The first time the hottest guy Stiles has ever seen in real life comes into the dollar store is to buy sponges and a bucket. He’s wearing a worn leather jacket, made that way by fashion than age no doubt, a three day old beard and a pair of perfectly fitted black jeans that should be illegal.
Stiles watches him discreetly from the counter as he heads straight for the car wash aisle. The way the guy grabs what he wants with the least amount of browsing Stiles has ever seen and all but throws them on the counter in front of Stiles suggests he’s either had a crap-fest of a day or he’s just a crap-fest of a personality and no amount of cute cat videos on Youtube would turn that frown upside down.
"Isn’t it kind of late for car wash season? You should go to that garage on Bakers street, save yourself the trouble." When he doesn’t get a reply, Stiles scans the items and tells him, “That’ll be four dollars. Would you like a bag?”
"No," the man replies curtly, his voice not as deep as Stiles imagined.
"Thank you," Stiles adds with a less than subtle sarcastic tone before he can stop himself. "This stores cheap but manners are free, dude. Just sayin’."
The man leaves with his things, his scowl never faltering.
The next time the hot rude asshole comes into the store is three weeks later. He’s wearing the same leather jacket but his jeans are lighter. Stiles serves the line of awaiting customers but keeps one eye on the store. The man browses this time and doesn’t look particularly as choosy as he had with his bucket and sponges.
The line gradually disappears and the leather clad brooder has wandered around the entire shop three times before he comes up to Stiles with 12 packets of ‘It’s a Boy!’ balloons and oven cleaner.
"Wow, you must be planning one hell of a party," Stiles says with a snort. His gentle prodding elicits the same grumpy response as last time.
The guy pays for his things, doesn’t want a bag and then leaves for Stiles to serve his next customer.
Four days later he’s back. Lizzie is working at the register with Stiles today and is about the serve The Guy, when he suddenly leaves the queue and rejoins it at the back after a few moments. He buys half a dozen sugar free packets of butterscotch candy and some horrendously cheap razors and its Stiles’s turn to serve.
"Hey, how did your sons home coming go?" he asks as he puts the items through. He knows he should stop making small talk with customers, he’s been in trouble for it more than once but Lizzie is an okay friend and he’s pretty sure she won’t snitch on him.
"What?" The Guy’s brow furrows.
"I don’t have a son."
"Okay, then your nephew?"
"Um…okay. Then whoever had a boy, tell them congratulations."
The Guy honestly looks at Stiles like he has three heads and he’s completely lost the plot. But hey, he’s not the one buying balloons for some kid he can’t even remember the birth of apparently.
He doesn’t bother asking if he wants a bag, but he charges him for one anyway just out of spite.
"Next!" he shouts and the guy leaves the store.
The next day the all too familiar spiked hair and leather jacket appear.
Stiles is sulking because Lizzie did indeed rat him out and now he’s on restock duty for the rest of the week. His arms ache and he’s fairly sure he’s done some damage to his foot from dropping a crate of shampoo on it earlier. Not to mention his bruised ego hurts like a bitch because all the broken bottles are coming out of his wages.
"Can you tell me where the breakfast cereal are?"
Stiles jumps at the sudden voice. He looks over his shoulder and resists the urge to roll his eyes. The Guy still has his beard and Stiles wonders what the hell he even bought the razors for yesterday. “Aisle four,” he says in as few words as possible and then returns to refilling the Halloween candy.
A few minutes later he glances at the exit and watches the man leave empty handed.
Ten days later Stiles’s foot is wrapped up because he broke a bone in it but the good news is he’s back behind his beloved counter and is allowed to make as much small talk as he wants.
The Guy is back, Stiles isn’t even surprised at this point. He has no idea what his deal is and why he’s so obsessed with buying junk he doesn’t even seem to use but he’s no longer surprised by it.
"Three dollars, please," he holds his hand out and a five dollar bill is placed in it.
"Can I have a bag?" The Guy asks looking at his bottle of bleach and box of Quick Oats.
"Sure, that’s four dollars then." Stiles hands him back his dollar change and the receipt.
"Hope your foot gets better," The Guy mutters, motioning with his eyebrows towards Stiles elevated limb. Stiles is so shocked that this weird guy has shocked him he doesn’t say a word in what probably feels like four years. "You know, this stores cheap but manners don’t cost a thing, you could say thank you." The Guy shrugs and…is that smirk?
He picks up his bag, leaving Stiles with his dollar.
"Okay seriously, what the hell, man?" Stiles has reached the end of his patience. "You’re clearly not poor judging by your clothes, your stupid designer haircut and your shiny douchey car, which by the way I know you took to the garage I told you about because last week they gave me a discount for recommending them to a friend. You buy ridiculous combinations of cheap ass junk you don’t even use and you’re in here like every week to buy more. What the hell?"
The Guy steps his weight from one foot to the other and rubs the back of his neck, ”Go out on a date with me.” His tone isn’t particularly endearing, Stiles kind of feels like he’s being ordered rather than asked and also…WHAT. THE. HELL?
"You…me…?" Stiles points to his chest and looks behind him to see if he’s mistaken.
"You wanna go out on a date with me?" he repeats just to clarify.
"You bought all this crap to ask me out on a date?"
"O-okay, cool." Stiles pauses for a moment, "You know you could have saved your cash and just asked me weeks ago right?"
The Guy shrugs. “My credit rating hasn’t taken too much of a dent, don’t worry.”
"Financial sarcasm, so you are rich," Stiles concludes. "You owe me a five star restaurant."
Stiles starts nodding and then he can’t stop. The Guy puts his hand on Stiles’s chin to still him and he’s so gentle Stiles might just fall off his chair. “Wait, I don’t even know your name.”
"Derek." Derek takes his hand away. "I’ll pick you in the parking lot at seven."
Stils isn’t even going to ask how he knows what time his shift is over. “Don’t you wanna know my name?” he shouts over the store as Derek walks towards the exit.
"It’s on your badge," Derek smiles and turns on his heels.
Stiles is so done for.
[Send me prompts]