Stiles' fingertips drummed over the countertop. God he hated this job. It was without a doubt the most boring job that existed in the entire known universe. His fingers paused as his lips pursed in thought, the unknown parts too he decided. The most boring job that had ever existed. The door dinged as the second customer of the shift left without buying anything. Stiles turned and jumped onto the counter, leaning his elbow on his thigh. He exhaled quickly, lips vibrating together. His life sucked. Jumping back down he grabbed some scrap receipt paper and a pen, scribbling aimlessly. The door dinged and he mock saluted, not looking up. Maybe a minute passed before the bell just to his left dinged. Pen cap in his mouth, Stiles jerked up prepared to make a comment similar to 'I'm standing right here jackass' but the words froze somewhere in his throat.
"Can I get some assistance?" the man leaning on the counter questioned smoothly.
"Er," Stiles let out, pen cap falling from his lips and clattering on the floor somewhere between his sneakers. "Ye-yup. How can I help you today…sir?" He tacked on the last bit belatedly, trying to remember to be respectful. The man's lips quirked and his gaze slowly moved down to the counter where a Snickers bar rested. "Right," Stiles let out, clicking his tongue and grabbing it with shaking hands. "N-ninety-nine cents," he mumbled, eyes flicking closed for a moment. The man pushed off the counter and reached inside his leather jacket, revealing the outline of a toned stomach as he did. He pulled out a simple wallet and his lips tilted as his fingertips flipped through it. Stiles' mouth ran dry as he watched him. This should not be affecting him this way. He'd lost his mind. Somewhere in the empty, endless ticking of the clock, he'd lost his mind. He finally extracted a dollar bill before offering it to Stiles. Stiles took it, careful not to actually look at the man barely a foot away from him.
"Keep the change," he offered, taking his candy bar and heading for the door. Stiles deposited the dollar in his drawer before extracting a penny and weighing it with his fingertips. Best thing to happen all shift.
It was two days before Stiles saw him again. He'd be lying if he said his mind hadn't wandered to the mysterious man more than once in the time between. He spotted him from the time he walked in this time and Stiles watched as he approached the counter, setting another Snickers on the counter.
"Snickers," Stiles said, nodding as he scanned it, "peanuts and caramel…good stuff…" The man arched an eyebrow for a moment before his eyes crinkled as he smiled.
"I like them," he offered simply. Stiles coughed as he forced his lungs to re-inflate.
"Y-yeah, ninety-nine cents. Again…" Stiles went through the same aching process of watching him extract money again. This time it was worse though. He was wearing a white t-shirt, thin enough for Stiles' mouth to water. Was that chest hair? Just a sprinkling? "God," he exhaled.
"Hm?" Stiles' eyes rounded.
"Urmh, nothing." He certainly hadn't meant to say that aloud.
"You said something," the man insisted, eyes crinkling again, "I didn't catch it."
"Just mumbling to myself…long shift." Lie, lie, lie his mind blared. He offered the dollar then. Stiles took it, cheeks on fire, praying for him to just leave as he did before. He didn't. "A penny," he said, offering the copper circle. The man offered his hand, palm up. Stiles dropped it in. Go, go, go away and never come back, he chanted mentally.
"Don't work too hard." Stiles released a nervous laugh.
"I'll try," he said, "you have a good night." The man smiled again.
"I'll try."
The next day was a Saturday. Stiles was relieved he didn't have to work the shift alone.
"So," Jenny questioned, "you want register or stock?" Stiles rolled his eyes quickly.
"Yeah, let's both pretend we don't already know the answer to that." She smiled patiently.
"Have at it." She waved one hand towards the door, chuckling as Stiles bolted for it. He tucked one headphone in his ear, in case Jenny needed him for a mad rush, he nearly chuckled at the idea, before cranking up some music. He'd made it through half the stack of boxes, organizing what was going out and what was back stocked before Jenny called for him. "Stiles!" He tugged off his headphones before pushing through the door.
"Yeah?" he responded, freezing just past the door when he saw a familiar face.
"This the one?" Jenny asked, cocking her head to Stiles. The man nodded after a moment. Jenny turned to him, one hand on her hip. "You been bothering him?" His jaw flapped open.
"What? No!" Other than some staring that he really shouldn't have been doing. She half gestured to him.
"Fix it." Jenny passed him and went into the stock room without another word. Stiles slowly paced forward.
"I'm sorry?"
"Your name is Stiles?"
"Yeah," Stiles shot back, eyebrows lowering as he became irrationally offended. "You trying to get me into trouble?" He smiled.
"No. I simply inquired about you." He said it as if it was perfectly normal and Stiles wondered if the man ever became flustered. Stiles' mouth ran dry as another thought struck him.
"Why?"
"I like you Stiles." Again. Spoken as if it was normal. Stiles' mouth opened and shifted a bit as he tried to reply.
"You're very…direct."
"So are you." Stiles' cheeks lit up again. He glanced to the tile before scuffing his toe against it.
"I don't even know your name," Stiles said, throwing out a hand to try and stop this, stall this, whatever this was, this thing that was happening between them. Swirling in his gut. Clipping his breaths short.
"Peter," the man, Peter, offered, eyes crinkling again. Stiles didn't acknowledge that he'd spoken. This wasn't happening. He wasn't attracted to him. Peter was too old. It wasn't right.
"Good to meet you," he offered lamely, eyeing the toe of his shoe again.
"You don't have to be afraid." Jenny came back out before Stiles could manage a response.
"Better?" she questioned. Stiles didn't answer her either, ducking back in the stock room.
