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Derek looks up from his calculus textbook when he hears the bell jingle, and he has to suppress a smile. This guy’s a regular. He usually comes in every couple of weeks, awkward and overly-enthusiastic. He gets in to animated conversations with other patrons, flails a lot, and almost always manages to knock something off a shelf.
And he’s cute.
Really cute.
Derek doesn’t mind his antics, looks forward to the diversion. Besides, he’s not creepy, like some of the other customers are. At least, Derek doesn’t think so. They never really talk much, because Cute Guy is pretty easily distracted, and sometimes he trails off right in the middle of a sentence.
As a point in his favor, he’s never tried to jerk off in the little curtained-off movie preview room, and that means a lot to Derek. He really hates cleaning jizz off of the chairs.
Cute Guy is the only one in the store right now, so Derek goes back to solving for limits, his eyes only occasionally flicking to the security monitor next to him. He obviously knows what he wants, because it’s not long before he’s heading back to the register.
Derek puts his homework away, trying to look attentive and non-judgmental at the same time. It’s a delicate balance.
Cute Guy just gives him a cheerful, unconcerned grin, and sets his items on the counter.
Derek rings it up: a small dildo with a built-in vibrator, a package of three cock rings in various sizes, and a sparkly silver butt plug.
Nothing too unusual.
Though Derek has never understood the reasoning behind making such personal, private items in such garish, eye-catching colors.
“If you spend another 1.56, you get a free box of condoms,” he dutifully relays.
“Oh, sweet!” the guy says, immediately casting around for something else to buy.
Derek takes pity on him, holds up a sample tube of warming lubricant. It’s intended for use with fleshlight-type products, but it can be used in all the same places regular lube would go.
“This is only two bucks,” he says helpfully, holding it out.
The guy gratefully sets down the little box of ben-wa balls he was holding. “Yeah, that’ll work,” he says, his eyes still scanning the (cheap) little products they keep at the counter.
It works kind of the same way as having gum and candy at the grocery store checkout. They get a lot of impulse buys.
“Okay,” Derek says. “While I bag this up, you can grab whatever box of condoms you want.”
He quickly scampers off, and Derek desperately hopes he knows what kind he wants, and doesn’t spend twenty minutes deciding.
Derek’s already experienced that once this week, and that’s more than enough.
However, Cute Guy is obviously very familiar with their selection, and he’s back quickly.
Derek has to work hard to keep his eyebrow from raising when he sees the gold XXL box, but he manages.
Cute Guy casually drops the condoms into his bag of purchases, and Derek wonders if the choice was supposed to impress him.
But Cute Guy doesn’t make any kind of show about it, just smiles and hands over his money.
Derek heaves a quiet sigh of relief. No sexual come-ons via condoms this time.
“Hey,” Cute Guy says in a conspiratorial tone, suddenly leaning over the counter. “Is it difficult working here?”
“Uh, what do you mean?” Derek asks, a little startled.
“Well, isn’t it tough, being around all of this sexual stuff all day?” he asks in a low voice.
“Not really,” Derek answers, amused. “I’m asexual,” he ends up adding, without really knowing why.
He braces for something disparaging, or maybe a crude reproduction joke, but the guy just looks surprised.
“Oh, cool,” Cute Guy says with a smile, taking his bag. “Have a nice day,” he calls, giving Derek a little wave as he leaves the store.
“That’s my line,” Derek mumbles, staring after him.
*
Cute Guy obviously wasn’t too bothered by Derek’s admission, because he does come back. He introduces himself as Stiles the next time he’s in the store, and he hangs around the counter to chat a little before he goes.
Derek can’t really say he minds.
Stiles is, it turns out, pretty nice to talk to.
And he starts coming by more and more often, showing up every few days. He gets toys or condoms or lube every time he’s in, and Derek idly wonders just how much sex Stiles his having.
“Okay, I got it,” Stiles says on a Friday afternoon. It’s actually the third time he’s been here this week.
