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Derek hates karaoke nights at The Pack. Laura thinks they're hilarious, of course, which is probably (definitely) why she schedules him to work every single time. Usually he hides behind the bar, taking drink orders and trying to drown out the god-awful noise coming from the small stage at the front of the room. When karaoke nights first started both Peter and Laura had tried to get him to go up on stage, but after the first few times he'd walked out and hadn't come back they'd stopped pestering him.
Tonight starts off like all the rest, with drunken college students and middle-aged women both trying to have the time of their lives with a few shots of liquid courage and a microphone. Some of them are okay, most of them terrible, and Derek doesn't bother to hide his eye rolls as he mixes drinks and slides them across the bar. He's just finished making a basic margarita when he hears a voice coming from the stage, and something about it makes him look up.
"Uh, hello," the guy says, sounding nervous. "I'm Stiles, and right now I'd rather be anywhere other than up here, but it's my best friend's bachelor party so I'm doing this for him. I'm used to being laughed at, so feel free, but for the sake of my self-esteem, try to keep it to a minimum?"
There's a scattering of laughter and a few cat calls, and Stiles grins widely as the music starts.
Stiles doesn't seem out of the ordinary - he's wearing jeans and a graphic tee layered under an open plaid shirt, and his hair is sticking up like he's been running his hands through it - but Derek can't look away. He has no idea what song Stiles is singing, but it's upbeat and happy and he's surprisingly good. At one point Stiles looks over and sees him staring, faltering a few words, but he's back on track in no time, doing a couple of spastic-looking dance moves that make Derek smile.
When the song is over, Stiles returns the microphone to the stand and does a mock bow to the applause he's getting. Right before he steps off the stage he glances over at Derek, biting his bottom lip, and instead of heading back to his friends he goes in the direction of the bathrooms. Derek watches him until he disappears down the short hallway, and then he turns to find Laura standing next to him, smirking.
"Um," Derek says.
"You have fifteen minutes," Laura says, pushing him towards the swinging door that leads out from behind the bar. "If you don't come back with at least a phone number then I'm firing you."
For once, Derek doesn't argue, heading straight for the bathrooms. He finds Stiles in the otherwise empty men's room, leaning against one of the sinks and staring at himself in the mirror above it. He straightens when he sees Derek, eyes going wide and hopeful, and Derek locks the door behind him. A smirk plays across Stiles' mouth; Derek wants to bite it.
So he does, crossing the room and drawing Stiles' bottom lip in between his teeth, licking at the soft skin when Stiles whines high in his throat. Derek kisses him properly, pushing him back against one wall, trying to drown himself in the taste of Stiles' mouth. Stiles groans, burying one hand in Derek's hair and twisting the other in the back of Derek's t-shirt, arching against him.
"I'm Derek," Derek says between hard, heated kisses, and Stiles nods before sucking Derek's tongue into his mouth. They rut against each other, both of them hard, until Derek finally pulls away and drops to his knees. "I want to blow you."
Stiles makes a choked noise, canting his hips forward. "No complaints here, dude."
Derek flicks open the button on Stiles' fly, pulls down his jeans and underwear, and swallows his dick all the way to the base.
"Fuck," Stiles says, fingers of both hands tangling painfully in Derek's hair.
Derek groans, gripping Stiles' hips as hard as he can, knowing he'll leave bruises for Stiles to look at and remember later. Stiles can't seem to stop rolling his hips, so Derek opens his jaw and lets Stiles fuck his face, dick pushing into his throat and making him so hard inside his jeans that he whimpers from it.
"Shit, shit, fuck," Stiles gasps. "Oh god, Derek."
His hands tighten in Derek's hair, holding him in place as he comes down Derek's throat, dick pulsing. Derek pulls off slowly, dragging his tongue along the underside, and sucks lightly at the head just to feel Stiles shudder.
"Come on, up," Stiles says, tugging at the shoulders of Derek's t-shirt, and Derek goes. He kisses Stiles deeply, sharing the taste of his come, and Stiles makes broken little noises as he opens Derek's jeans and works his hand inside to grip his dick.
It only takes a few strokes before Derek is spilling over, groaning into Stiles' mouth. Stiles kisses him softly, pulling his hand out and staring at the white covering his fingers before bringing his hand up to lick it off.
"Jesus," Derek says, the sight like a punch to the gut, and Stiles grins at him.
Derek doesn't want to give things time to get awkward, so when their clothes are fixed and Stiles has turned to wash his hands in the sink, Derek reaches for his wallet and pulls out one of the bar's business cards. He's got a pen in his other pocket from thesis notes he was taking earlier, and he uses it to jot his cell number down on the blank back of the card. He steps up behind Stiles, pressing along his back, and slips the card into Stiles' front jeans pocket.
"Call me," Derek breathes into Stiles' ear, and bites down lightly on the lobe. "I'd love to take you out on a real date."
Stiles shivers and nods, licking along his bottom lip, and Derek nuzzles his neck one more time before unlocking the bathroom door and heading back for the bar.
He will never complain about karaoke nights again.