I sort have no clue where I'm going with this chapter so you might have to bear with me, and I'm about ninety percent certain it's crap so I apologise for that.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
G x
Stiles was lounging on the sofa with Isaac's head pillowed on her flat stomach, one hand raking through his golden curls, and the other flicking the pages of her book that was resting against the crown of his head. They had gotten home from school a little while ago, and her coach's daughter had a recital at school, so training had been cancelled for the day. Her coach had extracted a strict promise that she would train a little after she had done her homework, but for now she was perfectly content to sit and snuggle with a warm body.
Isaac turned his head and pressed his face into her shirt, his warm breath puffing through the thin material. Stiles smiled at the sleeping boy, and turned the page of her book, immersing herself back into it quickly.
A short while later the smell of cinnamon reached her nose and she perked up, quelling the urge to spring up and steal the food being made in the kitchen. She shifted slightly, freezing when Isaac muttered nonsensical gibberish into her clothes.
"Excuse me!" She whispered. "Awesome wolfy chef person, whoever you are? I want cinnamon things. Help. Isaac's lying me." She waited, twitching in surprise when Derek poked his head out of the kitchen, and chuckled softly at the image the two teenagers made.
Isaac was drooling on Stiles, and Stiles was making a disgruntled face at him. Derek rushed to help, dressed in a plaid shirt and with a tea towel draped over his shoulder once more. Inner Stiles fanned herself as Derek neared the couch, but outer Stiles composed herself, and motioned at Derek to be quiet. She gestured fiercely at Isaac, and Derek made a show of tiptoeing towards them silently, smothering giggles as he went.
"Hey Stiles. You look comfy." He whispered, and grinned.
"Shut up and get your puppy off of me without waking him up." She whispered back. He grinned and slid Isaac carefully off her stomach, positioning him so he didn't crick his neck while he slept.
It was times like this that Stiles saw that Derek really did care. She leapt off the sofa carefully and tugged her shirt down where it had ridden up, not noticing the way Derek stared at her as she did.
She chivvied him into the kitchen, smiling at the dough resting on the counter.
"What are you making?" She asked him, toying with the hem of her shirt.
"Cinnamon twists." He moved to the counter and patted the dough, then picked up a piece of paper. "And...macaroons!" He gave the paper a little shake, and Stiles grinned widely.
"Those are my favourites!"
"I know." Before Stiles could quiz him on what he meant, he gave her the paper. It turned out to be a recipe.
"Want to help?"
They spent the next hour making macaroons, Derek telling Stiles off for eating the mixture when he wasn't looking, and Stiles telling him off for throwing flour at her. Luckily Jackson came in before it turned out into an all out war, and scowled at them, nicking a carton of milk, and then leaving again. When the macaroons and cinnamon twists were in the oven, they amiably cleared up, Derek washing and Stiles drying.
"I'm exhausted!" Stiles exclaimed after, slumping playfully against Derek's back. After a few moments of feeling his heartbeat against her chest, she pulled away reluctantly, only for Derek to catch her by the wrist and pull her into a proper hug. She relaxed into him, allowing him to hold her up and buried her face in his shoulder, the only part of him she could reach at her short height. A short time later, Derek mumbled something into her hair.
"What?"
"I said, don't you have training?" He settled his chin atop her head. She sighed, and muttered for a moment.
"Yeah." She said finally.
"I'll drive you if you want." He offered.
"You sure?" He nodded, and they separated, Stiles mentioning she need to grab her gym back, and Derek noting that since they would be there a while he would grab his own.
She clambered into the camaro after hugging Isaac goodbye, and immediately plugged her Ipod in to his sound system. He mock frowned at her as she switched on some Kasabian and started bobbing her head in time to the drums. He scowled.
"Shut up, I know you love it." His frown disappeared and he sang along with vigour.
When they reached the gym, she split off to go and change, and returned to find him sitting in his street clothes where she would be practising.
"I thought you were going to go and work out?" She said, already dusting her legs with chalk.
This time she didn't miss his gaze on her bare legs. "Derek?"
"Hmm?"
"They're just legs, sourwolf." He jerked in surprise.
"Sorry." He looked at the floor. Her heart twisted in her chest.
"Tell you what, to make it up to me, you can watch me flip around for a bit, yeah?" He nodded.
She made her way to the floor, stretching quickly before bending over and tumbling into a forward roll. She flipped herself into a handstand, a cartwheel and several somersaults, then launched into a series of high energy, high difficulty flips, rapidly making her way across the floor.
Finally finished, she settled into her end pose, drenched in sweat, and smiling.
"That was amazing." Derek told her seriously.
"Thanks." She blushed. "I'm just going to have a quick session on the bars, okay?"
"Bars?" She grinned and took his hand.
"Come with me."Stiles led him over to the uneven bars, and dug in her bag for the hand guards she used, and re-dusted her hands with chalk, before taking a running leap and jumping on the spring board, flying through the air, twisting and swinging from bar to bar and back again. When it came time for her to dismount, she executed a perfect double twist back flip.
"How..." Derek was flabbergasted.
"Practice, sourwolf." She pulled on a pair of sweatpants over her leotard and an old t shirt of Scott's that she had stolen a few years ago, and poked Derek in the ribs. He squirmed, and she giggled.
"Ticklish, Derek?" He shook his head adamantly, and wriggled again when she brushed her fingertips against his waist. "You are!"
"No, stop, please!" He gasped, taking several steps away.
"Okay, okay, truce." She raised her hands. "Now take me for food?" She pleaded. Derek sighed, but smiled and nodded.
They went to a diner down the road, and stayed for three hours.
The sheriff was not impressed.
At all.