Work Text:
If anyone had asked Stiles at sixteen years old what dating Derek Hale would be like, he would’ve responded with lots of silence interspersed with arguments and then angry make-up sex. Although he’d never given it a lot of thought then because he would never have imagined that dating Derek was something that would happen to him, no matter how much he wanted it to happen, the more he got to know Derek.
The thing was that the more he got to know Derek, the more his opinion of what dating him would be like and his desire to date him grew. He never actually thought it would happen, but he began to imagine long nights curled up on the couch in the loft watching movies and cooking together. Finding out that Derek loved to cook and was really good at it was one of the most pleasant surprises Stiles had had in years.
Although the thoughts of dating Derek became almost pleasant, they were still unattainable in Stiles’ mind. They were also decidedly not romantic. Derek’s practicality was too strong of a personality trait for him to be a hopeless romantic. Even when he’d dated Jennifer or Julia or whatever her name was and then Braeden, the romance didn’t seem very high in the relationships.
So, imagine Stiles’ surprise when a knock on his front door awakened him. Stumbling to it and pulling it open, he found a bouquet of wildflowers in the hall outside the door. Squatting down, he scooped them up and sniffed at them carefully, worried it might be some kind of trick. There was no card, so he immediately sent a text to Derek with a photo of the flowers to see if there could be some kind of poison in the blooms.
No, you idiot .
After Derek’s response, Stiles put the flowers in a water pitcher and made a note to buy himself an actual vase while he was out that day. Even if he never got flowers again, these at least deserved a proper display. He ran his fingers over the blooms as he passed them to exit his apartment and head off to work.
Arriving at work, he stopped when he found a flower lying on his desktop, a single blue flower that matched the ones in the bouquet at his apartment. “Greenberg, did you see who dropped this off?” he asked the front desk clerk.
“What?” they called back.
“This flower. On my desk. In the middle of the bullpen at the county sheriff’s department. Did you see who dropped it off?”
“No.”
Stiles sighed; sometimes, he wondered exactly how practical having Greenberg staffing the front desk actually was. His concern over who was leaving the flowers began to grow. He stepped into his father’s office, still holding the flower.
“Aw, son, it’s not my birthday,” his father said, a smirk on his face as he gestured to the flower.
“Someone left it on my desk,” Stiles responded. “There was a bouquet outside my apartment this morning as well.”
“Just ask Greenberg. They probably saw who dropped it off.” His father’s attention was already turned back to his computer, so Stiles just shook his head and let himself out.
He debated throwing the flower away but decided to keep it for evidence. Going into the breakroom, he found an empty glass soda bottle. He filled it with water, carried it back out to his desk to put the flower into, and then settled into his workday. Surprisingly, a cybercrimes officer’s life was a busy one even in the small community of Beacon Hills.
Before he got too involved, he sent another photo to Derek with a message: Not sure where these are coming from. Don’t know if I should be worried or not.
There was no response in a timely manner which was unusual for Derek, so he sent off another one with their check-in code, breathing out a sigh of relief when Derek responded appropriately. He turned his attention to his computer, assuming the text about the flower just hadn’t gone through despite the “delivered” that had appeared underneath it.
“Son, it’s time to go home,” his dad said several hours later while Stiles was in the middle of trying to trace a suspicious email that was making its rounds at the senior citizens’ home in town.
Blinking at the clock in the corner of his computer, he was surprised to see that it was after seven. Leaning back, he stretched his arms over his head and let out a groan. His eyes fell on the flower, and he frowned as he tried to figure out where it had come from. Pushing away from his desk, he gathered his things together and headed out to the parking lot with his father, who was waiting to be sure that Stiles actually left for the night. He had a history of working all night until he fell asleep at his desk.
They said their goodbyes when they reached his father’s cruiser, and Stiles continued onto his Jeep, freezing as he went to unlock the door. Underneath one of the windshield wipers was another blue flower, this one with a card attached to it.
