Work Text:
Derek sat on the back porch watching his Pack running around the woods behind the house with baskets in hand. When he’d spoken to his mother earlier in the week, he’d asked for advice for Pack bonding activities. When his mother had suggested an Easter Egg hunt, he’d thought she was pulling his leg. Unfortunately, his beta Boyd had overheard the conversation and approved the idea with a stoic head nod.
Derek hated to admit it, but he’d had a good time filling and hiding the eggs. As he watched his Pack, he felt a surge of pride when he realized that Boyd was using his sense of smell to find the eggs, searching out his Alpha’s scent on each small piece of plastic filled with chocolate goodies or jelly beans.
Isaac was racing around, depending on pure luck to find the eggs, and had succeeded a few times, but he still had the least eggs out of the small pack of three. Derek would feel bad, but he also wore the biggest smile.
Erica was the biggest surprise. She stalked the other two, and just as they were about to reach for an egg, she would charge, usually jumping over them or sometimes knocking them to the ground, and grab the egg before they could get it. Her basket was nearly overflowing, and the last time Erica had passed close to Derek, he’d nicely ordered her to back off a little bit. She’d frowned but gave a slight nod. Derek noticed her nudging Isaac in the direction of eggs without being obvious, surprising him; subtlety was not typically her strong suit.
Derek had been unsure about moving his small Pack away from his family, his original Pack, but now that he was learning what it meant to be an Alpha, he knew it had been the right decision. He still called his mother for advice more often than he probably should, but she’d pointed out that was just growing pains. With such a small Pack, it would always feel like something was missing until it wasn’t.
Derek checked his watch and decided it was time to call an end to the fun and games. They were going to hit the road and head back to Beacon Hills for Easter dinner with his family. It was only an hour's drive, but he knew it would take a while to get the betas cleaned up and ready to hit the road. He opened his mouth to call out to the betas when he heard a commotion around the front of the house.
Jumping to his feet, he raced around the side just as Erica came around the corner. Dirt covered her body, and she had a sheepish look on her face. Isaac, just as filthy, came shortly behind her. The last around the corner was Boyd, clean and shaking his head. Derek stopped walking and studied them. He froze when he saw a red petal caught in Erica’s curls.
“The tulips?” Derek asked. Isaac and Erica dropped their heads, and Boyd nodded once. “Dammit,” he muttered and continued to assess the damage on the other side of the house.
When they’d first found the house, the front yard had been in shambles. While the betas worked on setting up the inside of the house, Derek had spent days working outside. He’d dug flower beds and spent hours at the garden center choosing the right flowers and other foliage to fill the space. The pictures of the tulips displayed above the bulbs had caught his attention, and he’d bought multiple colors to fill the beds he’d built.
When the tulips first appeared, he’d felt a deep sense of pride. He’d taken photos and sent them to his mother and everyone else in his phone book. His Uncle Peter had made fun of him, but framed prints of the pictures had shown up a couple of weeks later from a shop near Peter’s office. As Derek came around the side of the house, his face fell.
Somehow, the betas had managed to destroy the entire flower bed to the left of the stairs. Broken stems, scattered petals, and dirt were thrown around the yard. Tears sprang to his eyes, and Derek turned to see his betas peeking around the corner of the house at him. His anger flared. He could feel words filing his throat, and he clenched his teeth hard enough to hear them grinding together. Turning his back on them, he bit out, “We need to leave in an hour. Be ready,” before taking off into the woods to run off his anger.
The betas spent the next week walking on eggshells around the house. The tension had become unbearable, and Derek had planned a movie night to try and ease things between them for the previous night. When he’d come home, there was an envelope on the kitchen counter. He’d pulled out a card with a drawing of a lollipop on the front and the words “I Suck” printed beneath it. Someone had scratched out the “I” and written “We” next to it.
Derek snorted and opened the card to find a gift certificate for the garden center and three signatures. He heard something hit the floor upstairs. “Apology accepted,” Derek said and heard feet pounding down the steps. He tensed just in time for Erica to jump on his back with a screech, pressing a smacking kiss to his cheek. He could smell the waxiness of her lipstick and reached up to rub the mark off his cheek.
“Alright, off,” Derek said. “You guys go choose a movie, and I’ll make popcorn,” he said. Erica and Isaac hurried, arguing over whose turn it was to choose while Boyd stayed in the kitchen to help with the popcorn.
Derek pulled up to the garden center in Boyd’s pickup truck the next day. He knew it was probably too late to replant tulips, but he thought he might be able to find some annuals to fill the bed until it was time to plant tulip bulbs. Walking inside, Derek headed over to the flats of brightly colored blooms. He followed his nose to the best smelling ones, smiling at a few that smelled like peaches.
As Derek bent over to study the flowers, he heard a sneeze and something shoved into his back, knocking him face-first into the flowers. Pollen filled his nose, and he sneezed three times in a row before getting his bearings and pushing himself back to standing. Turning around, he found a guy staring at the ground. Looking down, Derek spotted a flat of flowers strewn around their feet.
The guy let out a deep sigh and cursed a few times under his breath before looking up at Derek. “Shit. I’m sorry,” he said before sneezing again.
“Bless you,” Derek said. “Need some help?”
