#baker!derek

“It’s on me,” said Derek, a.k.a. the ridiculously beautiful barista, shyly.

“You don’t have to do that,” Stiles whispered, mortified, rifling through his pockets in the hopes of finding a few stray bucks, or, hell, even nickels and dimes, to cover the bill.

“Well, it’s my break soon and I’ve been trying to pluck up the courage to ask you to have coffee with me for weeks now, so…”

“You have?!” Stiles spluttered out, hands stilling, his search for loose change forgotten in the wake of this shocking announcement.

“Yeah. I have,” Derek replied, drawing himself up to his full height, voice a little more confident than before, but crossing his arms defensively across his chest, as if to shield himself from a rejection that Stiles knew wasn’t gonna come.

“Okay, then. I mean,... um... thanks. I’d like that.” Now it was Stiles’ turn to be shy.

“You would??” And now it appeared to be Derek’s turn to be shocked.

Stiles heard a muttered “Oh, for God’s sake!” somewhere to his right and looked up to see Laura, another of the coffee shop’s preternaturally pretty employees (seriously, Stiles wondered, was everyone who worked here taking a break from strutting down the runways of Paris and Milan just to see how the other, less aesthetically pleasing, half lived??) rolling her eyes in their direction. He was about to get offended when Derek spoke up.

“Just ignore her. My sister lives to mock me.”

“Not my fault you make it so easy, little brother,” Laura retorted and Stiles couldn’t believe he hadn’t put it together before that they were related. This family had definitely hit the genetic jackpot, he thought. But Derek was the one he wanted to get lucky with. Now, through some miracle of miracles, it seemed like maybe the feeling was mutual.

Stiles grinned at their bickering before asking if he should grab a table for him and Derek.

“Yes, please. Preferably one as far away from the counter and the prying eyes and ears of my sister as possible,” Derek responded, throwing a halfhearted glare his sister’s way. Her answer came in the very mature form of sticking her tongue out at him. Both Derek and Stiles snorted and Laura gave them both a dazzling smile.

“Go on,” she sighed, shooing Derek out from behind the counter. “You can start your break early. Grab a seat with cutie patootie here and I’ll bring you over your usual.”

Stiles both blushed and beamed at the ‘cutie patootie’ comment. Sure, it wasn’t ‘sizzling sex god’, but he’d take it.

Once settled at a table by the window they sat looking at each other for a few moments and Stiles, fiddling nervously with his coffee cup, feared things were gonna get real awkward real quick. But then Laura appeared with some frothy coffee confection for Derek (Stiles would have thought he’d be a black, no sugar, no frills, kinda guy, but was charmed to discover otherwise) and two delicious-looking cupcakes that made Stiles’ mouth water just looking at them, breaking the air of tension between them.

Stiles found his words again at last, talking a mile a minute, telling Derek about himself, his dad, his hometown back in California, his best friend, Scott, and his studies here at NYU, but remembering to ask Derek questions about himself too and really paying attention to the answers he gave. He discovered that the coffee shop really was a family affair. Laura had bought it using her share of an inheritance their late uncle had left them and now she, Derek, their little sister Cora and cousin Malia all worked there.

Well, Derek was only there part-time because he’d gone back to college to get his degree (there was clearly a story there about why he hadn’t gone straight after high school, but for once in his life Stiles didn’t push, trusting that Derek would tell him in his own time) and Cora was just back for an extended visit, have spent several years living in South America with distant relatives. She was saving up to go back again because she’d fallen in love with the place and it felt more like home now than the States did.

Derek couldn’t deny he was disappointed she wasn’t home to stay, but he wanted her to be happy and he knew South America had been good both to her and for her so he wasn’t gonna stand in her way, no matter how much he might miss her. Stiles found it difficult just being on a different coast from Scott, the closest thing he had to a sibling, never mind another country, so he could sympathize.

