Smitten Litten
Author: froggydarren
Title: Smitten Litten
Rating: G
Pairing/s: pre-Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Original Character - Lia Hale
Summary: Some customers make Stiles hide in the stockroom so Scott can turn on his charm and deal with them. Others are reason enough for him to do overtime.
And then there’s the one.
Warnings: n/a
Content Notes: Single Dad Derek, AU
Submission Type: fic
Word Count: 1931
Prompt: #209 - Pokémon
Author's Notes: Sometimes my life becomes a little bit of an inspiration. I didn't draw 100% from my own life, but it was definitely easier to write when I have a little Pokémon fan in the house ;) Fluffy fluff, basically. Self-Betaed only. (thanks for the extension Tris)
Stiles is pretty good at remembering faces. He knows the regular customers, even if they only show up in the store less frequently. There are a few that come in almost every week, some kids who show up every few days mostly to browse. There are those who show up for release dates, others who come asking about those and they don’t come back until a week or two later.
He has a special shelf in the back for some of them -- copies of newly released games, gadgets and accessories set aside, Post-It notes with names and phone numbers for those who unofficially reserved things -- that no one else is allowed to touch or take things from. The only time anyone does, it’s when customers ask for Stiles and mention that there’s something on that shelf for them. Scott has always known better, and Isaac has learned to stick to the unwritten rule by now.
Some customers make Stiles hide in the stockroom so Scott can turn on his charm and deal with them. Others are reason enough for him to do overtime.
And then there’s the one. The customer that Stiles would come in for on his day off, the one whom Stiles would be willing to set aside a limited edition console for. Not that he’s ever asked to. As far as Stiles can remember, Derek -- Stiles only knows the man’s name because Isaac mentioned it once -- never asked for anything even remotely similar. Just a regular customer, in the store every few weeks, sometimes looking, other times walking out with a purchase. And always, always leaving Stiles a little breathless and needing a break.
The reasons are simple: he’s the most breathtaking man Stiles has ever laid eyes on. And he’s nice, polite, patient when the store is busy. He’s not much taller than Stiles -- he knows, after the one time that he deliberately came out to the front to help the man look for a game -- and dark-haired, and his eyes change color depending on what’s around him or what he’s wearing. Stiles has once tried to describe them, but gave up after he listed the fourth color and it still wasn’t right.
Of course, the final nail in the coffin of Stiles’ insistence that he’s professional and would never develop a crush on a customer is something entirely different. Something that shouldn’t be an issue, really, because Stiles is twenty, and has said several times that there are things he’s just not ready for.
“Daddy, daddy! Look, they have the new cards!”
Whenever the reason walks in, Stiles can’t help but smile. She’s just short of four feet tall, her hair as dark as her father’s but longer and in two plaits, and she’s usually smiling brightly at everyone she knows.
“Lia, stop.”
Derek is stern but fond, and it makes Stiles’ heart skip each time. Now as much as ever, because Derek lifts his daughter up and she wraps one arm around his neck, the other pointing to the Pokémon shelf they’re standing at. Stiles knows what she’s looking at, he was the one to restock it this morning with the newly released series. He also knows that Lia doesn’t play the card game, but does collect the cards. And he’s also aware of how much she loves the new starters in the game.
“And look, they have the plushies too!”
Stiles can almost feel Derek cringe at both the volume of Lia’s voice and the amount of new items in the selection. It’s always fascinating to watch them negotiate, so Stiles leans forward and rests his chin on his hands, his eyes and attention on the pair.
“Lia,” Derek says, and it’s the tone that indicates a refusal of her unspoken request.
“Daddy,” she says equally as firmly.
“Didn’t you just get one last week?” Derek asks.
And Stiles is intrigued, because he hasn’t seen them the week before, and Scott hasn’t mentioned anything.
“That wasn’t the right one, these are the official ones,” Lia says with a huff. “And it was aunt Cora who got that one, that doesn’t count.”
“You know the choice you have,” Derek tells her, his voice dripping with resignation. “Cards or plushie. We’re not getting both.”
