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Stiles was debating between vanilla and chocolate frosting when Erica jumped onto his back. He squawked loudly, which drew some stares from the other shoppers, and then slapped at her knee until she slid off with an honest-to-god cackle.
“Okay,” he said, tugging his hoodie down. “No.”
She grinned at him and actually wriggled, saying, “I didn’t know you were coming home!”
“So you followed me to Costco?” He raised his eyebrows and plucked a can of chocolate frosting off the shelf. “That’s really creepy.”
“No, you idiot, we needed bread and peanut butter and then I smelled you and, well, you’re just really easy to sneak up on.” She beamed and then darted over to link her arm through his. “So, jackass, how’s college? I bet you can hardly concentrate because you miss me so much, right?”
He snorted and tucked a box of white cake mix under his other arm. “Yeah, totally. I wake up every morning and think, ‘gee, I bet this twenty-page paper would practically write itself if Erica were here distracting me.’”
She kicked the back of his knee lightly and laughed when his legs buckled. “Whatever, you totally missed me.”
“Keep telling yourself that,” he said, smirking. He headed toward the checkout, dragging Erica with him. “Are you guys still living in that—“
“Yes,” she said flatly. “Don’t even get me started.” She grumbled under her breath for a few seconds and then said, “The stove broke yesterday and Derek is being a dick about it, which is why he sent me to buy food that doesn’t require cooking.”
He blinked. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Tell me about it.” She let go of his arm and said, “Hey, I was so busy sneaking up on you that I forgot to actually get anything, will you wait for me?” She ran off before he could respond. When she found him sitting on the bench out front ten minutes later, she grinned and rubbed her hand over his hair. “You’re adorable,” she said.
“Thanks?” He stood up and started walking to his Jeep. “D’you need a ride?”
“Nah, Derek’s here,” she said, smirking and sashaying past him.
Stiles whirled around in a circle and stopped when he saw Derek casually leaning against the Camaro. “Hey,” he said, waving awkwardly.
“Hey,” Derek said, smirking. He opened the door for Erica and then walked over to Stiles. “You’re just here for the weekend?”
“Yeah,” Stiles said. “Did you get hotter or something, or am I just—“
Derek squinted at him and then twisted his mouth up until he looked nothing short of ridiculous.
“Okay, yes, that’s more like it,” Stiles laughed. “And don’t worry, I will never tell anybody that you’re capable of making that face.”
Derek rolled his eyes and walked with Stiles to the Jeep. He nudged against Stiles’ shoulder and said, “So, dinner?”
“Can’t,” Stiles said, shrugging. “We’re celebrating my dad’s birthday.” He leaned against the driver’s door and absently brushed his fingers over the sleeve of Derek’s jacket. “Maybe tomorrow?”
“Sure,” Derek said. He flashed a quick smile at Stiles and then started walking backwards to the Camaro. “I’ll see you.”
“Bye, furface,” Stiles said, waggling his fingers. He grinned at the flicker of fond annoyance in Derek’s eyes.
--
“You made cake?” his dad said when he walked into the kitchen.
Stiles looked up from where he was poorly icing said cake. “This is not the cake you’re looking for,” he said, waving one hand at his dad before turning back to the cake with a butter knife in an attempt to hide the crumbs of cake stuck in the icing.
“Do I get to eat the cake?” his dad said.
“Nope,” Stiles said, sticking his tongue out the corner of his mouth as he worked. “No cake for you.”
He could actually feel his dad staring at him. “That’s funny, considering I did just have a birthday. Unless you’re going to give it to Derek?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Stiles said. “Derek likes chocolate cake, and this is obviously vanilla. The things you say to me, honestly.”
“Well, how silly of me,” his dad said, a hint of a smile creeping onto his face. “I’m going to go shower, and then I’m going to eat that entire cake.” He clapped Stiles on the shoulder as he passed by to go upstairs.
“Don’t push it,” Stiles called after him. He grinned down at the frosting.
