Sterek one shots[BoyxBoy]

Freebies by Saucery

Description: Stiles can't figure out why people keep dropping, spilling or breaking things in his presence. And offering him free stuff. Like, what the heck?

Stiles is typing on his laptop, a pen dangling from his mouth, when there’s a clatter nearby. He glances up, blinking, and it’s that stubbled guy who usually brings the café’s customers their coffee, except he’s apparently spilled it all over himself.

Specifically, he’s spilled Stiles’s coffee all over himself.

“I’m sorry,” he says, “I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll make you another,” and before Stiles can say that, hey, he doesn’t mind, the man’s vanished into the kitchen.

Huh. That’s weird. As an Omega, Stiles doesn’t get too many apologies from Alphas. It’s kind of refreshing, honestly.

Two days later, a customer who’s recently become a regular does exactly the same thing. As Stiles is licking chocolate from his fingers—he seriously loves the eclairs in this shop—the customer somehow upsets his espresso, and it goes everywhere, dripping off his table.

The stubbled guy from before—his name tag says he’s “Derek”—appears like a genie, but his politeness seems to have evacuated the building, because he glowers at the customer and slops a cleaning rag onto the table so loudly that a bit of the espresso splashes onto the customer’s shirt.

“Don’t worry.” Derek grins toothily. “I’ll clean this right up.”

That’s when Stiles realizes the customer’s an Alpha, because his startlement has made him release his pheromones. Derek’s also releasing his pheromones, though, which doesn’t make any sense.

“What about my drink?” the Alpha challenges. “Aren’t you going to replace it?”

“Are you sure it’s a drink you want?”

They glare at each other.

And keep glaring at each other.

Stiles, momentarily distracted from his thesis by their impromptu staring contest, is tempted to tweet the scene in front of him, because it’s hilarious. Do Alphas engage in pissing contests just for the heck of it? Because Stiles can’t see any point to this show.

Eventually, the customer looks away and exits, stage left.

Stiles shakes his head and returns to his textbook on Victorian architecture.

Stiles’s thesis deadline is fast approaching, and he’s taken up permanent residence in the café, because it has the best coffee and the best desserts, and the only way Stiles can finish his work is by getting hopped up on sugar and caffeine.

Today, he’s here with Ethan and Aiden, a pair of twins who have deadlines of their own, and who share Dr. Deaton with Stiles as their supervisor. Stiles isn’t entirely certain why they’ve been insisting on studying with him, lately, but who knows? Perhaps Stiles is being a good influence, for once. Dad would be so proud.

The twins are notorious as troublemakers around the campus, pulling the sort of stupid shit that restless, unmated Alphas pull. The fact that they’re capable of maintaining an almost worshipful silence as they study is surely a credit to Stiles, given that it’s only in Stiles’s presence that they study, at all.

“Aren’t you going to order the eclair?” Ethan asks, when Stiles takes a break and stretches, yawning.

“Yeah,” Aiden says, encouragingly. “You could use a sugar high.”

“Talk about it,” Stiles says, slumping in his chair. “Mm. I could go for a warmed-up caramel brownie, I guess. It’ll be all melty and sweet and sticky and—”