“You’re a good brother,” he told Derek, sincere, and sure of his words. Derek just shrugged his shoulders and ducked his head, that shy side of him that didn’t know how to handle praise that Stiles had picked up on during their conversation as well as previous interactions coming out again. Stiles had to fight the urge to reach out and slip his hand over Derek’s where it lay on the table between them.

Sensing that a change of subject would be appreciated he instead sat back in his chair again (he hadn’t even realized he’d been leaning forward, hanging on Derek’s every word) and launched into an explanation about his embarrassing current lack of funds.

“Thanks for the coffee. I’m not a mooch, I swear. I’m usually much better organized than this when it comes to my finances. I have to be, being a poor, humble college student and all. But it’s been an expensive month, between textbooks and repairs to my Jeep. Plus, I lost my part-time job a few weeks ago when the place closed down and I haven’t managed to find another one yet.”

“It’s okay. I get it. College is expensive, especially in New York,” Derek said, biting delicately into one of the cakes, his adorable bunny teeth on full display and doing weird things to Stiles’ stomach. “But what about your dad? Wouldn’t he help you out if you really needed him to? It sounds like you two are close.”

“We are, and I know my dad would send me money in a heartbeat, but he does so much for me already that I hate asking for more. I’d rather stand on my own two feet, make my own way in the world, like he did at my age, you know?”

“I do. I’m from a pretty close knit family myself. As you can probably tell from how many of us work here. I love them, but sometimes I think Cora has the right idea. That maybe we shouldn’t all live in each other’s pockets so much.” He shrugged, before continuing, “I got pretty lucky in the parent department, though. My mom and dad are that couple who are still as sickeningly in love with each other now as when they first got married. It’s embarrassing sometimes.”

Derek chuckled then, shaking his head. ‘Ah, who am I kidding? I love it. I love that we’re all so close, that we see each other practically every day. I love that whenever I get good news I can’t wait to share it with my parents and sisters, knowing how happy they’re going to be for me. I love that my mom can still put that gooey look on my dad’s face, the one she’s always been able to give him for as long as I can remember. I love that my dad can still make my mom blush with just a smile and a wink. I love that I got to grow up never doubting their love for one another, or for us kids. I want that for myself. I want what they have, for me and for my future kids, if I’m blessed enough to have any.”

Stiles just stared in wonder at the man before him, unable to curb the stream of images flooding his mind. Images of the two of them, holding hands, kissing, curled up in bed together, cuddling, making love, getting engaged, getting married, buying their dream home, adopting a brood of kids, growing old together. Images of them, strong together, but always weak for each other. It was too soon to be thinking about things like this, he told himself, but apparently his heart disagreed because it sang at the thought of having all those things. Having all those things with Derek.

“Dude,” Stiles breathed, and Derek flushed bright red, breaking eye contact and looking out the window.

“Sorry. Too much for a first date?” He chanced a look back at Stiles before quickly looking away again, shoulders hunched, turning in on himself. This time Stiles didn’t stop himself from reaching out and placing his hand on top of Derek’s.

“Usually it’s me asking that question,” he said with a rueful smile. “Not that I’ve dated that much. I can be… a little overwhelming. For some people.”

Derek smiled again, shoulders relaxing. “Well, not for me. Consider me the perfect amount of whelmed. Not underwhelmed, not overwhelmed, just… right.”

Stiles snorted. “I’m really glad to hear that. Like, really glad. You have no idea how glad. I just wish you hadn’t made me sound like the bowl of porridge Goldilocks stole when she broke into the Three Bears’ house.”

Derek huffed a laugh in return. “Yeah, sorry about that. Besides, you’re clearly Little Red Riding Hood,” he said, gesturing with his free hand, the one not currently turning over to take hold of the hand Stiles had laid on top of it, towards the red hoodie Stiles was wearing.

“So what does that make you? The Big, Bad Wolf?” Stiles shot back, relishing the glint in Derek’s eyes and the feel of Derek’s hand in his as he replied with a casual shrug of his shoulders that seemed to say ‘maybe’.

