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"You have to tell me."
"No."
Stiles narrowed his eyes. "You haven't even heard the question."
Derek continued chopping vegetables with the calm focus of someone who had survived hunters, alphas, and multiple supernatural apocalypses, only to end up making dinner in a kitchen decorated with magnets Stiles insisted were "whimsical."
"The answer is still no."
"You don't know that."
"I do."
"You don't."
Derek glanced over. Stiles stood in the doorway with one hand pressed over his mouth, his expression simultaneously offended and smug.
Derek sighed. "What happened?"
Stiles lowered his hand. "Better or worse?"
Derek stared. Stiles stared back.
There was a beat of silence. "You asked if something happened."
"You asked what happened," Stiles replied.
"You answered with a question."
"Better or worse?" Stiles repeated.
Derek set the knife down. "Worse than what?"
"See?" Stiles pointed accusingly. "That's exactly why I'm asking. Context matters."
Derek crossed his arms. "Stiles."
"Okay, hypothetical."
"No."
"Picture this."
"No."
"You wake up on a beautiful Saturday morning."
"I already hate this."
"You make yourself a breakfast sandwich."
"You made breakfast?"
"Don't derail me."
"You made breakfast?"
"It wasn't on purpose."
Derek pinched the bridge of his nose. "What happened?"
Stiles inhaled deeply. "I may have chipped my tooth."
Derek blinked. "What?"
"I said—"
"I heard you."
Stiles grimaced. "Technically."
"Technically?"
"It could be less of a chip and more of a...tiny structural adjustment."
Derek stared at him for several seconds before saying, very carefully, "Show me."
"It's not that bad."
"Show me."
Stiles hesitated.
Then he gave Derek a sheepish grin.
Derek immediately understood why Stiles had started with better or worse.
"Oh, my god."
"See? Better or worse?"
"You chipped your front tooth."
"It has character now."
"You chipped your front tooth eating breakfast."
Stiles looked offended. "Bagels are dangerous."
"You lost a fight with bread."
"It wasn't bread," Stiles corrected. "It was an everything bagel."
"That's somehow worse."
"Thank you! That's what I've been trying to establish."
Derek walked closer. "Let me see."
Stiles opened his mouth again. Derek leaned down, examining the damage. It wasn't terrible. One corner of Stiles' front tooth had chipped off enough to notice if someone was looking closely.
Derek pulled back. "It's barely visible."
Stiles blinked.
"Wait."
"It's fine."
"You don't think I look ridiculous?"
"You usually look ridiculous."
Stiles gasped. "You wound me."
"You once wore a shirt that said FBI: Female Body Inspector because you lost a bet."
"I was eighteen."
"You still owned it at twenty-four."
"It was vintage."
"It was garbage."
Stiles looked thoughtful. "So...better?"
Derek considered. "Worse for the bagel."
"You think you're funny."
"I know I am."
Stiles squinted suspiciously. "Who are you and what have you done with Derek Hale?"
"I'm making dinner."
"You made a joke."
"I'm aware."
"You made two jokes."
Derek returned to the cutting board. "You've been a bad influence."
"Oh, my god."
"You say that like it's surprising."
Stiles practically vibrated with delight. "You admit I've improved your personality."
"I didn't say that."
"You implied it."
"I absolutely did not."
"You did."
Derek ignored him.
Stiles followed him around the kitchen anyway. "So, scale of one to ten?"
"No."
"One being 'literally unnoticeable' and ten being 'please join a nineteenth-century boxing circuit.'"
"Three."
"A three?"
"It's a small chip."
"You don't think I'm hideous?"
Derek stopped chopping vegetables. He turned. Stiles was trying for casual, but there was genuine uncertainty underneath the sarcasm.
Derek softened. "Stiles."
"What?"
"I've seen you covered in mud."
"Rude."
"You got slime in your hair during that thing with the kanima."
"You've had weirdly specific standards of attractiveness."
"You had bat droppings on your face once."
"It was one time."
"You looked like death after your appendix surgery."
Stiles pointed. "Hey."
"You looked exhausted studying for your criminology exams."
"You are not making your point."
Derek stepped closer. "I've seen you at your worst."
Stiles swallowed. "And?"
"And I loved you then too."
Stiles blinked. "Oh."
"You talk too much."
"You say the sweetest things in the meanest possible ways."
"You stole my favorite hoodie."
"You gave it to me."
"You stole it emotionally."
"You literally just said you love me."
"You chipped your tooth."