“No…no, I’ve got this!”
“McCall!” a voice screamed from across the space. Looking for the source of the voice, Derek saw a man who’d apparently stuck his finger in an electric socket striding towards them.
The guy hurriedly gathered everything together, sneezing the entire time. “Aren’t you supposed to be working with the gardening tools?” the man asked. “Where the hell is Bilinski?” Derek spotted his name tag that stated his name was Coach, but with Derek’s vision, it looked like it had said ‘Cupcake’ at some point.
“I apologize for McCall’s allergies,” Coach said, facing Derek. “Let me get someone else to help you.”
Derek looked between McCall, who looked like he would keep sneezing until his head exploded, and Coach. “You know, I was going to take those flowers.” They were mangled beyond comprehension, but Derek felt sorry for the kid.
“You don’t want-”
“I do,” Derek said, squatting down and starting to gather the flowers.
Coach threw his hands in the air and walked away, shouting, “Bilinski!”
McCall was still sneezing, and Derek could hear a wheeze starting deep in his chest. “I’ll get these cleaned up. You should probably get away from whatever is aggravating your allergies.”
McCall gave him a bright smile. “Thanks, dude.” He scrambled to his feet, brushing off his hands, and turned to hurry away, waving at him.
Derek shook his head as he continued to track his sneezes as he went deeper into the garden center until they either stopped or managed to get out of Derek’s range of hearing. It took Derek a few minutes to get the mess back into the flat. He lifted it carefully, turning to move it over to the cart he’d picked up from the front of the store.
Turning back, he reached for the flowers he’d been studying when again something hit him in the back and knocked him into the flowers. Derek’s patience snapped, and he growled. Sneezing, he pushed himself up, causing the weight on his back to slide off and hit the ground with a thud.
Whirling around, Derek saw another employee sitting on the ground, looking horrified and surrounded by spilled bags of food. Before Derek could yell, the employee opened his mouth. “I’m so sorry! I couldn’t see over the top of the box!” he scrambled to his knees and started gathering the food. “Please don’t tell-”
“Bilinski!” Coach’s voice bellowed.
“Shit. Shit.” He moved faster. “Just my luck. I’m going to lose my job because I couldn’t see where I was going, and I fell for...on...over the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”
Derek gaped just as Coach approached. “Is that our lunch?” Coach’s face turned red, but Derek stepped forward before he could open his mouth to unleash whatever diatribe that simmered beneath the surface.
“This is my fault. I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.” Derek reached into his pocket for his wallet. He counted out several twenty-dollar bills, estimating what the large number of bags surrounding his feet might cost. He held the money out to coach. “Let me pay to replace the food.”
Coach opened and closed his mouth a few times before throwing his hands in the air and walking away. “Bilinski, you can go get lunch. Again.”
Derek turned to hand the money to the employee who stood gaping at him. “Bilinski?” Derek called when the man hadn’t so much as blinked for a full minute.
“Stilinski.”
“What?” Derek asked, confused as he pushed the money towards him again.
“My name is Stilinski. Stiles. Coach hasn’t been able to get it right for as long as I’ve known him,” he muttered.
“Your name is Stiles Stilinski?” Derek asked. There was something familiar about the name, but he couldn’t help wondering what kind of parents he had to play such a cruel joke on him.
He stiffened. “The only name you need to know.”
Derek ducked his head in a nod to acknowledge the sharp comment. “It’s nice to meet you, Stiles Stilinski. Now take the money and go get food.”
“I can’t take your money.”
“Take the money,” Derek insisted.
“No. I mean, I can’t take your money because I can’t get food. My Jeep broke down on my way back from picking up the food. That’s why it took me so long to get back with the food,” Stiles told him, and Derek wondered if he realized just how many times he had said the word ‘food’ in the last thirty seconds.
Derek was sure he would live to regret this, but he could smell nothing except embarrassment and a bit of lust coming off of Stiles, nothing particularly dangerous. “I’ll give you a ride to pick up the food,” he said. Stiles opened his mouth to argue, and Derek held up the hand not holding the money. “On the condition that you help me hide this flat of destroyed flowers so I don’t have to purchase it, and you assist me when we return to find flowers for my yard.”
Stiles studied him with suspicion. “I have to let someone know before I get in a car with you.” Derek raised his eyebrows, impressed by the forethought. “I’ll text my dad.”
“Good idea,” he said, digging in his wallet to pull out his license and handing it over to Stiles, figuring it was the easiest way to relay information.
“My dad’s the sheriff.” That explained the familiarity. “He can do a lot with this,” Stiles told him.
Derek shrugged. “I have nothing to hide.” At least, nothing that the Sheriff could find in a simple background check. Despite certain hunters' best efforts, they hadn’t figured out how to create a legal database of werewolves. It was hard to convince people to keep track of something most didn’t think existed.
Derek waited while Stiles snapped a picture of his license and sent a text off to his dad. It took a minute, but his dad’s response must have been positive because Stiles started moving the destroyed plants into the box that had held the food. “It’s nice of you to do this, especially after me falling all over you.”
“I’m a nice guy-”
“That’s what a psycho murderer would say,” Stiles interrupted.
