Sterek Library (a03 Edition)

Cinammon part one

By: blackstar  on tumbrl

When Derek first started working in the "Full moon" coffee house across from the central BH police station, there were three people constantly nagging him to smile at customers: the owner, Boyd, who was not more than three years his senior and later, one of his best friends; his girlfriend, later wife, Erica, who helped him around the shop and worked with Derek when the line was getting long in the mornings and afternoons; and one of the customers, maybe serving as a representative of them all, later his crush, Stiles. It wasn't as if the three could really make him smile at all customers, because some of them were too annoying or ignorant or just plain rude to receive any kind of good grace from Derek, but maybe the constant nagging and the answering smile he got from Stiles, whenever the guy saw him smiling at someone, made an overall dent.

The sheriff's kid was there every day, a constant presence in Derek's life, even more so than Boyd, who some days didn't come to the office so he could get other things done, and Erica, who actually worked at a different place the first two years of their acquaintance, later friendship, and came into the coffee house every other day or so, to help out or be a nuisance, depending on her mood. Stiles, though. Stiles came in every morning at 8:20, after driving with his dad to his work, hair tousled and spiky, taking a coffee to go and leaving for university. And later, on his way back to the sheriff's station or maybe home, Stiles would return alone or with his best friend Scott, sometimes his girlfriend Allison in toe as well, or with his friend Lydia, who Derek had mistaken for Stiles' girlfriend in the beginning. He would pick out something sweet and sit around and chat with other people in the shop, and in those times it seemed like Stiles knew half the population of the town (and they all seemed to have these mixed feelings of loving Stiles and dreading his close proximity to them with a hot drink in hand or something sweet, which could potentially end up on them). There were also Derek's favorite, the rare occasions, in which Stiles was alone and there was no one he knew around, and Stiles would chat with Derek instead.

He was a wonderful combination of bright smiles and brighter ideas, his mouth (sinfully beautiful) never staying closed for long – even when he was listening, his lips stayed lazily parted, as if it was too much work to keep them closed, not as distracting for the opposing party. He was one of the few things, aside from Laura's laugh on the telephone line from New York, which seemed to make his days worthwhile. See, Derek had this whole kind-of-chart of things that mattered and things that did not. The smiles of people around him, the smell of coffee, the contented sigh of someone taking their first sip of the coffee he's made, the beauties of nature, the sound of his sister's car purring – those were the things he wanted to keep as close as possible, the things he deemed worthy to fight for. And in there somehow, next to his favorite sister, Stiles had found his place and had settled. Now his smiles and his voice and his stories were something Derek was willing to fight to get. His idea of a calm future had expanded in order to accommodate the hugeness of Stiles' presence, which was now a must.

The smell of cinnamon was always on Stiles – it was his favorite spice and he put it on every order of coffee and everything sweet he ate at their shop until Derek started adding it himself, eager for that little moan Stiles let out when he smelled it and knew. Other clients liked cinnamon as well, on some drinks or only in the autumn or the winter, but not Stiles – he needed cinnamon on everything, all the time. That wasn't what fascinated Derek, though. The easiness with which the words were always flowing out of his mouth was captivating, his bizarre way in which he held himself, flails of his arms and leanings this way or that, even his gaze darting between Derek's eyes while he was talking, the way he laughed with his whole body, made Derek feel as if he was lucky to have this magical opportunity to talk to a creature of heavenly light and weird, uncoordinated movements.

More than seven months passed in this weird routine, in which Derek was "obviously pining over him", as Erica so kindly remarked on every possible occasion. He'd never thought a crush could feel so good, so... fulfilling to him. He listened and absorbed and shared himself, made the most extravagant coffee orders for Stiles, who always seemed to like them, explored new music and read new books. Crushing on someone so overactive in so many aspects of life was bound to make you want to be overactive yourself, excel in things and flaunt your excessive knowledge around, just like he was doing, triumphantly and blatantly, the best disease Derek had ever gotten.

-

"So then Scott bursts in, in the middle of the class, and you know how that guy acts, as if he sees nothing but what he's searching for, and he looks straight at me, ignoring the look the prof. and everyone else in the room is giving him, and he just goes: "Dude. I did it. We're going out tomorrow night!"" Stiles laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling a bit before he continues "And I just got out of my seat and marched over to him and got him in a big hug. I was so proud of him, and we just stood there for a moment, me patting his back, in the middle of the classroom, before I finally caught up and pulled away." Stiles laughed again and put his cup on the table, maybe in the hopes he wouldn't break this one. Derek couldn't really help but laugh in return, enthusiasm building up with Stiles' story. "And then they had their first date the next night, and it was glorious, because, I mean, they were made for each other. And yeah, that's how Scott started dating Allison." Stiles smiled at him, looking up from underneath his lashes. It was more contained than his laughs before and his posture was so relaxed, his whole body leaning towards Derek. Derek ached to touch him, to confess his feelings and try his luck. Maybe he wasn't imagining it and there was something changing lately – Stiles waving at people in the shop but nevertheless waiting for Derek to be free so he could talk to him, bringing him (and Boyd) lunches, when he brought some to his dad, drinking his morning coffee in the shop instead of on his way to school. "Soulmates." Stiles added, an afterthought and gave Derek this look as if he was maybe jealous of Scott?

Derek's heart started beating faster. It was one of those mornings they now shared in the weekends, when people started coming in later and Derek was mostly free before 9:30, and they were sitting so close to each other, he had to make the slightest move in order to touch him. He did, shifted his hand just a bit, so it was now touching Stiles' forearm, completely innocent if it wasn't executed with such intent. The two were just staring at each other now, bright smiles still on, and the seconds were passing by. Derek was at a loss – Stiles wasn't backing away, didn't seem to mind his hand touching him, was maybe even blushing a little, if that was a blush behind his ears. Should he tell him something, ask him out? Blatantly kiss him and go for broke? The jingle of the door sounded, but the two were completely absorbed in their little bubble of shared intimacy and silence. The world, right then, smelled only like cinnamon, tasted only of nervous energy and desire.

"Derek!" a woman's voice shrieked and he found himself with a lapful of Jennifer suddenly, a mingle of long brown hair and loud laughter. In a flash, her hands were around his neck and her lips were sealed over his. "I've missed you so much!" she said warmly but not quietly to a still shell-shocked Derek, who had no idea what to do with his hands or with her.

"Um." He heard Stiles' voice, a little shaken. "Gotta go. See you around, Derek."

Derek didn't have the time or opportunity to respond, as another kiss was pressed on his lips by Jennifer. When he finally managed to disentangle himself and look, the door was closed and Stiles was walking briskly away from the "Full moon" coffee shop, hands buried deep in his jeans' pockets, shoulders hunched over. The smell of cinnamon was still all around him, yet Derek felt that the sweet scent of the spice was trying its hardest to leave the building together with the human it belonged clinging to.