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Stiles has accepted he will never date again.
Between running the shop his mother had passed down and spending his days care of Alli, he just couldn’t see spending time getting to know a stranger when he was so tired all the damn time. Thankfully she was such a help in the shop, spending time watering plants while Stiles taught her all their uses for food and medicine on the days she didn’t have school and spent the afternoon with him in The Spriggan that it at least felt worth it.
He missed her on days like today, when he didn’t have enough customers to fill his time. His Spotify playlist playing quietly over the shop speakers and the rain hitting the windows, Stiles tries to kill time by finishing up some of his homework.
He’s knee deep in thought and actually making progress on a marketing essay when the bell above the door chimes and a gust of cold wind hits his face, making him pause.
The man shaking the rain from his coat and shutting his umbrella is mildly familiar but Stiles dismisses this thought and closes his laptop.
“Hi,” Stiles greets warmly, “how can I help you?”
Green eyes meet his and Stiles gulps, trying not to stare obviously at the guy’s nice jawline.
“My mother’s birthday is today and I wanted to pick up some flowers,” the man says, eyes on the counter as he avoids meeting Stiles’ gaze.
“Sure, any particular in mind or are you just wanting something aesthetically pleasing?” Stiles stands and makes his way around the counter.
The man is silent, stopping to check out a colorful display by the door. “I was thinking hyacinths, I wasn’t able to find them anywhere else it town.”
“Well,” Stiles proclaims proudly, “you’re in luck. I have some in bloom. They’re out of season, but I chill a lot of perennials in house and try to keep a few of my favorites in stock. They’re in the back but let me bring them up so you and check them out.”
“Thank you,” the man murmurs, still looking down.
When Stiles brings the basket of plants up from the back, the man is standing at the counter. Stiles ignores the water dripping onto the floor. He’ll clean it up after the guy leaves, no need to make him feel bad about it.
The four plants are small but breathtaking. The purples and blues standing starkly against the green stems and leaves.
“I know they’re not super big, but they’re doing really well. Hopefully your mom has a green thumb, they’re a little tricky to keep alive, but really worth it.”
“I didn’t expect you to take over your mom’s shop, but it seems like you’ve found a new appreciation for plants, Stilinski,” the man replies.
Stiles stops and stares at the guy again. “Excuse me, do we know each other?”
The man chuckles softly. “I know I look different, Stilinski, but I’m honestly surprised.”
Stiles squints and leans onto the counter to look the man up and down, finally settling on those green eyes. “Fucking Derek Hale?”
“Well, Derek is fine,” the guy, Derek, offers back.
It’s then that Stiles realizes three things. One, that fifteen years out of high school have been very kind to Derek. Kind in ways Stiles would not mind knowing intimately. Two, holy shit he’s getting old because it’s been fifteen years since high school. And, three, Derek Hale must be asking him for help selecting flowers for his mother’s grave because everyone knew that his mother had died in the fire that his ex girlfriend had started while they were in high school.
Stiles tries not to make it weird.
“Yeah, Derek, right, got it,” Stiles finally manages.
Derek raises an eyebrow. “You were totally fine before you remembered me. Did you hate me that much in high school?”
“I didn’t hate you!” Stiles exclaims, arms waving. “Just Jackson really, but it just made you guilty by association. Totally over it, now, though.”
“If you say so. Anyway,” Derek changes the subject, stepping closer and letting his hands reach up to run his fingers over the springy leaves of the plants. “I would definitely like to purchase all four of these, please. If that’s okay.”
“Of course,” Stiles hurries to busy his hands with wrapping up the plants, thankful for the distraction.
It’s when he’s finally got the last one packaged and in the bag with the others that Alli bursts through the front door, letting it slam behind her.
“Stiles,” she groans loudly, throwing her backpack on the counter next to the flowers and walking behind the counter. “I have so much homework tonight and I’m going to be miserable. I need your hel-who’s this?”
She finally stops rambling to look up at Derek, who’s staring at her curiously.
“Derek,” he supplies, head tilted. He extends his hand.
She takes a look at Stiles, then at Derek, then back at her dad. “You know this guy?”
“We were, uh, acquaintances in high school,” Stiles supplies, shrugging at Derek. “I’m helping him pick out some flowers for his mother.”
The word mother makes her face drop slightly, like it does every time. Stiles feels a pang of guilt for using it.
“She and my father passed away when I was a kid,” Derek tells her. “I still like to get her favorite flowers on her birthday.”
“Yeah, my parents are dead, too,” Alli shrugs. “Happened when I was really little, though. Sorry to hear about your mom.”
“Sorry to hear about your parents,” Derek responds.
Normally Stiles watches her cringe when someone apologizes about Scott and Allison’s deaths. Maybe it was the fact that Derek actually understood, but Alli actually looked grateful.
She glances at Stiles again and grabs her backpack. “Actually, dad, I’m gonna work on this stuff with grandpa. I think he’d like the company today.”
Alli slings the straps over her shoulders and turns to Derek with her fist out. He looks confused for a moment before gingerly hitting his fist against hers. “Nice meeting you, Derek. Hopefully I see you around?”
“Yeah, I think you will,” he nods.
She waves to Stiles over her shoulder on the way out.
“She’s a cute kid,” Derek supplies. “I’d heard about Scott in New York but didn’t realize that his daughter had ended up with you.”
Stiles shrugs. “Yeah, and twelve years ago I would have told you it was the stupidest decision in the world, but, she seems happy and she makes me a better person. Had to grow up faster than anticipated, but wouldn’t change it.”
Derek mulls for a moment. “How much do I owe you for the flowers?”
“On the house,” Stiles proclaims. “I know you’ll appreciate them.”
“Kurt Vile?” Derek asks.
“Huh?” Stiles stops, he’d forgotten his playlist was still playing. “Oh, the music. Yeah, I’m a fan. Lyrics are dope as shit.”
“Pretty good taste. Saw them back in New York. Not looking forward to the music scene here in Beacon Hills.”
“You’re moving back?”
“Yeah,” Derek sighs. “New York was fun but it’s more Laura’s style than mine. Figured it was time to come home.”
They’re both quiet for a moment and it hits Stiles again how hard it is to ask for someone’s number. Dating with a business was hard. Dating with a kid and a business was harder. Most people weren’t interested in those kinds of commitments.
Stiles tries not to sound sad as he finally speaks. “Thanks for coming in today, though, it was actually nice to see you.”
“Well, if you want to do it again, I wouldn’t mind. See me, I mean. I’m going out to the grave sites, but I’m free for dinner? If you’re not seeing anyone, I shouldn’t assume that you’re not.”
Stiles thinks Derek blushing is the cutest fucking thing he’s ever seen a guy do.
It’s after he gets over the fact that Derek Hale is blushing that he realizes he didn’t respond to Derek Hale about dinner.
“Ohmygod, yes. I mean, I should warn you, I have a pretty busy schedule, but apparently I’m free tonight and yeah, we close at seven. Eight? Does eight work?”
Eight does, in fact, work. Turns out they work, too.