Derek shook his head with a smirk. “As I was saying, I’m a nice guy, despite what any of my p-friends would say.” Stiles' head snapped up, and his eyes narrowed. “Besides, how can I resist helping you out after you fell for me.”
Stiles’ head jerked up, his face flushing red. “Over! I fell over you!”
“Whatever you say, Stiles,” Derek told him, leading the way to his Camaro and wondering what he was getting himself into by doing this.
Two weeks later, Derek stood in front of the house admiring the new flowers he’d planted. He laughed at the plastic tulips that Erica had stuck into the dirt along with them. Derek had thought about removing them, but she’d been so proud of herself that Derek didn’t want to disappoint her. Bending down, he tugged at a couple of weeds when he heard a familiar sound coming up the drive.
Turning, he smiled when Stiles’ old blue Jeep made its way up the drive. It wasn’t the first time Stiles had been to the house. In fact, since that fateful day at the garden center, Stiles had become a regular fixture in Derek’s life. He heard Erica giggling inside the house, whispering, “Loverboy’s here.”
“Shut up,” Derek growled, laughing when he heard something shatter inside the house, followed by Erica’s cursing.
Stiles climbed out of the car, and Derek heard sneezing from the passenger seat. “Hello, Scott,” Derek said, waving as Scott climbed into the vacated driver’s seat and took off down the driveway. Derek turned his attention to Stiles, who held out a bucket of gaillardia, a good filler flower for the blank spots in the flower beds.
“You brought that just to torture Scott because he needed your Jeep again,” Derek said.
“Yep,” Stiles said, laughing. “That and it’s perfect for the areas around the rhododendrons that the flowers didn’t fill.”
Shaking his head, Derek moved over to the flowerbeds to plant the additions. Stiles knelt beside him to help, bumping his shoulder against Derek’s. “How was work?”
“Boyd found an old Impala and brought it into the garage,” Derek said, and Stiles turned to him with wide eyes. “Yes, it looks like Baby, and yes, we’re going to restore it, and no, you can’t have it when we do. Unless…”
“I am not giving you Roscoe!” Stiles stated. “That is my baby, and you can’t have him.”
“Stiles!” Erica screeched as she came barreling out of the house, Boyd following at a more leisurely pace.
Derek grabbed Stiles and moved him to his other side just as Erica leaped at them. Holding Stiles with one arm, he grabbed Erica with the other before tossing her back towards Boyd, who kept his arms over his chest, letting her land with a thud at his feet. “Oops,” he said when she glared up at him.
Derek turned to check on Stiles, who looked a bit shell-shocked next to him. He opened his mouth to ask if he was alright when Stiles’ hands began moving in a way that concerned Derek. The concern approached panic when he whispered, “One second, I’m there, then I’m here, and she’s there.”
“We’re outta here, boss,” Boyd said, low enough that Stiles probably missed it as he picked Erica up off the ground and whistled towards the house. A few minutes later, Isaac exited, his eyes wide and worried as he followed his packmates to the pickup truck they shared. He heard Boyd say, “Text when it’s safe, or you need us,” as the truck rattled away down the driveway.
“Stiles,” Derek said when the movements of his hands grew more frantic. “Are you alright?” He’d warned Erica that Stiles was only human, but she really liked him and, in her excitement, had clearly forgotten. Now, hopefully, she would understand why Derek had kept trying to remind her.
Stiles shook his head for a second before meeting Derek’s eyes. Curiosity showed through, but he turned on a bright smile and nodded. “Yep, fine! So, what else are we working on today?”
Derek dropped his head. Stiles had been spending more and more time at the house, primarily in the garden. Although he'd enjoyed working alongside Stiles and his nose told him that Stiles was attracted to him, he’d never shown any other indications of liking Derek beyond a gardening buddy. Derek couldn't even be sure if Stiles liked men or realized he was attracted to Derek the way Derek was to him.
It hadn’t started that way. He’d thought Stiles was cute, but nothing special. However, as they’d driven to pick up food for the employees at the garden center, Derek found himself laughing at Stiles’ outrageous and sarcastic sense of humor. As he spent more time with Stiles, he discovered they had a lot in common. It hadn’t been until the day Stiles had shown up with some tulip bulbs that Derek had realized he was pretty close to falling in love with the other man, but now he had no idea how to find out if he felt anywhere near the same way.
Stiles put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently and drawing him out of his internal crisis. “What’s wrong?” he asked, and Derek could smell the worry coming off him in bitter waves. The sudden switch from confusion to concern had Derek’s senses spinning, especially with both emotions aimed at him.
“I didn’t really want to garden today,” Derek said.
“You didn’t? Oh man, did I invite myself over again?” Stiles asked, pulling his phone out and opening up their texts. His eyebrows drew together. “You invited me over.” He held the phone up to show Derek the text.
“I did invite you over,” Derek said, standing and brushing off his knees before holding out a hand to help haul Stiles to his feet. “For dinner. Maybe a movie.”
“Wait. Did I chase away your friends from a movie night?” Stiles asked. “I didn’t mean to-”
He cut off when Derek laid a hand over Stiles’ mouth. “Stiles, I wanted to have dinner and watch a movie with you. ”
Stiles’ lips moved behind his hand, and even with his werewolf hearing, he couldn’t make out the mumbled words, but the raised eyebrows and finger pointed towards himself told him it was something along the lines of, “Wait, me?”