Lia’s face is turned to Stiles, so he can see how it scrunches up in concentration before she even turns back to the shelf. When she does, her eyes dart from the side with the card packs to the plushies on the other. Stiles can see the torment in her face and almost hears the calculations she’s making though he has no way of knowing what exactly they are.
“There’s no Litten plushie,” she says eventually, eyebrows scrunched in disapproval.
Then she turns to Derek, whose shoulders lift and fall with the sigh he lets out.
“The cards then?” Derek asks, and Lia nods in agreement.
She reaches for the pack, and then she squirms out of Derek’s arms and makes a beeline towards Stiles. Well, towards the counter, but that is where Stiles is. And since Derek follows her, Stiles lets himself believe that it’s him they’re heading to.
They only exchange the usual polite words about the purchase, and Lia is already poking at the corner of the pack before Derek even hands money over. He looks down at her and frowns when he sees it.
“Stop it, you can wait until we get home,” he tells her sternly.
Lia nods and turns the pack over to study the list of contents instead. She huffs and hums over the list, and by the time Derek finishes paying, she’s bouncing on the spot, obviously eager to talk to him about the cards she’s going to be adding to her collection. Derek doesn’t turn to her right after paying as usual. Instead, he leans on the counter and suddenly he’s closer to Stiles than he’s ever been.
“So, you saw that she noticed that the Litten plushie wasn’t there,” Derek says with a quick glance at Lia.
“Yeah,” Stiles manages to reply, hoping that his nervousness isn’t obvious in his tone. “We only got them in today, and that’s all we have so far.”
“Do you know when you’re going to get more?” Derek asks.
It takes Stiles a beat before he nods. Then he turns to the computer to check for dates. And really, to catch his breath, because he knows their delivery dates exactly, but Derek is close, and it’s throwing Stiles off balance.
“There’s a delivery on Wednesday,” he says, not looking up from the screen, though all that’s on it is the general stock control program. “And then one on Saturday. I’m pretty sure we’ll be getting them in by then.”
“Right, I’ll just… we’ll be back then,” Derek says, and he straightens up again, moving away from Stiles and the counter.
“I could put one on hold for you, if you can’t make it either of those days,” Stiles offers, the words automatic in his mind as a response to someone’s query about an item that’s not in stock. “I mean, we don’t have a procedure for these things, but I can put one aside when it comes in.”
“No, I couldn’t ask that, it’s fine,” Derek shakes his head. “Thank you, though.”
“I’m serious, it would be no problem,” Stiles says. “Or I can let you know when the plushies are in?”
Derek hesitates, and he glances between Lia and Stiles, a frown on his face. Then he nods slowly, and the corner of his lip turns up.
“I’d appreciate that,” he says. “So would she,” he nods towards Lia, and smiles.
“Not a problem at all,” Stiles says, and he reaches for the Post-Its under the counter. “Just leave me your name and number, or email, and I’ll send you an update.”
Derek does that, and when he hands Stiles the yellow square, their fingers brush. It sends a shiver down Stiles’ body, because just then he realises that he’s holding Derek’s phone number. Sure, it’s for professional reasons, but still.
“Right, I’ll be in touch, about the plushie, I mean,” he rambles. “There will be no other uses for this, I promise. Nice and safe with me.”
Derek grins and nods, then mutters a quiet “thank you”. When he turns to Lia, and they leave the shop -- already lost in a conversation about Lia’s cards -- Stiles pulls the one stool that’s behind the counter closer.
“Okay, that happened,” he whispers to himself.
Scott, of course, laughs when Stiles tells him about his encounter with Derek. Which, of course Stiles does, because he needs to warn everyone extra. The Litten plushie has to make it into Lia’s hands, he tells Scott firmly.
He uses the days until the next delivery of goods to think about the conversation with Derek over and over. And he can’t help but analyse each word, just to see if there’s anything he could hang his hopes on. Like expected though, there’s absolutely nothing indicating that Derek would be interested in Stiles. Just a nice and polite conversation with the staff member, nothing more.