Stiles had Sunday off and he was glad for it. But of course Monday rolled around as it always did. He had to work again. The shift was painfully slow but Stiles still didn't know if he was glad when Peter appeared. The man was torturing him. He might even be doing it on purpose. Peter didn't speak this time. He laid the Snickers on the counter and pulled out his money as Stiles rang it up.
"Your hand," Stiles breathed, against his better judgment. There was a small curving cut on his knuckle. "What happened?"
"I sculpt," Peter responded, eyes searching Stiles'. Stiles exhaled shakily.
"Of course you do." Peter arched an eyebrow. "Ninety-nine cents," Stiles muttered. He slid the one dollar bill across the counter with one fingertip. "You're really going to keep doing this?" Stiles questioned, holding the penny hostage as Peter glanced up at him.
"Doing what?" he questioned. Stiles couldn't decide if he was faking the innocence or not.
"Coming in here and buying your freaking Snickers one at a time daily and-" he forcibly cut himself off.
"Does it bother you?"
"No," Stiles huffed, dropping the penny to the counter.
"What's wrong?" Peter questioned, placing both hands flat on the counter, on either side of the Snickers and the penny, and leaning forward. "You have a boyfriend?"
"No," Stiles let out.
"So?" Peter arched an eyebrow as he waited.
"It wouldn't be right," Stiles muttered, forgoing the 'who says I'm even gay?' route.
"You're an adult."
"How do you know how old I am?" Back to stall tactics.
"You have to be eighteen to sell alcohol and cigarettes." Peter smiled then, evidently pleased with himself.
"You've thought about this then," Stiles muttered, a shiver working through him.
"On occasion."
"How old are you?" Stiles questioned, resigned. He didn't want to know the answer or admit that he was actually interested.
"Twenty nine."
"Oh my God," Stiles let out, one hand lifting to his forehead.
"Just a number," Peter said softly. He took his candy bar and offered a half wave before leaving. Stiles stared at the penny he'd left, suddenly depressed.
Peter didn't show up for a couple days. Stiles hadn't realized he'd been waiting for him each shift until the man mysteriously did not appear. When he finally did walk through the door Stiles had just about lost his patience. Peter didn't say anything and neither did he. He scanned the Snickers, scowl firmly set, and slid it back to him, nails drumming on the counter as he waited. Peter handed him the dollar bill, watching him carefully.
"What?" Stiles snapped, tired of the silent inspection.
"Is something the matter?"
"No," Stiles lied blatantly. He slapped the penny on the counter and jerked his head to the door. "Good night," he said, only it sounded a lot more like 'Fuck you' in his head. Peter smiled. It was a small smile, his eyes lighting up with it.
"Good night Stiles," he responded. It didn't sound like fuck you, not even a little bit, not at all. Stiles frowned, the momentary victory washed away. He still liked Peter. He still couldn't have him. So what exactly had he accomplished? Gritting his teeth, he watched Peter leave, the ding of the door grating on his nerves. He made it about fifteen seconds before he followed. There were no other customers, as per usual. Technically…Stiles wasn't doing anything wrong.
"Where were you?" he demanded, hands falling on his hips before he forced them off, feeling even more like an idiot. Peter stopped and turned back, one eyebrow arched slightly.
"I was working on a project," he said carefully, "it was involved." Stiles huffed out an irritated breath. What was he supposed to say to that? I missed you? You can't just not come when I'm expecting you to? Don't disappear like that? His mouth settled into a grimace and he didn't say anything at all. His hands made their way back to his hips and he purposely avoided looking at Peter, glancing to the road instead. What was wrong with him? He couldn't do this. He couldn't be doing this. "Stiles," Peter murmured. Stiles jerked. When had he gotten so close?
"What?" he questioned, voice suddenly weak.
"You know." Stiles opened his mouth, fully prepared to argue. He wasn't at all prepared for Peter to kiss him. Any protest, he was pretty sure he had none, vanished as Peter's hands found his back and pressed him closer. His lips were soft and sure. The kiss itself was patient. Almost as if to say he knew Stiles wasn't ready. "Maybe you're right," Peter said, pulling away, the words fanning over Stiles' cheek. "It is a shade inappropriate." Stile's eyes flew open and his jaw dropped as he worked to inhale, possibly to scream. But then he caught sight of Peter's expression, crinkled eyes and all, and the fight went right back out of him.
"You're joking," he said hollowly.
"A bit," Peter whispered.
"I hate you."
"You might, but your mouth doesn't." Stiles squirmed in his hold, embarrassment rushing over him. Peter didn't let him go, kissing him again, smiling when he went still. "Are we going on a date? Or do I have to persuade you?" His smile twisted slightly as he ran his fingertips down Stiles' spine. "I can be very persuasive Stiles."
A/N: I would just like to say that this is not my fault. Yes it's another oneshot…and I'm sorry. I would promise to stop but I won't so let's not go down that path.
This was constructed purely out of boredom. (Oh and GhostPup shamelessly encouraging me)
AU because Peter is dead and the age difference is more creepy in the show… But I liked imagining him as a charming sculptor… Anybody?
Snickers because it was the first candy to pop into my head. You didn't ask? Okay. Moving on.
Don't ask me to explain why I can see Stiles/Peter and not Stiles/Derek. I have no explanation. (Other than Sterek is like Justin Beiber…if that helps at all) Maybe I just prefer being on board the little unknown ships that make everyone else go "Huh?" Idk.
Can you tell I haven't been to sleep yet?
Hopefully this a/n made you chuckle and hopefully you kind of enjoyed my trip into Teen Wolf la la land…