The moment was broken by the shrill sound of the bell above the door behind Derek as someone entered the coffee shop. The noise startled them both, making them both jump back in their seats and let go of each other’s hand. Stiles missed the contact immediately, but wasn’t confident enough to reach out again just yet.

Derek watched the person who’d just entered make their way to the counter to give Laura their order before clearing his throat and looking back at Stiles, that curious shyness come over him again. “Where did you work before, anyway?’ he asked, picking at his cupcake.

“Hmm?”

“You said your last place of work closed down. Where was that?”

“Oh! Coach’s Coffee House, over on 5th. You know, the place with all the sports memorabilia on the walls?” Stiles took a bite of his own cupcake and felt like he’d just tasted heaven.

“Yeah, I know it. Or knew it. Great atmosphere, but lousy coffee.” Derek winced at his own honesty. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Stiles laughed. “Don’t be. You’re right. The coffee sucked. And they didn’t have anything anywhere near as good as the baked goods you guys have here. Seriously, this is so good I wanna marry it and have its little cupcake babies.”

As if to drive his point home Stiles took another bite of the treat before him and moaned at how good it was. It took him a minute to realize Derek was looking embarrassed and blushing furiously. He wondered if he’d gone too far, nerves stealing in again to whisper in his ear that he was always too weird, too loud, too much.

But then Derek smiled, a tiny, adorable (and Stiles should really find another word to describe this man in front of him, but none other fitted half so well), little thing that nonetheless made Stiles’ entire stomach flip over.

“I, um, I actually made these,” Derek said, equal parts shy and proud.

“You did?? No way! Holy crap, they’re amazing! You're amazing! Marry me!” Stiles exclaimed, bringing the blush back full force to Derek’s face. Hit by a wave of self-consciousness as his outburst Stiles blushed deeply too. “Um, I mean, these are really great. Like, ‘the best thing I’ve ever tasted’ great. You’re a mean baker, Mr… uh,... huh. I just realized I don’t even know your last name.”

“And yet you still proposed,” Derek teased, making Stiles blush all over again, before relenting and, licking some frosting off his thumb in a very distracting way first, holding out his hand. ‘The name’s Hale. Derek Hale.”

Stiles shook the proffered hand. “I’m Stiles. Stiles Stilinski.”

“Huh. I always figured Stiles was your last name.” Obviously noticing Stiles’ confusion, Derek elaborated, “Whenever I asked you for a name for your coffee you always just said ‘Stiles’ and I just figured it was your surname.”

“I wish!”

“So Stiles is really your first name then? Your parents actually named you Stiles Stilinski??”

Stiles groaned. “No, it’s just a family nickname that I kinda adopted for myself once I’d outgrown Mischief.” At Derek’s quizzical look he shook his head and sighed, “Don’t ask. That’s an at least third date kind of story.”

Derek grinned, bright and glorious and maybe just a tad predatory. “Well, then, I look forward to hearing it.”

Something settled between them then. Something soft and fond and full of hope. Stiles didn’t have much dating experience, but he knew things were going well here. Derek was relaxed and open around him in a way he suspected he wasn’t with many people. As for Stiles, he felt comfortable in his own skin for the first time in a long time. He didn’t feel like he had to tone himself down, make himself smaller, quieter, for Derek. Derek seemed to like him just the way he was. Feeling emboldened he threw caution to the wind and slipped his hand into Derek’s once again. The way Derek’s fingers immediately curled around his made him feel giddy and reassured him it had been the right thing to do.

“So you have experience working in a coffee house, then?” Derek asked, surprising Stiles.

“Um, yeah. I mean, I can’t whip up a batch of these little beauties,” Stiles replied, nodding towards the half-eaten cupcakes on their plates, “but I can work the register, make pretty much any coffee order that’s thrown at me and I’m pretty mean with a dishcloth when it comes to wiping down tables. Why?”

“Well… I don’t wanna push you into anything, but there’s actually a job going here. One of our employees, Jackson, just handed in his notice today. He’s moving to London with his boyfriend apparently. So, yeah, there’s an opening here. If you’re interested.” Stiles had a feeling Derek was asking about more than just the job.