--
Of course, since it wasn’t actually his dad’s birthday (which had been Wednesday), Stiles ended up with the house to himself while his dad went off to work the night shift. It figured that his dad was too noble to take a night off when Stiles came to visit.
“If it had actually been my birthday I—no, I still probably would’ve worked,” his dad said as he shrugged into his uniform jacket. “It’ll be like old times, I’ll be at the station and you’ll be here watching TV while Derek Hale sneaks in the window.” He smirked. “You thought I didn’t know, but I did. I keep telling you, you aren’t as subtle as you think.”
The best part was, the instant his dad walked out the door, Stiles heard a creak from the kitchen. He turned around just in time to see Derek climb in over the sink. “Way to switch it up, I was totally expecting the upstairs window, you are definitely not as predictable as my dad thinks you are,” Stiles called over his shoulder. “And close that window, heating is expensive.”
“Is there any cake left?” Derek said, opening the fridge.
“Yeah, help yourself.” Stiles slid down the couch to make more room for Derek. When Derek finally flopped down beside him, he had a plate with three pieces of cake and extra icing scraped off another slice. “Oh my god, you’re going to get a sugar high,” Stiles said, scooting closer.
“You’re going to get a sugar high,” Derek said, taking a huge bite of cake.
Stiles blinked at him. “Dude, you really need to work on your comebacks.”
Derek just looked at him out of the corner of his eye. “Maybe you need to work on your comebacks.” He smirked.
Stiles figured it was a lost cause so he just tucked a cold hand under Derek’s elbow and watched the local news for a few minutes. His hand quickly warmed up because Derek was like a furnace, or one of those hairless cats Stiles had read about, the kind people used as living heating pads—except he didn’t like thinking of Derek as a hairless cat, that was kind of weird.
“So,” Derek said. Stiles turned to look at him, glad to have an interruption from the hairless cats in his brain. There was a tiny smudge of chocolate icing on Derek’s upper lip. “The stove in our apartment is broken.”
“I heard,” Stiles said. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Will you be able to survive without macaroni?”
Derek’s lips pinched together. “Shut up, I do what I want.” He crossed his arms and glowered at the TV. “Besides, Boyd brought back a case of easy mac and the microwave still works.”
“What would you do without Boyd,” Stiles said, teasing his fingers along Derek’s forearm.
“Perish, probably,” Derek said, rolling his eyes. He was obviously biting back a smile. “The point is, our radiator broke today.”
Stiles sighed and looked at him. “Are you asking me if the pack can stay here tonight? Because you really don’t have to beat around the bush, okay, you can just ask. And the answer will almost always be yes, unless it’s like the full moon or something.”
There was a rustle behind him.
He closed his eyes and said, “They’re here, aren’t they?”
Instead of answering, Erica vaulted over the back of the couch and landed half on the cushion, half on his lap. “You’re the best,” she said, pinching his cheek. “The apartment was getting really cold.”
“Thanks, Stiles,” Boyd said. Stiles heard the fridge open.
“No problem,” Stiles said. “Just don’t eat all the cake, okay, my dad will have so many questions.”
“Do you have any ice cream?” Isaac called.
Stiles rolled his head on his neck to glare at Derek. “You and your little gang are going to eat me out of house and home.” Derek just quirked up one corner of his mouth and shrugged. “Yeah, okay, fine, we’re pack, I know, but just see how you like it when I come over and demand to be fed.”
“Can we order Chinese?” Isaac said as he walked in with a carton of ice cream. He sat next to Erica, who squished closer to Stiles to make room.
Stiles laughed and tucked himself in against Derek’s side. “We could switch it up and try something else.” Isaac just made a face at him. “Or, y’know, we could just stick with tradition, that’s fine too.”
Isaac pulled out his phone and dialed. He didn’t have to ask what everybody wanted.
--
Stiles woke up at 1:47 because Erica was snoring. He groaned quietly and buried his head under his pillow, reaching out with one arm to prod Derek. When his arm flopped silently onto the other side of the bed, he pulled his head out of the pillow and squinted at the Derek-shaped indent next to him.
