It was incomprehensible to Scott how a simple, albeit long, walk home with a complete stranger included stopping at a convenience store that was two blocks off course. He supposed it was because she was thirsty or hungry, but they'd passed a 24 hour diner on the way to said convenience store, and Scott knew from experience that it had good food. The girl had ignored him when he tried to point it out to her.
"So, Scrubs, what do you want?" she asked him as she rifled through the sandwiches in the cooler that had likely been there for days. Victorious, she produced an egg salad sandwich and did a small victory lap around the aisle while simultaneously dancing.
Laughing as he watched her, Scott grabbed a bag of cheese doodles from a nearby shelf. Then, just so he wouldn't ruin her fun, Scott held out a hand for the girl and she took it. They began dancing together to a beat that didn't match the music playing over the PA.
"You're seriously going to eat that crap, Scrubs?" the girl asked as she snatched the snack from his hands. She tossed it back on the shelf and then grabbed his hands, placing them on her hips. "There is nothing in that stuff that exists in nature, you know. You might as well eat the plastic wrap on my sandwich."
"What should I eat, then, oh wise one?" Scott asked as she ran her hands through his hair, the plastic wrap on her sandwich tickling his ear.
"If you insist on junk food, get the chex mix. The cheese kind, because the plain is bogus as hell," she advised as she continued playing with his hair. Scott kept one hand on her hip as he reached up to touch her puff, but she pulled her free hand free and slapped his away. "Don't you know you're not supposed to touch a black girl's hair, Scrubs? It's, like, a Scientific Law. Like gravity."
"Then why hasn't anyone ever told me before?" Scott asked as he put his hand back on her hip.
With a smile, she pulled her other hand out of Scott's hair and hooked them both around his neck. He could feel the cold from the sandwich against his back.
"And just how many black people do you know in your personal life?" she licked her lips and pulled Scott close. "I mean, I love me a good Latin boy every now and then, but I have a feeling you've only tasted white chocolate."
She wasn't wrong. Frowning, Scott did realize that almost everyone in his life was white. He had black co-workers, sure, but outside of family gatherings he didn't even talk to most other Hispanic people.
"Cheer up, Scrubs. I love white people, too. You just need some colour in your life," the girl cooed as her empty hand dropped from his neck and grabbed his ass. She raised her eyebrows at his shocked face. "Ooh, I like."
Scott cleared his throat. He didn't say anything or attempt to move her hand.
"Are you two going to buy anything? This isn't a prom," the cashier called to them as she tapped her watch.
"Come on, Scrubs, we're being asked to leave," she said to Scott as she finally released his buttock and twirled out of his reach.
"Coming, Elise," he sighed while grabbing the cheese flavoured chex mix.
After making him pay for their orders, the girl grabbed Scott by the sleeve of his top and pulled him into the middle of the street. Thankfully, there were no cars in sight. Beacon Hills tended to pretty much shut down around ten.
She wrapped one leg around Scott and used him to hold herself upright. Her fingers worked fast as she unwrapped her sandwich. Then she stuffed the plastic wrap in his pocket, her fingers lingering longer than they should but not long enough to be overly creepy.
"Remember when we talked about boundaries?" Scott asked her as he rested his arms on her shoulders and opened his snack mix behind her back.
After biting into her sandwich, she offered it to Scott. He smiled and took a bite of it. It was as stale as he was expecting, but he was happy as he chewed on the turkey and Swiss. Elise, as he was calling her, leaned back and threw the foot that was holding her up into the air. Scott caught her by dropping his bag of chex mix.
"Make it rain!" she sang to the sky as she leaned even further and reached into Scott's dropped snack and grabbed a handful. Then she threw the contents into the air. As it fell around them, she kissed Scott. He was caught off guard and didn't return it, but he was sad when it was over. "Scrubs."
Elise free herself from his grip and took another bite from her sandwich before walking away. Scott scooped up his his chex mix before running to catch up to her.
"What was that?"
