After a grueling four days being grounded, Stiles was on the couch, staring at the ceiling pathetically. It had a purpose, of course - he was making his father pity him into removing the sentence of being grounded. However, even after he started his pity-party, his father hadn't buckled. After witnessing his son slumped in an awkward, 'look at me' position on the furniture, he walked by him and picked his keys off the key rack. "Hey Stiles," He said as he glanced at his son, showing a remarkable lack of emotion towards Stiles' hopeless appearance. "I'm going to the grocery, I'll see you in an hour. Could you clean up while I'm gone? It's been a few days since I saw the counter surface." He opened the door, and Stiles didn't respond. After a prolonged, intentional silence, John glanced around the door. "Stiles."
"Yeah, I'll do that. Hey...hey, wait," Stiles sat up quickly, looking at John. A brilliant idea had rolled into his brain. "Can I go? Can I go to the grocery? It's not having any fun, right? Give me a list and time me, I can totally get it all and bring it back. Dad, please, I'm going stir-crazy."
"If you really want to," His dad said after a moment, stepping inside again and closing the door. "But I'm timing you. If you disappear for three hours I will know. It takes me what, forty five minutes to get the groceries? You've got thirty."
"Thirty! What? Am I running through the store and shoving random things into the cart? Give me a list and forty minutes," He bartered, and his father's lips formed a strict line as he rubbed his chin in thought.
"Okay. Forty and a list. Here's my list and money." He pulled out eighty dollars in twenty bills from his wallet, and then tacked on a post-it note he had written the list on. Stiles leaped eagerly off the couch, giving the post-it a once over glance before shoving it into his jeans. He grinned as he patted his dad on the shoulder, grabbing his keys from the key rack and practically jogging out the door.
"Bye dad, I'll be back in forty, time me from the sound of my engine. If I'm one minute over, I can clean the counters too."
"Deal. Drive safely." His dad said, watching over his shoulder as Stiles slammed the door behind him.
Stiles strutted contently out to his car, smiling like a goon as he opened the door and slid into the driver's seat. A pleased sigh escaped his lips as he rubbed the leather of the wheel, bending to whisper, "Daddy's here, lovely. I'm here to drive you all the way to the grocery store, and I'm going to park you so straight that people will have to try hard to ding you. Yeah, let's go." He inserted the key into the ignition, pulling out so fast that he almost gave himself whiplash. He was almost speeding the way he whipped around corners and had to slam the brakes at stop lights. When he arrived at his destination, he locked up his car and power walked into the store, speeding past the aisles without looking up from his list. The money was still tucked away in his pocket.
"Eggs, milk...crackers? What type of crackers, there's like fifty types of crackers." He muttered under his breath, leaning down to pick up a basket as he wandered through the aisles. Reaching the cereals, he grazed for awhile as he read the back of the boxes. It completely startled him to hear a high pitched grunt from behind him, and he looked over to see a lonely cart with a baby seat in it facing him.
"You've got to be kidding me," He muttered under his breath, walking over to the cart to peek inside. There was Luna. "Your father has this way of leaving you, doesn't he. Look, I know you won't understand because you're still a baby, but I can't do this. I have to call it off. I'm grounded, Luna, there's no way around it. It's not you, it's me."
She looked at him with her wide green eyes, peering at him with her little hands clenched.
"See, my dad doesn't like me hanging out around your family. It's not you- it's all me. Me and my overprotective dad. So this is how it's going to go - we might see each other in open public places like this, but I'm just going to go back to being a stranger to you. I might give you a small wave, though."
At that, Luna's little arms started going up to signal she wanted Stiles to lift her, a small frown forming at the corner of her lips.
"No no- you're getting this all wrong. Look, I have to go. I'm being timed." He turned, and heard the grunt again. It pained him to ignore it, and he kept walking down the aisle, grabbing a box of Lucky Charms. He was about to leave when he saw Derek walking towards him from around the corner. Trying to act casual like he hadn't recognized him, he sped up his walking and coasted right by the other even though Derek tried getting his attention by saying his name. Stiles turned the corner, grabbing a random box of crackers and then a box of oatmeal.
"Stiles," Derek insisted as he pushed a cart dangerously close to Stiles' heel, and Stiles turned around to look at the cart again.
"Dude, you know how much it hurts to have a cart run into your heel? Watch it." He turned again, this time a little heatedly with irritation.
Derek rammed the cart right into Stiles' heel. Stiles stumbled, grabbing onto the shelf as he made a face, limping in pain.
"You fucker!" He exclaimed, reaching down to grip his heel. Derek glared at him like he hadn't done anything wrong. "Why? Why would you do this to my heel? I just- do you not use your ears? Are you deaf?"
"Do you not use your ears or eyes? I've sent you like eight texts and called you twice. The second time you forwarded me to voicemail." Derek's gaze was piercing, so Stiles rolled his eyes and looked off towards the cereal. A woman was pushing a cart down the aisle, looking at boxes. When Stiles didn't respond, Derek snapped his thumb and finger and said, "Hey, listen. It's fine with me if you don't want anything to do with me, but she doesn't get this whole abandonment thing. So here's what's going to happen. You're babysitting her tomorrow. I'll drop her off at ten."
Stiles' mouth gaped open in disbelief. Was his Saturday being invaded by a baby? He opened his mouth wider to protest, but Derek cut him off.
"I don't care what your dad says, tell him she has no one else. And she's teething, so you better put all cords off the floor tonight. Got it? Good." He reached into his cart and threw a few plastic baby-proofing outlet plugs into Stiles' basket. "Baby proof it too. Bye."
"Derek!" Stiles insisted, but the other ignored him and kept pushing the cart. He disappeared around the corner. Stiles stared at the baby-proofing outlet plugs now at home in his basket, and he gave it a judgmental look, then glared up towards where Derek had been. The woman gave him a brief sideways glance, which he put his hand on his hip and held out his basket. "What, you never saw a guy have a fight with another guy in the middle of the aisle? Keep walking lady. Quit rubbernecking." She hurried past him as he mumbled curses under his breath, hurrying to grab the rest of the things on the list as his heel throbbed in agony. He waited for awhile to check out, and ran full throttle to his car. Panting, he drove home and grabbed the plastic bags out of his vehicle, storming into the house with determination. His father was waiting on the couch.
"Stiles, you're two minutes late. You're on dish and counter cleaning duty." His dad commented, motioning to his watch. "Sorry, bud."
"Damnit!" Stiles yelled as he set the bags down on the table. "I just- I barely made it! Son of a bitch."
"Hey. You said a minute late. You're two minutes. Now get on it." He got up to help put away the groceries, leaving Stiles to fume about his interaction with Derek. After slamming a few dishes into the dishwasher, his father glanced over his shoulder at the other with minor concern. "Stiles, something wrong? You okay?"
"Yeah. Just-dad, okay, look. Derek's got somewhere to be, he told me I'm the only babysitter he trusts with Luna. She's going to be here at ten. I told him no, but he was gone before I could say it. Don't be angry with me. You call him and tell the bastard no."
John shook his head as he put the bananas on their stand. "You tell him no when he tries dropping her off tomorrow. I'll talk to him. I'll tell him you have an appointment to the dentist. It's a Saturday after all." He glanced at Stiles, noting the slight disappointment in his features. "Did you want to babysit?"
"No," Stiles muttered, throwing a handful of forks into the silverware tray. "No."