If there's one thing that's true about Stiles Stilinski, it's that he doesn't really give a shit about what other people think about him.

(This means a lot of different things, including the fact that he has absolutely no objections to dancing and singing in public, no matter how bad.)

There's this little record store near where he lives that he's always frequenting, mainly because there's this handy place in the back where you can put on a pair of those noise-cancelling headphones and listen to samples of songs from certain CDs before you buy them, which Stiles takes full advantage of every time he comes in.

It's a perfectly un-spectacular day when it happens—it's overcast and slightly chilly out and Stiles is on one of his routine visits, sitting in the back of the record store at his usual spot, tapping his foot and swinging his head dramatically from side to side, singing along to the music he has blaring in his ears.

Stiles has a pretty short attention span, so he's always jumping from band to band and genre to genre, nothing seeming to really hold his attention for long— he'll usually get really into a CD and listen to it on repeat for a few days until suddenly he's just not interested anymore.

But this one, Stiles thinks to himself as the chorus to the song he's currently listening to begins to play and as he drums his fingers along with beat, singing along enthusiastically to himself, this one is different.

He's developed something of an obsession with this band—this obscure little indie band that he came across by pure chance while on the lookout for a different CD—and he just can't seem to get enough of them.

Of course, he tells himself, this obsession has absolutelynothing to do with the band's lead singer— with his adorable crooked jaw and his killer smile and his amazingly toned arms and his floppy hair and big, brown eyes and the way his voice just makes Stiles melt— nope, nada, absolutely not.

(Okay, well, maybe just a little.)

Stiles is really getting into the song, barely resisting the urge to get up and really showcase his dancing skills (or lack thereof), when he feels a light tap on his shoulder.

He makes a point of sighing really dramatically before pausing his music and taking the headphones off from around his ears, looking up at in annoyance at the person who has disturbed his listening experience when he was just getting to the best part.

He starts to say "What," but the word gets stuck in his throat and all that comes out is a weird sort of squeaking noise as his eyes go wide and his jaw hangs open in awe.

Because the person standing next to him, who holy shit just touched him, is Scott McCall, the lead singer that he's obsessed wi—well, the lead singer of the band he's obsessed with.

And dear god, Stiles doesn't even know how it's humanly possible, but he's even more attractive in person.

"Uh, hey, I just wanted to let you know that you're kind of singing out loud, like, really loudly—I could hear you from the front of the store…I know how sometimes with those headphones you don't realize it so I just wanted to warn you, you know, just in case you didn't know."

And he doesn't sound angry, he doesn't even look annoyed— that's genuine concern on his face, and his eyes are soft and worried, like he's honestly concerned that Stiles might not be aware of the fact that he's probably making a fool out of himself, and he's sincerely looking out for a complete stranger's dignity.

Stiles, who has yet to pick up his jaw, which he's sure is still on the floor, blinks a few times to make sure that he's not just imagining this, that the figure in front of him isn't just some hallucination or cruel trick of his mind, and all that he can think of to say is,

"You're Scott McCall."

And Scott, to Stiles's amazement, actually blushes, shuffling his feet and scratching the back of his head almost as if he's embarrassed.

"Yeah, I'm Scott. Nice to meet you…" he trails off, looking at Stiles expectantly.

He's just so humble, so completely unassuming and modest, that Stiles is so taken aback that he momentarily forgets his own name, before shaking his head and snapping out of it.

"Stiles. Uh, my name is Stiles."

Scott flashes a smile at him, this crooked grin that Stiles has previously only seen on his computer screen through the youtube videos he's watched of Scott performing, but that looks so, so much better in person.

"So, did you like the CD then?" Scott asks, in reference to the album—his own album—that Stiles had been listening to. He actually looks nervous, Stiles notes in amazement, to hear his response, as if he hadn't just walked in on him belting out the lyrics to one of his songs.

"Oh, yeah, definitely. You're—I mean, it's amazing."

Before Stiles can bury his face in his hands in embarrassment at this near slip-up, Scott's face lights up and he looks so excited, so incredibly happy to hear that someone appreciates his music, and this time the smile he gives him is so bright it nearly reduces Stiles to a puddle.

