Disclaimer: I do not own Teen Wolf.

When Derek wakes up, the birds are singing, there's sunlight streaming in through the window, and the smell of homemade pancakes is wafting through the air. It feels like the beginning of an obnoxious Disney princess movie, minus the talking animals and pushy fairy godmothers, of course. Although, in Beacon Hills, a plump old woman with a wand and fairy wings isn't all that unlikely.

Stiles' side of the bed is cold, meaning that Stiles is already up and moving, and probably the one who's making breakfast downstairs if Derek would hazard a guess. Derek growls, cursing the chirping birds, the penetrating sunlight, and inconsiderate gods who decided that mornings were a good idea.

He cracks his eyes open and immediately wishes he hadn't. Erica is hunched over next to the bed, staring down at him with playful eyes and a wolfish grin. How he wasn't aware of her presence before now is a mystery. But, then again, mornings suck, so he decides to give himself a free pass.

"Wake up sleeping beauty!" She exclaims, her grin growing even wider when Derek jerks into a sitting position, his eyes glowing red for a brief moment as he wrangles his racing heart into a somewhat acceptable rhythm.

"Next time you want to startle me like that, don't." Derek mutters, rubbing his eyes tiredly.

"Aww, is our big bad alpha not a morning person?" Erica coos, her eyes wide and innocent. When she gets no response, other than another glare, which is now fully charged and functional, she huffs and straightens her body, placing her hands on her hips. "Your boy-toy's making breakfast. He told me to wake you up. You know how annoying Stiles can be, so if I were you I'd get moving." Erica leaves the room with one last grin thrown at Derek, closing the door behind her. Derek hears her walking down the stairs and finally decides to venture forth into battle.

Derek sluggishly slides his legs out from underneath the duvet, shivering as his bare feet meet the unforgiving cold of the hardwood floor. Who had the grand idea to put in wooden floors when carpet is obviously the sane choice, the world will never know. And, well, if Derek was technically the one who made that choice because he once overheard Stiles say how much he "loves hardwood floors", then that's none of the world's business either.

Derek, after preparing to face the chaos that is sure to be holding the rest of the house hostage, stands from the bed, stretching his shoulders above his head, hearing two sharp clicks as his joints pop. With one last longing gaze at his bed, Derek makes his way out of his room and down the stairs.

Halfway down the stairs, Derek hears a yell and a loud crash. He immediately recognizes the yell as Stiles' battle cry, meaning that Derek is probably about to walk into a war zone. He reaches the bottom of the stairs and, bracing himself, he enters the kitchen. For the second time today, Derek wishes that he hadn't woken up in the first place.

Stiles is clinging to Scott's back, still yelling, and beating the young werewolf on the head with a wooden spatula. Erica, as usual, is being unbelievably helpful as she stands off to the side and urges Stiles on while Allison and Lydia watch the scene unfold, giggling uncontrollably. And then there's Boyd, who is seated at the kitchen table, amidst the chaos, and calmly sipping on a cup of coffee, intermittently flipping a page as he scans through today's newspaper. Derek can only gape as he observes the absolute anarchy that has descended upon his kitchen.

"We live in a pack full of overgrown toddlers." Derek starts when Isaac speaks, having not heard the wolf come up behind him. He looks over to see Isaac drying his dripping hair with a towel with an amused frown on his face as he takes in the carnage. Derek can't seem to force words of agreement out of his mouth, so he merely nods in affirmation.

"Oi, Isaac, get your douchey, scarf-wearing ass over here and help me beat Scott into submission!" Stiles shouts, still clinging to Scott's back like some sort of overgrown, rabid Koala on steroids.

Isaac growls, glancing at Derek before saying. "Sorry, Derek, but no one insults the scarf." Isaac throws his towel into Derek's hands and charges into the fray. "They're not douchey, Stilinski! Scott, you back him into a corner! I'll grab the spatula!"

Stiles lets out a manly shriek, I'm only describing it as manly to preserve his dignity, and hurriedly disengages himself from Scott's back, flailing wildly on the way down and landing heavily on his backside. He scrambles into a standing position and puts his hands out in front of him, as if that will do anything to stop the two werewolves who are now backing him against the wall.

"Guys, a little help here? Anyone? Allison? Lydia? You're not going to let me die, are you?! Think of girl's night! It's a sacred pact between women and their gay best friend!" Stiles' plea is dismissed with two quick shakes of the girls' heads and matching smirks. "This is betrayal! I won't forget this, mark my words!" Stiles now moves his attention to Erica, who is still shouting "fight, fight, fight!" at the top of her lungs. "Erica! Catwoman to my Batman! Give a guy a hand, will you?" Erica's witch cackle dismisses any thoughts Stiles may have had about receiving help from the blonde. So, in a last-ditch effort, he turns to Boyd, who has yet to move or even acknowledge the insanity going on around him. "Boyd, buddy, pal, compadre, can you- Nope, not even going to try. I don't even think you're listening, despite the fact that my life is in jeopardy!" Boyd, the bastard, looks up at Stiles, smiling ever so slightly and raising his mug with a nod before going back to his newspaper. Now, Stiles is desperate. He has two werewolves closing in and nowhere to run. He's just about to accept his fate when he notices Derek, who is still leaning against the stairwell. "DEREK!" Stiles screeches, making a split-second decision to use the element of surprise and barrel directly toward his adversaries, which, as predicted, thoroughly startles Scott and Isaac, giving Stiles the opening he needs to sprint across the room and latch onto Derek from behind, practically climbing up the Alpha as he hugs his back with his arms and legs like his life depends on it.

