Work Text:
"Oh my God, why are there so many zucchinis?" Stiles jabbed at the ground with his spade. "They're spawning like fish."
"It's a garden," Derek said dryly. "It does that."
Stiles glared and threw a clump of weeds at Derek. He missed, of course, because weed clumps weren't exactly aerodynamic, and so he had to stomp over to them to throw them in the weed bucket.
Derek pulled up a handful and tossed them over his shoulder. The weeds landed perfectly in the center of the bucket.
Stiles made a face at Derek's sweaty back. "Show-off."
Derek looked over his shoulder and threw another clump of weeds. This one hit Stiles squarely in the chest, and then dropped into the bucket.
Stiles gaped.
"Oops," Derek deadpanned, and went back to weeding the garden.
"I'm going to dump this entire bucket on your head."
Derek didn't even flinch at the threat. "Do that, and you'll
be cleaning up all of it."
Stiles grumbled and went back to weeding. Once they were finished with this, they'd harvest the mishmash of fruits and vegetables Derek had planted: strawberries, zucchini, watermelons, garlic, tomatoes, and more. At least half of it would end up in gift baskets delivered to various pack members' houses, and the rest would be sold at the farmer's market out by the Preserve this weekend.
Admittedly, Stiles had volunteered to help Derek out with the garden out at the pack house this summer, though also admittedly, he'd done so because he was nursing the most unrequited of unrequited crushes. Spending all summer staring at Derek's well-muscled back and ass seemed like both the best and worst idea in the world at the same time, and Stiles had absolutely zero sense of self-preservation.
Of course, he hadn't quite anticipated how much work went into tending a garden. There was a lot less appreciation of the scenery and a lot more squatting and digging and sweating. He was pretty sure the dirt under his nails was permanent at this point.
But when Derek stood up at the end of the day, stretched, and surveyed the garden with a small, pleased smile, looking more content and settled than Stiles had ever seen him...
Well. "Crush" might have been understating his feelings a bit. Stiles would walk over an acre of hot coals if he could keep seeing that smile on Derek's face. A few hours of tending a garden was nothing.
"We'll have to wait to do the harvesting," Derek said. "It's about to rain."
Stiles looked up from an extremely stubborn dandelion to see Derek shading his eyes up at the sky. There were a few clouds, sure, but nothing that screamed rainstorm. "You've got to be kidding. It's still sunny."
Derek tossed his spade into the weed bucket and picked it up. "Smells like rain."
"You sure your nose isn't broken?"
Derek snorted. "You want to get drenched, be my guest."
Stiles was about to make another smart comment when something liquid splatted on his shoulder, and then the back of his head. Then, he heard the intermittent thok thok thok of raindrops hitting the dirt.
"Shit," he muttered, and sprinted back to the house just before it started pouring.
Derek was lounging on the bench on the covered back porch with a glass of lemonade and an infuriatingly superior smirk. "Good timing."
Stiles flailed at the rain. "It's still sunny. You can forgive me for being a little skeptical! Rain comes from clouds. I remember fifth grade science."
Derek pointed at the sky. "There are clouds."
In a truly astounding display of maturity, Stiles stuck out his tongue. "If this keeps up, we'll never get the harvest in."
Derek shrugged. "Oh well. It's as good a time for a break as any. Lemonade?"
Stiles wanted to resist on principle, but he was thirsty and hot and lemonade sounded pretty fucking fantastic. He threw himself onto the bench next to Derek. "Please."
Derek picked up the pitcher from the side table and poured another glass, then handed it over. Stiles drank half of it and tried not to moan. Derek made the best lemonade, seriously.
"I haven't said thank you for helping me out," Derek said after a moment.
Stiles waved it away. "Not a problem, big guy."
"No, I...I know there are a lot of better things you could be doing with your summer." Derek glared at his lemonade glass, but it looked like his I'm trying to people right glare instead of his I hate everything glare. "And you chose to help me. For free. I really...I appreciate that."
And this was another reason Stiles was stupidly in love with him; for all his snark and bite, Derek was in fact an awkwardly sweet marshmallow and a great Alpha.
Stiles patted Derek's sweaty knee. "Just pay me my weight in strawberries and we'll call it even."
Before he could take his hand away, Derek squeezed it. "I'm glad it was you."
Something in his voice caught Stiles's attention, and he actually looked at Derek, who was now intently focused on their hands.
Stiles took a deep breath and turned his hand around so he could link their fingers together. It felt like a declaration. "Me too."
Derek looked up at him, eyes wide in surprise. "Yeah?"
Stiles nodded firmly. "Yeah."
Derek's surprise faded into that pleased smile. He dropped his gaze back to their hands and rubbed his thumb along the back of Stiles's. "Good."
Their first kiss tasted like lemonade, sweet and sticky and full of warmth and promise. It made his head spin, and Stiles never wanted it to stop.
"I take it back," he said, when they had to breathe. "You don’t have to pay me in strawberries. You can just keep thanking me like that."
"I could do both?" Derek said.
"Both is good, too," Stiles said, and let Derek reel him in for another kiss.