#chubby!stiles

So, when the situation had calmed down enough that Stiles didn’t feel like he was defusing a bomb, he’d grabbed a bag of chips. The crunch was satisfying after the intensity of the situation, but the small indulgence had been over way too soon.

The package had fit in the palm of his hand, barely snack-sized. Derek had handed him another flavour when he’d asked for it—salt and pepper, full-sized. The pepper burned his lips slightly, but that only made him crave something sweet and when he’d indulged in that (and another swig from the bottle in his pocket) he’d craved something salty again.

The evening had blurred into a continuous loop of eating, drinking and mediating between two to three werewolves at any time. The feeling of all that food in his stomach had only hit Stiles once he’d made his way back to the Jeep and heaved himself up into the passenger seat.

Scott had silently flashed his puppy-dog eyes at Stiles to get him to sit in the back, so he could have Allison upfront, but Stiles felt way too sluggish to get up again. They were half-way home when Stiles slurred out: “Only reason you’re driving at all is ‘cause I’m drunk.”

+++

When the air conditioning at the Stilinski residence breaks in the middle of a heat wave Stiles feels like he’s melting. When he’s looking down at his body, he kinda looks like he’s melting too. Expect that has got nothing to do with the heat and more with the tub of ice cream beside him.

The creamy soft expanse of his upper body resembled the Stracciatella ice cream a lot more than it had last summer. His diet had been ineffectual at best and contributing to his weight gain at worst.

Even though he wasn’t a freshman, those famous 15 pounds had definitely caught up to him. He actually had a bit of a pooch sticking out under his belly button and the tiniest traces of love handles on his hips.

The heat must’ve been boiling his brain because instead of recoiling from the sweet calories Stiles put another spoonful in his mouth. Closing his eyes at the cold taste in his mouth. Still thinking about all those calories, but he was only indulging because he had to cool down.

What else was he supposed to do? Just drink plain water? One day of indulgence wouldn’t ruin his diet anyway.

For a wild moment the image of Derek handing him another carton of ice cream flooded his brain. Instead of threatening him, Derek’s gruff voice ordered, Eat.

+++

Stiles wasn’t sure how, but apparently that first pack barbecue hadn’t been a complete failure. He’d received Derek’s short invitation text at 4:03 pm, two whole minutes before Scott’s phone chimed. Not that Stiles was counting.

God, this crush was getting pathetic.

The texts all said the same, just a time, a place and Bring food if you don’t want to starve. Stiles wanted to roll his eyes—Derek had such a way with words—but when he felt a familiar fond smile tugging at his lips, he bit down on it.

Stiles was actually pleasantly surprised when he was the last person to arrive, and no blood had been spilled yet. Sure, everyone stuck to their little groups and didn’t mingle, but at least no one was shouting.

When Stiles finally found Derek sitting in the shade of the porch, he stupidly waved the huge bowl of pasta salad he’d brought along—with actual real mayonnaise, not the stuff he kept in the fridge for his dad.

Derek’s frown deepened further when Stiles came walking towards the porch, so he turned 90° and headed over to the flimsy outdoor table that was set up for food. There were three identical Walmart cakes, two casseroles with unidentifiable contents and a huge stack of paper plates and solo cups. Right, still gotta work on the pack’s organisation skills.

Stiles honestly tried to stick to his resolution of eating healthier. He’d gained another ten pounds without noticing it. Well, until he couldn’t button his favourite shorts, that used to make his ass look great—now it looked like sausage casing.

So, he’d piled some of the unidentifiable food on his plate that looked like it had some green pieces in it. It tasted… fine. Stiles didn’t immediately retch at the taste which was more than he had expected.

Everything was going fine. Great even. No shouting matches on the front lawn. No one stormed out after an argument and even some tentative conversations between different groups.