He places a single keychain on the counter. It reads I take all kinds in bright, sparkly rainbow letters.
Derek raises his eyebrow.
“What? I was stocked up on everything else,” Stiles says with a nervous laugh.
“Okay,” Derek says, a little confused. A ninety-nine cent keychain is an odd thing to come into an adult toy store for.
“Uh, look,” Stiles says as he rings it up. “Would you be interested in going to lunch with me tomorrow?”
Derek feels a familiar sinking sensation in his stomach, feels his heart start to race, but then he realizes.
Stiles knows.
He surely can’t be expecting more from Derek than he can give.
“Yeah, I would,” he says, surprising himself. “But I work until 11:30 tomorrow.”
“Great,” Stiles says with a wide grin. “That’s fine. I’ll pick you up here, then?”
“Sure,” Derek says, feeling a pleasant wave of anticipation. “I’m looking forward to it.”
Beaming, Stiles tries to hand over a couple of bills. But Derek pushes them away, saying, “On the house,” before handing over the keychain.
“Oh, thanks!” Stiles says, looking genuinely delighted. “See you tomorrow,” he calls brightly as he pushes open the door.
“See you,” Derek echoes.
The entire time he restocks the rabbit vibrators, he can’t keep the goofy smile off his face.
*
He spots Stiles through the window of the store at 11:15, and feels a thrill run through him. He finishes solving his derivative just as Stiles comes in, giving him a nervous wave.
“Anybody else here?” he whispers, leaning against the counter.
“A couple of people,” Derek answers quietly.
“Mmm,” Stiles says with a little smile, nodding. “They must have big plans this weekend.”
“Some bigger than others,” Derek says with a smirk, tilting his head toward the lady in the extra-large dildo section.
Stiles slaps his hand over his mouth, desperately trying not to laugh. It doesn’t quite work, but he manages to stay mostly silent.
It’s bad form for sex store employees to laugh while working, because customers will inevitably believe the laughter is about them. So Derek fares a little better, due to practice, but Stiles’ antics still pull a quiet snicker out of him.
Stiles leans over, holding his stomach as he gasps for air. “Oh my god, Derek,” he hisses.
Derek tries not to grin. “I could make you wait outside,” he says, mock-serious. “If you can’t manage to contain yourself.”
Stiles gives him a flirty little wink. “Well, maybe you could—”
He’s interrupted by Erica bursting through the door, the bell clanging loudly.
“Hey, Derek,” she says brightly as she walks behind the counter. “I’ll sign in, and then you’re good to go.”
“You sure?” he says. “I still have ten minutes on shift.”
“Ah, it’s fine,” Erica says. As she walks by, she lightly scratches her nails along the back of his neck, just like he likes. “Go have fun,” she says, tossing down her pen.
“If you’re sure,” Derek says again, and Erica promptly shoves him out of his chair.
Derek gracefully concedes her point.
Stiles gives him a fond smile, and gently rests his hand against Derek’s back, ushering him out of the store.
He’s surprised when, instead of heading for Stiles’ car, they just keep heading down the sidewalk. He tries to ask where they’re going, but Stiles is too busy letting out his pent-up laughter. His palm stays right where it is, though, guiding Derek along even as he keeps snickering.
“Oh my god, your face,” he says gleefully when he finally catches his breath. “I thought you were going to end up on the floor.”
“It’s happened before,” Derek says ruefully, just to hear Stiles laugh again. The sound is rapidly becoming addictive. “Erica is very sneaky.”
Stiles grins. “I could see that. You guys work together a lot?”
“We’re not on shift together that much anymore,” Derek says. “But we worked the holiday rush last year together, and we’ve been friends since.”
“Camaraderie,” Stiles says, nodding. “Friends who sell dildos together stay together.”
Derek rolls his eyes, lightly swats Stiles on the shoulder. “Not quite as fun as you make it sound. Hey, where are we going, anyway?”