He sat up and quickly noted where each of the betas was lying. Even though literally the entire house was available, they’d all opted to pile onto his bedroom floor. It was kind of sweet that they enjoyed being a pack so much, but at the same time, he’d had plans, plans which involved Derek and a bed and absolutely no betas. Spooning just wasn’t the same.
As soon as he felt awake enough to walk, he carefully made his way through the betas. Erica, who was still snoring, was sprawled across Boyd’s stomach, which didn’t look comfortable for either of them. He considered dragging her off but then figured it would just annoy her if she woke up.
He managed not to trip down the stairs, which was pretty awesome considering it was dark and his legs were still wobbly. When he got to the bottom, he heard the soft murmur of the TV.
“What’s up, pudding cup?” he said as he stumbled into the living room.
Derek turned his head, not surprised at all. He raised the half-empty can of chocolate frosting and then gestured at the TV. “Seemed like a good idea,” he said.
“Someday I will make fun of you for eating frosting out of a can,” Stiles said. “With a knife, what the hell, you’re such an amateur.” He trudged back to the kitchen and got two spoons out of the drawer. “This is how the pros do it.”
“Oh, excuse me, I forgot that you’re an expert in frosting,” Derek said, rolling his eyes as Stiles fell down next to him. Still, he took the spoon Stiles offered. “How offended would Erica be if I bought her Breathe Rite strips?” he said.
Stiles dipped his spoon into the frosting. “Well,” he said. “Probably not very?”
Derek narrowed his eyes. “You’re lying,” he said. He scooped up some frosting and settled back into the couch. Stiles propped his feet up on the coffee table and blinked at the TV. He was pretty sure Tom and Jerry was on.
“Wouldn’t have pegged you for a cartoons guy,” he said.
“Yeah, well.” Derek slung an arm over Stiles’ shoulders and pulled him against his chest. Stiles craned his neck around and awkwardly kissed Derek’s mouth. It was actually kind of painful, holding his neck at that angle, so he was glad when Derek pulled him into his lap.
And then, right as Derek opened his mouth into the kiss, Stiles tasted chocolate frosting and one of the characters on the TV started yodeling and singing about some “Crambone” thing and Stiles lost it. He knocked his nose against Derek’s chin and laughed until there were tears in his eyelashes.
“Sorry,” he choked out, dropping his forehead onto Derek’s shoulder. “That was—it’s just—you’re—chocolate,” he said, trying really hard not to giggle.
Derek made an amused sound in the back of his throat. “Uncle Pecos,” he said.
Stiles lifted his head and blinked. “You what?”
“Uncle Pecos,” Derek said again, nodding his head at the TV. Stiles turned around to see a mustachioed mouse with a guitar and cowboy hat. He was evidently the source of the yodeling.
“You know his name?” Stiles said as he slid back to sit against the arm of the sofa, his knees across Derek’s thighs.
Derek settled one hand on Stiles’ right knee. He picked up the can of frosting again and absently poked at it with his spoon. “When I was little, my dad and I always watched the Saturday morning cartoons together,” he said softly, staring at his spoon. He sighed. “But when I got to high school, I had better things to do.”
And, well, there was nothing Stiles could think of to make it better, because he knew what Derek’s better things were, he knew that even so many years later, Derek still hadn’t forgiven himself. So instead of saying anything, he fished for the remote, turned the volume up a little. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around the hand on his knee.
After a while, a new episode started, another Tom and Jerry, and Stiles ran his thumb over the ridges of Derek’s knuckles.
When Isaac shuffled in, curling up on Derek’s other side with Stiles’ feet in his lap, Derek didn’t pull his hand away, not even when Erica and Boyd came and sat on the floor, leaning against his legs.
Stiles closed his eyes when Derek’s hand finally relaxed and opened beneath his palm. He fell asleep with the sound of tinny cartoon music in his ears.