“Oh, I’m definitely interested all right.” He squeezed Derek’s hand in what he hoped was an encouraging manner. Judging by the smile Derek sent his way he guessed he’d gotten his message across.

“Good, because I’ve got some sway with the management, and I-“

“No, you haven’t!” Laura’s voice rang out in a singsong manner, a teasing grin on her face, and Stiles wondered how she had even heard what Derek had said from where she was standing behind the busy counter.

Derek turned to look at her then and Stiles couldn’t see his expression, but Laura’s exclamation of “Oh, you are not giving me the puppy dog eyes right now, Derek Sebastian Hale! That may work on Mom, Der Bear, but I am immune to those babies, do you hear me? Immune!”

Stiles suppressed a smile, already sensing the waver in her resolve. He was gonna have to look out for these puppy dog eyes or else Derek would have him wrapped around his little finger. As if he doesn’t already, whispered Stiles’ heart. He couldn’t find it in himself to deny it, or to care. He was so gone for this guy and he knew it.

“Okay, fine, he can have the job,” Laura said, resigned. “It’ll save me the bother of advertising anyway. But you’re getting up extra early tomorrow to bake me a batch of those cinnamon apple things I love but which take so much work to make!” She pointed at Derek, narrowing her eyes, but the fondness leaked through. Stiles didn’t try to hide his mirth this time, laughing at them both before gushing out his thanks.

“Are you busy this evening? Around closing time?” Laura enquired of him. Stiles just shook his head. “Okay, come see me then and bring a schedule of your classes. I’ll need to see it to see when you’re free and we can work your shifts around it? Okay? Sound good?”

“Sounds great!” Stiles replied. This day may not have started out all that great, but, boy, had it staged a comeback. A job and a date with Derek. More possible dates in future. The possibility of maybe, one day, not too far away in the future, getting to call Derek (Der Bear! The nickname was so cute it made him want to squee!) his boyfriend. Maybe he should do the lottery. If he could scrounge up a few bucks from down the side of the Jeep’s seats or the beat-up couch back in his apartment.

Laura turned away then, returning her attention to her customers and the smooth running of her coffee shop. More people had filtered in and Stiles knew what Derek was going to say even before he said it.

“I should really get back to work now…”

“Yeah, this place is really filling up. And I wouldn’t wanna piss off my new boss by keeping her best barista all to myself.” Stiles grinned, albeit not as wide as usual. He understood Derek had to go but was still sad that their date was drawing to a close. He thought he sensed a reluctance in Derek to end the encounter as well, but reasoned that might just be wishful thinking on his part.

Derek got up out of his chair but hovered over the table still. Stiles heard someone (the cousin, Malia, he thinks) call Derek’s name and they both turned to look at her. She gestured impatiently to the queue of customers waiting to be served and Derek sent her an apologetic look, holding up a finger and mouthing “One second” at her.

Turning back to Stiles he looked even more nervous than when he’d suggested they have coffee together earlier.

“So, um, I’ll be here at closing too, when you come back to work out your shifts with Laura. You think maybe afterwards you might wanna go out to dinner with me?” He looked so young and earnest and just about the best thing Stiles had ever seen “My treat!” he hastened to add.

Stiles smiled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d love to.”

Derek beamed back at him, relief etched across his features.

“But you’re really gonna have to let me pay for everything on our third date,” Stiles winked, enjoying the blush that brought to Derek’s face.

“Deal,” said Derek, softly. “I’ll see you later then,” he added, tapping a knuckle against the table top.

“Yep. Definitely. Later,” Stiles replied, watching him back away, not turning around, eyes never leaving Stiles’, for one, two, three steps. Stiles was just about to call out a warning to watch out for the table behind him when Derek gave him one last blinding smile and turned around, neatly sidestepping said table.