“Oh!” Stiles says. “I hope you don’t mind, I thought we could go the Little Manhattan sandwich shop. I really love that place.”
“Sure, that sounds good,” Derek says. He’s never been, but he’s driven by it before. It’s only a couple of blocks from the sex shop.
When they get there, he sees why Stiles likes it so much. The place is big and open and bright, glass-fronted and full of skylights. Little tables are arranged all through it, interspersed with hanging baskets, potted plants and ornamental trees, lending it the air of a verdant, vibrant green house.
It’s incredibly beautiful.
The scent of blooming flowers mixes pleasantly with the smell of baking bread, and Derek takes a deep breath, smiling.
They order at the counter, then Stiles leads them to the back, to a window-side table mostly shrouded in greenery. It’s nice, almost private feeling, though the murmur of the other customers is still audible.
“This place is great,” Derek says, tipping his head down to the pink-flowered plant next to him. It’s scent is light and sweet, and he likes it immediately.
“It is, isn’t it?” Stiles says with a soft look, leaning forward and resting his arms on the table. “I thought you might like it. I know I was really taken by surprise the first time I came here.”
The waiter comes then with their food, and Derek discovers the sandwiches are just as wonderful as the ambiance.
And Stiles, well, he’s wonderful too.
He’s smart and sarcastic and just a little bit odd, and somehow it puts Derek at ease. And he softly touches Derek throughout the date, on his hand, his arm, his shoulder. But it’s never in a way that implies he’s only here for Derek’s body.
He tries a tentative touch of his own as they leave, briefly resting his hand against Stiles’ upper back. He feels warmth wash through him when Stiles leans into it, giving him a small smile.
Stiles admits on their walk back that he kept coming in and buying things, because he was trying to work up the nerve to ask Derek out. And that it obviously took him a while.
Derek laughs, even as his heart speeds up. Stiles was coming in just to see him. “I was beginning to wonder,” he says. “You were buying a lot of stuff.”
Stiles grins. “Yeah, I know. Some of it is going to end up as gifts. I just felt like, if I was in the store, I should buy something, you know? Figured it would be creepy if I didn’t,” he says, blushing.
Derek curls his hand around Stiles’ elbow, gently squeezing. “Stiles, if you’re ever coming in to see me, you don’t have to buy anything, okay?” he says firmly.
He’s not trying to presume that Stiles would want another date with him, but it’s nice to imagine him coming by the shop to spend time with him.
“So you wouldn’t mind, then?” Stiles asks nervously.
“Not at all,” Derek says. “I always liked it when you would stay at the counter and talk to me.”
Stiles slips his arm out of Derek’s hold then, quickly grabbing his hand with his own and twining their fingers together. “Then does that mean you would, uh, maybe want to do this again?”
“I would,” Derek says plainly, unwilling to pretend that he’s not sure. He kind of wants to see Stiles all the time, now.
Stiles beams at him brightly, squeezing his hand. “How about Tuesday?”
“I think I’m working,” Derek says wryly. “I have a lot of hours there this semester.”
“That’s all right,” Stiles says easily. “I’ll just come by, we can play it by ear.”
“Sounds good,” Derek says, unable to resist leaning in and softly kissing Stiles’ cheek.
“Yeah,” Stiles says, flushing. “Really good.”
*
“So, I gotta ask,” Stiles says after their third date. “How does an asexual guy get a job at a sex shop?”
“Same way anyone else does, I suppose. I just submitted an application,” Derek says as lightly as he can, though he’s a little wary. He’s gotten some terrible responses in the past. “It’s not, like, something I’m required to disclose.”
“Sorry, I,” Stiles says, swallowing nervously. “I’ve just never met anyone who was ace before. At least, not in real life. I don’t really know much about it.”
Derek nods. “Well, as far as the implication of your question goes, being ace doesn’t necessarily mean you don’t have sex. It just means you don’t have sexual attraction.”