On Wednesday, Stiles is the one stocking the shelves with the new arrivals. He’s slowly losing hope that the plushie Lia wants has been sent in, because it’s nowhere to be seen in the first few boxes. He wonders if he should text Derek to let him know about the status. After all, Stiles did say that he’d be in touch. There is no other reason why he’s thinking about letting Derek know even though there is no reason for him and Lia to come in. While he’s trying to come up with the right wording for the text, Stiles opens the last box.
“Yes!”
There’s a Litten, just one, right on top of everything else. Stiles grabs it, and leaves the box on the floor while he dashes to the back room.
“What’s got your pants on fire?” Isaac, who’s working along with Stiles today, asks.
“Nothing, nothing, just gotta…” Stiles rambles, and he tugs the Post-It with Derek’s name and number off the shelf.
Litten arrived. It’s waiting for Trainer Lia to come catch it.
After Stiles types the message and copies the number into his phone, he decides to add a photo, just because he can. He takes a snap of the plushie once he sets it down on the box, and then quickly grabs it again, because he can see one of the kids in store eyeing it with curiosity. His phone beeps with a message just as he’s putting the toy on the special shelf.
Stiles?
Oh crap, sorry, forgot to sign. Had to use my own phone, shop one doesn’t have texting.
I promise I won’t keep it. Just wanted to let you guys know.
Keep it.
The Litten?
Stiles is looking at his phone, confusion written all over his face probably. He doesn’t understand why Derek wouldn’t want the plushie when he made a special request.
The number.
Oh. The corners of Stiles’ lips lift up immediately, and his heart feels like it’s doing cartwheels in his chest.
If it’s okay that I keep yours.
The text that interrupts Stiles’ inner freak out makes him breathe wrong, and he folds over in a coughing fit.
We’ll come get the Litten later, when Lia’s off school.
Maybe you and I could get dinner after that? Minus the Trainer?
Stiles doesn’t let out any sound, no matter what squeak anyone might have heard.
I’ll be here. He texts back, still smiling wide.
Title: Smitten Litten
Rating: G
Pairing/s: pre-Derek/Stiles
Character/s: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Original Character - Lia Hale
Summary: Some customers make Stiles hide in the stockroom so Scott can turn on his charm and deal with them. Others are reason enough for him to do overtime.
And then there’s the one.
Warnings: n/a
Content Notes: Single Dad Derek, AU
Submission Type: fic
Word Count: 1931
Prompt: #209 - Pokémon
Author's Notes: Sometimes my life becomes a little bit of an inspiration. I didn't draw 100% from my own life, but it was definitely easier to write when I have a little Pokémon fan in the house ;) Fluffy fluff, basically. Self-Betaed only. (thanks for the extension Tris)
Stiles is pretty good at remembering faces. He knows the regular customers, even if they only show up in the store less frequently. There are a few that come in almost every week, some kids who show up every few days mostly to browse. There are those who show up for release dates, others who come asking about those and they don’t come back until a week or two later.
He has a special shelf in the back for some of them -- copies of newly released games, gadgets and accessories set aside, Post-It notes with names and phone numbers for those who unofficially reserved things -- that no one else is allowed to touch or take things from. The only time anyone does, it’s when customers ask for Stiles and mention that there’s something on that shelf for them. Scott has always known better, and Isaac has learned to stick to the unwritten rule by now.
Some customers make Stiles hide in the stockroom so Scott can turn on his charm and deal with them. Others are reason enough for him to do overtime.
And then there’s the one. The customer that Stiles would come in for on his day off, the one whom Stiles would be willing to set aside a limited edition console for. Not that he’s ever asked to. As far as Stiles can remember, Derek -- Stiles only knows the man’s name because Isaac mentioned it once -- never asked for anything even remotely similar. Just a regular customer, in the store every few weeks, sometimes looking, other times walking out with a purchase. And always, always leaving Stiles a little breathless and needing a break.
