Stiles ducked back behind the massive arrangement of canned beans when he saw Derek in the supermarket. He wasn’t sure what made him do it. Perhaps it was because he’s with his dad and his dad still doesn’t really know what Stiles and Derek know each other. He’s not entirely blind and he probably has suspicions about the number of times Derek and Stiles seem to be in the same place at the same time but he’s also got this wilful ignorance thing going on. Always kinda did when it came to the odder aspects of Stiles’ behaviour.
His dad also better have no idea about the other things Derek and Stiles get up to together. In fact, Stiles would be entirely happy if his dad never found out about that.
Stiles peeked around the corner again. Derek was reading the back of a box, his basket dangling over his arm. Anyone else would have had trouble toting the three gallons of milk and the two cartons of juice on one arm – Stiles is not entirely sure he’d manage with both hands – but Derek wafts it about like it’s a bouquet of flowers. Stiles stifled a laugh at the image his brain presented as Derek looked up and caught sight of him.
Derek nodded, eyebrows lifting. He was even smiling a little. So naturally that was when his dad rounded the top of the aisle with his trolley and started down it. Stiles hid behind the beans again, before peeling out and running up the parallel aisle with an impossible to disguise squeak of trainers on the flooring. He rounded the display of cereal boxes to see his dad give the old Sheriff once over to Derek. Derek nodded uncomfortably, even more so as Stiles pulled up next to his dad. The he realised what aisle they were in. And what the box Derek was holding onto was.
Condoms. Derek was buying condoms. Condoms with which to fuck Stiles. Ah.
“How are you, Mr Hale?” His dad was flexing his hands on the shopping cart rail. Like he was wishing he had a gun to flex his hands around.
“Fine.” Derek muttered and pasted an uncomfortable and totally false smile on his face.
“I’m Stiles. I don’t know if you remember…?” Stiles waved out a hand and Derek looked at him with a mixture of suspicion, panic and disbelief. His dad was also giving him this look that was torn between a tiny amount of amusement and a whole lot of incredulity. Stiles zipped his mouth shut.
“Plans for dinner?” His dad was still being scrupulously polite.
Derek swallowed audibly and Stiles remembered that he was supposed to be eating with Derek tonight. Well. Eating and making out with. He’d thought it was just a usual take-out-and-research night but Derek was shopping. In a store. Derek. Stiles wondered if he’d look weird if he tried to see what else was in the basket alongside the world’s supply of milk. Like flavoured lube. He had a notion to try the strawberry.
“Yes.” Derek drew the word out. “I did. You?”
“Overtime.” His dad rolled his hands on the cart once more. “What kind of grill have you got?”
Derek looked into the basket. Then he looked at the Sheriff. “Grill?” His eyes weren’t red at least. In fact, they looked something closer to wide and panicked, an expression Stiles was way more used to seeing on his own face as it slammed into shiny surfaces.
“Why don’t you use ours? I’m sure you know where it is.” His dad reached out and grabbed hold of Stiles’ shoulder in that joking-but-not-really way. His dad had a mean grip. “After all, you do spend a lot of time in my home. Be good to use the front door for a change.”
There were moments in his life that Stiles would like to rewind. Sometimes for good reasons – first kiss, or blowjob, or hand job, or pretty much anything with Derek – and sometimes for bad. This moment was rapidly careening towards bad. Careening towards apocalypse level disastrous, if Stiles was honest with himself.
Derek seemed equally unable to respond, his throat working and his mouth hanging open. Stiles would have shrugged except for the weight of his dad’s hand holding his shoulder. Kinda holding his shoulder over one of the bruises that Derek had left while gripping his shoulder while Stiles was bent over the hood of the Camaro and, oh god, had his dad seen that? His dad let out an entirely too satisfied chuckle at the chaos he’d caused and let Stiles go, pushing the cart to the end of the aisle and rounding it, finally out of sight.
Derek was frowning when Stiles looked at him. “I don’t know, dude. I didn’t tell him.” Stiles finally stepped closer, peering down into the basket. Steak. Chocolate mousse. Gummy worms. “But I like the idea of you cooking at my house.”
“Why?” Derek sounded less angry now and more genuinely curious.
Stiles pasted an innocent expression on his face but new it wouldn’t fool Derek for an instant. “No interruptions.”
Derek immediately placed the packet of condoms he’d been debating over into his basket. He leaned forward, checking that no one else was in sight and placed a quick, wet kiss on Stiles’ mouth. “Warm the grill up for me.”