“And what does that mean, exactly?” Stiles asks, leaning forward.
All Derek can see in his expression is genuine interest, so he carefully considers his answer. “It means I’ve never looked at anyone and thought, damn, I’d like to tap that.”
It startles a laugh out of Stiles. “But you still find people attractive?”
“I do, yeah,” Derek says. “But it’s more like a feeling you get when you see an amazing sculpture or beautiful painting. You just…want to keep looking.”
“So it’s mainly aesthetic?” Stiles says. “You like the shapes of their faces and the lines of their bodies?”
“Essentially,” Derek says, nodding. “And that’s where the whole ‘asexuals don’t have sex’ idea ties in. Because if you’re not sexually attracted to someone, you probably won’t be interested in having sex with them, even though you may find them very beautiful.”
“I never thought of it that way before, but it makes sense,” Stiles says.
“Being sexual, wanting sex, is such a common part of society, it’s often taken for granted that someone might not feel that,” Derek says, stopping in front of the Camaro. There’s a powder-blue jeep a few spaces down, and he figures it must be Stiles’.
“The thing about paintings,” Stiles says, darting a glance his way. “Is that they’re not really tactile. So is it okay if I hug you?”
“I would love it,” Derek says, and just like that, Stiles is sliding into his arms.
He squeezes Derek tight, just like he likes, and Derek tucks his face against Stiles’ neck, letting out a soft sigh. Stiles feels good in his arms, so comfortable and wonderful, that he really doesn’t want it to be over.
“If I don’t let go, I’ll be that awkward guy who ends up hugging you for ten minutes,” Stiles says, gently pulling away.
I wouldn’t mind at all, Derek thinks, but he doesn’t say it. It’s a little too soon, he’s pretty sure, and he doesn’t want to weird Stiles out.
“Okay,” Stiles says mostly to himself as he steps back. “I’ll call you, okay?” Then he grins wryly. “When it gets closer to finals, we might have to do study dates, instead.”
“Yeah, sounds good,” Derek says easily, but his heart is racing. His longest relationships have only lasted a month or so, until whoever he’s dating realizes he’s serious about not being interested in sex. But somehow Stiles expects them to still be dating, months from now.
It’s a heady thought.
He feels lighter than air as he waves goodbye to Stiles and climbs into the Camaro.
*
Stiles calls him up, asks him what he’d like to do for their next date. He listens carefully to everything Derek says, then there’s a long pause over the line.
“Yeah, that sounds really good,” he says suddenly. “My place or yours?”
“Uh, yours?” Derek says. “I have a roommate.”
“Sure,” Stiles says. “Come on over.”
So now they’re here, sitting close on Stiles’ couch, watching a movie and snacking on popcorn. They’re tucked under a big snuggly blanket, nice and cozy. Derek can’t help stealing glances at Stiles, fascinated by the expressiveness of his features. He likes Stiles so much, it almost hurts sometimes.
And he keeps finding himself longing for more.
He wants to take naps with Stiles, wants to kiss the edge of his jaw, wants to look at the stars with him, wants to run his fingers through his hair, wants to…
Well, he wants a lot of things.
But every time he considers doing any of them, he starts to feel anxious. He’s learned that almost any touch can be interpreted as sexual, and he’s so afraid of being called a tease. Or getting accused of leading people on, because he won’t “put out.”
So he doesn’t. He doesn’t do any of it.
He just rests against Stiles’ side, accepting what he can get. He’s learned to be content with the small things.
It’s almost like Stiles can read his mind, though.
“Obviously, I’ve never dated an ace person before,” he says suddenly, sounding nervous. “But all of my, uh, research says that it’s a spectrum, and that you can’t make assumptions about what someone might want, because everyone is different.”
Derek stares for a moment, surprised and strangely flattered that Stiles would be interested enough to do research on his sexuality.