Derek dropped his hand from Stiles’ face. “You don’t have to, of course. I picked up some steaks after work. Potatoes, too. And this weird drill looking thing that the woman at the kitchen store said would slice them into-”
“Curly fries! You bought a spiralizer to make me dinner?” Stiles asked, looking ecstatic. “That’s pretty serious, and I only mentioned it, like, that first day how much I liked curly fries.” Stiles grinned, smelling like fresh apples as he beamed at Derek. “Let’s get cooking!”
Derek laughed and led the way up the stairs and into the house. They slipped their shoes off at the door, and Stiles looked around. He’d been in the house a couple of times, mostly to wash his hands or use the bathroom, so Derek let him wander around while he headed to the kitchen. He washed his hands and started peeling the potatoes, listening to Stiles as he made his way around the lower level of the house.
“You have a ton of movies!” Stiles shouted. “Damn, he must have some serious money,” he said more quietly, but Derek still heard him and frowned, wondering if that bothered Stiles.
“Most of them are Isaac’s,” Derek called out.
“He’s got good taste.” Stiles wandered into the kitchen holding a case in his hand, setting it on the island as he climbed into a stool. “Can we watch this one?”
Derek glanced at the case and smiled. “That one’s mine,” he told him. “I’m a big Tim Curry fan, and you can’t beat Clue ’s hilarity and outrageousness.”
“Tell me about it! My dad showed this to me when I was younger. Did you know when it was released, the movie was split into three different endings?”
Derek nodded. “My mom and dad went to all three showings in one day when they were younger.”
“So did my parents!” Stiles said, slapping the counter and laughing. They shared a smile as Derek continued to work. “Is there anything I can do to help?”
“You can get the salad fixings out of the refrigerator and throw that together if you want, but you’re the guest; you don’t have to do anything.”
Stiles waved his hands at Derek. “If I don’t have something to do with my hands, I tend to get destructive. It’s how I got into gardening in the first place. My mom used to take me into the backyard. She swore that working with my hands calmed my mind.”
“My mom used to say the same thing,” Derek offered as he cleaned the potatoes before adding them to the spiralizer. He could feel the burn in his muscles as he turned, and he wondered how humans did this.
“Once we harvested the vegetables, she taught me to cook,” Stiles said, tearing at the lettuce and adding julienned carrots to the bowl. “It came in handy after she passed away. Otherwise, I think my dad and I would’ve lived off takeout and barbecue.”
Derek’s head jerked up, smelling the hint of sadness coming off of Stiles. “I’m sorry about your mom,” Derek said.
“Thanks. It’s been a long time,” Stiles said. “I still miss her, but I’m grateful for my time with her.”
Derek shook his head, turning on the boiler beneath the pot of oil. He wanted to ask Stiles more about his family. Derek had assumed that Stiles’ mom was no longer in the picture since he’d only mentioned his Sheriff-dad a few times. Derek should have figured out that she’d passed since he’d noticed the man’s wedding ring when he’d dropped Stiles off at his house because Scott had borrowed the Jeep again.
They worked silently for a few minutes. Derek stared into the bubbling oil as he added the corkscrewed potatoes. He felt Stiles come to stand next to him as he scooped the first batch out of the oil. He slapped at the back of Stiles’ hand as he reached for the potatoes. “They’re hot!”
“That’s the point,” Stiles said, holding his hand to his chest and looking up at Derek with wide eyes.
“At least let them drain first. I don’t need to spend the rest of the day taking care of burned digits,” Derek said, using a hip to push Stiles out of the way.
“Spoilsport,” Stiles muttered. “Where are the plates?” he asked. “I can set the table.”
Derek pointed out where everything was while he finished the potatoes and the steaks. He transferred everything to the two plates Stiles brought over to him and then carried them to the table. Stiles looked up from his phone as Derek set down the plates. “What do you want to drink?”
“You got any beer?” Stiles responded. The first time Stiles had come to the house to hang out, there had been an embarrassing moment where Derek didn’t want to serve him alcohol, thinking he was underage. He’d been pleased to find out that Stiles was only a couple of years younger than him and old enough to partake.
Derek grabbed two bottles from the fridge, twisting off the lids. He sat down across from Stiles, who slid the salad bowl towards him. Derek laughed at the smiley face made out of radishes and carrots on top of the greens. “Cute,” Derek said.
“I like making you laugh,” Stiles replied, passing the tongs to serve the salad.
They talked during dinner, falling into the conversational rhythm they’d become accustomed to when they’d gardened together. As Derek finished the last bite of his steak, he realized that Stiles had fallen quiet and was pushing around salad in his bowl. “What’s wrong?”
“Is this…a date?” he asked after a minute, his words so quiet they were nearly drowned out by his racing heart, and Derek frowned, worrying. Stiles let out a dry laugh. “Oh my god, of course, it’s not. I’m just kidding. Haha.”