"It was called fun. You should try it sometime. You're stiff," she told him with a mischievous grin. "Stick in the mud."
"The last thing I am is boring," Scott argued while circling around her until he was walking backwards and keeping her pace while looking her in the eye.
"Please, Scrubs, you get up, go to work, go home, and listen to Chopin while reading books written hundreds of years before you were born. It's cute, but dull. You don't live life, and I need a man who does."
"So you're auditioning me?" Scott asked as he kept his ears trained for any cars coming. There were no vehicles that he could detect.
"You can call it whatever you want, I'm just being a good Samaritan and making sure you get home safe," Elise teased. She reached out and pressed her hand against Scott's heart. He wasn't even aware of how fast it was beating until he felt her hand. Unless her touch was why his heart was racing.
"So what does that make me? The bloodied man on the side of the street?" Scott held up his bag of snack mix. Then he sung for her, even though he knew voice was awful. "Make it rain!"
The bag flew into the air, and the cereal and pretzel pieces fell down around them as he pulled her into another kiss. Her hands wandered back to his buttocks. They enjoyed the taste of each other even as a truck rounded the corner and swerved to avoid them. They ignored the driver's yelling and blaring horn.
"You may just have some hope yet, Scrubs," Elise congratulated proudly as she reached down and picked up the empty and discarded chex mix bag. "Now let's dispose of this properly. Littering is a crime, you know."
TW
As soon as the club emptied, Derek pulled out a laptop from behind the counter. Stiles leaned over the counter to see what he was doing.
"Can we listen to something with an electric guitar for a change?" A man who looked to be in his 40s requested as he stepped out from behind the "employees only" section and into the club proper. "All you ever play is that mopey hipster stuff."
"If you hate hipster music, why did you open a coffee shop?" Derek shot at the man.
Sighing, the man scratched at the blond scruff that covered his pale face. "Because your people will pay obscene amounts of money to ironically drink piss poor coffee."
"It's actually pretty good," Stiles interjected awkwardly as he held up his new coffee cup, full of the warm, brown liquid.
"You must be my nephew's new twink," the man scoffed as he looked Stiles up and down. "Just don't make a mess."
Derek smacked his uncle in the chest with the back of his hand. "Let me apologize for my rude as hell uncle. Peter, this is Stiles. Stiles, my Uncle Peter. He's all bark."
"I only bite if you ask," Peter said as he leaned into Stiles' face. Derek pulled him away and sent him off with a shove. "Fine, fine, I'll go sweep. Kids these days, never respecting their elders."
"You'll get respect when you earn it," Derek called to his uncle's retreating back. Then he turned his attention to Stiles. "Yeah, sorry about that. I would say he gets better, but he's kind of always like that. You get used to it, and then he does it to someone new and you realize just how awful he is. I wouldn't blame you one bit for jumping off that stool and running away."
"I should run because your uncle is kind of rude and a bit of a lech?" Stiles raised his eyebrows curiously. "Dude, my dad is the country sheriff. He's scared off a lot more people than your uncle, I'm sure."
"The sheriff?" Derek's eyes widened a bit and he suddenly made himself busy by cleaning out the espresso machine.
"Yeah. A lot of people get like that when I mention it," Stiles sighed as he rolled his eyes at Derek's back. Why did every person he got involved with have legal issues? The only one who didn't was Lydia. She was just a bitch. "This is why I don't date."
"We're dating? That was fast," Derek commented as he turned back to Stiles with one cocked eyebrow.
Stiles snorted in reply and drank his coffee without a verbal response. Ridiculous statements didn't need to be acknowledged, no matter how hot the person who made them.
The song on Derek's laptop changed from a slow instrumental number to a man singing over a solo cello. Stiles found himself swaying along with the music.
"So, Mr. Corporate Manager," Derek voiced to Stiles while wiping down stools and turning them upside down on the counter, "you prefer lyrical music?"