Stiles could relax. Actually relax since Derek had apparently set up a hammock. Only his useless stomach betrayed him, growling loud enough for the werewolf congregation to hear, which got him a snide remark from Jackson. As of course that asshole had zeroed right in on Stiles’ growing insecurity.

But it was fine, because Stiles’ clever retort made everyone laugh and then they actually talked to each other instead of standing around making small talk. The entire atmosphere changed. Stiles felt like he’d swallowed all that previous tension up.

He was fidgeting with the hem of his shirt, trying to adjust it in a way that would hide the small curve of his belly. And then 6’ of brooding werewolf were taking over his field of view. Derek Hale was shuffling his feet and pushing a plate with three pieces of cake at him.

“It’s good cake.” It’s Walmart cake, Stiles wanted to say, but that answer died on his tongue when, while reaching forward, he brushed against his belly.

“I really shouldn’t.”

“You gain weight before a growth spurt. Don’t worry about it. It looks good.”

Stiles took the cake from Derek, slightly dazed from just being told by Derek freaking Hale that he looked good? His mind was reeling with it, and he didn’t even notice that he’d already pushed the first fork of cake into his mouth. Only when the overwhelming sweetness hit him did Stiles come back into himself.

He let the fork fall to the plate but swallowed the piece he’d already put in his mouth. Stiles scanned the backyard for Derek and found him sitting back on the porch. When their eyes met instead of his normally annoyed stare Derek’s expression was open and wide-eyed. His eyes flicked down to the cake, then up to Stiles face and back down to the cake. Finally, Derek turned away like he’d been caught doing something forbidden.

Stiles ate all three pieces of cake while trying very hard not to think of Derek bringing him more. It’s ok to break your diet if it’s a gift, right? What’s one more indulgence, not like he had had any chance with Derek before.

+++

For some godforsaken reason, Stiles had declared after the last pack meeting that his crush on Derek couldn't get any worse. The universe had taken that as a challenge.

It had started with Derek scolding Jackson for making fun of Stiles' weight gain. Then gentler to Erica for talking about how she didn’t want to leave the house without makeup. It had progressed to Derek encouraging Isaac when he managed to track down Derek by scent alone.

The final straw for Stiles had been today after a training session with all of the pack—humans included. Everything had gone well. Minimal maiming and bruising. Today Derek had given Boyd special attention, praising him whenever he recognised and countered an attack pattern instead of relying on his fast reflexes and strength.

Afterwards, while Stiles had gotten a glass of water from the kitchen, he’d heard them have a talk through the open window. He hadn’t meant to listen in, but his heart about melted into a puddle when he heard Derek say, “You did good.”

Boyd had chuckled and tried to end their talk right there with a friendly clap on Derek’s shoulder, but Derek had pressed on.

“You always give your best. You’re fast and strong and you have an incredible strategic mind. Trust your instincts. Don’t wait to block an attack when it’s coming at you, get out of there before the situation gets that far.”

“I’m not that—”

“When Erica built up all that momentum to knock you off your feet and you used that against her before she even saw you moving your feet. That was luck then?”

Stiles could hear a low chuckle bubble out of Boyd at that.

“That was pretty clever.”

“Right on. Now let’s get inside, dinner’s almost here.”

The pack had decided on pizza tonight. They’d ordered so often in the past few months that the delivery driver knew the address right away when Derek called. Stiles had decided on a small Pizza Margherita. Least calories out of anything on the menu and Stiles could really afford to cut back.

Those few pounds too much had settled into a spare tire around his waist. Yesterday he’d even found some stretch marks on the bit of pudge that always hung over his waistband. That discovery had renewed his resolve to stick to his diet. Plus, he was sitting right next to Derek.

He tried to slow down to make the tiny pizza last as long as possible, but he was still the first one that finished eating. Of course, he wasn’t full or satisfied, but the worst of Stiles’ hunger had been soothed. Even the humans had trained today, running around, hiding from the wolves. It was normal for him to still feel hungry, but he was determined to keep from eating any more unnecessary calories.

