Sterek One Shots (boyxboy)

Fingers

Fingers by rainsoakedshoes
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Stiles smudged the line of charcoal with the edge of his thumb. The charcoal stick he had been using was worn down to a nub, and he reached out to grab another one from the container beside him.

"Fuck," Stiles swore under his breath when his hand found nothing but hard plastic. He had used the last of his charcoal.

Outside the wind howled and rain pelted the windows. Stiles frowned. The upside to the storm of the decade - as the media had dubbed it - was that Stiles had an excuse to stay in his apartment and draw. The downside was that he was running out of materials and if he wanted to replenish his stores he would have to leave the apartment.

Stiles tapped his fingers against the edge of his sketchpad and considered his options.

In the end Stiles found himself shrugging on his jacket and preparing to face the storm. The art supply store that he frequented was only a block away. Stiles reasoned that he wouldn't get too wet.

He was wrong.

It was too windy to use an umbrella and within moments of stepping outside Stiles' hair was plastered to his head. He thanked every deity that he could think of that he had bought a waterproof jacket.

Stiles was shivering and soaked by the time he reached Legends.

Legends stocked a large selection of art supplies that were great quality, and most importantly for Stiles Laura Hale - the owner - charged fair prices for the supplies; prices that Stiles could afford. Legends was one of Stiles' favourite places in the city.

The store was beautifully warm and Stiles audibly sighed at the change in atmosphere. There was no one behind the counter, Stiles assumed that Laura was in the back. She was in the store every day as far as Stiles knew; she was always there whenever he came in.

Stiles headed straight over to where the charcoal was kept. He could probably navigate the store blindfolded.

"Do you need help finding anything?" A man asked.

Stiles jumped and almost dropped the charcoal he was holding. He turned around to see a man he didn't recognise standing behind the counter.

"Ah, no," Stiles said. "I just came in for some more compressed charcoal." He held up the package so the man could see.

The man nodded and turned his attention back to the piece of paper he was holding. Stiles continued to browse the shelves; he didn't really want to go back out into the storm just yet.

Stiles jumped again when the man yelled suddenly.

"Laura! The modelling clay isn't out here!"

"It is!" Stiles heard Laura call out from the back of the store. "It's in the box under the counter labelled assorted acrylics!"

"Why the..." the man trailed off mumbling to himself about Laura's ridiculous organisation, or lack thereof.

Laura emerged from the back room carrying a stack of sketchpads. "Stiles!" she greeted cheerfully. "I should have known you'd be the only one crazy enough to brave this storm to come in."

"I ran out of charcoal," Stiles explained. "It was either brave the storm or risk cabin fever if I didn't have anything to distract me. I wasn't even sure you'd be open."

"I decided that it would be a good time to organise inventory while it wasn't as busy as usual," Laura said. "This is my brother, Derek, by the way." She nodded to the man who was now digging through the box labelled assorted acrylics pulling out packets of modelling clay. "I talked him into helping me out."