"The lyrics aren't as important as the voice," Stiles confessed as he closed his eyes and clicked his tongue in time with the cello.
Derek brushed up against Stiles while cleaning, and the younger man was shocked by how solid the body was. He knew that Derek was in good shape, but he had no idea how good. He suddenly grew self-conscious. This was why he preferred dating women. You didn't find yourself constantly comparing body types. You just appreciated them.
"Sorry," Derek apologized as he scrubbed the stool next to Stiles. "I didn't mean to bump into you."
"It's fine," Stiles assured him. He'd been assuring Derek about a lot of things. It was weird. Usually, Stiles was the awkward, socially inept one, but this barista was acting like a teenager. A very suave, handsome, flirtatious teenager, but a teen nonetheless. "Believe me, I'm not gonna complain."
"Flattery will get you everywhere," Derek grinned as he put the freshly cleaned stool upside down on the counter. "Did you want another muffin? Or a cookie?"
"You guys already closed, though," Stiles pointed out unhelpfully.
"You got yourself a real genius with this one," Peter shouted from the other side of the club. Derek threw his wet rag at him.
"Ignore him. I'll make sure to have his muzzle and leash attached at the showing," Derek told Stiles as he walked back behind the counter. "And don't worry about paying. This stuff all gets thrown out at the end of the night, anyway, and I'd rather you get it than the group that comes through and cleans out our dumpster every night."
"Man, dumpster diving is still a thing? I haven't done that in two years," Stiles groaned as he remembered Lydia making him root through many a dumpster in search of clothes that she could stitch and wear. "Whatever, they aren't hurting anyone."
"It's illegal, but I just can't muster up enough 'give a damn' to yell at them," Derek said as he pulled a plate of cookies from the display case. There were only three left, and Stiles snagged the only one that wasn't oatmeal raisin. "I need to get the dough made up for everything tonight so it can sit out. I forgot that someone didn't make any extra last night."
"I can help if you want," Stiles offered as he bit into the cookie in his hand. It was a sugar cookie with lemon frosting, and it was good.
"You don't have to do that." Derek looked at his uncle to see if he would say anything, but Peter remained silent as he turned chairs over onto tables and ran the dust mop across the floor. "It's actually getting kind of late."
"I don't work until two tomorrow. I asked for the morning off because my friends and I were supposed to hang out together, but that clearly didn't happen," Stiles replied with an eyeroll and an accompanying sigh. "In fact, my roommate Scott is the reason I even came out here, and he never shows."
"Scott? Latino, shaggy hair, wears scrubs sometimes, stands about this tall?" Derek held a hand up to his chin. Stiles nodded. "Ah, he was one our first regulars. I love that guy. You have groovy friends, though I kinda wish he'd brought you out earlier. We could always use more business."
"So he's been coming here for two months, and just now thought to invite me and our other roommate Allison? Weird."
"If you say so. I just give him his tea and occasionally chat about what new band we found. He's been coming in a lot more since we got The Betas playing, though." The barista looked at the stage wistfully. "I guess he's a jazz freak."
"It's news to me," Stiles shrugged as he stood next to Derek and looked at the stage. "Did you guys build that or did it come with the place?"
"I built it. Don't laugh, but I was hoping to have poetry slams here. Beacon Hills isn't the most literate place I've ever lived. Someday, I'd like to try it again, but maybe when I stop writing like a twelve-year-old who just found black nail polish for the first time."
Derek walked to the sink by the espresso machine and grabbed a clean rag from a box under it.
"You write poetry? That's adorable," Stiles mentioned as he stood on tiptoes and watched Derek bend over to pick something off the floor. "What kind? Limericks? Free form? Iambic Pentameter?"
"Just whatever comes to mind. Sometimes it rhymes, sometimes it doesn't, but it's all generally rubbish."
"I'd like to hear it sometime. It can't be any worse than the lyrics on a Top 40 song," Stiles said encouragingly as he walked behind the counter and knelt next to Derek. Cautiously, he put a hand on Derek's shoulder. It was nothing but muscle.