Stiles grinned despite himself. "You absolutely adore me."
"I tolerate you."
"You bought me dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets."
"You like dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets."
"You arranged them into a smiley face."
"You were upset."
"You made a smiley face."
"You chipped your tooth."
"You keep bringing that up."
"You started it."
Stiles leaned against the counter. "So...three."
"Three."
"Could it become a two?"
"If you stop touching it."
Stiles immediately ran his tongue over the chipped edge.
Derek closed his eyes. "I hate everything."
"No, you don't."
"You are touching it right now."
"I have to know what it feels like."
"You'll make it worse."
"I don't think that's medically accurate."
"You don't know anything about medicine."
"I know enough."
"You once tried to diagnose yourself using a conspiracy podcast."
"It had charts."
"It had aliens."
"Those aren't mutually exclusive."
Derek stared at him. "Please stop talking."
"You love me."
Derek sighed. "Unfortunately."
Stiles beamed. "You know what this means?"
"No."
"You've already seen me in sickness and health."
"We aren't married."
"You literally said you've seen me at my worst and still love me."
"You had bat droppings on your face."
"You could've left that part out."
"You insisted on specifics."
Stiles tilted his head. "So."
"No."
"You don't even know what I was going to ask."
"You're about to propose as a joke."
"..."
Derek narrowed his eyes. "You were."
"I was going to say this counts as 'for better or worse.'"
"You've been watching wedding videos again."
"They're emotional."
"You cried during three of them."
"The dog carried the rings."
"The dog was wearing a bow tie."
"You cried before the dog appeared."
"It was the music."
"It was thirty seconds in."
Stiles pointed. "You notice a lot of details for someone pretending not to care."
Derek returned to cooking. "I care."
Stiles went suspiciously quiet.
Derek glanced over. "What?"
"You said it."
"I've said it before."
"You said you care."
"You chipped your tooth."
"You're deflecting."
Derek sighed. "I care."
Stiles smiled softly. "Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Even when I lose fights with breakfast foods?"
"Especially then."
Stiles snorted. "Wow."
"What?"
"I just imagined explaining that to Scott."
"Please don't."
"'Hey, Scott, Derek finally admitted I'm lovable after I assaulted myself with a bagel.'"
"Scott would agree with me."
"Scott thinks everyone is lovable."
"He's right."
Stiles stared. "You've become alarmingly well-adjusted."
"You've become alarmingly dramatic."
"I chipped a tooth."
"You called it a structural adjustment."
"It sounded better."
"It sounded ridiculous."
"You still said I was a three."
Derek looked at him. "I said the chip was a three."
"Oh?"
"You've always been a ten."
Stiles froze.
"..."
"..."
"You can't just say things like that."
"You asked."
"I asked if my tooth made me ugly."
"It doesn't."
Stiles covered his face. "Oh, my god."
"What?"
"You made me emotional."
"You cry during commercials."
"They rescue shelter dogs, Derek."
"They sell insurance."
"The dogs are persuasive."
Derek huffed a laugh.
Stiles lowered his hands. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Better."
Derek raised an eyebrow. "What?"
"You asked earlier."
"I absolutely did not."
"Better or worse?"
Realization crossed Derek's face. "Oh."
"Yeah."
Stiles smiled. "The tooth thing?"
"Better."
"You don't have to say that."
"It's a tiny chip."
"You really mean it?"
Derek reached over, tugging Stiles closer by the front of his T-shirt. "I really mean it."
Stiles leaned in. "Even if I need emergency dental work?"
"You'll survive."
"That's not romantic."
"I'll drive you to the appointment."
Stiles brightened. "Now that's romance."
"You have very low standards."
"You voluntarily spend time with me."
"I question that decision daily."
Stiles kissed him anyway. It was brief and warm and tasted faintly of coffee. When they pulled apart, Derek rested his forehead against Stiles'.
"For the record," Derek said quietly, "if we're using vows?"
Stiles blinked. "What?"
"For better or worse."
Stiles' expression softened. "You mean that?"
"You survived a bagel."
"I hate you."
"You love me."
Stiles smiled. "Unfortunately."
Derek kissed him again. This time, when Stiles grinned afterward, Derek noticed the tiny imperfection in his tooth. He also noticed the freckles across Stiles' nose, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, and the way his smile had always looked like trouble wrapped in sunlight.
Better or worse?
Derek had survived hunters, monsters, grief, and loss. Loving Stiles Stilinski had never belonged in the worse category. Even when breakfast fought back.
—
END.