Derek reached over and took Stiles’ fork out of his hand before he poked it through the bottom of his salad bowl. “Stiles, I would very much like this to be a date,” he said. “I’m just worried because it sounds like you….” He trailed off, remembering that humans can’t hear other people's hearts beating. He cleared his throat. “It sounds like that isn’t something you want.”
“No…No, I want,” Stiles said, his heart beating too rapidly for Derek to pick up if his words were a lie or not.
“Okay, then,” Derek said when Stiles didn’t add anything else. He hated that things had become awkward between them because he’d finally tried to make a move. Derek began to rethink his whole approach and wondered if he should’ve followed Erica’s advice and given Stiles a bouquet and a box of condoms. Then again, he didn’t want Stiles to think he only wanted to have sex with him. “Are you done eating?”
Stiles settled his fork onto his plate and nodded. “It was delicious. You’re a good cook.”
“Steak isn’t that hard,” Derek said, feeling the tips of his ears burning at the compliment. “I’ll have to make you something with a bit more difficulty next time.”
“I’d like that. As long as you let me make you lasagna sometime,” Stiles countered, and Derek nodded as he started clearing the table.
Stiles stood up to help. The two of them worked silently side-by-side to load the dishwasher and wash the dishes that didn’t go in there. Derek smiled as he dried off his hands before tossing the towel at Stiles, who fumbled it. “Ready for a movie?”
“Do you have popcorn?” Stiles asked.
“We just finished dinner. You said you were full,” Derek said, laughing as he headed to the cupboard where he kept a glass jar of popcorn kernels.
“You have to have popcorn during movies,” Stiles argued. “Don’t you have the microwave kind?”
Derek made a face towards the electric skillet he removed from the cupboard over the refrigerator. He hated the chemical taste of microwave popcorn and most prepackaged foods, so he stuck to what many people thought to be old-fashioned eating habits. “Once you try popcorn this way, you’ll never eat microwave again,” he said, smiling at Stiles as he plugged in the skillet and added a tiny bit of oil before turning it on.
Stiles stood near the island staring at the closed skillet, bouncing on his toes. When the popping began, his eyes widened, and he laughed. Derek found it adorable how sometimes Stiles became so childlike in his appreciation of things Derek had been doing his entire life. “My mom was big on cooking from scratch. That included everything. I don’t think I’d even tried fast food until I was a teenager, and by then, she’d ruined me for any kind of instant food.” Stiles gaped at him. “Except ramen. For some reason, I love ramen, even when it’s salty as hell.”
“I make some fancy ramen,” Stiles said. “I learned while I was away at school and only had an illegal hotplate and microwave to cook with.”
Derek raised his eyebrows. “Son of the sheriff owning contraband? What would your father say?”
“What the man doesn't know won’t hurt him.”
Derek heard the popping slowing in the skillet, and when he counted to three between pops, he shook it a couple of times before removing the lid. Stiles laughed when several pieces escaped onto the counter. Derek reached into a cupboard to pull out the large ceramic bowl painted to resemble classic popcorn containers. After he transferred the popcorn into the bowl, he swatted at Stiles’ hand when he reached for it.
“Popcorn isn’t that hot!” Stiles argued.
“It’s not done,” Derek said, opening the fridge and pulling out a couple of sticks of butter. He remembered to grab a knife out of the drawer at the last moment instead of using his claws to cut them into slices and toss them into the still-hot pan. He tilted the pan as it melted to keep it from burning.
After a few moments, he picked the pan up and carefully poured the melted buttery goodness over the popped kernels. Unfortunately, his hands were full with the skillet when Stiles reached out to grab a piece of popcorn out of the flow.
“Ouch!” he said, dropping the kernel and sticking his finger in his mouth.
Derek rolled his eyes and set down the pan. He reached out and pulled Stiles’ finger out of his mouth and looked it over. The skin was pink, but the burn wasn’t very severe; he would be alright. “Next time we cook, I’m tying your hands,” Derek said.
“Oooh, kinky,” Stiles said before freezing and turning bright red.
Derek felt his ears warming, but he forced himself to shake his head with a small smile on his face. “You’re incorrigible.”
Stiles shrugged as Derek picked up the popcorn bowl and DVD and headed into the living room. Derek squatted down in front of the entertainment center, groaning when he found a box of condoms with a bow on top next to the DVD player. Erica’s handwriting scrawled, “Go get ‘em, Der!” on a sticky note stuck to the side. “I’m gonna kill her,” Derek muttered, shoving the box back further to avoid Stiles spotting it while they watched the movie.
Once the movie was in, he turned back to the couch to find Stiles with his cheeks puffed out and another handful of popcorn halfway between the greatly diminished bowl and his mouth. “You know that was for both of us, right?” Derek asked, settling on the cushion next to the one Stiles had settled onto when they’d come into the room.
Stiles’ face jerked to Derek, eyes wide as a couple of kernels fell out of his mouth and onto the couch. “You’re cleaning that up.” Stiles nodded as he dropped the handful back into the bowl and pushed it over to Derek. Laughing, Derek took a couple of kernels, tossing them into the air and easily catching them in his mouth before using the remote to start the movie.
It didn’t surprise Derek that Stiles talked during movies, especially a movie he’d seen several dozen times. It did surprise him that it started as soon as Derek had hit play.
“Did you notice the cars?” Stiles asked near the beginning of the movie.
