I don't own Teen Wolf or any of the characters in the series, I'm just borrowing them from their respective owners to play with a little and I promise to give them back when I'm done. No copyright infringement is intended and I don't make any money from writing fanfiction.

Hell hath no fury like a worried werewolf

Someone's a picky eater…

"How about pancakes then?" Derek tried. Laura stubbornly shook her head.

"Don't want pancakes" she said and pinched her lips together tightly.

"I could make you a sandwich with that special cheese you like so much?" Derek suggested, trying to keep his tone light. It was hard since each and every one of his suggestions so far had been met with the same answer, and that answer was no. Laura shook her head again.

"No."

"Do you want an omelette then, with tomatoes and feta cheese?"

"No."

"Some spaghetti Bolognese maybe?"

"No."

"Mashed potatoes and steak? Lasagne? Pizza?"

"No. No. No."

"What do you want then?" Derek nearly shouted in despair. He'd suggested all the dishes he knew how to make, everything that Laura would even remotely like and she still said no to everything. "Please, tell me what I can make you" he pleaded. "Tell me what you want to eat."

"Don't want your food" Laura whined. "Stiles' food tastes better. I want the pierogi that Stiles makes." Derek went rigid for a second and then all but ran from the room.

::

"Stiles! Get your ass here right now and make Laura some food!"

"What?" Stiles asked, wincing and holding the phone away from his ear. Derek had shouted loud enough to wake the dead. "What do…?" His questions were quickly interrupted by Derek, who bellowed out several very serious threats to Stiles' vital organs if he wasn't at the loft within twenty minutes. Stiles thought it best to comply so he ended the call and got into his car. He wasn't terribly attached to his spleen in particular but it was the only one he had so he deemed it prudent to at least try to protect it from the upset werewolf.

::

When he arrived at the loft he wasn't all that surprised to see that Derek was already waiting outside.

"She wants pierogis" he stated as Stiles got out of the Jeep.

"Okay, do you have all the…?" Stiles cut off the sentence with a squeak as Derek pounced upon him, threw him over his shoulder in a fireman's carry and proceeded to run up the stairs. He went straight to the kitchen and dumped Stiles in front of the stove where all the ingredients were laid out.

"Why?" Stiles croaked as he tried to regain his bearings after being upside down and jostled around. "What are you even doing?"

"I'm faster" Derek grumbled. "Get cooking."

::

An hour later ingredients had been prepared, pierogis had been cooked and eaten and the undisputed, if somewhat young, ruler of the Hale household was on the sofa watching cartoons. Stiles nibbled on one of the leftover pierogis and sternly told Derek that it was common knowledge that if one person cooked, then someone else had to do the dishes. Derek grumbled but got the dishwashing soap out and got started.

"I'm sorry" he suddenly said, looking slightly sheepish. "It's just that… She wouldn't eat anything that I made and…"

"You were worried she'd starve to death within the afternoon?" Stiles asked.

"Well I thought… Werewolves have higher metabolism, okay?" Derek said defensively and Stiles grinned.

"Sorry, just joking with you. But you need to work on your perseverance, dude."

"Don't call me dude" Derek interjected almost automatically but Stiles ignored it.

"I mean it. She would have eaten, eventually. But since you gave in and called me she won. Now she knows that all she has to do is pout and whine and you'll crumble and get her whatever she wants, in this case pierogis à la Stilinski." Derek looked crestfallen with the harsh analysis.

"But I just..."

"Don't worry, she's a darling so she won't use it" He said, patting Derek's shoulder consolingly. Then he grinned mischievously. "Not too much anyway." He sauntered out of the kitchen and headed for the couch. "Have fun with the dishes!"