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Stiles’s bills are paid.
That’s not a bad thing, except that Stiles knows he didn’t pay them. In fact, he distinctly remembers a caffeine-and-alcohol-induced review of his budget yesterday that ended in him drunk-dialing Derek to sob about living on ramen for the next three months.
And now he’s nursing a hangover and trying to figure out why he’s got all these “bill paid” email notifications on his phone.
He hears someone shuffling around the kitchen, which would be worrisome except that there are three other people who have keys to Stiles’s apartment and his wards are geared only to let in people who have no ill intent. Last semester some douchebag tried break into his place and ended up getting blasted halfway down the hall.
Sure enough, it’s Derek in his kitchen, standing in front of the fridge and putting away groceries. There are a dozen reusable shopping bags crowding the counters, filled with fruits and vegetables and sandwich stuff.
Stiles rubs his head, which isn’t exactly pounding but is reminding him that he needs to drink some water soon. Or coffee. Or both. “What are you doing?”
Derek looks up from the fridge and puts away two bags of carrots. “I’m restocking your fridge, what does it look like?”
“But…why?”
“Because you called me last night and said you had to decide between electricity and groceries for the next month and a half.” Derek raises a bundle of bananas. “Now you don’t. Your coffee’s almost ready.”
The coffee maker dings brightly, and Stiles blinks at it. “I was drunk. It was like two in the morning.”
Derek grimaces. “Yes. Yes it was.”
Stiles looks down at his phone, the pieces slowly slotting together in his hungover mind. “You paid my bills.”
“Yes.”
“You paid my bills and bought me groceries.”
“Yes.” Derek stops putting away the groceries and pours a mug of coffee, and then hands it to Stiles. “I also paid your rent for the next three months. I would have done the whole year, but you said you weren’t sure how long you were going to stay here, so…”
Stiles wraps his fingers around the warm mug. “Why?” he asks again.
“Because you’re pack,” Derek says simply. “And I have a lot of money that turns my stomach every time I think about how I got it, but if I use it to help you…” He shrugs. “It doesn’t feel dirty.” He looks over at the groceries. “I feel like my mom would approve.”
Stiles gets that. He gets that on a very deep and personal level. And while with anyone else he might feel indebted, he doesn’t with Derek. He just feels…very, very loved.
He sets the coffee on the counter. “I’m going to hug you now.”
Derek’s eyes widen, and then his whole face softens into a shy smile and he opens his arms.
Stiles walks right into them and buries his face in the crook of Derek’s neck and hugs him as hard as he can. It feels good, it feels right, and from the way Derek hugs him back, Stiles can tell he feels the same way.
“We should go get some breakfast,” Stiles murmurs. “Maybe some coffee. Then I’ve got a ton of studying to do, but–”
Derek rubs a hand over his back. “Breakfast sounds nice. But I may pry you away from your books for dinner tonight as well.”
Stiles pulls back so he can see Derek, but they’re still standing chest-to-chest. “Like a date?”
Derek nods.
Stiles grins. “Then yeah, definitely. Dinner sounds fantastic.”