"Cool. Thanks, man, seriously— I really appreciate it."

Stiles just nods, and suddenly realizes that he doesn't want this conversation to end—he's never cared about what people think about him before, at least not really until now, but for some reason, he just really, really wants Scott to like him.

Because Scott just has this air around him, this way that he carries himself that just makes it impossible for anyone to feel uncomfortable, this positive, upbeat attitude that he just seems to radiate and that brightens the room around him.

"So, what brings you to a place like this? I didn't think people even knew this place existed."

Scott, bless his soul, doesn't blow off Stiles furthered attempts at conversation, but instead gives him his full attention, focusing those big, brown eyes on him.

"Oh, well, my friend Allison works here. I come by to visit her sometimes."

He looks over to where Allison is standing, sorting through various CDs and putting them in alphabetical order, and gives her a little wave that she returns along with a dimpled smile.

(Stiles makes a mental note to question Allison later, who he's become friends with in the past few months due to the sheer amount of time he spends in this store, and ask why she never thought to mention that she was friends with the Scott McCall.)

When Stiles doesn't respond right away, Scott clears his throat and rubs his hands together nervously.

"Hey, you know, we're putting on a free show tonight in that coffee shop down the street. You should come—I mean, only if you're interested, that is."

"Free?"

"Yeah, free. It's kind of a benefit concert kind of thing—it's free but we're accepting donations, and all the donations go to local animal shelters. No-kill shelters, of course…"

Scott's eyes get bright and animated as he's explaining all about raising awareness against animal cruelty and the importance of no-kill shelters and why it's important to adopt rather than buy pets from pet stores and on and on, and it's obvious that it's important to him, and Stiles thinks he must be dreaming because can this guy get any more perfect?

"…anyway, I'd really like it if you came."

"Me? You seriously want me to come?"

"Yeah! It'll be cool—you can come chill with us after the show and I'll introduce you to the rest of the band, and maybe afterwards we could grab some coffee or something, if you're up for that."

Stiles thinks his brain must be short-circuiting, because holy shit is Scott McCall really asking him on a date right now? Because that's what it sounds like, and stuff this never happens to Stiles, and this is all too good to be true.

"Are you…wow, I mean, are you kidding? Yeah, uh, yeah I'd love that. I'll be there."

Scott's gives him another smile, and his eyes are lit up and Stiles knows somehow that he's not joking or messing around with him, that Scott's just not that kind of person.

"Great, then I'll see you there! It starts at 7."

Later, after Scott's done talking with Allison and out of the store, Stiles jumps up from his seat.

"Allison, why didn't you tell me you knew Scott McCall? You know how much I've been obsessing over his band recently."

Allison gives him a slightly guilty smile and says, "Well, you never asked."

Stiles just rolls his eyes at this.

"Okay, fine. Then how do you guys know each other? What's he really like? What—"

Allison laughs and holds up a hand to silence Stiles, who she can tell is about to badger her with a million questions at once.

"Slow down there, Stiles. Scott and I actually used to date, if you really want to know. For a pretty long time, actually. But we broke up a while ago—it was a mutual thing—and we've just remained good friends ever since. And Scott's really a sweetheart—he's got the biggest heart out of anyone I've ever met."

Stiles pumps a celebratory fist in the air, all doubts of Scott just being too good to be true erased from his mind.

"Alright, thanks Allison. I'll see you later!"

"Hey—wait, where are you going in such a hurry?"

"I've got a concert to get ready for!"

And Stiles practically runs to the exit, frantically pulling at the door handles and getting frustrated when the door refuses to open.

"Stiles. It's push, not pull, remember?"

"Oh…right."

Allison shakes her head fondly and goes back to sorting through CDs, smiling to herself all the while.

(Stiles whistles happily and dances the entire way home, even though it's still cloudy and it's just beginning to rain, thinking to himself that there has never been a more perfectly spectacular un-spectacular day.)

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Stiles shows up at the coffee shop promptly at 7:00 (he doesn't want to be the first one there and seem overly eager but he also doesn't want to be one second late), nervous and jumpy but more excited than he's been in a long, long time.