The reasons are simple: he’s the most breathtaking man Stiles has ever laid eyes on. And he’s nice, polite, patient when the store is busy. He’s not much taller than Stiles -- he knows, after the one time that he deliberately came out to the front to help the man look for a game -- and dark-haired, and his eyes change color depending on what’s around him or what he’s wearing. Stiles has once tried to describe them, but gave up after he listed the fourth color and it still wasn’t right.
Of course, the final nail in the coffin of Stiles’ insistence that he’s professional and would never develop a crush on a customer is something entirely different. Something that shouldn’t be an issue, really, because Stiles is twenty, and has said several times that there are things he’s just not ready for.
“Daddy, daddy! Look, they have the new cards!”
Whenever the reason walks in, Stiles can’t help but smile. She’s just short of four feet tall, her hair as dark as her father’s but longer and in two plaits, and she’s usually smiling brightly at everyone she knows.
“Lia, stop.”
Derek is stern but fond, and it makes Stiles’ heart skip each time. Now as much as ever, because Derek lifts his daughter up and she wraps one arm around his neck, the other pointing to the Pokémon shelf they’re standing at. Stiles knows what she’s looking at, he was the one to restock it this morning with the newly released series. He also knows that Lia doesn’t play the card game, but does collect the cards. And he’s also aware of how much she loves the new starters in the game.
“And look, they have the plushies too!”
Stiles can almost feel Derek cringe at both the volume of Lia’s voice and the amount of new items in the selection. It’s always fascinating to watch them negotiate, so Stiles leans forward and rests his chin on his hands, his eyes and attention on the pair.
“Lia,” Derek says, and it’s the tone that indicates a refusal of her unspoken request.
“Daddy,” she says equally as firmly.
“Didn’t you just get one last week?” Derek asks.
And Stiles is intrigued, because he hasn’t seen them the week before, and Scott hasn’t mentioned anything.
“That wasn’t the right one, these are the official ones,” Lia says with a huff. “And it was aunt Cora who got that one, that doesn’t count.”
“You know the choice you have,” Derek tells her, his voice dripping with resignation. “Cards or plushie. We’re not getting both.”
Lia’s face is turned to Stiles, so he can see how it scrunches up in concentration before she even turns back to the shelf. When she does, her eyes dart from the side with the card packs to the plushies on the other. Stiles can see the torment in her face and almost hears the calculations she’s making though he has no way of knowing what exactly they are.
“There’s no Litten plushie,” she says eventually, eyebrows scrunched in disapproval.
Then she turns to Derek, whose shoulders lift and fall with the sigh he lets out.
“The cards then?” Derek asks, and Lia nods in agreement.
She reaches for the pack, and then she squirms out of Derek’s arms and makes a beeline towards Stiles. Well, towards the counter, but that is where Stiles is. And since Derek follows her, Stiles lets himself believe that it’s him they’re heading to.
They only exchange the usual polite words about the purchase, and Lia is already poking at the corner of the pack before Derek even hands money over. He looks down at her and frowns when he sees it.
“Stop it, you can wait until we get home,” he tells her sternly.
Lia nods and turns the pack over to study the list of contents instead. She huffs and hums over the list, and by the time Derek finishes paying, she’s bouncing on the spot, obviously eager to talk to him about the cards she’s going to be adding to her collection. Derek doesn’t turn to her right after paying as usual. Instead, he leans on the counter and suddenly he’s closer to Stiles than he’s ever been.
“So, you saw that she noticed that the Litten plushie wasn’t there,” Derek says with a quick glance at Lia.
“Yeah,” Stiles manages to reply, hoping that his nervousness isn’t obvious in his tone. “We only got them in today, and that’s all we have so far.”
“Do you know when you’re going to get more?” Derek asks.
It takes Stiles a beat before he nods. Then he turns to the computer to check for dates. And really, to catch his breath, because he knows their delivery dates exactly, but Derek is close, and it’s throwing Stiles off balance.
“There’s a delivery on Wednesday,” he says, not looking up from the screen, though all that’s on it is the general stock control program. “And then one on Saturday. I’m pretty sure we’ll be getting them in by then.”