“The cars?” Derek asked.
“C’mon, you’re a car guy. You didn’t notice the cars?” Stiles teased.
“They’re classics?”
“The colors!!!” Stiles shouted, grabbing the remote and rewinding the movie to the beginning. “Look closely!”
Derek rolled his eyes but did as Stiles requested. “Yellow Caddy. Black and white MG. Blue Packard. Green Plymouth. Red Lincoln and a purple station wagon, possibly Pontiac Streamliner,” Derek said when Stiles paused the movie. Stiles gave him an expectant look. “What?”
“The colors!” Stiles said, throwing his hands towards the television. “Don’t you get it?”
“No?” Derek said carefully, looking at the screen and down at the DVD case. “The cars match their clothes?” he tried.
Stiles narrowed his eyes and studied Derek. “Have you ever played Clue?” Derek shook his head. He knew the game existed, but he’d never been a fan of board games. Stiles stood up, knocking the popcorn bowl off his lap. Thankfully Derek was able to grab it before it completely spilled. “That’s it! We’re going to my house!”
“You want to go home?” Derek asked.
“That’s what I said.” Stiles headed toward the foyer. Derek followed, frowning when Stiles put his shoes on, picked up Derek’s boots, and handed them over. “C’mon, let’s go.”
Derek took his boots on, taking his time and trying to gather his thoughts. “Did I do something wrong?” he asked when he stood up straight, grabbing his keys off the hook by the door.
“Other than never playing one of the greatest board games of all time?” Stiles asked. “No.”
“So, you’re leaving because I don’t like board games?”
“You don’t like them?” Stiles asked. “At all?” Derek shrugged. Stiles pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes. “Play Clue, and then tell me you don’t like board games.”
“I don’t have Clue.”
Stiles shook his head. “No. You’re pretty damn clueless,” Stiles said. “I have Clue. At my house. We are going there now to play it.” He glanced at his phone. “My dad should be home from work. It’ll be better to play with three.” He pursed his lips again. “If you want to call Erica and the boys over, it’ll be even more fun.”
Derek ran Stiles’ words through his mind, making sense of them. He wasn’t upset with Derek. He still wanted to spend time with Derek. He wanted to spend time with Derek’s Pack. Although Derek was disappointed to have his time alone with Stiles interrupted, the Alpha in him appreciated that Stiles wanted to spend time with his Pack, even if Stiles didn’t know about them yet.
Derek waited until they pulled up to the house Stiles lived in with his father to call the Pack. Stiles waited for him on the sidewalk, which Derek appreciated. He’d never been in a relationship long enough to meet someone’s parents before, and he already knew how close Stiles and his dad were, which made it even more intimidating. Not to mention he was the Sheriff of their small town.
Derek followed Stiles inside, where the Sheriff was setting up a board game at the kitchen table. “You got it set up for us,” Stiles said when he walked up and hugged his dad. “Dad, this is Derek. Derek, this is my dad, John Stilinski.”
Derek took the hand offered to him. “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Drop the sir. It’s John,” he responded. “So, how did you let my son talk you into a game night?”
“I would say he talked me into it, so much as railroaded me,” Derek said, laughing when Stiles sputtered in protest.
John laughed and slapped Derek on the shoulder. “Sounds like my son. Good luck with him. I’m glad to see him making friends.”
A knock sounded at the door, and Derek wondered if his Pack had run to the house from the movies or if they’d just sped. “Speaking of friends,” Stiles said.
John raised his eyebrows. “He had me invite my housemates,” Derek explained. “There’s three of them, but I promise they’re-”
“Woah! Stilinski, I see where you get your good looks from,” Erica said as she entered the kitchen.
“Housebroken,” Derek finished, slapping a hand over his face. “This is Erika, Boyd, and Isaac. P-people, this is Mr. Stilinski.”
John chuckled when Erica threw her arms around him in a hug. “You can call me John.”
Derek growled under his breath so only the Pack could hear him, and Isaac gave him an uneasy look as he shook John’s hand around Erica, who hadn’t let go yet. Boyd gently pried her off John before shaking his hand.
“Been a long time since I’ve had a houseful,” John said. “I should order pizza.” He slapped his hands together and crossed to the counter to pick up his cell phone.
“And you’re getting a veggie for yourself, right?” Stiles said pointedly to his father.
John frowned and exited the house to the backyard to make the call. Derek looked at Stiles, knowing he was just looking out for his dad’s health. He figured he’d sneak him a slice of whatever he’d ordered for the Pack if only to help endear himself to the man.
“I’m going to go grab some sodas from the garage,” Stiles said, exiting through another door.
Derek turned on Erica. “What the hell was that?”
Erica smirked and shrugged. “Just being friendly.”
“Please behave yourself,” Derek pleaded, and the Pack nodded as Stiles came back in loaded down with about a dozen cans of soda, and the Sheriff came in from the back deck.
“Hope everyone likes-Woah!” Stiles shouted as he tripped over his own feet. His arms windmilled, and the sodas went flying. Derek darted forward to keep Stiles from hitting the floor. He let out a breath when he managed to keep him upright.