His resolve began to waver when Derek nudged his pizza boy towards Stiles.

“It’s four-cheese.” Stiles' mouth watered at the thought, but he tried to be strict.

“I already ate an entire pizza.”

“Small one. No toppings. You look hungry.” Derek shrugged and nudged the box in Stiles’ direction again.

“I’ve been eating a lot lately. I should really be cutting down.” Derek’s expression hardened like he wanted to argue with Stiles, but after a quick look around, he just put the rest of the pizza in Stiles’ lap.

“Eat.” Of course, Stiles had eaten the pizza. Who wouldn’t listen to their crush telling them to eat?

+++

Stiles had severely underestimated the filling effect four cheeses would have on his stomach. He felt bloated and achy and wanted nothing more than to rub over the heated skin of his stomach. On the other hand, he also felt absolutely stuffed, no gnawing hunger making him cranky.

Blissed out after finally eating enough to satisfy his cravings, Stiles didn’t notice the pack heading out until he was the last one still at Derek’s place. Stiles could hear someone shuffling around in the kitchen, ripping apart pizza boxes, then opening the fridge. The loud pop of a bottle of beer startled Stiles out of his almost nap.

Derek was padding back into the living room, barely making a sound apart from taking a long sip of his beer. Stiles made a move to get up, but Derek motioned him to stay.

“You can’t even get drunk. What’s the point?” Stiles had teased Derek about his habit of keeping various types of beer stocked, but today Derek didn’t take the bait.

“Everyone’s already gone home.”

“You should’ve woken me up. What time is it?” Stiles could feel this conversation steering into a very uneasy direction and tried to distract from it. Derek did not stray from his course of questions.

“Why did you order so little food, Stiles? You gotta eat after training.” Derek asked so earnestly that Stiles couldn’t help, but tell the truth.

“I’ve just been gaining weight. Don’t think that growth spurt is coming.”

“Wouldn’t be so bad, would it?”

Stiles was dreaming. He must absolutely have fallen asleep and this was a dream.

“What?”

“You don’t look like you’re running for your life all the damn time. Sturdy, settled.” Stiles laughed high and shrill, even to his own ears, when Derek sat down next to him, leaning in.

“You sound like my dad talking like that.” Derek frowned but didn’t pull back. “Sorry, I really shouldn’t be talking about my dad right now.”

“Why’s that?” Stiles was going to die of embarrassment, but he couldn’t stay quiet any longer.

“I like you.”

“Ok.” Derek nodded slowly, “I like you, too.” Why did this have to be so difficult? Couldn’t Derek just get it and throw him out already?

“No, I really like you. Like,” Stiles paused, “a crush,” he added quietly. Stiles could see the corner of Derek’s mouth quirk up.

“Like I said, me too.”

Stiles must’ve died and gone to heaven in the last few minutes. There was no way Derek Hale was— Oh, no definitely way, because that chiseled jaw was coming closer and closer to Stiles' own face. The kiss lasted for all of two seconds before Derek pulled back with a wide-eyed stare.

“Sorry, I thought—”

“No. Yes. Oh, my God. Keep kissing me. I can’t believe you— I’ve had a crush on you for ages!” Stiles flung himself forward and planted a very enthusiastic kiss on Derek’s lips.

“Didn’t want your dad arresting me for dating his underaged son.”

“I’ve been eighteen for months?” Stiles tilted his head in confusion. Derek chuckled and looked down.

“You seem to be the only one that thinks I’m some smooth-talking guy.”

“And you’re ok with—” Stiles gestured at his body, mainly hovering around the stomach section.

“You’re nice to look at. Were before, but now? Just more of you to—” Derek shrugged and looked down again.

“Yeah, yeah, smooth-talking.” Stiles smiled and put his hand on Derek’s leg to get his attention. “That sounds pretty nice. More of me. It’s probably gonna stay that way until we have to run from something again. So, you better be sure about this.”