“Right, I’ll just… we’ll be back then,” Derek says, and he straightens up again, moving away from Stiles and the counter.
“I could put one on hold for you, if you can’t make it either of those days,” Stiles offers, the words automatic in his mind as a response to someone’s query about an item that’s not in stock. “I mean, we don’t have a procedure for these things, but I can put one aside when it comes in.”
“No, I couldn’t ask that, it’s fine,” Derek shakes his head. “Thank you, though.”
“I’m serious, it would be no problem,” Stiles says. “Or I can let you know when the plushies are in?”
Derek hesitates, and he glances between Lia and Stiles, a frown on his face. Then he nods slowly, and the corner of his lip turns up.
“I’d appreciate that,” he says. “So would she,” he nods towards Lia, and smiles.
“Not a problem at all,” Stiles says, and he reaches for the Post-Its under the counter. “Just leave me your name and number, or email, and I’ll send you an update.”
Derek does that, and when he hands Stiles the yellow square, their fingers brush. It sends a shiver down Stiles’ body, because just then he realises that he’s holding Derek’s phone number. Sure, it’s for professional reasons, but still.
“Right, I’ll be in touch, about the plushie, I mean,” he rambles. “There will be no other uses for this, I promise. Nice and safe with me.”
Derek grins and nods, then mutters a quiet “thank you”. When he turns to Lia, and they leave the shop -- already lost in a conversation about Lia’s cards -- Stiles pulls the one stool that’s behind the counter closer.
“Okay, that happened,” he whispers to himself.
Scott, of course, laughs when Stiles tells him about his encounter with Derek. Which, of course Stiles does, because he needs to warn everyone extra. The Litten plushie has to make it into Lia’s hands, he tells Scott firmly.
He uses the days until the next delivery of goods to think about the conversation with Derek over and over. And he can’t help but analyse each word, just to see if there’s anything he could hang his hopes on. Like expected though, there’s absolutely nothing indicating that Derek would be interested in Stiles. Just a nice and polite conversation with the staff member, nothing more.
On Wednesday, Stiles is the one stocking the shelves with the new arrivals. He’s slowly losing hope that the plushie Lia wants has been sent in, because it’s nowhere to be seen in the first few boxes. He wonders if he should text Derek to let him know about the status. After all, Stiles did say that he’d be in touch. There is no other reason why he’s thinking about letting Derek know even though there is no reason for him and Lia to come in. While he’s trying to come up with the right wording for the text, Stiles opens the last box.
“Yes!”
There’s a Litten, just one, right on top of everything else. Stiles grabs it, and leaves the box on the floor while he dashes to the back room.
“What’s got your pants on fire?” Isaac, who’s working along with Stiles today, asks.
“Nothing, nothing, just gotta…” Stiles rambles, and he tugs the Post-It with Derek’s name and number off the shelf.
Litten arrived. It’s waiting for Trainer Lia to come catch it.
After Stiles types the message and copies the number into his phone, he decides to add a photo, just because he can. He takes a snap of the plushie once he sets it down on the box, and then quickly grabs it again, because he can see one of the kids in store eyeing it with curiosity. His phone beeps with a message just as he’s putting the toy on the special shelf.
Stiles?
Oh crap, sorry, forgot to sign. Had to use my own phone, shop one doesn’t have texting.
I promise I won’t keep it. Just wanted to let you guys know.
Keep it.
The Litten?
Stiles is looking at his phone, confusion written all over his face probably. He doesn’t understand why Derek wouldn’t want the plushie when he made a special request.
The number.
Oh. The corners of Stiles’ lips lift up immediately, and his heart feels like it’s doing cartwheels in his chest.
If it’s okay that I keep yours.
The text that interrupts Stiles’ inner freak out makes him breathe wrong, and he folds over in a coughing fit.
We’ll come get the Litten later, when Lia’s off school.
Maybe you and I could get dinner after that? Minus the Trainer?
Stiles doesn’t let out any sound, no matter what squeak anyone might have heard.
I’ll be here. He texts back, still smiling wide.