From the bathroom came sounds of the guy brushing his teeth. Stiles rubbed the fifty dollar bill between his fingers and felt cheap. "Dude, I'm not taking your money."
The guy spat and turned the faucet on. "Take the money. You said you lived in Queens last night? Who the hell lives in Queens."
The fifty seemed gritty in his fingers, but he put it in the back pocket of his ridiculously tight jeans, anyway. That was, like, a five-hour shift at the coffee shop where he worked, Common Grounds, with tips. "And don't call me 'dude,'" the guy continued, turning off the faucet. "I'm not your college bro. It's Derek."Umm. I have had this fic on my phone like forever so I could blog about this. But now that I have time and inspiration to blog about this I dont even remember what I was suppose to say. There probably was something important and smart and good on my list but seriously. its been over month when I read this, I cant possibly remember everything.
So. Lets end the bullshit and just say that this is good and worth of your time even when I dont even actually remember why is that.
(The story goes pretty much along the lines of hooking up in a bar and thinking about never seeing again but then there is coffee shop and how the world is just so small, so yea).
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