Derek didn't regret moving to New York; not once. Of course he missed his family and his old home and his friends, but the guilt of what almost happened was seriously detrimental to his functioning mind. A change of pace was imperative to his dwindling sanity, and New York City was basically the opposite of everything his life had been like in Beacon Hills. It was fast-paced and crowded and intimidating and so different from what Derek was used to.
It was exactly what he needed.
However, just because he had made the decision to move all the way across the country didn't mean he was no longer a part of his family's lives. Which was why Derek found himself walking down block after block, trying and failing to find the perfect birthday present for his little sister, Cora. She wasn't like most kids her age. Music and books were fun ways to stay occupied, sure, but weren't all that important to her. Most of her play time activities were dominated by imaginary scenarios and fanciful tales full of wizards and knights and werewolves, but she never wanted any props, saying that she preferred making up her own in her head, making sure they were a perfect fit for the character. And typical girly clothes or makeup or jewelry or hair accessories were a big no-no. The last time someone had gotten Cora a bracelet as a gift, she had used it to hang the Barbie she had also been given, but didn't want.
Despite all of the things Cora was most definitely not into, Derek knew of her love of art. It was truly a curious passion for the girl to have, considering she had no interest in drawing, coloring, painting or anything else of the sort. But she absolutely loved adding new artwork to her collection. The pieces she liked the most were just like herself - vibrant, original, and just different enough to be interesting.
And this was not just any birthday, no, it was her 11th, which she found very important ("It's a double number, Derek! This will probably only happen eight times in my life!"). So he wanted the artwork he got her to be something she would truly love. Being in NYC, there was definitely no shortage of 'lost artists' just trying to 'find themselves', but so far, most of what he'd seen in those second-hand, hole-in-the-wall art shops were more or less the same as what was in the big stores' home decor sections. He didn't want to buy something that looked just like one of her other pieces. The landscapes were beautiful, but she already had some that looked similar. The portraits meant nothing to her unless she knew the person whose image was being captured. Abstract art was nothing special in her opinion because she 'could easily make that herself if she wanted'. Derek needed to find something… from a different view point. Something other wordly. Something she couldn't see in real life but could easily grasp. Something truly special.
Just then, Derek rounded a corner and his nose was assaulted with the strong smell of spray paint. His eyes sought out the source and found a figure hunched over a fold-out table. He was moving around cans of different colored spray paint and what looked like pallet knives, straight edges, and circular caps, cups, and lids. Everything was covered in paint, including the jeans and flannel the man was wearing. His face was partially obscured by a mask, probably a respirator. A few people were standing around him, looking down at whatever was on the table with anticipation. His interest and curiosity having been piqued, Derek approached the small crowd and peered at the man's project. Sadly, the piece of poster paper currently occupying his work space was blank, the white glossiness just waiting to be disrupted with color.
Once the guy seemed to have gotten all of his supplies in a chaos he looked familiar and comfortable with, he lifted the respirator up and over his head, running a gloved hand through his messy hair, leaving faint streaks of purple in his bangs. Somehow, despite the mess, he was still easily the most attractive man Derek had ever laid eyes on. His eyes, a burning golden brown, flicked through the small crowd of people waiting for him to begin. Then they stopped on Derek for a moment longer than was probably normal, eyeing him up and down with a smirk that was contradicting his slight blush. It made Derek feel a little self conscious of his appearance- he hadn't shaved for a few days and was sporting some major stubble, and his clothes were probably a little rumpled with his lack of care. Not that the guy seemed to mind. It's not like his clothes were any better, wrinkled and painted and hanging off his skinny frame in a way that said they were a few sizes too big.
The guy cleared his throat and went back to moving a few things around. Then he looked up at a woman standing in front of him, tapping his fingers on his table and raising his eyebrows expectantly.
"Anything specific you want? A lanscape? A logo? A galaxy? Any favorite colors?" His voice was loud and clear, easily traveling over the hustle and bustle of the New York streets to capture the attention of everyone around him.
The woman looked thoughtful for a quick moment before nodding decisively. "Yeah, can you make it a forest? A black and white forest?"
"Sure thing. Any other specifics?"
"Just, I need it to be perfect. So just make it worth the fifteen bucks, 'kay?" Her judgment and skepticism of his abilities were clear on her face and in her voice, and it rose Derek's hackles slightly. The guy's eyebrows furrowed in irritated disbelief and his smile became not so polite, but he just nodded.
"Don't worry, I never let rude customers affect my work. Now, unless you want to be covered in black and white paint, I suggest you step back and let me try to make it worth the fifteen bucks, 'kay?" His tone was absolutely dripping with a sarcastic mixture of annoyance and sass and mockery that pulled a snort from Derek's throat. The guy must have heard it, because he flicked his eyes over to him and winked, then returned his gaze to the flustered woman. It happened so quick, Derek almost thought he imagined it.
The woman took a sheepish step back and adjusted her skirt and jacket haughtily. She waved her hand at the guy to continue.
He raised his eyebrows and said, "Oh, I can start now? Thank you so much for the permission, really, it means a lot."
And so he began. The respirator was pulled back in place and he tugged a pair of latex gloves onto his hands. The next few minutes were filled with the fumes of spray paint, covering the paper in ways that didn't seem to make any sense, and then, with just a few lines of paint and a few scratches of pallet knives, everything seemed to come together. The moon was in the center of the paper, filling the forest around it with an eerie glow that shone off of the waterfall in front of it, which Derek hadn't even noticed him make. He grabbed a newspaper advertisement from a box by his feet, setting it on the poster and pulling off layers of paint with each press. When he finally pulled away from it, using the knife to scratch in some design, Derek could clearly see that he had added rocks around the waterfall. It looked complete, but it seemed the guy didn't think so. He sprayed a generous amount of black and white onto a separate piece of paper, crumpled up a sheet of newspaper, and mixed them together. The gray mixture he created was then patted onto the bare trees with the newspaper, creating leaves. Lastly, he added in some rays from from the moon, making it truly glow. Scratching his signature into the bottom corner as the final touch, the guy then wiped his hands on his pants and pulled the mask off his face.
