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Derek held his head between his hands as Stiles paced back and forth in front of him. Glancing up, he spotted another wall covered in flowers. At the rate this conversation was going, they wouldn’t have to hire a florist for the wedding. They could just get married in the living room. He took a deep breath to again attempt at calming down his mate when Stiles stopped in the middle of the room and threw his hands in the air, more flowers flying everywhere. Thankfully, he spewed flowers and not sparks; they didn't need another accidental house fire like after the cake debacle of the previous week.
“That’s it! The wedding is off!” he declared.
Derek sighed. He’d now heard the same declaration at least ten times since they’d decided to get married. Planning the celebration grew more difficult with each decision that needed making. Every time Derek talked Stiles back from the ledge, but he was afraid that if he tried this time, he might laugh over the ridiculousness of the situation. Instead, he sat back on the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Stiles to come back to his senses.
“See! You agree! The wedding is off!”
Before Derek knew what was happening, Stiles disappeared out of the living room, and he heard the back door slamming shut. Jumping to his feet, he spotted Stiles through the window heading down a trail into the woods, gesturing wildly and snow shooting out of his fingers this time, freezing the branches as he went.
“At least he’ll be easy to trail,” Derek muttered. He pulled out his phone and sent off a text to Scott to check with Deaton about Stiles’ magic instability. They’d initially thought it was a side effect of a run-in with some toxic mushrooms, but it had been progressively getting worse.
Following the path of frozen trees and plants, he found Stiles standing in the middle of a clearing wholly coated with ice. He was glaring down at his feet, and as Derek followed his gaze, he bit back a laugh at Stiles’ shoelaces frozen into the ice. As he watched, Stiles tried to yank his feet up, only to be knocked off them and onto his butt. The laces ripped in the center, and Stiles shouted out a bunch of curses as black powder flew from his fingers, twisting and shaping in the air until it fell in a circle around Stiles.
Derek felt the power even before he ran into the invisible wall around Stiles. “You’re shooting out Mountain Ash now?” he asked, frowning down at his feet as he tried and failed to nudge it out of the way with his boot.
“Wish I knew how I did it,” Stiles muttered, getting to his feet. “Hell, the ice thing was pretty cool, too.”
“You could create ice sculptures for the wedding if you learn to control it,” Derek suggested as Stiles slipped on the ice as he struggled to get to his feet. Derek itched to help him but couldn’t cross the line until Stiles broke it.
“The wedding’s off, remember,” Stiles said, frowning but looking up at Derek through his lashes. Despite the scents of cold, anger, and ash filling the air, he could smell the crisp apple of hope coming from Stiles.
“You can’t cancel the wedding just because I don’t want to drink champagne for the toast,” Derek told him as Stiles finally made it over and broke the line of Mountain Ash. He wiggled his fingers a bit more, and the ash whirled into the air and around the ice, melting it and gathering together until it formed a strangely shaped stick that Stiles sent flying into a tree with a flick of his wrist.
“It’s tradition!” Stiles argued.
“I don’t like the tasted of it,” Derek explained. It’s bitter, and the bubbles tickle my nose.”
“But, tradition!” Stiles insisted, throwing his hands up in the air again, and Derek ducked, but the outpouring was flowers.
“Why are you so concerned about tradition?” Derek leaned over and picked up one of the flowers, a champagne-colored rose, presenting it to Stiles. “When has anything in our relationship ever been traditional?” He smiled as Stiles took the flower and held it to his nose. “The Wolf and the Spark, remember? We made our own fairy tale.”
Stiles grumbled, giving Derek a twisted smile before nodding. He stepped into Derek’s arms, laying his head on Derek’s shoulder with a sigh. Derek pressed a kiss to his temple. “Maybe we can do sparkling cider at our table and champagne for everyone else.”
“Does this mean the wedding’s back on?” Derek asked.
“For now,” Stiles responded, pulling back to grin at Derek. He twirled the rose in his hands. “I like these. What do you think of these with…” He trailed off as he wiggled his fingers, more flowers appearing, and he bunched them together.
“No. Absolutely not,” he responded, reaching out to pluck away the orange rose, leaving the champagne and blue ones. “This is alright.” He tossed the orange rose away, and Stiles huffed. His eyes began flashing and sparks igniting the flowers.
A moment later, Stiles stormed off towards the house, muttering and shouting that the wedding was off. Sighing, Derek hurried to follow, hoping the fire extinguisher was still full and thinking, “Here we go again.”