Chapter Text
Everything hurt. There was a bag of peas under his back, a bag of carrots cushioning the knot on the back of his skull, and a bag of corn(?) resting on his face. Stiles pulled it away just enough to confirm: yep, corn. Hopefully this bout of bodily defrostment wouldn't undercut their usefulness in later meals. Like the stew he'd intended to make himself for dinner. Fuck.
The thought of food made his stomach rumble—loudly—even as the idea of putting in the effort to cook brought manly tears to his eyes.
"I think there's a monster where your stomach should be."
Stiles flailed inelegantly. The corn ended up lodged between his hip and the back of the couch, the carrots atop the peas digging into his freshly bruised spine. He yelped and sat up, resting his elbows on his knees and dragging his hands through his hair. "Jesus fuck, Derek."
He looked up to find Hale eyebrows doing a judgemental tango in his direction. "I thought you'd left with the others." Though now that he considered it, that was a pretty ridiculous assumption to make. Derek had a tendency to hover when anyone was injured. Not that Stiles' bruises really counted as injuries—even the black eye—but the wolf's frame of reference for the squishiness of humans was…skewed.
"Clearly." Derek settled onto the wooden coffee table in front of Stiles. "What, exactly, was your plan for dinner?"
Stiles cast a forlorn glance at the abandoned vegetables. "I still have a plan," he tried to argue.
Derek rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you do." He grabbed Stiles's wrist before Stiles could martial his arguments, black veins rippling down Stiles's arm and up Derek's. Stiles's capacity for words burst and scattered like buck shot. Or maybe fireworks. Fireworks were prettier. And involved less implied violence.
Derek nudged his head where it had bonelessly sagged against Derek's arm. "Hng?" he managed, trying to reel some brain cells back in.
"I have a better plan."
Stiles sat back up blinking blearily. "Wha?"
"Plan." Derek released his arm and leaned back. "For dinner." Stiles blinked his eyes a few more times and Derek sighed. He leaned past Stiles and grabbed the mostly-frozen veggies and stood. "Get up. We're going to Benji's."
Benji's Burgers had opened on Main Street several years before and had quickly became one of the pack's favorite haunts. And not just because Stiles whined about the subpar balance of beef and cheese on the burgers anywhere else. He shot to his feet, practically nose to nose with Derek. "Oh my god, marry me."
Derek's eyes narrowed, though Stiles had enough experience that he could see the laughter hiding in them. "No." He pushed past Stiles toward the kitchen.
"C'mon, dude! I'd treat you so fucking well! I'm a great partner! And we've totally got that 'in sickness and in health' shit down. What's left?"
The freezer couldn't contain Derek's snort and for one glorious second Stiles thought he'd gotten to him. But when Derek turned back to him, his face was carefully blank. "Shut up, Stiles."