"Sure. Sometime," Derek nodded unenthusiastically.
TW
"This fish is terrible," Erica laughed as she pushed it away and concentrated on her side of fries. "These, however, these are great."
"They peel the potatoes here. None of that frozen stuff," Allison explained as she finished off her second pancake. The three pancakes for three dollars special was the main reason she had picked the restaurant. There was no need to let Erica know she wasn't totally selfless, though. "Sorry you didn't like the fish. I've never had it. Like I said, I'm addicted to the breakfast menu."
"I really should've gotten the chicken," Erica second-guessed verbally. She chewed on a french fry and stared at Allison. "I don't mean to make you pay for something I have no intention of eating."
Allison held her hand up and shook her head. "It's fine. Really. If you don't like it you don't like it. I'm not gonna force you to choke down something that makes you gag."
Shifting her eyebrows upward and grinning lewdly, Erica licked her lips. "Good to know."
"Oh my god!" Allison choked on her pancake as Erica laughed. She reached for her glass of milk to clear her throat so she could breathe. The other patrons ignored them, as they were all either drunk or otherwise occupied.
"Too much?" Erica shifted in her chair and played with the collar of her shirt. Allison's eyes were locked onto Erica's fingers.
"Just a bit."
"I've been told I can be a lot to handle. It's a good thing, as far as I'm concerned," Erica bragged as she ate another french fry. "You can always jump off if the ride gets too bumpy."
"Everything you say is a double entendre, isn't it?" Allison noted as she cut another, much smaller, piece out of her pancake. She speared it onto her fork and held it in the air. "I'm not complaining, it's just gonna take getting used to, I guess."
"Getting used to? Girl, you barely know me, and you're acting like we're gonna go shopping for U-Haul rentals in half an hour. Lesbians, I swear," Erica whistled lowly. "How about we ease off and at least tell each other our last names first? Erica Reyes."
"But we already did introductions?" Allison asked in confusion. "Back at the coffee house."
"Just do it," Erica ordered in a sultry voice.
Finding it weird, Allison reintroduced herself while second-guessing why she thought it was a good idea to eat out with someone she didn't know. Yeah, Erica was hot, but so far she was proving to be very, very shallow. The early flirtation had obviously covered a serious lack of character.
"Are we done now?" Allison asked abruptly before stuffing her pancake into her mouth.
"Done? With what? Do you want to leave already?" Erica looked around the diner in shock. "Did you have somewhere to be?"
"This just isn't working." Allison stood and threw a five and a twenty on the table. "That should be enough for the food and the tip. Have a good life, Erica."
"Is this because of the sex kitten thing?" Erica's voice betrayed the hurt her face was trying to hide. "I thought people liked that."
Allison didn't sit down, but she reconsidered walking away. "If this is another damn game..."
"I haven't played any games. I swear," Erica pleaded with Allison as she nervously patted the table. "Well, I guess you could say the flirting thing was a game, but I wasn't being malicious. People just prefer the sexy, confident Erica."
"And which Erica am I talking to right now?" Allison sat in the booth and leaned back against the vinyl cushion. Her arms were crossed and her jaw set.
"The insecure, nervous wreck?" Erica didn't even sound sure herself. "Like, you've only seen my stage persona. Most people only see her."
"Then why am I not talking to her anymore?" The fact that she was even having this conversation was creeping Allison out. This was someone she'd only met that night: barely three hours. Anyone with a brain would walk away and never look back. "You have ten seconds to convince me that you aren't insane."
"I'm epileptic and spent all of high school being the fat girl with acne nobody wanted to talk to," Erica blurted out as she reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a bracelet. She tossed it to Allison. Picking it up, Allison saw what looked like a large charm with description of what to do should Erica begin having a seizure. When she looked back up at Erica, the blonde woman was playing with her french fries.
Handing the bracelet back to Erica, Allison cleared her throat. "I'm sorry."