Stiles admired his grace, knowing if that had been him he’d have ended up banging into the table, toppling over and making an all around spectacle of himself. But he didn’t care anymore if he was a klutz. Because Derek Hale liked him just the way he was. Derek Hale had asked him out. Derek Hale, who was back behind the counter again, apron back in place and hands reaching for a cup to fill the next customer’s order, but who was still looking at Stiles, bright smile on his lips and soft look in his eyes.

He remembers how much Laura and his dad urged him to pursue this. He always loved cooking, especially baking. After being his taste tester for years, Laura enthusiastically pushed him towards getting a business degree so he could open up his own bakery. Honestly, when he first pictured it, he imagined himself standing in the back, baking. Reality is a bit different.

Some days are like that, and those days are his favorite days. He can put on some headphones and concentrate on baking. Erica is practically flawless at handling the front of the store with the customers. Surprisingly. As much sass as she gives him, she really is good with the customers. She is so friendly, which wasn’t surprising, and she is incredibly patient, which is the surprising part.

Now, he has business meetings almost every week where he is gone for at least three days at a time. During that time, Boyd handles the baking, and even Derek, the perfectionist, has to admit that Boyd is damn good at what he does. Plus, Boyd hates talking, which makes him good in Derek’s book.

Sometimes, they bake together, especially if they are preparing for a big event like a wedding. Those times are a second favorite of Derek’s. They don’t usually talk, but they seem to work seamlessly around each other. Derek thinks he has a really good set up, and now that there are multiple people out there willing to put their money towards making more Hale’s Bakeries (yes, very creative name, but the ones Laura suggested were somehow worse), he is honestly living the business owner’s dream come true.

There’s just something missing. Or someone.

He is a bit lonely. On his flight home after the business trip, he longs for someone to come home to. Someone he can cook for and shower in love and food. That’s the way to woo someone, right? Food and love? He thinks so. 

He falls asleep after a while on the plane and doesn’t wake up until the flight attendant announces their descent. From there, it’s a quick process to get off the plane since he only had carry-ons. 

Finding his car is the hard part. He always loses it in these giant airport parking lots. After about five minutes of searching, he finds it. After dropping his stuff in the backseat, he gets into the driver’s seat and makes the drive back to Beacon Hills.

It’s a long drive, about two hours, but he doesn’t mind the alone time. He takes the time to process what this trip was about. They want to start finding locations in California for more bakeries, and they gave Derek a folder full of different locations to look at when he as time. He wonders for a moment, when does he have time anymore?

He is hoping they’re nearing the end of the countless meetings in NY. It is really tiresome traveling back and forth. Maybe he should suggest video conferences instead. That would save him and the company money.

When he gets home, Derek drops everything off in his room to deal with later. He quickly puts on sweats instead of his suit and hangs it up to take to the dry cleaner tomorrow. He can unpack tomorrow. For tonight, he just wants to order some Chinese food and watch the Food Channel. 

Everything changes when he gets to the kitchen and sees what’s in his backyard.

He knew it. He fucking knew it. Someone has been using his pool! And not just anyone. The sheriff’s kid. Well, granted the kid is in college now and is well over eighteen, but still. Someone is using his pool!

In a rush, he walks to the backdoor and then stops when he see the sheriff’s kid, Stiles, get out. All the anger seems to dissipate as he stares at the very much not a kid. Stiles sure has grown up these last few years. He hasn’t been around as much since he’s been at college, but wow. He is kind of beautiful?

Stiles runs a towel (his own, Derek quickly notes) through his hair and then wraps it around his waist, still showing the broad shoulders and his very well muscled back. His skin is peppered in moles that Derek can barely see, but they’re beautiful like the constellations of the stars.

Derek shakes his head, getting himself out of the funk he was in. He needs to go out there and set Stiles straight.

He opens the back door, and Stiles jumps. “This is private property,” Derek says, trying to sound tough and serious. He isn’t sure it came out like that, though.

Stiles turns around, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped. “I - you - you’re - and I thought.” He stops sputtering and takes a deep breath. “I’m sorry.”

