AN: Short little Sterek fluff. If you like it and possess the ability to draw, you should give me a picture of Stiles in a barista apron. And maybe a hat.

Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf or anything about it. If I did, I could afford my college tuition.

It wasn't right. It just wasn't. It was the universe playing some cruel joke on him for its own selfish amusement, and it wasn't fair.

Okay, admittedly his coffee machine breaking was arguably at least a little bit his fault. Laura had warned him that the thing was so old that it was a miracle it hadn't spontaneously combusted, but Derek had figured he'd get at least a little warning before the thing just up and died on him.

He planned to go buy a new one as soon as he got off work, but there was still the problem of what he was supposed to do for his caffeine fix for the rest of the day. He didn't want to go buy coffee from Starbucks or wherever, he liked his coffee how he made it. Everyone else did it wrong. Even Laura couldn't make it to his specifications, although Derek had never had the courage to do anything other than choke it down regardless.

On the upside, there was a new café on the first floor of his office building, so at least he wouldn't have to go somewhere where all the coffee tasted the same and resembled burnt water with piece of cardboard swimming in it. Hopefully. And maybe the thought that it wouldn't be so bad was what prompted the universe into playing a practical joke on him. God forbid he take Laura's advice and be optimistic every once in a while.

He walked into the café, glanced up at the menu written on a blackboard hanging above the counter, and stopped dead. It really must have been a long time since he'd last gone out for coffee because he had no idea what even half of the words in the 'Coffee' column meant.

Derek took an involuntary step backwards and had almost made up his mind that he'd just find a way to survive a day without coffee - or else make Boyd go buy him some later - when his gaze lowered and he found himself being watched by a barista wearing black, thick-rimmed hipster glasses and an amused half-grin.

"That's not all we've got, you know," the guy said, and Derek was sure that the glint in his eyes meant that he knew perfectly well that Derek's problem was the exact opposite of too many choices. "I can whip you up something special, if you want."

Derek scowled and the barista joined the ranks of non-family members who were not intimidated by the expression. Up until now the ranks had included Erica, — who was born immune—Lydia, — who had an equally impressive glare that negated the effect— and Boyd — who had slowly built up an immunity over time.

"I don't have anything specific in mind. I just—" Derek found himself choking on the words because there was no way he was telling this kid that he was such a recluse that he didn't have the faintest idea what kind of coffee he liked.

The kid – Stiles, according to his nametag, and seriously, what kind of name was that? – just grinned again, and Derek thought it was somehow scarier than Erica's glare. Not worse than anything Lydia or Laura had ever thrown his way, but certainly worse than Erica's. "Want me to just surprise you then?"

Derek shrugged, as though he couldn't possibly care less what Stiles did or what his coffee tasted like. "Why not?" Honestly, he could think of plenty of reasons 'why not' but he wanted his caffeine.

Stiles pushed himself off the counter. "One surprise coffee for Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome, coming right up. Any general requests?"

"Just… Nothing super sweet. And no whipped cream," Derek told him. Laura liked her coffee disgustingly sweet and Cora liked to have more whipped cream than beverage; both made Derek's stomach churn. He liked sugar in his coffee just fine, but was of the opinion that if you added enough to make the coffee change color, there was something wrong.

Stiles flashed yet another smile and went to work, doing whatever it was that baristas did when they made coffee, whistling the entire time. Derek dimly recognized the tune and figured it was probably some current pop hit. Cora and Erica forced him to listen to them whenever he saw them. Stiles put a lid over the cup at last, then picked it up and wrote something on the side in black sharpie. Derek couldn't think what he could possibly be writing, seeing as how he was right there and currently the only customer so there was no need to put his name on it. Stiles didn't even know Derek's name.

"Hear ya go," Stiles said, and his grin was mischievous this time, and filled with anticipation. "That'll be three seventy-five."

Derek paid him and went to take a sip but stopped when he realized Stiles was watching him. Something in his face made Derek a little bit nervous, like maybe Stiles had poisoned him and if he took a drink he would be dead before he got to the elevators.

Still, he could hardly just toss it, not with Stiles standing right there and watching him, all expectant. He took a drink, subtly bracing himself for a sudden death. Instead, he tasted coffee so much like what he made in his own coffee maker - may it rest in peace - that he pulled back and stared at the cup in surprise before flitting his eyes back to Stiles's face.

The guy's shoulders slumped a little. "Is it awful? If it's awful I'll give you a refund. Or I could try again, if you wanted, I mean, if you think-"

"No," Derek cut him off. "No, it's actually really good. Really good. Thanks." He took a larger gulp, almost burning his tongue, but it was worth it to see Stiles perk up again. Worth it? Why the hell do I care if he's happy? Derek gave himself a mental shake and started walking away, very much not looking back.

In the elevator he looked down at his cup to see what Stiles had written on the side. Mr. Unfairly Handsome With Stubble was there in an untidy scrawl. Derek rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore the fact that there was a note of fond amusement building inside him. He did not find the cute barista amusing. Nor did he find him attractive. And he certainly hadn't been paying close enough attention to notice that Stiles had moles.

Derek groaned and hit his head on the back of the elevator. This wasn't fair.

He gave a half-nod to Boyd in greeting as he passed his assistant's desk. Boyd saw the coffee cup and raised an eyebrow. Not a single time in Derek's entire career had he ever come in to the office with a bought cup of coffee and Boyd knew it. He didn't say anything though, and Derek continued on by him without incident. He did hope that Erica wouldn't see though, as she would ask about it and would inevitably find a way to make Derek feel uncomfortable— and would probably somehow know about the cute barista that Derek was definitely not attracted to. It was her way.