Realizing he hadn’t heard the cans hit the floor, he looked to see his Pack members each holding some cans. One of the ones in Erica’s hands had a hole, and soda was spurting out the side from where her claw punctured the aluminum. “Well, shit,” he muttered and looked at John, who looked amused.
“Stiles, you neglected to mention that your new friends are werewolves,” he said, pulling out a chair at the table and taking a seat as he smiled around the room. “I take it that you’re the Alpha?” he said to Derek, who nodded before looking from John to Stiles, frozen except for his lips and fingers moving rapidly. Derek knew Stiles was putting pieces together. Thankfully, neither man smelled frightened.
“Sit,” John said, and Derek released Stiles, ensuring he remained standing.
Moving slowly, watching the Sheriff, knowing he didn’t have an obvious weapon on him but leary of his intentions, Derek took the seat directly across from him. His Pack stood around him. “Sit,” he repeated John’s words, and after a moment’s hesitation, they each grabbed a chair and pulled it to Derek’s side of the round table.
Stiles remained standing where Derek had left him, his eyes unfocused. “Stiles,” he called, voice soft but loud enough for Stiles to blink and look at him.
“Oh, uh, yeah,” Stiles said, moving to take the last remaining chair set between John and the Pack. He picked up a playing piece, fiddling with it in his fingers, eyes darting from his father’s face to Derek’s. “What did you say?”
“Werewolves,” John said. “You didn’t tell me that Derek and his friends were a Pack.”
“Werewolves don’t exist,” Stiles said, his voice unsure.
Erica raised a hand, pointing to herself, so Derek glared at her until she dropped her hand and her eyes. “They do exist,” Derek said. “We just do our best not to let people know.” He thought about the hunters he’d run into in his lifetime. Most of them followed a code, so Derek and his family were safe, but a few had decided that all werewolves were monsters. Those hunters were less safe.
Stiles stared at Derek, narrowing his eyes. He studied his face, and Derek sighed. He let his eyes glow and bared his teeth as his fangs came down. Stiles’ eyes widened, but his scent never changed into the sour burn of fear. He reached out a hand, freezing and then dropping it before raising it again. Chuckling, Derek leaned closer, allowing Stiles to poke at his teeth.
When the examination lasted a little too long, Derek let out a small growl and nipped at the tips of Stiles’ fingers. John laughed when Stiles yelped and yanked his fingers back. Derek turned back to John. “Can I ask how you know about werewolves?” he asked, wondering if John was a hunter and Derek hadn’t known there were any in the area when he’d chosen to move his pack there.
“The small town I grew up in was home to a Pack. My best friend was a member. It’s hard to hide when you’re a child. He wolfed out when he fell off his bike. His family swore me to secrecy and, honestly, as a kid, it was cool.” He looked at Derek. “It was not as cool as we got older, and I realized why it was such a big secret.” John didn’t have to go into detail; Derek could see the haunted look in his eyes. “I haven’t met any ‘wolves since, but you don’t forget the signs.”
Derek smiled and nodded. “I’m glad your knowledge comes from a good experience,” he said. “I would hate to convince you it’s safe for your son to date me if you were afraid of werewolves.”
John raised his eyebrows. “So, you want to date my son, do you?” he asked.
“Yes, sir,” Derek responded. “That was what today was supposed to be, but apparently, my lack of board game playing experience ruined my chances.”
“You’re a werewolf!” Stiles suddenly shouted, and Erica let out a cackle.
“Welcome to the conversation,” Boyd commented dryly, and Derek punched him in the shoulder. He looked over to see Isaac studying the group carefully, but his lips were curled into a tiny smile.
“I have so many questions,” Stiles said. “Like-” He cut off and looked at his dad. “Never mind.”
Derek could feel his ears burning as he imagined Stiles's wide variety of questions that wouldn’t be family-friendly. “I’ll answer any questions later,” Derek said. “Now, you wanted me to play a game.”
Stiles grinned and slapped his hands together. “Ah yes, the game. So, here are the playing pieces. Notice anything?”
Derek studied the pieces. “They’re the same color as the cars,” he said.
“The cars?” Isaac finally spoke up. “What cars?”
“Have you never seen Clue ?” Stiles asked. Isaac shook his head. “Oh man, now we have to watch - We left the movie at your house!”
“Can we finish one activity tonight?” Derek teased, and John let out a laugh.
“Welcome to the joys of having my son in your life,” he told Derek. “If you’re going to date him, you’ll need to get used to it.”
Derek smiled. “I fully intend to,” he told John while plucking the green playing piece out of Stiles’ hands.
Nearly a year later, Derek experienced a strange sense of deja vu as he watched his Pack running around searching for plastic eggs. They’d decided to have the Easter egg hunt a couple of days early since Derek’s family was coming over for Easter day. Stiles had gotten up early that morning to hide the eggs before Derek even took his first look at the rising sun.
After that first exciting date with Stiles, they had gone on a few more successful and private dates. It didn’t take long for Derek to know he had made the right choice about Stiles. He’d introduced Stiles and John to his family at a summer barbecue, and Talia instantly liked Stiles, calling him ‘Pup’ before they’d even left for the day. Derek had thought about proposing at Christmas but didn’t want to rush Stiles, so he’d given him a key to the Pack house. Derek had also given a key to John, claiming everyone in his Pack deserved access to the house.
