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“Papa, w’need dat,” Teo declared when Stiles, bottle of olive oil in hand, returned to the cart.
Teo pointed to a stack of flat round cans, labeled bright red, on a shelf at his eye level.
Stiles reached for one of the cans. “We need,” he read aloud, “sardines in tomato sauce?”
None of those words meant anything to Teo. Still, he wanted the can, so he nodded.
“You like it because it’s red, right?” Stiles asked. “I’m pretty sure you would not like the taste of sardines, Tay. And I know your daddy doesn’t. And you couldn’t pay me enough to eat one.”
“Pay you enough to eat what?” came a voice behind him. Stiles should have realized Derek was in sight as soon as Teo’s face lit up and he forgot about the pretty red can.
Just from the still dissatisfied look on his face Stiles figured Derek’s trip to the garden center three stores down had been futile. But as an arm came around him with a familiar squeeze Stiles looked up into his husband’s eyes, still beautiful to behold even after years of plumbing their multi-colored depths.
“Sardines in tomato sauce,” Stiles answered, with a brief kiss. “Teo says we need them.”
Derek made a wrinkly face, for Teo to see, but Teo had lost all interest in the can and rocked in his seat, a sure sign he wanted out of it.
“How ‘bout a snack instead?” Derek asked the boy, then turned to Stiles for approval. “Snack OK?”
“Sure. I haven’t even figured out dinner yet. You think of anything?”
Derek lifted Teo into his arms and Teo shifted into his usual place and position on his daddy’s left side, king of the world. But as they headed down the aisle, parting from Stiles, “Wait!” Teo cried, reaching an arm back towards his papa, as if his daddy were forgetting him.
“Go with Daddy, Tay. He’s getting you a snack!”
Snack. Now there was a word Teo knew the meaning of, so, even though he’d rather Papa came too, he contented himself just waving good bye as Derek carried him away.
“Meet us by the meats,” Derek called back to Stiles.
Teo echoed, “Meese by da meese, Papa!” very eagerly, making a senior lady near them startle and laugh.
“Hate to see you go but love to watch you walk away,” Stiles thought as the sight of his husband’s jeans-clad backside nearly mesmerized him even from the far end of the aisle.
They’d been out to shop for something to replace the bush that had not come back to life after winter and now left a gap in their yard, spoiling Derek’s lovingly designed aesthetic. Soon as Stiles saw the market near the garden center he’d let Derek attend to the plant-hunting and he’d aimed for the grocery store with Teo.
Unscheduled grocery shopping, Stiles knew, led to impulse buying but looking over the items in the carriage so far, cereal, milk, eggs, string cheese, yogurt, he realized it was mostly staples for their growing baby boy who lately had a bottomless appetite, especially at breakfast. Stiles felt proud of himself, so far.
Of course he hadn’t gotten to the candy aisle yet, or to the freezers where precious ice cream shimmered in frigid splendor.
By the time he zeroed in on the leather jacket sporting daddy, complete with toddler in his arms, at the meat case, Stiles had added only a few more “staples” to their food hoard (“Yes, chips and dip are staples, Derek, because it’s the weekend, and, movies.”)
Stiles’s unerring senses also sighted the mini-traffic jam of carriages where it appeared three women had collided because their focus was decidedly not upon the chicken parts and pork chops in the case but the prime beef obliviously looking over the steaks. The little boy he held, happily munching on pretzels, only augmented his cachet, apparently.
Parking his cart Stiles sidled up to Derek’s free side, slipping an arm round the trim waist.
“Mine, ladies,” he thought, hoping they had mind-reading abilities.
He noticed Derek was chewing and not till he finally heard Teo’s “Papa. Papa. Papa!” and saw the pretzel being waved in his face did he realize Teo was feeding his daddy as well as himself.
Stiles opened his mouth and let Teo feed his papa, too.
“How ‘bout grilled shish kabobs?” Derek asked.
“OK,” Stiles agreed. “Then let’s get some peppers, sweet onions and potatoes.”
“And carrots, for Tay,” Derek added.
Their dinner suddenly sounded special.
When they turned from the case only one ogler remained, staring still. Stiles nodded at her in greeting though in his mind thundered, “You shall not pass!”
The freezers were on the way to the produce aisle so Stiles’s transparent “a special dinner calls for dessert, Derek!” seemed merely for performance sake as the trio tarried there. Stiles’s mad love for peanut butter cup ice cream had elevated it to a necessity of life, which Derek now accepted without argument. Stiles next insisted chocolate marshmallow was for Teo—though Teo had yet to reject any ice cream either of his fathers liked. Derek picked cherry vanilla and Stiles still giggled—secretly—over that, that the guy bearing the eyebrows of doom, in the black leather jacket, with thighs worthy of Atlas and an ass even Olympic gods would envy, was a fan of cherry vanilla ice cream. But that’s what made Derek so… Derek. His tough/tender, scary/sweet amalgam, each aspect having its reality but not for just anyone’s awareness. In fact for Stiles’s awareness alone.
