“Is there anything I can help you with, sir?” Stiles asked sweetly, following a bumbling kid over to what he assumed was her father. The man looked up at him, dropping his gaze to where Lily had a death grip on Stiles’ shirt. It was obvious he was over here not of his own free will.
“I take it she’s upset with what I’m buying her?” He chuckled, bending down to scoop up his little girl and smooth her hair down.
“Why wouldn’t she? You seem to be good enough at dressing yourself.”
Peter gave the worker another once-over before setting Malia in the basket. “I’m thinking she doesn’t like pink,” Peter chuckled, sighing and bending down to pick up the clothes his daughter tossed from the basket.
The worker made some stifled pained noise, and Peter gave him a look once he stood back up. “You okay?”
“I don’t blame her for not liking those clothes.”
“Why?” Peter scoffed, looking at the butterfly and princess adorned clothing, then back at Malia, who was glaring at him, and Stiles, who was smiling in a pitying manner.
“You obviously have a young warrior on your hands. Skirts and frilly shirts will do her no good,” The worker, Stiles, Peter finally took note of, turned and pulled the basket towards the summer clothing area. Peter could do nothing but follow, baffled at the audacity of this man.
He couldn’t mull it over for long as Stiles held up a pair of jean shorts to Malia, who squealed and made grabby hands at the clothing. He shot a grin at Peter, who rolled his eyes and joined them. “Why didn’t you just tell me you wanted shorts, little one?”
“Cos you said he’s cute! Gotta help!” She smiled sweetly, leaning over the basket to grab another pair of pink shorts, squealing once more.
Peter knew his cheeks and the tips of his ears were pink when Stiles smirked at him, grabbing the clothing for her and laughing as she showed them off to her dad.
“Can we get these? Pretty pretty please?”
“It’s summer clothing time, honey. We’re getting you ten outfits today. Can I trust you out of the basket this time?”
“Yeah! I will find stuff while you make happy faces at him!” She said proudly, patting Peter’s cheek before going over to the shirts a rack over. Peter rubbed his hands over his face, trying to school himself as Stiles laughed quietly.
“She’s a good wingman,” He snickered, walking around the basket to pick up a shirt Malia had tossed out.
“And a handful,” Peter smiled weakly, taking the shorts from Stiles and setting them in the basket. He turned around and saw him walking back to the display with the clothes Malia didn’t like and sighed quietly. She came back loaded with clothes, and Peter helped her find her sizes and get matching bottoms. Stiles still hadn’t come back, so he assumed he’d been effectively scared off.
“Where’s the pretty man?” Malia asked, spinning around in the cart before sitting down at a stern look from Peter.
“I don’t think he liked me,” Peter smiled weakly, ruffling his daughter’s hair as they headed towards the checkout.
“But you made him laugh!” She argued, crossing her arms over her chest.
“He may not like boys, honey. Not everyone is like dad.”
“But why?” She pouted. “Everyone should like you! You’re nice and buy me pretty stuff and make people happy!”
“It’s not that simple,” Peter chuckled, setting the clothing on the conveyor belt, smiling as Malia leaned over the edge to put the shoes she found on as well.
Peter was about to pay when Malia squeaked, standing up from the sea of bags surrounding her, waving her arms erratically. “Pretty man! Mr. Pretty Man!”
Several heads turned, including Peter’s, to see Stiles approaching them, his cheeks now tinted an adorably pale shade of pink. He handed Peter a shirt Malia had said she wanted but didn’t have her size, smiling weakly. “I went to the back to grab this and then you were gone.”
“I told you Pretty Man liked you, dad!” Malia grinned, taking the shirt from Stiles and offering it to the woman checking them out, who was snickering quietly.
Peter cleared his throat a bit nervously, offering Stiles a similar smile in return. “Thanks, it was her favorite shirt she found.”
“No problem. Anything else?”
“Give him your number before I give it to him for you, Stilinski,” The checkout girl was rolling her eyes as she set the bagged shirt on the counter.
So Peter smiled a bit wider this time, handing Stiles his unlocked phone as he paid for the clothing.
