off his lips. I smile back.
"You too. I'll see you around, Derek. We better sort something soon." I say, before turning and leaving him in the coffee shop.
