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Derek hurried into the station, adjusting the top button of his uniform. He hadn’t intended to be late, but Stiles had convinced him to share one more kiss. One more kiss had turned into a lot of ‘one mores’ until Derek was running late enough for work that he had to skip out on breakfast in order to have time to run back to his place to change.
After three years of dating, he should really learn to keep a uniform at Stiles’ but what he really wanted was to just move in together, he’d just been too chicken to propose the idea. His stomach growled as he made his escape. Stiles laughed and promised to pick up and drop off breakfast for him as they’d both left his apartment at the same time.
Skidding to a stop when he heard shouting coming from the holding cells, Derek immediately changed into deputy mode. He noticed the rest of the deputies still sitting at their desks and shooting him looks. He didn’t have time to wonder at their strange behavior when he identified the voice that had begun singing “Henry the Eighth” at the top of their lungs.
“Stiles,” he muttered and heard Deputy Parrish snickering as he passed. He couldn’t even imagine what Stiles could’ve done in the half-hour since they’d parted ways. When he came around the corner, he saw the Sheriff sitting on one of the benches in the hallway, his head in his hands. “Sir?” he asked and then heard laughter roaring in the bullpen as Stiles’ singing cut off with a yelp.
“One thing,” Sheriff John Stilinski, Stiles’ father, said. He looked up at Derek with tired eyes. It was a look he’d seen on his face when dealing with his son, but it had never been directed at Derek before and he swallowed hard at the lump forming in his throat. “When you and my son came home and told me you were dating, I only asked one thing of the two of you. Do you remember what that was?”
Derek did. He remembered the exact tone of voice John had used when he’d nearly pleaded with them to keep their relationship out of the station. “Yes’sir, but I don’t understand-” John waved a hand, cutting him off and pointing to the pastry box sitting on the bench across from him.
Curious, Derek took a step towards the box which brought him into the open doorway of the room containing the holding cells. He could see Stiles standing with his arms hanging out between two bars and a strange mix of an apologetic and mischievous smirk on his face. Fear of finding out what was in the box that had landed Stiles in the cell made him hesitate. He looked back at the Sheriff who was looking down at his feet.
Movement caught his eye and he looked up to find Parrish and Graeme standing at the corner, peeking around at him, large grins on their faces. As he watched, a couple more deputies joined them and Derek hurriedly tried to come up with a reason not to open the box. He heard Stiles laughing and John snapped at his son to shut up. When Derek looked at him in shock, he saw the corners of the older man’s lips curling slightly at the corner.
Taking a deep breath, Derek reached out to flip open the box and took a step back, afraid something would jump out at him. When nothing did, he leaned over to look inside the box. His eyes widened as he took in the baker’s dozen of pink and brown frosted donuts inside the box. They were clearly from the bakery they always got donuts from and Derek’s favorite flavors, but that wasn’t what had horrified the Sheriff and amused the deputies.
Instead of the typical round donuts, these were shaped into letters spelling out “Best Dick Ever” with the extra donut shaped like a star in the upper corner. Derek slapped a hand over his face, knowing he couldn’t hide the burning tips of his ears as he tried to calculate the best route for escape.
“Well?” Stiles shouted and Derek looked over his shoulder to see him chewing his lip and tapping his fingers along the bars.
Derek raised one brow and gaped at his boyfriend. The humiliation he felt when he saw the donuts was hard to even quantify. “Well, what?”
“What do you say?” Stiles asked, beginning to look less nervous and more exasperated.
“What am I supposed to say?” Derek asked, his anger growing as the deputies failed at holding back their laughter. He even heard a snort from John.
“Well, I was hoping you’d say ‘yes’!” Stiles shouted, pushing off from the bars and beginning to pace, muttering to himself. He gestured wildy. Derek stepped closer to the cell, drawn to him out of curiosity despite his still growing confusion and anger.
“What was the question?” Derek asked.
“The donuts were the question!”
“They weren’t a question….they were...a….a….” Derek struggled to come up with words, not an unusual occurrence but the difficulty frustrated him in this case.
“A declaration!” Parrish shouted.
“A statement of fact,” Tara said, giggling in a way she didn’t normally and Derek felt his skin heating up again.
“What? No! There are thirteen donuts!”
“Yes, there are,” Derek said, nodding. “Still not a question.”
Stiles tilted his head side to side for a moment. “Well, I guess it is more of a statement, but normally it’s a statement that gets a yes or no answer.”
Derek opened and closed his mouth a couple of times. “I don’t like to brag.”
“What?” Stiles asked. “What does that have to do with the donuts?”
John stepped into the room, looking confused and still a bit frustrated. “Son, what do you think the donuts say?”
“What do you mean, what do I think they say?” Stiles asked. “They say ‘Marry me, Derek’ with a star with a ring in it.”
“What?” Derek asked, his jaw dropped as he hurried back to the box. The donuts still didn’t say what Stiles had stated, but when he picked up the star-shaped donut, he saw there was a simple silver band with a line of blue through the middle.
He jumped when he felt someone up against his back. Turning he found Stiles staring over his shoulder, a scowl on his face. “Dammit, Erica,” he muttered, reaching for his phone.
Derek stopped him with a hand on his wrist, pulling him into a kiss. “Yes,” he said against his lips.
“Yes?” Stiles asked, pulling back to look at Derek, a smile breaking across his face.
“Yes, I’ll marry you,” Derek repeated, his smile rivaling Stiles’. “After we kill Erica.”
“Deal,” Stiles said, laughing and pulling Derek into another kiss. They broke apart when they heard Parrish shout, “Sheriff, step away from Deputy Derek’s donuts!”