The coffee shop is packed, but the atmosphere is very laid-back and comfortable, despite the intimidating, slightly grumpy-looking guy standing at the door and handing out informational pamphlets about the cause being supported, and raising awareness about all of the things that Scott had been telling him about earlier.

He absentmindedly takes the pamphlet that's being handed to him, but his attention is elsewhere, because he's just spotted Scott on the little make-shift stage straight ahead, helping set up equipment along with the rest of his band members, and good lord—he's wearing these tight leather pants and a sleeveless black shirt and Stiles finds himself unable to look away.

Suddenly, Scott looks his way and catches his eye, and trying desperately to act as though he wasn't just staring intently at his ass in those pants, Stiles gives a little wave, not really expecting anything in return.

The wink that Scott gives him before turning back around leaves him blinking in surprise and makes his brain go fuzzy.

"Look, kid, are you going to make donation or not?"

"Huh?" Stiles shakes his head tears his eyes away from the stage, focusing his attention on the big, muscle-y guy that handed him the pamphlet, who's looking at him with his arms crossed and eyebrows raised and tapping his foot impatiently.

"Oh, yeah. Right, sorry. Here."

He fishes through his pockets and pulls out a crumpled five dollar bill and hands it to the guy, who drops it into the box labeled "donations" right behind him.

Stiles looks around and tries to find someone he might recognize who he can sit with, when he hears a familiar voice call his name from across the room.

"Stiles! Hey!"

He breathes a sigh of relief and hurries over to where Allison is sitting, chatting with a gorgeous red-haired girl in stilettos, with her hair pulled back tight and with a headset around her neck, holding a clipboard in her perfectly manicured hands.

"Allison, why didn't you tell me you were coming?"

Allison shrugs and smirks at him, giving her signature "You didn't ask" response.

She opens her mouth again, and it looks like she's about to introduce Stiles to the red-head girl, but the sound of the screech from a microphone being turned on cuts her off.

The red-head jumps up from her seat and flattens out her skirt.

"Looks like they're about to get started— I better go. See you after the show?"

"Of course," Allison replies, and the girl gives her an affectionate little peck on the lips before hurrying off backstage (it might be a small coffee shop, but it was made with the intent of being a place for local performances as well.)

Stiles raises an eyebrow and opens his mouth to speak, but Allison shushes him and mouths "Later" just as Scott's voice comes over the microphone.

"Hey, everyone! I'd like to thank you all for coming out to join us here tonight. Tonight, our goal is to…"

Scott continues to talk, and he's just as passionate about what he's saying as he was earlier in the record store when he explained it to Stiles, and the expression on his face alone makes Stiles want to get up right now and go save about a hundred puppies.

Before long, Scott is introducing the rest of the members of the band—there's Boyd on the drums, Kira on the electric guitar, Isaac on the bass guitar, and Erica as background vocals.

(It must be true what they say about pretty people traveling in packs, Stiles thinks to himself, because if you ask him, they're all kind of unfairly attractive.)

And then they're playing, and Scott is singing, and if Stiles had thought at any moment that he was done being impressed then he was sorely mistaken.

Because the band sounds evenbetter live, which is kind of a rare thing to happen in his concert-going experience, and Scott's voice is quite literally giving him chills.

They go through song after song, until finally they come to Stiles's favorite, the one that he'd been singing when Scott had come into the record store and tapped him on the shoulder earlier, and his chest tightens in excitement and anticipation.

It's even better than he ever could have hoped for, and he's unashamedly swaying to the beat and dancing to his favorite parts.

Allison nudges him in the side as he's rocking his head back and forth, and his eyes fly open. At first he thinks she's about to reprimand him, but then she jerks her head in the direction of the stage, and Stiles follows her gaze.

He almost has a heart attack when he catches Scott's eye, because is Scott really looking right at him? And when Stiles raises his eyebrows, and Scott gives him another heart-stopping wink, he realizes that yes, Scott McCall is, in fact, looking at him, singing to him.

