Dear white people. Wow. Y'all really trying it. I get that being reduced to a race-based generalization is a new and devastating experience for some of you, but here’s the difference. My jokes don’t incarcerate your youth at alarming rates, or make it unsafe for you to walk around your own neighborhoods. But yours do. […] You don’t get to show up in a halloween costume version of us and claim irony or ignorance. Not anymore.
“What do you think, did I get it right?” Stiles asks, turning the pad around to show Derek.
Derek looks away from his orchid. He smiles at what he sees on the paper. Reaching out, he touches Stiles on the arm, saying, “It’s perfect, except for one small thing.” Derek points to a small pencil mark, then to the actual orchid. “The column is attached to the lip, like so, you’ve drawn it so it’s part of the sepals.”
Stiles frowns, pulling the drawing closer, until his nose is barely an inch away. “Huh, I don’t see it.”
“If it helps,” Derek pulls the pad towards him, flipping to a few pages back, “This is how I drew them,” he says, pointing to a couple of misshapen blobs he tried to shape into orchids, but failed terribly. “As you can see, you’re a much better drawer than I am.”
“Point made,” Stiles says with raised brows, “how about you stick to growing them, and I’ll stick to drawing them, deal?”
Derek grins. “Deal.”
(From a fic sitting in my drafts, about botanist!Derek and beekeeper!Stiles falling for each other in Derek’s brownstone where he grows some of the rarest orchids in the world, just for kicks)