"It's okay. It my fault," Erica protested as she slipped her bracelet onto her wrist. "I take it off when I perform, and I didn't wanna put back it on tonight because I didn't want you to know."
Feeling bad, Allison picked her fork back up and apprehensively poked at the remainder of her pancakes. "Why would you feel bad about that? It's a medical condition. It's not like you can help it."
"Because kids are cruel, and adults aren't much better. I've been called 'Twitch' ever since I was twelve. Boyd and Isaac are the only ones who never cared about my condition. Being part of the low self-esteem club has its perks."
Allison was uncomfortable. She shifted in her seat and shook her head before looking just behind Erica. "That is a lot to process. I can't imagine what you've gone through."
"I wouldn't want you to," Erica said quietly. "Listen, I get if you walk away. I don't want you to, but I won't be mad."
Feeling a pang of guilt, Allison put her fork down and picked up the discarded money from the table. "Look, we'll start over. I don't want to talk to sexy, bad ass violin playing Erica. I want to talk to the one I'm talking to right now. She's much more interesting."
TW
The thing Scott wanted to do the most was call up a new cab and just pay out of pocket to get home. The fare wasn't going to be that much. But he had to admit that he was getting to see a new side to Beacon Hills. Elise, as he was calling her, had him doing the incredibly stupid task of walking through the back alleys in the middle of the night. The smell of rotting food assaulted his nose as they passed by open dumpsters and tipped over trash cans. He almost screamed when a mouse darted across his foot.
"We're almost there, Scrubs," Elise assured him as she slammed shut the lid of one of the dumpsters. She beckoned him over, and he gave her a boost to climb on top op it. "You're the one who said you didn't mind a detour."
"All you've done is lead me on detours," Scott laughed as he tried to climb onto the dumpster. The pocket of his pants caught on the lid and tore as he hoisted himself up. His phone fell out and hit the ground. The back flew off and his battery bounced into a pile of trash. "Damn it!"
With a sigh, he jumped back to the pavement and scooped up his phone and the back, but the battery was impossible to find. Also, there was a big tear in the front of his scrub bottoms. His black boxers were showing against the bright blue fabric.
"Let me make it easy on you," Elise called to Scott as she crouched on the top of the dumpster and jumped. She caught the railing of a fire escape and climbed over until she had her feet planted. Then she let down the rusty, metal ladder. "Come on up, I'll get those fixed for you when we get there."
"You still haven't told me where 'there' is," he grunted as he shoved his dead phone into his other pocket and carefully climbed the ladder. He'd already had his Tetanus shot, but there were still several other things you could get from a rust scrape.
"Would you relax. A surprise is supposed to be a surprise," she laughed as she began climbing up the fire escape. He followed her, slowly. When they reached the roof, she was standing in front of a pop-up tent with her hands held wide.
"What do you think?" Elise asked Scott as she grabbed his hand and pulled him to the tent.
"Is this where you live?" he wondered.
An annoyed look crossed her face and she rolled her eyes. "No, Scrubs. Don't be an idiot. I have an apartment, and even if I were homeless I wouldn't bring you here the first night I met you. You're cute, but you're not that cute." She unzipped the front of the tent and climbed inside. Scott wasn't sure if he should follow or not, so he just stood outside and listened to the sounds of her scrambling around. After a few seconds, she came out bearing a portable lantern and a small boombox.
"So, what is this place, then?" Scott followed Elise to the edge of the roof where she set the boombox and turned it on. The sounds of an acoustic guitar began spilling out of the speakers. "Are the, uh, locals gonna be fine with this?"
"They don't care. I've been camping here for two years and nobody has said a thing to me."
"You're camping out on a roof, even though we have a nature preserve just outside of town?" Scott sat by the boombox and looked at Elise with a puzzled expression.
"I prefer to look at the local wildlife. Every time I come out here, I see something new about this town I never noticed before. And I thought you might like it," Elise told Scott as she turned on the lantern. "Now take off your pants."