“Has this been a repeated offense?” Derek asks with his eyebrows raised, crossing his arms over his bare chest, which he totally forgot was bare because shirts seemed like such an inconvenience at the time.

Apparently Stiles notices that Derek is shirtless because his eyes drift down and then they kind of glaze over until he shakes his head and snaps out of it. “Yes,” Stiles answers truthfully. “You have a pool. We don’t. You’re gone for days a time, so I thought why not give the pool some love while you’re away?”

Derek rolls his eyes, but he wants to smile. “Why not? Maybe because it’s breaking and entering?”

“I have not broken anything,” Stiles argues, pointing at Derek, and then he puts the finger down. “I will admit to the entering, though, and the trespassing on private property. You just have such a nice pool, and this summer has been brutal, dude, and I can’t sleep at night so this is a good way to tire out my body so it’s easier to sleep, which you don’t care about because you just found some strange man in your pool even though everyone in this town knows who I am so you obviously know I’m the sheriff’s son, and I’m going to stop talking now.” He takes a deep breath as if he was completely out of breath at the end of his monologue, and Derek doesn’t doubt he was.

“The gate code is Pi,” is all Derek says.

“What?” Stiles asks, his eyebrows scrunched together adorably.

“I’m not repeating myself,” Derek tells him and goes inside. He spares a look over his shoulder in time to see Stiles hop the fence between their yards and the way his arm muscles move....damn.

After that, Derek finds Stiles in his pool almost every night, especially late at night. It’s not that he wakes Derek up in the middle of the night. Derek is already up because he is working on new recipe ideas, and when he looks out his bedroom window into the backyard, there Stiles is, doing laps.

One time, Derek considers going out there and swimming with Stiles, maybe even challenging him to a race just to see Stiles’ reaction. He gets on his swim trunks before deciding against it. He puts sweats back on and climbs back into bed, settling with just watching Stiles’ long arms and legs move through the water.

One night, there is a knock on his back door. Confused, Derek gets up from the couch in the living room and see Stiles dancing around on his patio. 

“Dude, let me in, I have to pee!” Stiles calls out, so Derek opens the door. “Thank God, I was about to pee in your pool, man.”

Derek opens his mouth to say something about that, but Stiles is running through the house and opening the first door he can find. “That would be my room,” Derek informs him dryly.

“Right,” Stiles says and quickly turns around, his face red. “The bathroom is?”

Derek points to the left. “First door in the hall.”

Stiles practically runs in the direction Derek points, and a few minutes later, he reappears looking calmer. “Thanks, dude.” Then he stops and sniffs. “Do I smell...” He sniffs a couple more times as he walks into the kitchen. “Are those brownies?” He stops at the oven and stares longingly at it.

“Yes, I’m baking brownies,” Derek admits gruffly.

Stiles tears his eyes away from the oven to stare at Derek with wide eyes. “You? Bake?”

Derek frowns at that. Obviously he bakes. He owns a bakery. “Uh, yeah. Where do you think Hale’s Bakery gets its food?”

If it were possible, Stiles’ jaw would fall to the floor in this exact moment. “You’re the baker for Hale’s Bakery?”

“I’m the owner,” Derek says. “Or I was. Now there are other owners and investors.”

“Whoa,” Stiles says with a look of profound respect on his face. “You are probably the greatest person alive...if you let me have a brownie.”

“Of course there are stipulations.” Derek rolls his eyes, but he checks the timer. “In about five minutes you can have one.”

Stiles looks back at the oven’s timer. “There are three minutes left.”

“Yes, but they have to cool first.”

Stiles looks back at him with a strange look on his face. “Huh, scary neighbor guy cares about me enough to stop me from eating scolding brownies.”

“I have a name.”

“Yes, it’s Derek,” Stiles says, waving his hand. “As if I don’t know all my neighbors especially ones like you.”

“Like me?” Derek questions with a raised eyebrow.

Stiles turns red. “Er...ones like you. With a pool, I mean. I keep track of all my neighbors who have a pool.”

“Sure,” Derek says, unconvinced. 

