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Stiles pauses in the cereal aisle and takes a deep breath, tossing his head back dramatically, eyes lifting skyward as if begging for divine assistance, “You’re a royal pain in my ass, you know that right?”
Lydia’s indignant huff is considerably smaller than Stiles expects, “Hmm. Well at least you recognize that I’m royalty.”
“Yeah, like I said,” Stiles lowers his voice and hisses into his cellphone, “A veritable ‘royal pain in my ass,’ Martin.”
“That’s Dr. Martin to you, Stilinski.”
Stiles snorts, “Oh shut up.” He resumes his trek down the aisle, pausing briefly to grab two boxes of cereal: one healthy, and the other, decidedly not. “I refuse to call you Dr. Martin until you actually have the PhD in your perfectly manicured hands, missy!”
Lydia chuckles, “All in due time.”
Stiles moves towards the frozen foods section, making a small detour in the dairy section. A tiny frown blooms across his face; he can hear the gears in her head turning, even over the phone line. Stiles knows what’s coming, he can hear it. It’s loud enough that he mentally counts down.
3...2…1…
“So listen.”
Stiles laughs, amused by just how well he knows Lydia. He grabs a half-gallon of milk and puts it in his shopping cart.
Lydia clears her throat pointedly and continues as if no interruption had occurred, “There’s this party. And I have it on good authority that a rather attractive libations purveyor will be in attendance.”
“Oh my god. Is that your fancy way of saying that there’s gonna be a cute bartender at this party of yours?” Stiles doesn’t even let Lydia answer, he simply barrels on as he pushes his cart towards the frozen pizzas, “And let me guess, this particular, what did you call it? Oh yes, ‘libations purveyor.’” Stiles clears his throat, “Does he just happen to be, oh say…tall, dark and broody with a side of gorgeous eyes and-“
“Stiles?"
Stiles hears Lydia, he does, he simply can’t respond. All because there, standing in front of an open freezer door, is the aforementioned bartender. Stiles looks away, swallowing hard. He licks his lips, gaze flicking back to find Mr. Tall, Dark and Broody -Derek, his traitorous mind reminds- eyeing him curiously.
Derek’s eyebrows lift and he raises a cautious hand up in greeting.
Stiles gives him a vaguely constipated smile and definitely doesn’t whimper, definitely not. Anyone who says differently is 100% lying.
Lydia screeches in his ear, well and truly exasperated at being ignored, “Stiles, answer me!”
Stiles turns his back on Derek and mutters into his phone, “Gotta go, Your Majesty, talk to you later.” He ends the call and shoves his cell phone into the pocket of his gray slacks.
“Your Majesty?”
Stiles turns around to find Derek smirking at him. He shrugs and in an effort to keep from biting his nails, pushes the sleeves of his sweater up to his elbows.
“I’m gonna go out on a limb and say that you were talking to the pretty redhead from the bar.” Derek reaches for a frozen pizza, his hand hovers over one before moving to almost grab another. He stops at the last minute and grabs his first choice instead.
Stiles points a single finger at him and gives Derek one of his grins, “And you’d be right.”
Derek nods once, just a quick up and down motion. He flips the pizza box around and starts reading the directions. His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “You call your girlfriend ‘Your Majesty?’”
“Girlfriend?” A bark of laughter escapes Stiles before he can stop it, “Lydia’s not my girlfriend.” He shakes his head, “Far from it.” Stiles takes a step closer and plucks Derek’s frozen pizza choice out of his hand, “Trust me on this. No one likes those. The only reason the company hasn’t gone under is because there are far too many poor, hungry college students in the world.” He puts it back on the shelf and replaces it with his own favorite, “This one is much better.” Stiles hazards a glance into the grocery basket dangling from the tips of Derek’s fingers, “You know, they also make a mean pot pie; much better than the one you have in there, if you’re interested.”
“I,” Derek clears his throat and shrugs, “I usually just get what’s on sale.”
Stiles makes a face, “Dude, no! Food is supposed to taste good, even the frozen stuff. Granted, Amy’s pot pie’s got nothing on mine, but it’s plenty decent.”
Derek’s voice holds an edge of surprise when he asks, “You cook?”
“Mmm hmm, I do.”
“Well, it’s just me at home, so,” Derek puts the budget frozen pot pie back into the freezer and mumbles, “it seems kinda pointless to cook for one.”
“That’s the best part, though.” Stiles’ lips twist at Derek’s expression, “Plenty of leftovers.” He wiggles his brows until Derek cracks a smile and jerks his head towards the end of the aisle, indicating that Derek should follow him. Stiles pulls open one of the freezers, selecting a frozen potpie for the other man, “Look, how about this,” he holds the box out for Derek to take and gives him a charming smile, “You go home,” Stiles reaches into the pocket of his slacks, “pop it the microwave, try it and then, if you want,” he withdraws the slim pen out from the side of his cell phone case and scrawls his phone number on the box, “call me and I’ll make you a homemade pot pie to die for.”
Derek’s mouth drops open and he blushes all the way up to the tips of his ears.
Stiles chuckles under his breath, “Breathe, Derek. It’s just dinner.” He taps his pen on the box and twirls it between his fingers, “If you’re good, I’ll even make you dessert.” And with that, Stiles pushes his cart out of the frozen section and towards the registers. A few seconds later, his cellphone chirps to announce a text. The message puts a smile on Stiles’ face, one that is there for the rest of the day.
Message Received: 1153
How about I skip the frozen dinner & just let you cook for me instead? Say, tomorrow, 7pm?