Stiles had taken the key as the unintentional invitation it had been and moved into the Pack house at the beginning of January. It was nearly Easter again, and Derek looked forward to hosting his family with Stiles at his side. He fingered the ring in his pocket as he debated between proposing quietly or in front of everyone in a couple of days before dinner.
He laughed when Erica let out another growl, having searched every knothole in the tree to the right of the front yard without success. They’d been searching for nearly an hour, having found twenty-nine eggs, but they had failed to find the last egg. Stiles had told him there were thirty eggs, and they were all numbered, but they still had not found egg number twenty-four. He was impressed with Stiles’ skills and disappointed that his Pack couldn’t seem to follow a scent.
Derek lifted his head when he heard John’s cruiser coming up the drive. He was on his feet and crossing the yard by the time John had parked and exited the car. “Good morning, John,” he said, reaching out a hand and stumbling when John used it to pull him into a hug with two strong slaps on the back.
“Morning, son,” he said. “My son said he was making breakfast.”
Derek smiled. When he’d come downstairs that morning, he’d found Stiles preparing a large breakfast for the Pack, who had followed their noses to the kitchen. He’d shooed them all out of the house with threats of bodily harm if they came back inside before he was done. He’d given Derek a wink and a swat on the butt with the wooden spoon when Derek had tried to stick around.
“He is. We’ve been banished from the house until we find all of the eggs that Stiles hid. So far, we’ve found all but one,” Derek explained as he spotted Isaac crawling across the porch roof. Derek wondered how Isaac thought Stiles would’ve gotten an egg up there.
John raised his eyebrows. “You let Stiles hide the eggs?” Derek nodded, watching as Erica carefully poked among the tulips. Boyd had given up and was sitting on the porch steps watching the other two wolves. “Derek, do you know what today is?”
“Sunday before Easter,” Derek responded, looking over with a smile when Stiles opened the front door and waved, one hand behind his back.
“It’s April first,” John said. “April-"
“April Fool’s Day!” Derek snapped, glaring at Stiles, who started giggling. Isaac leaped off the roof, landing next to Erica, the two of them falling into the tulips, and Derek heard the stems snapping. They scrambled to their feet, already apologizing, but Derek was striding across the yard towards Stiles. “There is no egg number twenty-four, is there?” Derek asked.
Stiles gave a sheepish grin, moving his hand out from behind his back. A shiny silver egg with a maroon number twenty-four on it was sitting in the palm. “This one is for you, and I wanted to be around when it was found.”
Derek took the egg from Stiles and cracked it open. A silver band and three Hershey’s kisses in pastel colors tumbled into his palm. “Is that-” Erica asked, cutting off when Boyd wrapped an arm around her, covering her mouth with his hand.
“Stiles?” Derek asked.
“So, I’m not sure if werewolves get traditionally married or anything, but I’m human, and we do, so I figured I would take the chance, and I saw the ring at the antique shop and-”
“Stiles,” Derek interrupted. Stiles snapped his mouth shut. “Is there a question in there somewhere?” he asked softly, clutching the ring in the palm of his hand.
Stiles swallowed and looked up at Derek before taking a deep breath. “Will you marry me?”
Derek heard Erica giggle as he looked from the ring to Stiles’ face. “This isn’t another April Fool’s joke, is it?” he asked, trying for teasing but he heard his own insecurities beneath the words.
Stiles shook his head, panic crossing his face. “No! I mean it. I’ve been planning this since Christmas, but you gave me the key, and I didn’t want to take that big step away from you, and then you mentioned the egg hunt and the date, and I came up with the idea, but now I see that I completely-”
“Stiles?” Derek interrupted again. Stiles’ rambling cut off with an audible snapping shut of his mouth. “Yes.”
“Yes?” Stiles asked. “No joke?”
Derek let out a laugh. “No joke. Yes, I’ll marry you,” Derek said, holding out his hand and the ring for Stiles to slide it onto his finger.
Erica let out a squeal, and Derek rotated his body quickly enough to block Erica from flattening Stiles against the front of the house in her excitement. She did manage to throw him off balance enough that he stumbled, and while trying to right himself, he tipped her off his back. She landed with a crunch, and Derek turned to see her in the flowerbed next to the steps, the remains of the tulips completely destroyed beneath her.
“Not again,” Derek muttered, but he focused on Stiles, who was laughing and still holding Derek’s hand, his thumb running over the silver ring. “I love you. You know that, right?”
Stiles laughed. “I would hope so since you just agreed to marry me,” Stiles responded. “Now, we should probably get inside before breakfast gets cold.”
John made his way onto the porch and pulled them into a hug. “I’d say welcome to the family, but I think you’ve been part of it since Stiles sent me a picture of your driver’s license,” he told Derek. “I will say ‘congratulations’ and ‘you’re stuck with him now.’”
Derek laughed and pulled Stiles into his arms, smacking a kiss against his forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way,” Derek told him, brushing their lips together as his betas pushed past them into the house. Derek knew the food would be gone in seconds, but he didn’t care as he stood in Stiles’ arms and kissed him a few more times, knowing there was no place he’d rather be.