"Um, isn't it a little early for that?" he said with eyes opened wide in shock.
"So I can sew them, Scrubs. I told you I'd take care of it. If you're that nervous, you can grab the blanket in the tent to cover yourself," Elise replied with an eyeroll as she pulled a sewing kit out of her pocket. She sat on the gravel-covered roof, legs crossed. "I always try to keep one here just in case I tear my stuff up like you did."
"Um, I'll do that," Scott blushed as he kicked off his shoes and headed to the tent. He reappeared a minute later with one hand holding an afghan around his waist and the other holding the bottoms of his scrubs. He handed them to Elise and sat across the lantern from her. The boombox was still playing the acoustic guitar and nothing else, but the song seemed to have changed. "Is this a CD or something?"
"Pirated radio station. There's a guy around here who runs one, but it has a super short reach. He plays his own stuff at night and shuts it down during the day. I found it a few months ago," she answered as she looked through her spools of thread. "I don't have anything that matches. Do you want dark blue or black?"
"How about red?" He smiled and made his eyebrows dance at her.
"See, now you're getting adventurous, Scrubs," Elise laughed as she pulled out a spool of red thread and tossed the others back into a plastic sandwich baggie. Leaning in close to the lantern, she used the blue light from the LED to thread the needle. "So, what do you think?"
"I think it would be hot during the day." He looked around and saw that there were plants growing all around them. It was odd he hadn't noticed them before. Some were in planters, others in buckets or coffee cans. A lot of different containers. "You have a botanical garden up here?"
"You've never heard of urban greenscaping? I tend to grow a lot of things up here. That and the gravel keep it cool. It's the 'thing to do' in big cities, so I figured why not do it in Beacon Hills? We certainly have enough trash to qualify as a city."
"Aren't you the one who was throwing food into the streets with me?" Scott challenged while Elise began sewing up Scott's pants. "Isn't that littering?"
"We were feeding the birds and rodents," she reasoned before sticking out her tongue. "And we threw the actual wrappers into the trash, so it's fine. Besides, I tossed barely a handful. You wasted a whole bag. You need to learn restraint, Scrubs."
"And you're the one who is gonna teach me?" he snarked with a grin.
"If you're lucky," she teased before focusing her concentration back on the sewing.
Scott leaned back and looked up at the sky overhead. It was late and most of the town was in bed, so the light pollution was at a minimum. The moon was in a crescent and the stars twinkled around it. He'd almost forgotten that Beacon Hills actually had stars. The last time he'd actually done any stargazing, his dad was still married to his mom.
"You still don't trust me enough to tell me your name?" Scott looked back at Elise and bit his bottom lip.
"Nope." She didn't even look up at him.
"But you'll show me this place. You'll kiss me in the middle of oncoming traffic. Isn't that kind of saying you trust me?"
"Yes," Elise agreed as she hunched closer to the light. "What are you trying to say, Scrubs? That I'm sending mixed messages? Because I'm pretty sure you're cute, kinda dull, and that I've been completely honest. What more do you need?"
"I need to know why I've been running all over town with you when I could've been home an hour ago," he told her with a shrug. "Because it seems like you know it's one in the morning and you don't really care. Don't you have a job? Don't you need sleep?"
"I have a job, and I'm good at it, but you don't need to know that just yet," Elise told Scott as she tied off the thread and bit it clean. She waved the pants out and tested the sewing job. "It's not perfect, but it'll do. They're probably not salvageable, though."
Throwing off the afghan, Scott took the clothing and slipped them on. He made note that Elise had turned her head.
Neither one asked if the other was ready to leave. Scott slipped his shoes back on while Elise put away her sewing equipment. Then he walked around the lantern and sat beside her. She leaned forward and turned off the lantern, then leaned back against Scott.
He wrapped his arms around her and she didn't fight him off. Even though he was constantly confused and frustrated and she was unlike anyone Scott had ever met, he liked Elise. She was familiar. She felt like Allison.