His stomach fills will butterflies and his mouth goes dry and the rest of the concert is kind of a blur, until Allison is waving one hand in front of his face and tugging at his shirt sleeve with the other.

"Hellooo? Anyone there? Come on, Stiles, you're coming with me to meet the rest of the band."

It feels like a weight is being lifted from his chest, and suddenly he's not nearly quite as nervous to meet everyone, because at least he'll have someone he knows there.

Allison drags him over to the table where the band is all sitting around, chatting amicably and laughing loudly.

Erica is sitting on Boyd's lap and has her arms slung around his neck, while Kira and Isaac are on either side of them, along with the angry-looking guy who Stiles gave his donation to at the front door and the pretty red-head girl that Allison had been talking to earlier.

Allison walks over to her and gives her a long kiss in lieu of a hello, and promptly pulls a chair up next to her.

Scott jumps up from where he's sitting and practically bounds over to Stiles, a huge smile plastered across his face.

He's practically bouncing up and down when he asks Stiles "So, how was it?" and Stiles thinks it must be the most adorable, endearing thing he's ever seen.

"It was—wow. You guys were incredible."

Scott's smile gets, if possible, even bigger, and then his voice gets soft and he says with such genuine sincerity, "I'm really glad you came."

(And just like that, the butterflies in Stiles stomach are back again.)

Scott grabs Stiles hands and leads him over to the table to sit down with the rest of them, and after re-introducing the band members, points to the broody guy, who Stiles is surprised to see is actually smiling and laughing along with the rest of them, and says "That's Derek. He's kind of like our unofficial bodyguard and sales person."

Then he points to the girl that Allison is currently flirting back and forth with. "And this here is the lovely Lydia Martin. She's our manager—we'd probably never get anything done without her."

"Damn right," Lydia says with a laugh, looking away from Allison for a moment, before Allison interjects.

"I meant to tell you this earlier, Stiles, but if you haven't already guessed— she's also my girlfriend," Allison says affectionately and places a sloppy kiss on Lydia's cheek, while Kira makes fake gagging noises in the background and Isaac yells "Get a room!"

As it turns out, all of these people are incredibly easy to get along with—even Derek, once he warms up to you— and Stiles is genuinely enjoying himself with them.

And he might be imagining it, but they seem to be enjoying his company, as well. Especially, to his delight, Scott, who seems to find him incredibly funny. (Stiles is on top of his game tonight, and doing everything he can to make Scott laugh, because after it happens for the first time he decides he really, really loves hearing that laugh.)

A while later, when Allison and Lydia have left to have some alone time together and Erica is fast asleep with head on Boyd's chest and Isaac and Kira and Derek are bickering amiably about something or other, Stiles sighs and although he really doesn't want to, says "I should go. It's getting late."

Scott frowns, but nods in agreement.

"Yeah, I'm sorry if we bored you or anything."

"Oh no, not at all. Seriously, I had a great time. You guys are awesome."

Scott smiles again. "Well then, you'll have to hang out with us again sometime. I think they all really like you. I do too, I mean. I really like you."

And Stiles thinks his chest might explode out of pure happiness, and he's suddenly aware that he's sitting really, really close to Scott, and there's not much distance to close between them as they both start to lean in.

But right then Erica decides it's a good moment to let out a loud snore, and they both jump apart, blushing.

Scott coughs in embarrassment and looks at Stiles almost apologetically. His face lights up again, however, as another thought seems to occur to him.

"Hey, you know, we never actually got around to getting coffee. What do you say we meet up here tomorrow, same place, just the two of us? Is tomorrow okay?"

Stiles face actually hurts from all of the smiling he's done today, but he can't help the one that forms when he replies, "Tomorrow is perfect."

Scott gives him his biggest smile yet.

"Awesome. It's a date, then."

The word date bounces excitedly around Stiles's mind, and suddenly he wants to hear it fall from Scott's lips a million more times, and he'd be content to go on dates with Scott every day if Scott wanted to, and he doesn't think he's ever been quite this smitten before.

"Yeah," he replies, with a smile to match Scott's. "It's a date."