Sterek - Sweet Fang

"Oooooh Zippity Doo Dah, Zippity Day
My oh my, what a wonderful day
Plenty of ice cream headed your way
Zippity Doo Doah, Zippity Daaaay~"

Stiles' half-assed jazz hands did little to impress the perplexed mother and child on the other side of the glass counter. Their expressions resembled that of deers in headlights, yet a twinge of amusement could be seen tugging at the corner of their mouths. The woman retracted her hand from the tip jar, gave a skeptical smile, and led her young son towards the exit, who was staring at the Stiles with those big curious eyes until the telltale jingle sounded of their departure.

If anymore blood filled up the teenager's face today, he'd surely pop a vein.

With a look of resignation, he took the scoops he just used and ran them under the sink, warm water rinsing off banana fudge ripple residue into a cloudy stream down the drain.

Being an employee at Stone Cold Ice Cream Shop wasn't Stiles' first choice amongst all the job applications he'd painstakingly filled out and submitted to at least twenty different locations. He'd have much rather worked as a laser tag instructor at their local arcade, or even a math tutor at his own school. However, Stiles wasn't a cute, blonde, Megan Fox look-a-like with a choice set of double D's who'd turned in her application right after him, thus ruling out the laser tag position. In addition, the tutoring hours conflicted with his lacrosse practice. Bye bye easy money.

After countless response letters and returned calls that wrought nothing but the bitter pang of rejection, Stiles' finally got a lucky break when one application came through with positive results. The joy he felt was like when his first edition of The Amazing Spiderman "Enter Dr. Strange" comic came through the mail on his 13th birthday. He'd forked out the cash himself by saving up his allowance and selling the most cookies door-to-door for a school fundraiser, ten boxes of which he'd forced his dad to buy.

Sure, it wasn't the piece de resistance of all part time jobs, but work was work, and if it reeled in some dough then Stiles wouldn't complain. At least not openly.

"I think you're getting better at those tunes, dude," said a playful voice to his left. Jessica was the employee who had taught Stiles all the basics he needed to know in order to somewhat function at Stone Cold. She was in the same grade, but went to a different high school that lived along the outskirts of northern Beacon Hills. They'd gotten along pretty well so far, and whenever Stiles had a question about one thing or another, Jessica was there to help a brother out.

"Did you see how uncomfortable those poor people looked?" Stiles gestured to the doorway as if he'd just been insulted. If anything, that woman and child were the ones who should be insulted for having to listen to the seventeen year old's awkward vocal abilities.

"No, but I wish I had." Jessica's primary task during their shift was cleaning and re-stocking the ice cream tubs if one should ever run dry at the front display, which is what she was currently focused on.

"They were mortified! Completely and utterly frightened for their lives, like I'd just chanted some ancient demonic ritual that summoned the dark lord Satan."

"Oh come on, I heard you. You weren't that bad, rookie."

"Tell that to the five year old kid I probably just scarred for life." Stiles put the scoops back into their proper container, ready for whatever flavor came their way next. "Why do we do this?"

Jessica let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh my god-- again?"

"No seriously, hear me out!"

"I've heard you out the past three times." She went to collect the empty bin of rocky road on the other end of the counter. Stiles moved with her, determined to get his point across.

"I mean, obviously the customers are weirded out by us suddenly breaking into song every time they throw their loose change in the tip jar, because I definitely am. And I don't get weirded out by much!"

"Yes, you've told me."

"So my question is: why do we even do this little song-and-dance routine if nobody likes it??"

"Gee, I don't know, Stiles," Jessica replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Maybe because tips include half of our pay, and if we don't put on a good show then that means no gas money for me, which means I can't come to work every day, which means my college fund is looking pretty sad."

"Right, right, so you can finally reunite with Mr. Stud McMuffin…"  Stiles rolled his eyes. Jessica had mentioned her Adonis-like older boyfriend from a high class university about a dozen times since he'd started working here.

"Exactly," she grinned. And with a swish of her platinum blonde ponytail, fried one too many times by hair dye products, she disappeared into the kitchen again to complete her work.