Derek heaves a tired sigh, but takes a small step forward and puts his hands underneath the other man's thighs to accommodate Stiles' weight. Scott and Isaac whip around, intent on continuing their pursuit, but they stop dead in their tracks when they see their Alpha standing there with the dreaded Hale Eyebrow of Doom in place and an unimpressed expression gracing his features. They take note of the fact that their prey, Stiles, is now latched onto their Alpha. There will be no getting to him now, not with Derek around. However, when Stiles starts to make silly, unflattering faces at them they briefly reconsider. But, instead of tempting fate, Isaac picks up the wooden spatula and begins smacking it against his left hand in an intimidating manner.

After one more second of Derek glaring at Scott and Isaac, the Alpha silently communicating for them to settle their differences and restore balance to the universe, the universe being Derek's kitchen, Scott groans, letting his head fall back on his shoulders.

"I think we can come to an understanding." Scott says, glancing at Isaac, who smirks and nods, his eyes darkening playfully.

"Yeah, Stiles just has to apologize. Then everything will be forgotten. What do you say, Stilinski?" Isaac's smirk deepens when Stiles' expression morphs from a victorious grin to one of horrified disbelief.

"An apology?! I don't know who you think you're talking to, but-" Derek silences Stiles with a slap to his lower thigh and a warning growl. Stiles groans and takes a deep breath, conveying a surprising amount of annoyance in the small action. "Ugh, fine. Isaac… I am truly sorry for the mean, awful, accurate things I said about you and your scarves. And Scott, I apologize for whacking you on the head with a wooden spatula… I tried to find a metal one, but it must be in the dishwasher."

"Stiles, that's not what an apology sounds like and you know it." Derek chastises lightly. Stiles mutters something unintelligible under his breath before rolling his eyes and trying again.

"Okay, but if you thought my first apology was insincere, wait until you hear my second one." Stiles hears Scott and Isaac growl menacingly but refuses to give up. He's said it before, and he'll say it again. He is 147 pounds of frail skin and fragile bone. Sarcasm is his only defense. "Isaac, my curly-haired, baby-faced angel, I'm sorry that your scarves make you look like an idiot. And Scott, my favorite best friend," Stiles pauses as Scott lets out an indignant, "Wait, favorite?! I'm your only best friend!" Isaac groans and Stiles continues. "It truly saddens me that your mother never taught you how to make pancakes properly, and I am very sorry for your complete incompetence when it comes to the delicate art of making the best breakfast food known to man. And, I am also sorry that my forced apology sounded insincere. If you'd like me to repeat it for you once more, I will try to make it more convincing for you."

Scott and Isaac are officially fuming at the dark-haired human, who is now hiding his head behind Derek's neck, peeking out every few seconds to gauge the wolves' reactions.

"I think that's the best you're going to get." Derek comments, causing Scott and Isaac to visibly deflate, admitting defeat.

"Yeah, the words "I'm sorry" actually came out of his mouth this time. That's progress!" Erica pipes in, startling Scott and Isaac, who had honestly forgotten that there are other people in the room with them.

"Well," Stiles begins, pressing a kiss to Derek's cheek before sliding down to press his feet firmly on the ground, this second descent much more graceful than the first. "Who wants breakfast?" Stiles claps his hands together and makes his way over to the kitchen counter, dishing up the pancakes. "Derek, could you grab some butter from the freezer? We're almost out."

Derek hums in response, walking over to the freezer drawer and pulling on the handle to slide it out. He goes to reach into the freezer to grab a package of butter, but he stops. He reels back imperceptibly in shock, unsure if what he's seeing is actually there. He blinks once, twice, three times, before shaking his head and deciding that, yes, this is definitely real. He sighs, a deep, heavy sound that wracks his body and truly conveys how utterly done he is with his pack's antics.

"Dare I ask why someone left an empty coffee mug in the freezer?" Derek hears a clatter, presumably Stiles' wooden spatula dropping to the floor.

"That's where I put it!" Stiles exclaims, throwing his hands in the air in disbelief. "I can't believe I didn't look there!"

Derek groans, closes his eyes, and definitively decides that it is too early for this and that, despite the fact that he has been awake for no more than thirty minutes, he needs a break. "I am going to go to the living room for five minutes, and when I come back, there better be coffee waiting for me. If there isn't I cannot be held accountable for my actions." Derek slowly leaves the room, flopping down on the couch, not missing Stiles wide grin on his way out and his boyfriend's happy exclamation of "I love you!"

Derek settles his body into the couch, resting his head against the back. After a moment he lets a content smile reach his lips. His pack may be a crazy, chaotic mess, but they're his pack, and he loves them, no matter what.

I hope you enjoyed the story! I really had fun with this one, and I hope you like it as much as I do.

This is based on the dialogue prompt: "Dare I ask why someone left an empty coffee mug in the freezer?"

As always, comments are much appreciated!

Much Love,

RavenGrey2107