Chapter Text
It's the smell of cinnamon and the most awful rendition of Rudolph the red-nosed reindeer he's ever heard that gets his attention. When Scott goes downstairs he’s kind of awestruck because there's Derek Hale.
Derek "future president of Alpha Beta Sig" Hale.
Derek "my eyebrows are a gift" Hale.
Derek "I can kill you with a look" Hale.
Derek Hale: The star of Scott's daily and nightly fantasies.
He's standing, in their frat house kitchen, in a damn Christmas apron sprinkling sugar on top of a cupcake.
Scott can't help the breathy whimper that escapes. He's going to combust.
The look on Derek's face when he looks up must match Scott's: Wide-eyed shock.
"This is a private moment." Is the first thing Derek says.
"I'm not going to say anything." Scott reassures quickly followed by the next thing that comes to his mind, "you...bake?"
It's clearly the wrong thing to say because Derek's face immediately hardens, “I bake. Problem?"
"Nope. No. No problem. I'll just...um...bye." Scott stammers and literally runs up the stairs and hopes the world swallows him whole.
It's not long before he hears Derek coming up the stairs. He opens the door just as Derek reaches it.
"I'm sorry." They say at the same time.
"For what?" Again.
"I just-" and again.
"I didn't mean to be judgmental earlier. At all. I was just... surprised. Sorry." Scott says.
"I know. I know you and I know you're not like that. So... here." Derek goes next and thrusts a plate with a cupcake on it towards Scott.
"So how come you're not home yet?" Scott's too busy melting at the sheer deliciousness of the cupcake to answer right away, "enjoying it?"
"So. Good." He takes another moment to bask before he swallows properly, "and I'm going home Wednesday. Cheaper flight. What about you?"
"My family's in Barcelona. I'm meeting them Friday."
"Spain. Very cool."
"Yeah. So, I guess that means we're stuck together for the next two days."
Scott would gladly get stuck with Derek forever if possible.
Derek has this quiet, dry sense of humor that catches Scott off guard every time. He's also this secret nerd that can spend an hour explaining the etymology of the word sandwich.
"And now a few sprinkles of cinnamon sugar on top." Derek instructs. When Scott practically pours the sugar on top of the frosted cupcake Derek's eyes widen and he grabs Scott's wrist, "a sprinkle Scott! A sprinkle!"
"That was a sprinkle." He defends.
Derek rolls his eyes at him and the expression is almost fond, "That was not a sprinkle. It was an avalanche."
"My mom has the biggest sweet tooth. She's going to love it." Scott continues to defend.
"If she has any teeth left."
"Sh." Scott shushes. Derek's huff of laughter makes Scott smile, "where'd you learn to bake anyway?"
"My Dad. My mom can't cook for shit."
"Neither can mine." Scott snorts, " my grams though... her food is like heaven."
"Yeah?"
"She makes the most amazing strawberry cheesecake you've ever had."
"I'll have to try it sometime."
"She's coming to my house for Christmas... I may just save you a slice. May." Scott says and points a frosted spatula at him.
"You do and I'll make it worth your while."
And Scott is sure...definite that Derek doesn't mean for that to come out as suggestive as it does. And yet...
(Scott is going to need the coldest shower in history tonight).
Wednesday comes too soon for Scott and while he's thrilled (ecstatic, freakishly happy) to see his mom and Alan and his grandmother and cousins there's a part of him that wishes he didn’t have to leave Derek.
He knocks on the other man's door early and almost falls over when the door opens. It's a good thing there's something to lean on because he's ill-prepared for Derek Hale in reading glasses, soft black sweats and a thumbhole fucking sweater.
"Hey." Scott exhales.
"Hi. Heading off already?" Derek asks. His voice is always so deceptively soft, "Need a ride?"
Fuck. "I uh—already called an Uber."
"Right."
"I just—I wanted to wish you a Merry Christmas and um...it's been really nice hanging out with you."
"Yeah it's been nice hanging out with you too." Derek smiles softly at him.
"Anyway um... Merry Christmas Derek. Enjoy Barcelona. And thanks for helping me with the cupcakes." Scott smiles just as softly and turns away.
"Scott wait."
"Ye--" Before Scott can get more out there are lips meeting his: soft, firm, a little scratchy. Derek has moved away before Scott properly react.
"Derek...what?" Scott's still too dazed to really form sentences.
"Mistletoe." Is Derek's response as he looks up and there it is: a bundle of mistletoe hanging from his door.
"That's...the reason you kissed me? Because of the mistletoe?" Scott asks skeptically.
"Best excuse I could come up with." Derek gives him a half smile.
"You don't need an excuse to kiss me."
"Don't I?"
"No." Scott says and this time he's the one to capture Derek's lips.
The second kiss is still soft, more assured though. Firmer. Intentional. Still itchy.
When they separate they're both out of breath, "You have...the worst timing."
Scott feels the heat of Derek's huff of laughter, "Apparently. Merry Christmas, Scott."
"Merry damn Christmas."