Flipping the card over, he smirked at the message scrawled on one side. I am nothing to worry about. I just want you to know you’re appreciated.
He snapped a photo of the flower and the card and sent it off to Derek with a message saying that now he was even more worried. Derek responded with a string of question marks, so Stiles called him as he backed out of the parking lot.
“Why are you more worried? They left a card this time,” Derek asked. “Wasn’t that your big concern?”
“Sure, but now it feels like they’re watching me, you know?” Stiles said. His eyes on his rearview mirror, fear lancing through him. He debated heading to his dad’s so he wouldn’t have to be alone, but at the same time, he didn’t want to worry his dad if he was just overly cautious about a super shy admirer.
Derek made a humming sound. “I can see where that would be a bit worrying,” he admitted, his voice sounding strange. “Would you feel better if you knew who that person was?”
Stiles thought about the question. “I would. That way, if it was someone that made me uncomfortable, I could just tell them to stop.”
“What if they didn’t make you uncomfortable?” Derek asked. “What if it was someone you might be interested in?”
The only person Stiles had been interested in recently was the one on the other end of the phone, and the idea of Derek leaving Stiles flowers was almost as unbelievable as the idea of...werewolves. Stiles’ brain stuttered to a halt as his hands turned the Jeep in the direction of the loft.
“Stiles?” Derek’s voice asked through the phone. “Are you alright?”
“Yeah, yeah. I have an idea. I’m gonna go,” Stiles said, hanging up on Derek’s voice.
The only person he’d told about wanting a card was Derek, and it had been through text so that no one could have overheard him. Derek had been quick to assure him the bouquet that morning was safe, too quickly for him to identify all of the flowers in the photo unless he had previous knowledge.
He skidded to a stop in the parking lot in front of Derek’s building, hurrying up the stairs. He found the door standing open, Derek blocking his way into the loft. Studying Derek’s face, Stiles ducked to the left and then the right and managed to get past Derek into the loft. He froze when he spotted several vases full of flowers sitting on the table in front of the couch.
“It was you,” Stiles said, moving to pluck one of the flowers out and running his fingers over the petals. “Why?” The only response was silence, and when Stiles glanced up, he found Derek still in the doorway facing away from, head dropped between his shoulders. “Derek?”
He moved and laid a hand on Derek’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “Derek? Why?”
“My mom always said flowers say what words cannot,” Derek whispered. “I...I didn’t know how to…”
Stiles ducked under Derek’s arm again to stand in front of him, reaching out to cup his cheeks and force him to look him in the eye. “How to?”
Derek swallowed and closed his eyes, the glimmer of blue under his lashes breaking Stiles’ heart. He could feel the struggle in the air around them, choking him. “Derek, would you like to have dinner with me?”
His eyes opened, the blue fading quickly. “Like...like a date?”
Stiles’ grin was relieved as he nodded. “Exactly like a date,” he responded. “I just need to go home and get changed.” He gestured to his uniform, and Derek nodded his head, shaking loose Stiles’ other hand.
“I’ll pick you up in an hour?” Derek said, stepping back into his loft.
“I thought I asked you out,” Stiles teased.
“Only because I couldn’t form the words,” Derek said, and Stiles nodded before turning to head back down the stairs.
“I’ll see you in an hour. Don’t be late!” Stiles shouted, the door to the loft already slamming shut behind him.
An hour later on the nose, Stiles opened the door to his apartment to find Derek standing there in a soft maroon henley and black jeans. In his hands was the most oversized bouquet Stiles had ever seen. “I hope you like flowers,” Derek said, handing them over.
Stiles stepped back into his apartment and glanced at the water pitcher already full of blooms. “I’m gonna need a bigger vase,” he said, smiling at Derek.
If anyone had asked Stiles as sixteen what dating Derek Hale would be like, he would never have imagined that it would be so full of flowers. As he turned to take Derek’s hand and leave the apartment, he knew he wouldn’t want it any other way.