Word: Clement
...
Despite the clement weather, Stiles was anything but mild, temperate, or pleasant right now. He was angry, glaring at everyone from the confines of his hoodie, and Stiles didn't know if he could go back inside the building; fuck his career.
His manager didn't know dick about music, let alone a good venue because the shithole he'd booked them into was in one of the seediest parts of town, and they were in Las Vegas. The seediest part of Las Vegas was even seedier than usual, and Stiles doubted they'd have any fans turn up to the fucking gig. There were still a few hours before the show, and somehow, his lead guitarist decided to propose to his drummer and elope. Right there and then.
They'd run off to get married, promising to return before the show, and while Stiles was glad that they'd finally gotten their shit together, he just didnot need to spend the rest of their tour dealing with their sappy honeymoon phase. Their sappy dating phase had been bad enough.
His bad day had gotten even worse when Stiles realised that his luggage hadn't been sent to the hotel (although, just because they stuck the word 'hotel' on the sign, it sure as fuck didn't mean it was one; he was going to fire Finstock one day, the cheap bastard), and Stiles was stuck wearing a merchandise shirt and hoodie. Finstock had given them to him, cheerfully adding that the cost would be deducted from Stiles' pay.
If things didn't improve by the time the gig started, Stiles was fairly sure that he might just try to asphyxiate someone with his microphone.
"Oh, hey, nice hoodie. You like Void too?" a voice asked, and Stiles turned on the speaker with a scowl.
His scowl kind of fell through 'cause no matter how pissed he was at his manager, his day, or just the world in general, the level of hotness this guy reached could not be ignored.
"You're a fan?" Stiles asked, glancing over the guy in a not-too-subtle way.
"Yep, ever since 2005 when they were known as The Oni," he admitted with a slight grin.
"Oh, fuck, don't remind me of that name. Jackson chose it, the douche. Thought it sounded like 'The One' and I had to resist kicking him every time he used it to chat up someone."
"You're part of the band?" the guy asked, slowly realising that he wasn't talking to another fan.
Stiles shrugged and tugged the hood back off his head. "Hey, I'm Stiles," he said, holding out a hand to shake.
The guy stared at him, then his hand, and then shook Stiles' hand firmly.
"Derek. I... Can I just say thank you for getting rid of Lydia? I know you're all still friends and that's really great, but her style of singing really didn't suit the rest of the tone you guys have got going. I mean, she can shriek and scream like nobody's business, that solo in Rip killed, but... Oh, fuck, I can't believe I'm saying this. Shit. I'm just going to shut up now because that's probably the worst thing anyone's ever said to you," Derek said, blushing and his ears turning red.
"Huh. Actually, it's one of the smarter things someone's said to me today. And surprisingly honest. You've listened to Banshee? Most fans try to boycott Lydia, which I think's stupid, 'cause awesome music is awesome, no matter who's singing it. And yeah, you're right, that solo in Rip killed," Stiles said with a grin.
He's hot and he knows his stuff. God dammit. Where've you been all day?! I could've used a good conversation this morning. Or this afternoon. Or any time in between, Stiles thought to himself.
"So, you seem to know a lot about me; what do you do, Derek?" he asked curiously.
"I'm a radio jockey for a community radio station. Hale of a morning," he added, looking a little embarrassed at the mention.
"Oh, I loved that show when I was in California," Stiles said, grinning at him broadly. "I loved that skit you did as the Grumpy Cat, even though no one outside of the booth could actually see your face. Laura cracking up was fucking hilarious though; I swear I laughed more that morning than I had for weeks. Oh, and you should totally serenade the ladies of Beacon Hills again, your voice is like a wet dream come true... Which is probably one of the worst things I've said today; sorry, let me retract that. Hi Derek, I'm a big fan of your show."
Derek seemed surprised that Stiles had even heard of him, let alone his show.
"So, seems like we're both fans? Want to go fanboy with me over coffee?" Stiles offered with a grin.
"Yes. That would be great," Derek said, grinning broadly.
"Cool. When we're done, want to go see Scott get hitched to Isaac?"
"Fuck yes; I've had a bet running with Laura that they'd tie the knot while on tour, so if they go through with it, she'll owe me $50. Think I can get a photo with them? No one will believe me unless I provide evidence."
"Sure thing, I'm pretty sure they're getting Elvis to marry them, so there'll be ample opportunity to get evidence; mine's leaning more towards blackmail though," Stiles said with a laugh.
Despite his awful day, the night improved a lot. Even with Scott and Isaac being sappy towards each other (their wedding rings proudly on display, and the wedding video playing on the screen behind them), Stiles still made it through the gig without asphyxiating anyone with his mic. He attributed it to Derek being in the front row, singing along with their songs. Stiles winked at Derek when he caught his eye during Heart Full of Fireflies, and he grinned when Derek's ears did that gorgeous blushing thing again. Fanboys, the both of them.
...
End of word challenge.
Thanks for reading!
