For alikatastic at AO3, as part of the Sterek Exchange Valentines 2023.

I'm a huge fan of several TW tropes like BAMF Stiles, and Pack!Mom Stiles, and Alpha!Mate Stiles... even with that I'd somehow never written Baker Stiles, or anything like that. I hope this fits the prompt, or rather prompts; because really, I'm bad at holding myself in check at even the best of times and this time I didn't even try! I combined some prompts and this is what came out.

Hope you enjoy!

Of Messy Werewolf Courtships

(or When Ignorance Isn't Bliss)

By: Lalaith Quetzalli

Stiles Stilinski, semi-retired FBI Agent, PI, Emissary of the reborn Hale Pack and (arguably) the most powerful Spark in North America, is going nuts trying to court Derek Hale, substitute teacher, consultant with the sheriff's office and Alpha of the Hale Pack. The wolf wants the human as well. The problem? They are both absolutely convinced the other doesn't want them…

Derek swears to Mother Moon that Stiles is driving him crazy. It's not… he doesn't think he's doing it consciously, of course not. Stiles… he's too good for that, and while he does seem to find great enjoyment in making a nuisance of himself quite often, he'd never do anything that might actually hurt someone else (unless that someone were an enemy), and especially not someone in their pack. Which is the only reason Derek hasn't hurt him or… well, really done anything about things. That and… while he might not want to admit it, there's a part of him that likes it.

It's… what Stiles is doing is not bad, not really. It probably would be easier if it were. If he were making some kind of faux pass that hurt him it'd be much easier for Derek to tell him to stop. To tell Stiles that what he's doing isn't right, and Stiles would stop, no doubt about that. And yet…

As for what Stiles is doing exactly… it's several things actually. Though the main one concerns the food. At least once a week (usually twice, and at times even thrice a week) he will bring food either to the sheriff's office or the high-school, wherever Derek happens to be working that day. The food in question can be pretty much anything: cookies, pastries, cupcakes, burritos, cold-cut sandwiches, anything that might strike his fancy. It's not… the food isn't even just for Derek. It's also for the others, like the sheriff, Parrish and anyone else who might be at the office, or at school (wherever Derek happens to be that day). The really important thing though, at least for Derek, is that it's not just a matter of Stiles going and dropping whatever it is he's just cooked and leaving (which, in and of itself would already be a big thing, considering that it's always wherever He is, not the sheriff, it's not about the place, or the other people, but about Derek… he knows that much at least). No, he always arrives, takes a container of his latest food and hands it to Derek, waiting for him to accept it before smiling at him and then dropping a bigger box with enough food for everyone else to have some. The only other person he hands food personally to is the sheriff (when he drops by the station), and it's always after he's given Derek his own. Everyone else must go and pick some from the main box, even Parrish.

It's… Derek's quite sure Stiles cannot know what he's doing, the significance of it, for him… for wolves. It's… in packs of both wolves and werewolves it might be normal, even expected, for betas to share their hunt with the alpha. As a way of showing respect, submission, commitment to the pack; it's even expected for the alpha to eat first, even before the one who did the hunting. However, the act of not just 'letting' the alpha have first 'bite' of a hunt, but actually delivering some of it specifically for him. That's not about respect, or even submission. That's courting. And granted, cookies, and pastries and such aren't exactly the same as a raw deer… but neither are they actual wolves living in the wild so…

Derek's quite sure Stiles isn't courting him. It's not possible. And this isn't about him thinking less of himself, or underestimating Stiles, or whatever else Peter might claim! It's far more simple than that. Considering that he tried to court Stiles in the past, and the human turned him down! So no, there's no way, it's not possible. Stiles cannot be courting him, not now, not when he was the one to reject Derek years prior! Which means it must be a mistake. Stiles probably doesn't realize what it is he's doing.

