you make my heart beat faster - derek/stiles - pg
Title: you make my heart beat faster
Pairing(s): Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 639
Summary: AU. Where Stiles works in a Chinese restaurant and pines over the bartender in the fancy schmancy restaurant across the street.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish to all the TV lords that I did.
“Holy hell.” Stiles bites his lip as he swipes his rag over the counter in front of him. Lydia smirks from the bar stool she’s taken command of. She never seems to be actually working, but she still manages to come out with a higher paycheck than Stiles’.
“What? Look at him, Lydia!” Stiles stops pretending to do his work and stares dreamily out the window. Across the street he can see the bartender of the fancy schmancy restaurant across the street doing his nightly round of window cleaning. Never in his life had Stiles been so happy that restaurants seemed to have a lot of tall, hard to reach windows.
When he had to clean them, it sucked major ass, but when the bartender across the street had to clean his restaurant’s windows, and his shirt rode up just that little bit, and his arm muscles strained in the tight black t-shirt he wears, Stiles is thanking the architects who designed this crazy town.
The bartender finishes up his work and turns to go back into the restaurant, but not before turning his gaze to where Stiles is. Even from across the street and through a glass door, Stiles could swear the guy was looking straight at him. Before he could do anything besides creepily stare at him and gape, the guy quickly slips into the restaurant.
Stiles sighs and drops his head into his arms. Fifteen more minutes and he can go home and take a shower and rid himself of the smell of Chinese food, at least for a little while. He’ll probably just drown himself in that shower too. Sounds like a solid plan.
Lydia just sighs at him and drifts away, wiping down the soy sauce containers and glaring at Stiles. They’ve had discussions before about how Stiles should just talk to the guy, but Stiles is adamant he’d make a fool of himself, and Lydia always ends up getting angry and shoving ice down his shirt. He’s hoping it won’t escalate to that tonight.
“Dude, this is the best thing ever.” Scott interrupts Stiles’ internal lamenting about attractive, brooding bartenders and ice fights and sets a cup down in front of Stiles.
“Where the hell did you get a Sno Cone?” Stiles asks incredulously, sliding the cup off of his freshly Windexed counter. He gets to leave soon, he doesn’t want to be stuck cleaning up more messes.
“A place just opened down the street!” Scott happily retrieves his Sno Cone and takes a huge bite out of it, failing to notice, or not caring, the colorful ice he’s just dropped on his shirt. “I got it for free, too!”
Knowing Scott, he had probably inadvertently flirted with whoever was working at the Snow Cone stand. Poor, unsuspecting Sno Cone worker.
“Are you clocking out soon? Because there are episodes of Star Trek that need to be rewatched.” Stiles looks hopefully at Scott and unties his apron, ready to head to the back and clock out himself.
“Uh, no. I actually switched shifts with Lydia. She has something with Jackson.”
“Ugh, Scott!” Stiles wines, throwing his towel at Scott’s head and only feeling a little bit guilty when he spills some of his Sno Cone. “You were my only hope! My dad refuses to watch anymore with me.”
“Sorry man. Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m holding you to that.” Stiles says, before pushing his way through the kitchen doors. He quickly clocks out and escapes out the back door to his jeep before Mr. Finstock can catch sight of him. Stiles doesn’t want to get roped into anymore work.
He just wants to get home, shower, and sleep for a week. And if he loops around and drives by the restaurant trying to catch sight of the bartender again, no one has to know.
Pairing(s): Derek/Stiles
Rating: PG
Word Count: 639
Summary: AU. Where Stiles works in a Chinese restaurant and pines over the bartender in the fancy schmancy restaurant across the street.
Disclaimer: Don't own them. Wish to all the TV lords that I did.
“Holy hell.” Stiles bites his lip as he swipes his rag over the counter in front of him. Lydia smirks from the bar stool she’s taken command of. She never seems to be actually working, but she still manages to come out with a higher paycheck than Stiles’.
“What? Look at him, Lydia!” Stiles stops pretending to do his work and stares dreamily out the window. Across the street he can see the bartender of the fancy schmancy restaurant across the street doing his nightly round of window cleaning. Never in his life had Stiles been so happy that restaurants seemed to have a lot of tall, hard to reach windows.
When he had to clean them, it sucked major ass, but when the bartender across the street had to clean his restaurant’s windows, and his shirt rode up just that little bit, and his arm muscles strained in the tight black t-shirt he wears, Stiles is thanking the architects who designed this crazy town.
The bartender finishes up his work and turns to go back into the restaurant, but not before turning his gaze to where Stiles is. Even from across the street and through a glass door, Stiles could swear the guy was looking straight at him. Before he could do anything besides creepily stare at him and gape, the guy quickly slips into the restaurant.
Stiles sighs and drops his head into his arms. Fifteen more minutes and he can go home and take a shower and rid himself of the smell of Chinese food, at least for a little while. He’ll probably just drown himself in that shower too. Sounds like a solid plan.
Lydia just sighs at him and drifts away, wiping down the soy sauce containers and glaring at Stiles. They’ve had discussions before about how Stiles should just talk to the guy, but Stiles is adamant he’d make a fool of himself, and Lydia always ends up getting angry and shoving ice down his shirt. He’s hoping it won’t escalate to that tonight.
“Dude, this is the best thing ever.” Scott interrupts Stiles’ internal lamenting about attractive, brooding bartenders and ice fights and sets a cup down in front of Stiles.
“Where the hell did you get a Sno Cone?” Stiles asks incredulously, sliding the cup off of his freshly Windexed counter. He gets to leave soon, he doesn’t want to be stuck cleaning up more messes.
“A place just opened down the street!” Scott happily retrieves his Sno Cone and takes a huge bite out of it, failing to notice, or not caring, the colorful ice he’s just dropped on his shirt. “I got it for free, too!”
Knowing Scott, he had probably inadvertently flirted with whoever was working at the Snow Cone stand. Poor, unsuspecting Sno Cone worker.
“Are you clocking out soon? Because there are episodes of Star Trek that need to be rewatched.” Stiles looks hopefully at Scott and unties his apron, ready to head to the back and clock out himself.
“Uh, no. I actually switched shifts with Lydia. She has something with Jackson.”
“Ugh, Scott!” Stiles wines, throwing his towel at Scott’s head and only feeling a little bit guilty when he spills some of his Sno Cone. “You were my only hope! My dad refuses to watch anymore with me.”
“Sorry man. Tomorrow?”
“Yeah, sure. I’m holding you to that.” Stiles says, before pushing his way through the kitchen doors. He quickly clocks out and escapes out the back door to his jeep before Mr. Finstock can catch sight of him. Stiles doesn’t want to get roped into anymore work.
He just wants to get home, shower, and sleep for a week. And if he loops around and drives by the restaurant trying to catch sight of the bartender again, no one has to know.