"I'll have a double shot espresso," said the perfect male Adonis.
Stiles looked up open mouthed at the perfect stranger. The man had thick black hair, thick eyebrows and probably a thick-
"Are you going to actually make my coffee?" asked Apollo's reincarnate and/or descendant because that man was as hot as the damn sun
Stiles cleared his throat and hastily scrambled to make the Greek god his espresso.
"And your name is, sir?" Stiles asked professionally.
The man said nothing and just smirked at him; even going as far as quirking an eyebrow at him as if he couldn't believe Stiles even asked him such a question. Stiles narrowed his eyes at him. The stranger just gave him a cocky grin. Ok, two can play this game. He switched places with Isaac and actually made the customer his espresso. After he was done, he handed Isaac the coffee so he could have the honor of reading aloud what Stiles put down as the stranger's name. Isaac read the name and frowned at him. Stiles nodded and confirmed that yes indeed that was the customer's name. Isaac, being the good sport he was and he'd have to be because come on, he'd been dating Scott for three years, read out loud the name.
"Mr. Caw caw motherfucking ravens for eyebrows Edgar Allen Poe would shit a brick for?" Isaac said with a completely straight face.
Mr. Caw caw motherfucking ravens for eyebrows Edgar Allen Poe would shit a brick for looked up in question. Stiles was practically giggling like a school girl as the stranger got up to get his coffee, looking as if he had been sucking on a lemon for an hour straight. Isaac smiled at him apologetically as he usually did for whoever had the misfortune to fall prey to Stiles's cunning quips. The handsome stranger noticed Stiles smirking in the background and beckoned Stiles over. Stiles was feeling generous and complied.
"Anything wrong with the coffee, my good sir?" He asked feigning innocent.
"Nothing's wrong with coffee. The only thing wrong is the barista," the man said still smirking at Stiles as if he was just a cute little kitten who playfully swiped its master.
That smile was kinda working for Stiles but it wasn't like he was gonna admit that to the guy's face; or ever admit it out loud.
Stiles scoffed in disbelief.
"And what's wrong with the barista, may I ask?" Stiles asked with narrow eyes.
"Well the fact that he's in a coffee shop and not in my bed."
Stiles choked on his own saliva. The man cast his eyes down and smiled an actual sincere smile. He grabbed a napkin, leaned over the counter and grabbed the sharpie from Stiles's apron.
"Since you seem offended by me, here's my number so I can make it up to you. Or you can make it up to me. I'm not picky about positions," the stranger said as he jotted down his number on the napkin and leaned over once again to place the sharpie and napkin into the pocket of Stiles's apron. He let his hands linger a bit more than necessary.
"I get off at four," Stiles said breathlessly.
"Didn't think you'd be so punctual about sex," said the stranger.
Stiles eyes widened looking like tiny amber saucers. The man beamed at him.
"I don't even know your name," Stiles murmured with a glazed sort of expression.
The man smiled and leaned in, close to Stiles's face.
"It's Derek," the perfect stranger said, his warm breath ghosting Stiles's lips.
He took the coffee like the tease he was and left Stiles to deal with unfortunate circumstance of having a boner at work. He didn't feel too guilty about it, though. He knew he'd be taking care of Stiles soon enough.
"Nevermore, nevermore," Stiles whispered to himself as he watched Derek walk away.