The small crowd clapped as he showed the painting to them. It was then taped to a black backdrop paper and the ends were connected together, making a handle with the masking tape. The guy held out both hands, one holding the painting, the other palm up. The woman stepped forward and placed fifteen dollars into his waiting hand, taking the picture from the other. She hurriedly thanked him before briskly walking away.
The guy clapped his hands, rubbing them together through the latex, and smiled at the dissipating crowd. He waved to a few of them and grinned at the few who hadn't watched their fill.
"So. Who's next?" he asked.
Derek's feet carried him forward without him telling them to, and his mouth opened without him giving it permission.
"I'd like one."
Grinning once again, the guy started cleaning up his work space, putting things back into the places they had been before. "Fantastic! What would you like?"
Derek thought for a moment. Something Cora didn't have a lot of…
"You said you could make space scenes?"
This guy just never seemed to stop smiling. "I sure can! Any colors you want me to throw in there?"
"Blues and greens?"
Nodding enthusiastically, the guy said, "Definitely. Now, anything else you want to make sure I do right?"
Derek snorted, thinking of the woman who had just been in his place. "No. You're the artist, after all. I trust your judgment."
The guy tilted his head a little, an expression coming across his face that Derek couldn't quite decipher. "Thank you. I needed to hear that. And before we get started, your name is…?"
"Derek."
"Well, Derek, you are much more pleasant than my previous customers have been. I'm Stiles, nice to meet you."
The guy, Stiles, stuck his hand out to shake. Then he seemed to notice that he was still wearing his paint-covered gloves.
"Oh, shit!" He pulled the glove off his right hand. "Sorry, sometimes I forget stuff like that. But anyway, redo! I'm Stiles, nice to meet you." This time when he stuck out his hand, Derek grasped it in his own, noting how firmly Stiles' handshake was, and how calloused his fingers and palm were.
"Nice to meet you, Stiles," Derek said, smiling openly at the genuine man in front of him. Their hands stayed joined for a brief moment after the shake was done. Stiles let them fall apart with a cough.
"Alrighty then. Blue and green galaxy. Mind if I add a little something special to it?" Stiles asks.
"No, do whatever. Just keep in mind it's for an eleven-year-old."
Stiles raised an eyebrow. "What kind of artist do you think I am, exactly?" He teased back with a smirk. Derek huffed out a laugh and stepped back as Stiles put his gloves and mask back in place. Then he got to work, and all communication ceased to exist as Stiles focused on his art.
It started out much the same way as the other had; he sprayed some random green and blue down near the top-left corner of the paper. Then he put a piece of the glossy advertisement paper onto the paint, running his fingertips over the top before pulling it away, leaving a textured design in its wake. Then, he sprayed some white by the bottom of the design and some dark blue and black near the top. From the right side of the table, Stiles grabbed a large, circular lid that he set over the design, letting it hang mostly over the edge of the paper.
After that, it was mostly just a blur of lines being covered up by different colored lines that Derek in way understood the relevance of. Then he started adding the black, and Derek could see it, the way it was all coming together, just like the other painting had. Stiles sprayed white paint onto his finger, flicking it onto the table once before flicking it a few times over the painting. He repeated the action until the galaxy was filled with stars.
As it turned out, the little 'special something' was actually New York City. At the bottom of the picture, he used a straight edge to scratch in the city's many buildings and towers, and even the Brooklyn Bridge. He then took a straight edge as long as the paper and placed it an inch or so from the bottom. On said inch of paper, Stiles sprayed a few different colors all over it and then swiped his finger back and forth through it. When he lifted the straight edge, it looked like a body of water with the galaxy's light reflecting off of it.
After adding a few more brighter and larger stars in the sky, along with some comets, Stiles lifted the lid at the top of the paper. Underneath it was a luminous and radiant planet of blue and green. Stiles made the few final touches and then signed his name at the bottom. Derek applauded loudly as the artist showed the piece to the few people watching. He attached it to the black paper and wrapped it in tape, as he had the other, making a handle and holding it out to Derek.
Derek, in turn, handed Stiles a twenty dollar bill.
"Oh, uh, here, give me a sec, let me get your change-"
"Keep it," Derek interrupted. "Thank you, Stiles. I know my sister's going to go crazy over this. Maybe I can find you after I give it to her, tell you what she thought?"
Stiles mouth was hanging slightly open, looking completely dumbfounded.
"Uh, yes! Please do! I'd love to hear! And um… thanks, for, you know, the-" Stiles cut himself off and lifted the twenty into the air, waving it around some before dropping it back to his side. "So, I'll, uh, see you around?"
Derek wasn't sure what was going on with himself. He hadn't flirted with anyone since the whole Kate thing, which he didn't like to think about. And that had been before he moved to New York, when he was still in high school. He had told himself that no relationship, romantic or purely sexual, would ever be worth the risk of a repeat of what had happened. Despite all of that, he found himself saying, "I hope so," before returning the wink he had received earlier.
Stiles flushed a bright red, and he nodded jerkily and smiling down at his table. It was really fucking cute, actually, and Derek was seriously starting to freak himself out over this guy. Still, he had said that he would come see him again. And as Derek walked back towards his apartment, he thought maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing.