0.8
"So, why are we here?" asked Derek, wondering why Stiles would pick somewhere that is the opposite of date material. The pharmacy was filled with few people, ranging from the age of twenties to eighties. They were browsing the catalogues in the store, and some looked sick, some angry, for reasons Derek was still unsure of. He didn't see what's so bad about having vitamins that were salubrious and the fact that the grown ups were acting like a bunch of toddlers only brought more irony. Imagine when they have children, it wouldn't be the child crying over a bottle of cough syrup, Derek thought. He saw Stiles, ambling around aimlessly in the pharmacy, walking through the shelves, stopping by intermittently, clearly intrigued by some of the products on sale there. Derek wondered how different it is to buying Adderall than buying any pedestrian medicines to treat other diseases. What difference did it make to him, Derek wondered. How different can colors and brands affect the effectiveness. Weren't they all the same? He made a face just thinking about the number of questions that ran through his mind. From Derek's point of view, they're all the same, but people these days want money without working too much, so plagiarize only change the box cover, with the brand name – that doesn't sound far from the real brand that people usually placed their trust on – and then the quantity sold, with the price range and lastly, the slogan where even the most cliche ones will just convince the naive people that there is in the world.
The pharmacy looked small from the outside, in large part with the small door, but on the inside, it was big and spacious, with shelves stocked to the brim and fridges well filled with an assortment of canned and bottled beverages. The drugstore had basically made sure that the items are well arranged, with the rubbing alcohols to the supplements brands placed under their designated spots, with signs like 'SUPPLEMENTS' to 'SNACKS' written neatly and clearly for the viewers' eyes in bold, uppercase fonts. The place was clean, as it is expected to be. Derek stopped to think if it would be considered a drug house or some place selling weeds if the state of the place was anything but sanitized. And how it would be licensed to open even brought more thoughtful questions in Derek's mind. If anything, the police or authority would indirectly legalize the use of marijuana and cocaine, if it were so.
Derek walked to the aisle where Stiles stands before, his eyes raking the entire shelf for something interesting. Something Derek has no idea what it is. All he knows that the honey brown eyes are glued to the products. He joins the man, with his attention being in synchrony with Stiles. His attention was fixated to the people, where they all lined up to the cashier, with the pharmacist paying attention to them with smiling, patient faces. Working in the library has trained him to restrain himself towards other, because he knew that people have different approaches, like how old people take their time to wrack their brains to get their words across, and how dissociated the teenagers are when searching for books or getting medicine, purely for their own selfish, hedonistic reasons. If it were parents, they would talk politely, with their words carefully picked, not wanting to propagate any obscenities to their children's ear, to which Derek has no point in doing, since New York is filled with crass people, where their mouths are constantly spouting vulgarities to each other, as part of an extension to their frustration and anger. If it were cars honking at you for crossing at the wrong time, or cutting lanes without giving signal lights, or even slowing them down with traffic or your indifference, obscenities are the main staple and accessories to their mind. Such honesty not needed, Derek thought to himself.
"So, what are we here for?" asked Derek, his attention still not really full.
"For our date, duh," asked Stiles, slightly irked with the question.
"In a pharmacy?" asked Derek, clearly confused with such setting.
"I know, right? Isn't it a great place," replied Stiles, his words laden with no sarcasm, "As I said, this is an impromptu date. So whatever we do or wherever we go, is all random. No plans, just go there, and then do something. Like what I'm doing now, searching at the items. Who knows, something that can spice up our lives," said Stiles suggestively, making Derek blush by a tint. The words that Stiles says made Derek wonder whether he actually cared about the choice of his words would have an affect on people. Not that he minded with the word choices, it was just the audacity to say it that threw him off. He could feel the people passing by feeling the same way, or at least somewhere around there. Stiles was unapologetic, that's what he can deduce. Or maybe it's just the effects of Adderall.
Stiles picked up the box with pregnancy test written so clearly for the eyes to read. He examined it, clearly interested about it, "They say that if you have positive on the pregnancy test for men, it's considered that you have cancer," mused Stiles, before putting back at its original position, "I would try, but pharmacist would probably give the wrong idea. Not that I care, but you know."
Stiles walked off, moving off to another shelf, where his interest was laid to the condoms and lubes. Derek joined him, albeit with heavy, shy steps. The shelf was filled to the brim and the brands were numerous, from Trojan to KY, Derek wondered whether the difference was as similar when it came to the supplements, where the products are replicated only the packaging is different.
But the shyness was too strong to come up with any solid answer.
"Wonder which suits us more?" asked Stiles, his face too showing hints of embarrassment, "I mean," he looked around, trying not to draw any unwanted looks and nosey people, "I've never done this before,"
"What, sex?" Derek asked, his shyness dissipating from his cheeks.
"Yeah, I mean. There's this girl in high school I had an insane crush on when we were in 3rd grade. But she always ignored me until the last few days of high school. I mean, I was never mad for her for the playing hard to get attitude or the bimbo act, but I knew it was a bit too late for her to trying to get into my pants," said Stiles calmly. It was true. To Stiles, Lydia Martin was someone he wanted to give his time upon, but the time span of her feigned ignorance wasn't something he wanted to replace at all. He wasted his time in school to get a girl's attention, and when he finally stopped searching did Lydia pay attention to him, and it only made Stiles wonder if she were to ignore him once more if he paid the same attention before she had incited a conversation with her, "It's a natural thing, you know? When you like someone who doesn't like you the same and you let it be, feelings sort of changed, you know? Like that intimacy only becomes platonic, and very quickly too," he added, "and when it settles like that like cement, it's hard to crack, you know what I mean?"
Derek nodded, with clear understanding how infatuation can turn into casual love and banters. It's like friends, but only deeper and much more appreciated than having a break up that always ended in scowls and baleful glares exchanged between the individuals, along with useless sidings and alliances to deepen the hatred that was shared. He never saw the idea of that, he never did. Either because he was inexperienced or the books he had read only broaden his scope on the whole I-hate-you-because-you-broke-my-heart thing. If anything, heartbreak is a privilege.
If only grief was one too.
"So," said Stiles, his tone indicating his intend to change subjects, "Which flavour should we pick?" he asked, clearly unashamed that they're in a public place, asking what fetish should the two of them pander with. Condom and lube purchasing were things meant to be done surreptitiously, to avoid the glares and judgmental looks whenever it is something sexual. Obviously, one would get looks if you were to buy condoms that had XXL labelled on the packaging, either in an aroused state or not.
Stiles ended up picking it with Derek's silent, tacit reply.
~RETURN~
The plane landed on the runway, with flight attendants announcing the passengers' manifest arrival. She sat down, with her face clearly turned to the window, not really caring about the flight attendant's little rant about how she looked forward for their future flights. As if.
The lights turned on, and she clutched onto her bag, waiting for the other impatient passengers to leave the restrictions of their seats to claim their baggage. The background music did little to mollify their emotions, with their desire to gain adventure and meet their loved ones extremely strong, that it was almost primordial. The passengers lined up, awaiting the latching door to open. Babies were crying and children were talking incessantly filled the conversations, and she still couldn't care less about the entire trip filled with wailing kids. Baggage, coming out of in various shapes and sizes and colours were fished out of their places, with passengers relieved of having their possessions close to them, even though they were merely few inches away from each other. The distrust was evident on their faces.
The door finally opened, and the long line started moving, with some now moving from their seats, waiting for at least some movement or the crowd to leave before them taking their departure without the claustrophobic space. Some cut in line to move along with them, constricting and slowing down other people's progress.
The crowd finally disappears, and she finally stood up, with her bag now claimed and leaving the aircraft, with words from the stewardess, like thank you's being passed through her hearing. She didn't nod at them, and kept passing by, not really caring if they felt offended of the blatant rudeness. She walked, got her travel documents verified and went out of the airport, with her intention of catching a cab back home being her main importance. She was glad she didn't that the lack of baggage she was carrying made her mission only easier.
She finally got outside, with her eyes now scanning the area, finding somewhere that at least resembled a taxi stand. She was so looking forward to go home and amend things that her scanning only become more desultory. She found her mark, and her footfalls became more resolute. She found the cab driver leaning onto his vehicle, with his old, rugged face desperate for some cash. She pitied him, for the part where cab drivers can only gain so much by luck. They have family and no one really wants to be a cab driver, not by will, that's for sure. She walked to him, his face brightening at her appearance, almost ebullient that a customer had landed on his graces. With a smile, she requested him to send her to Manhattan Street, which the driver seemed unfazed by the distance. He entered the yellow vehicle, with his finger eager to turn on the sign that was placed dead centre on the hood of the car. She entered with her baggage next to her. The vehicle drove off, with careful being the driver's main quality in his driving. She smiled in endearment for the man's eagerness. A rare trait people take in their jobs. Endearing.
The congestion in the airport was soon replaced with a road where cars, lorries and motorbikes were in different direction and distance, and the space was relieving, in her thinking.
"So, long way from home?" he asked, with his voice laced with honesty and the Boston accent thick as he spoke. He glanced from his mirror, with his enthusiasm to serve patent in his eyes.
"Yeah. From Washington," she said.
"That's where I'm from! Have a family there, haven't seen them in 4 years. Not a day goes by where I don't miss them," he said, nonchalant with his current problem, "Waiting to save up to see them again,"
"You're not with them?" she asked, perturbed with his stay.
"Got scammed. Got offered a grand job as an accountant and was gonna put my Masters to good use, if it weren't for me being cheated with almost all of my money being swept clean," he explained. She frowned at his situation, "So here I am, driving people around in New York. And saving is hard, with rents skyrocketing and basic need in the way, you know?" she nodded, understanding his fair share of the struggle.
"So, why cab driving?"
"Hmm? Oh, well. I have no money to buy a long line of suits, let alone have someone to get me a place to stay. Took me almost half a year to get a place and rents that's as low as my pay, you know what I mean? And some days, I have no pay at all. Like today," he said. She frowned deeper at his life. As she had thought, they can only get by life with luck and clearly with her need for a transportation, she'd reckoned that's as far as luck can get him by. She didn't reply, letting the silence being a great interlude for the conversation.
They finally arrived at her destination, with the roads being slightly jammed since it was still no later than nine in the evening. She fished out a wad full of cash and handed it to him, leaving almost immediately in case he refused.
"Ma'am, this is way too much," he said, his face shocked with the Jupiter born luck he was going through.
"Take it, go home. See your family back in Washington. You need it more than I do," and left, leaving the man determined to leave his 4 years of cab driving.
She finally arrived at her apartment, and upon unlocking it, she saw the interior, with the items still intact and collecting fresh new dust, with a side of some small pile of bills on the table. She placed her baggage down, dusted off some of the furniture from their dusted disuse and filled the requisite areas of their items, like bathroom with shampoos, and basic toiletries. She showered, relieved that the water and electric company have not vetoed her use of basic necessities and changed into her pyjamas that were placed in her closet long before she had left New York. Seemed only yesterday she remembered packing her clothes for Washington.
She finally slept on her bed, where she regains her strength to solidify her resolution of being in New York. "I'm coming for you, Derek," she whispered before letting her eyelids, drooped airtight shut.
A/N: I know it's not much but I've been a bit exhausted. Scratch that. Really exhausted. And I know that there isn't Scissac involved, but don't worry I have great reservations for their saga.
And I should tell you this is where the drama begins for Sterek.