Stiles had opened his mouth to respond, but found that he'd run out of excuses by this point in time. He knew that doing the jingle when tipped guaranteed an extra bonus in their paycheck, and there was really no arguing with that concept. It wasn't exactly a mystery as to why so many teens worked in the food industry.

A brief look at the clock told the boy that there were about three more hours left in his shift. His eyes then shifted to the emptinesses of the shop. Stiles' groan was low and defeated as he let his head hit the top of the ice cream display case. With the rate work was going, it'd feel like double that time for sure. On the bright side, at least this evening was turning out to be nice and quie--

*ring-a-ling*

A shiver ran it's course through Stiles' spine at the shrill tone before he quickly raised his head to receive the next customers entering Stone Cold.

A young couple came through, fingers intertwined lovingly and both wearing wide smiles, giving the impression that they'd shared a joke between the two of them a few seconds before coming in.

Stiles vaguely recognized them as students from Beacon High. The guy always sat in the back of his history class, although the only "work" he ever did was on his iPhone. Now Stiles could see the reason why - his girlfriend was cute and laughed at almost everything her beau said. She was definitely trying too hard, but hey, it seemed like they had a pretty good thing going, however superficial it might be. Who was he to judge?

As the lovebirds scanned the display case for what they wanted, having ignored Stiles' welcome greeting, Jessica came back out of the kitchen and placed a full bin of chocolatey ice cream where the "Rocky Road" label resided. She merely glanced at the new customers for a second and went to retrieve the next near-empty bin under the name of "Birthday Cake", a favorite at their shop. And, of course, that's the exact flavor their customers desired after browsing their 20+ other ice creams.

"It'll just be a minute," Stiles put on a smile as the two teenagers looked to see what drinks they wanted on the overhead menu while they waited.

Business as usual. Boring, but business.

During this brief period, Stiles absentmindedly wondered what Scott and the gang were up to. It was a Thursday, so his bff should've been close to finishing up at his own work. One of the first places Stiles had applied to was Deaton's animal clinic if for no other reason than to hang with Scott and all the critters, but that plan quickly fell through once he came by for an interview and started sneezing at a machine gun pace due to his cat allergy. Apparently, he inherited this curse from his mother and figured, since he hadn't come into contact with a cat in a while, that the allergy would have magically disappeared. Stiles could vividly remember the incredulous look on Deaton's face when the doctor had heard his reasoning.

As for everyone else…

Allison was most likely studying at home for a big test in Algebra that she and Stiles would undoubtedly ace, as always.

Jackson… honestly, who cared what that guy was doing right now. Probably jerking around and being the jerky jerk that he is, and there was a good chance Lydia was with him being exposed to his jerkiness.

The wolf gang was probably having their routine training session as they did every night. Like the curious high schooler he was, Stiles had snuck over one time to watch and wowee-gee-wizz, did Mr. Tall, Dark and Alpha work them over or what! Although they were werewolves after all, despite being newly turned. It's not like they couldn't handle a little bit of Derek's Bow Wow Boot Camp.

"Heh heh…" Stiles snickered at his own joke, which warranted him an odd look from the customers who'd decided to wait at one of the tables until their ice cream was ready. The boy cleared his throat and went over to the kitchen entrance, popping his head in to see why his fellow employee was taking so long. "Hey, Jessica! Sometime this century would be nice, yeah?"

"How about you try carrying a giant tub of frozen dairy to and fro?" She said while struggling to keep a steady grip on the cylindrical bin.

"Nah, I'm good." Stiles turned to take his station behind the counter again, laughing internally when he heard Jessica's irritated groan at his antics.

What a pleasant surprise it was to see none other than Derek Hale standing in all his gloomy glory at the four feet of display case that separated them.

"JESUSAURUS CHRIST."

If the young couple was pegging him with another bewildered stare, Stiles didn't notice. He was too busy wondering whether he was seeing things, or dreaming, or on drugs. Would he put it past Jessica to slip some kind of hallucinogen into his Poweraide earlier? Probably not.

It wasn't until the werewolf said his name in that familiar low rumble that the illusion quickly shifted to a reality. Derek-mother-fucking-Hale was here.

At his ice cream shop.