“So you own a bakery.” Stiles speaks slowly like he is trying to ease into the conversation. “That’s pretty cool. You like baking?”

“Obviously,” Derek tells him.

Stiles smiles softly and shakes his head. “There’s more to you than meets the eye.”

Derek is about to ask him what he means when the timer loudly beeps. He puts a toothpick in the brownies to make sure they’re done and then he pulls them out.

Quickly, he turns to Stiles, putting a hand up that lands on Stiles’ chest. “Wait for them to cool.”

Stiles looks down at Derek’s hand and then at the brownies and then at Derek. It’s quiet and tense for a moment before Stiles takes a step back. “Sir, yes, sir.”

“So you’re in college?” Derek asks.

“Just graduated,” Stiles tells him, and Derek thinks he should look happy, but really he just looks tired. 

“Your major?” 

“Criminal justice,” Stiles answers quickly. “Kind of wanted to work for my dad, maybe be like when him when I’m all grown up.”

“You sure look grown up to me,” Derek says before thinking it through and fuck why did he just say that?

Stiles stares at him with wide eyes and then smirks. “You know, when I am an adultier adult.”

Derek nods, thanking every deity he can think of that Stiles didn’t comment on what he said because that was just ridiculous and embarrassing. Derek still can’t believe he said that.

“Has it been two minutes yet?” Stiles asks, looking back at the pan of brownies. 

“I’ll cut them,” Derek says and get grabs a knife. “Right behind you.”

Stiles turns around, and they’re close again. Derek would say too close, but for a second he thinks that may not exist with Stiles. For once, Derek doesn’t mind a person in his personal space. He doesn’t mind Stiles in his personal space.

“I gotta go,” Stiles squeaks out and then runs out the back door.

Derek watches him in confusion as Stiles jumps the fence back into his own yard. He thinks that was kind of weird. Why wouldn’t Stiles at least want to take home some brownies?

The next day, Derek goes to the sheriff’s house and rings the doorbell.

The door opens to reveal the sheriff himself. “Derek,” the man greets with a smile. Then his eyes drop to Derek’s hands or what is in Derek’s hands. “You brought us something?”

“Brownies, sir,” Derek answers. “For you and Stiles. They’re a new recipe, and usually I share with family, but you guys are right here, so I thought maybe you guys could give me an unbiased opinion on how they are.”

The sheriff nods slowly, accepting the plate of brownies that Derek hands over. “Uh-huh,” he says. “And this would have nothing to do with the fact that my son is over at your house almost every night?”

Derek blushes. Not that he has a reason to blush. He and Stiles haven’t done anything yet. Wait, yet? Not yet. No. They haven’t done anything. Period. End of sentence. 

“Uh, well,” Derek stammers and then someone is pounding down the stairs.

“Yo, Dad, who’s at the door?” Stiles calls out before he’s on the ground floor and can see Derek. Once Stiles sees him, he turns red. “Derek?”

“Brought us brownies,” the sheriff says, turning around and handing Stiles the plate. “For us to try. It’s a new recipe.”

“Right, for his bakery.” Stiles nods, grabbing the plate and looking at it closely.

“Well, I should go, sheriff, sir,” Derek says. “I have to check in on the bakery.”

The sheriff nods. “Well, thank you for the brownies. I’m sure Stiles will eat them all before I have a chance. Oh, and you can call me John.”

“If you ever want anymore, it wouldn’t be any trouble for me to bake you some,” Derek offers.

“No!” Stiles quickly yells and when John and Derek look at him, he shrinks into himself. “I mean that my dad can’t have too much sugar and fats because of his cholesterol so maybe baking him brownies at his leisure is a bad idea?”

“I think it’s a great idea,” John says loftily, turning back to Derek and winking. “Especially since this young man is kind enough to offer.”

Derek tries to smile, but he doesn’t think it worked very well. “Anyway. Nice to see you guys. I’ll get out of your hair. Bye.”

“See you tonight, Derek!” Stiles calls out before the sheriff shuts the door.