It made Stiles’s heart swell, right there in the midst of the grocery store, when with ironic, perfect timing Stiles saw the guy hovering not three feet to Derek’s side. He had just a shopping basket in the crook of his arm and not even Stiles’s quick survey of its scant contents prevented his noting the totally unsubtle up-and-down scan the guy gave Stiles’s husband.
Stiles interposed himself immediately and, still riding the crest of adoration and love that carried him there, planted a noisy smooch on Derek’s scruff-adorned cheek.
It earned him a look. “Ice cream boner again?” Derek grittily whispered, almost inaudibly.
“No. You-boner,” Stiles answered from a nearly closed mouth.
Their effort at secrecy no doubt failed against Teo’s lycanthrope hearing, but fortunately for them he hadn’t developed the habit—yet—of repeating whatever he heard them say. Plus, he still had pretzels left to distract him from his dads’ funny talking.
Completing their shopping after the addition of veggies, potatoes and rice, Derek led the way to the cashier, gently ferrying the carriage forward with one hooked finger. He still carried Teo, which he tended to do in crowded public places, even for hours. Only Teo’s wanting escape from confinement ever led to Derek’s letting him down—to be carefully shepherded. But that day Teo had been happy for the chance to nuzzle his daddy’s neck occasionally, for the refreshing of scent among so many strange ones.
Stiles looked on, proud parent and pleased spouse. But again some instinct guided his eyes to the young cashier just as her eyes locked onto Derek. Maybe there was something in the air, or maybe it was the moon’s phase—something was making Derek irresistible to strangers that day. He was always handsome, always attractive, but Stiles never saw the kind of magnetized attention Derek had been getting everywhere in that grocery store. The cashier—her name tag said Sherry—was barely attending to her job, staring at Derek fixedly, nearly slack-jawed, as she swept items across the scanner. Derek, as usual, was unaware, one-handedly placing things on the conveyor belt and lost in the la-la land of his domestic duties. Stiles was in the same mode as the cashier, for he watched her as he emptied the carriage without thought. Maybe he was under the influence of something in the air or the moon’s phase too, ratcheting up a possessiveness rarely on display.
Then Stiles happened to glance at Teo, who was positively scowling at the girl. A laugh nearly hucked out of him because he had never before seen such a flawless replication of the Hale glare and the Stilinski dagger-stare on the otherwise sweet features of his innocent baby boy. Exactly how Teo was sensing the cashier’s attraction Stiles had no idea. How could a not yet three-year-old understand that kind of interest and arousal, even by its scent?
However it was happening, Teodor Stilinski-Hale very clearly did not like it.
Stiles didn’t have time to ponder further as he witnessed Teo, never taking his eyes off the girl, reach into the little bag, take out a pretzel—and throw it at her.
It bounced off the cashier’s head, shocking her from her gaze and eliciting a “Teodor!” from Derek.
Stiles instantly intervened on his darling child’s behalf.
“Hey now! He was trying to offer her a treat but she wasn’t noticing!” Stiles lied, about the first part at least.
“Teo, we don’t throw things at people,” Derek instructed, then apologized to the red-faced young lady.
“’S OK,” she replied, adding meekly, “He’s cute.”
He was cute, very cute, though his scowl had hardly relented.
Derek put Teo, incipient brows of doom still in effect, back in the cart-seat and proceeded to bag up their groceries. Stiles paid, said not a word, and hoped the smirk on his face conveyed everything.
At the last minute he noticed on a display by the register a clear plastic cylinder packed with miniature pinwheels, some of them bright red.
“Excuse me, I’d like to purchase one of these too,” he announced. He held up a red pinwheel. He continued smirking.
At the sight of the red thing Teo’s scowl turned to perfect delight. Stiles handed it to him then blew on it to show him how it spun. Teo was sold on whatever the mysterious object was, especially when they got outdoors and breezes made the pinwheel keep spinning and spinning.
Derek’s look revealed some evidence of concern though there was no denying his pup’s gleeful grin was overwhelming it.
“Long as he doesn’t think you’re rewarding him for throwing the pretzel at that girl,” Derek muttered.
They rolled through the parking lot in sunshine and Stiles just scoffed, “Now, Derek, why would I reward him for that?”