“What I’m trying to say is, I don’t know what you’re comfortable with,” he says, setting the bowl of popcorn aside and turning to look directly at Derek. “I don’t even know if it’s rude to ask about something like that, but I don’t want to do anything to hurt you,” he says, looking worried.
“I don’t think it’s rude,” Derek says reassuringly, wanting to hold Stiles’ nervously fidgeting hands. “Personally, I’m a very tactile. I love hugs and snuggling and holding hands. And I like kissing, especially on the cheek or neck,” he continues cautiously. “In like, a non-sexual way, if that makes sense?”
Stiles nods. “Makes sense to me. I’m really fond of that kind of intimacy myself.”
“I like kissing on the lips, too, sometimes,” Derek says, swallowing thickly. “But I’m usually too afraid to do it.”
“Why?” Stiles asks softly, leaning his shoulder comfortingly against Derek’s.
Derek cautiously reaches out, takes his hand, and relaxes a little when Stiles squeezes back. “I…I had other relationships, and they didn’t end well.” He clears his throat. “Because I would touch them, would kiss them, but I wouldn’t have sex with them. And they took it really, uh, personally.”
“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, lightly curling his free hand around Derek’s wrist, his thumb moving in soothing strokes.
“And it was awful, because I just couldn’t help it, you know?” Derek continues, looking away. “I couldn’t be anything but what I was. And it didn’t help that I’m the kind of person who likes talking about sex, likes thinking about sex, but doesn’t actually like having it. I mean, I love my job at the sex shop, and I’m knowledgeable about the products, so people just make assumptions.”
Stiles nods. “And then they don’t respect your boundaries.”
“Yeah,” Derek says quietly. Then he tries to lighten the mood. “But at least when I get hit on now, I can just tell them I have a boyfriend,” he adds, smiling.
“Oh, you totally can!” Stiles says, eyes wide. “Wait, do you get hit on a lot?”
“Not as much as Erica, but she handles it better,” Derek says, shaking his head.
“Well, in case it missed your notice, you’re both really hot,” Stiles says. “I still can’t believe you actually said yes when I asked you out.”
Derek laughs. “You were cute, I thought I’d take a chance.”
“Well, lucky me,” Stiles says, grinning. “Do you mind if I kiss you?” he asks, leaning in.
“Not at all,” Derek whispers back.
He feels his heart flutter as Stiles leans even closer, eyes flicking between Derek’s lips and his eyes. Then they slide shut as he closes that last little distance. Derek follows suit, so when their lips touch, all he feels is pure sensation.
Stiles keeps it light and sweet, then does a series of tiny kisses across Derek’s lips before pulling away.
“Okay?” Stiles asks quietly.
“Yeah,” Derek says softly, because he feels good. Safe.
Stiles brings his hand to Derek’s cheek, gently scratches his fingertips through the stubble on his jaw. Derek briefly has to close his eyes as the feeling washes through him. He’s never been handled so gently before.
“I know you’re probably worried about us,” Stiles says, thumb stroking along Derek’s cheekbone. “And that’s completely understandable. But when I get into a relationship with someone, it’s because I like them as a person, not because I want to have sex with them.”
Derek smiles a little at his earnestness. “What are you trying to say?”
Stiles grins back. “That I really like you, and I would be happy to keep dating you, regardless of sex.” He gently tugs Derek down, until he’s laying against his chest. “I’ll hug you and snuggle you as much as you want, and I promise,” he says firmly, “that I will never think you’re a tease.”
Derek shifts a little, so he can tuck his face against Stiles’ neck. “You’re sure?” he asks softly against Stiles’ skin.
“I’m sure,” Stiles says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m really sure.”
*
Derek figures he must be, because Stiles just keeps on asking him out.
And, after three months of dating, Stiles tells Derek that he loves him.
Sure, he does it in the middle of the sex shop, in front of several customers, but that’s okay.
Derek loves him, too.