So Derek sat at his desk and drank his shockingly good coffee; the only time he saw Erica was when she came in to ask for help with some paperwork. The universe must have gotten bored with making Derek's life a living comedy because she was so caught up in what she was doing that she didn't even notice the out of place Styrofoam cup sitting by Derek's computer.

When work finally ended Derek did go to the store in search of a coffee pot just as he'd planned, but none of them stood out to him. Some were too fancy, or too big, or too small, and then there was on that looked just like his old one but in black instead of gray and it just didn't feel right to Derek. Deciding that he could always just get coffee from the café downstairs - and no, that decision had nothing to do with the barista, thanks for asking - he decided to forego replacing his coffee pot for another day.

And, at exactly eight fifty-two the next morning, Derek walked into the café to see Stiles leaning over the counter and talking to non-other than Lydia Martin, one of Derek's co-workers. She was more than a little bit intimidating, and Derek idly wondered if he had more interest in men than women because all the women he knew seemed to be serial killers in training.

Lydia took her coffee and strutted out, hips swinging and heels clicking. Stiles let out a happy sigh as he watched her go, saw Derek, and straightened up with a grin that Derek was pretty sure must have been his trademark expression. "Well, if it isn't my very own tall, dark stranger. Here for a repeat of yesterday's coffee or simply to help me ogle at Ms. Martin?"

"Ogle carefully. Those heels have a dual purpose," Derek warned him, but Stiles seemed unconcerned. "And I'll have the same thing as yesterday."

"Coming right up." Stiles went to work, gave Derek his coffee, received his money, and Derek started to walk away before turning back on a whim of courage and insanity.

"Are you here every day?"

"Seven to two, six days a week."

Derek nodded and walked away quickly, assuring himself that he didn't care that Stiles would be there to make his coffee everyday of the week.

For the next two weeks, Derek found excuses to not buy himself a new coffee pot and even more excuses to head into work just a little bit early and spend up to fifteen minutes talking to Stiles as he got coffee.

He discovered that Stiles was fresh out of college and working at the café while he looked for a decent job. Selfishly, Derek hoped the search would take a long time. He had gradually begun to accept that he may have just a smidge of a crush. Not that he was going to admit that to Stiles. Or anyone, for that matter. Although, he had just visited Cora a few days ago and was pretty sure that she'd suspected something, which meant Laura would be getting on him sooner rather than later.

One day, Derek was sipping his coffee and eating a blueberry-poppy seed muffin when Stiles plopped into the seat on the other side of the little table Derek was sitting at. Derek raised an eyebrow. "You have customers." He gestured to the unusually busy café.

Stiles rolled his eyes and pushed at his glasses. "There's only, like, three of them. And I have an employee-in-training in need of experience. Don't worry, I won't let her make your coffee."

"I appreciate it," Derek said dryly, but it did cause a burst of warmth to know that Stiles had put in a thought for Derek and how particular he was about his coffee.

"You better. You know, it occurs to me that we have never been properly introduced." He offered a hand across the table to Derek as though they were about to negotiate a deal, although the effect was somewhat lessened by Stiles's apron. "I'm Stiles Stilinski."

Derek raised both eyebrows. "Stiles Stilinski?"

"Dude, don't ask. Let's just say my real first name is a pain in the ass mouthful. Now who are you, before I get to thinking you're just some homeless guy who mugs rich people for their suits so can come in and ogle my sweet ass."

Derek snorted. Stiles could be ridiculous at times. Most times, in fact. "Derek Hale, I work on the twenty-third floor."

Stiles's jaw dropped. "Derek Hale? Like, Lydia's Derek Hale? Dude, that is so cool! She mentions you like all the time. Well, admittedly it's usually while she's complaining about how grouchy you are all the time— which you sort of are, I mean, you always come in looking like you just swallowed a lemon - but I really like your company anyway, I didn't mean I didn't! - but yeah, that's awesome."

Derek blinked. Stiles had gone off on rambling, fast-paced tangents before, but it always caught Derek a little off guard. "I guess I should be grateful to be on her radar and not on her hit list."

Stiles just laughed.

Three days afterwards, Derek walked into the café and Stiles wasn't there. The employee-in-training was the only person behind the counter. Derek glared at her and she stared at him with huge eyes and he couldn't find it in him to be sorry.

"Where's Stiles?" He attempted to make his voice not a complete growl, and failed.

"New job," the girl behind the counter squeaked.

Derek actually growled then and stalked to the elevator.

On his way to his office he kept trying to tell himself it wasn't that big of a deal, they'd barely known each other, but he kept coming back to being hurt that Stiles hadn't told him he'd found a job or anything. And since Derek was bad with emotions, the hurt kept turning to anger. Even Erica chose not to go near him after one glance at his face.

Which was why he was so surprised when his office door burst open fifteen minutes later. He looked up, intending to tell whoever was there to leave him alone, but the words died in his throat.

"Surprise!" Stiles crowed, holding up a cup of coffee in one hand and a muffin in the other. "Miss me?"

Derek just stared at him.

Stiles looked down at himself and Derek realized he had never seen Stiles not wearing his barista apron before. In fact he was wearing - "My very own work uniform for Beacon Ideas and Technical Development. I'm Lydia's new intern!"

Derek continued staring.

"What? No congratulations?"

"Congratulations."

"Boy, that was enthusiastic. And I even brought you coffee." Stiles set it and the muffin on Derek's desk. "By the way, your intern is sort of terrifying."

"That's Erica. She bites."

"I could be into that," Stiles said. "But she's not my type. I prefer my bites to come from ridiculously handsome men with stubble and expensive suits."

Derek's eyes grew wider and his jaw went slack-jawed. Stiles just winked and strode out of Derek's office. "See you around, Derek!"

Turned out, the universe was determined to turn his life into a bad romantic comedy.

He wasn't sure he minded.