The younger man is a genius, a well known semi-retired FBI Agent (who officially retired in the aftermath of the war against Monroe and her sycophants; and yet the agency will still call him either to consult or directly assist whenever they find themselves in a case that stumps them all), world-known PI who's solved cases that have made even older, more experienced detectives throw the towel, the most famous 'fixer' of the supernatural world… but he's completely unaware that he's as good as courting his alpha with his food… yeah right!

xXx

Stiles knows what he's doing. He does. Really! He's Stiles-freaking-Stilinski! Semi-retired FBI Agent (with more commendations than his mess of a file would make believe is possible), kickass PI (the supernaturals call him a fixer… though Stiles insists that makes him sound like he's part of the Mob or something), and one of the most powerful magic users on the planet (most insist it's The Most, actually, but Stiles has never wanted to test the theory)! He's been fighting a veritable war, the kind most humans don't and will never know about, since he was seventeen years old! Really, even in the FBI less than a handful of the higher-ups and two fellow agents (one who died on the last mission) ever knew what was truly going on with Monroe and her ilk. For most of them they were nothing more than a gang/cult using supernatural terms to justify their crimes and terrorist activities. Which was bad enough on its own.

The thing is, he fought an honest-to-the-Goddess war for almost a decade, and he survived! He's one of the few who can say that… (and that's one thought he'd rather not linger on, not today, and if entirely possible, not ever). Point is, he's no weakling, not at all, most might even use words like fighter, brave… hero. He wouldn't, not really. The things he's done… it's not all been good… he's actually done some pretty bad things, but he does believe they were worth it. That it was all worth it. Not for himself (though he survived, and that's good), but because it allowed his pack to survive, and his dad. Nothing else matters.

He doesn't consider himself very brave, though. I mean, in battle? Sure. It's relatively easy to risk one's life when you believe in the cause, and he's been doing it since he was a teenager! Risking other things… like your heart? That's another thing entirely.

Stiles is in love with Derek Hale. The Hale Alpha (with all capitals!), His Alpha, his sourwolf… or well, not exactly his but… a guy can dream, can't he?

It's hopeless, Stiles is almost entirely convinced of that. He's been working at this courting thing, baking cookies, and all sorts of pastries, desserts, making lunches and other foodstuffs, always making sure they're things Derek will enjoy, always making enough for everyone either at the station or the high-school, while making sure to pack a special container that is just for Derek, which he hands the wolf first, before putting the rest where everyone can find it. There's also one for his dad, when Derek's working at the station; though he also always makes sure he gives Derek his own first, before his dad, even if he happens to come across his dad first; of course the sheriff knows exactly what's going on, so he doesn't complain, just rolls his eye and smiles at his son, saying nothing about his antics… Well, he's said that he should talk to Derek about what he's doing, instead of waiting for the wolf to speak up but… he cannot do that. Stiles knows what the next step is supposed to be, if Derek accepts the courtship; he also knows what he could do to terminate it entirely, and Derek hasn't done either of those things. Some days Stiles wants to believe that the fact that Derek isn't just shooting him down entirely is a good sign, maybe he's not yet ready to accept Stiles, but he's willing for Stiles to keep trying, to prove himself; maybe he's testing Stiles, wanting to see how committed the younger man is; maybe he's punishing Stiles for his past mistakes, for the way Stiles's own thoughtless actions must have hurt Derek. Or maybe… maybe he just doesn't care enough to even give Stiles a proper rejection. He hates to even contemplate that possibility, as much as a part of him insists it'd be well deserved.

The thing is, Stiles knows now that Derek tried courting him before, years prior. It started before they even knew that Erika and Boyd had been taken by the Alpha Pack (back when they were working under the assumption that they had, in fact, run away, again, after managing to get out of the Argents' murder basement). It started with Derek getting the loft, after Stiles told him time and time again that the ruins of the burnt Hale House, and a broken train car were neither appropriate places for the pack to gather… or for him to live! And then there were the mattresses, the TV, the cans of Dr. Pepper in the fridge (which Stiles knows, for a fact, Derek hates!), the Red vines, the old books he allowed no one other than Stiles (and Peter and Cora) to touch, the way that he allowed Stiles to touch him! Derek did probably everything short of baring his throat to Stiles, and at times the spark cannot help but think that he still did that, at least figuratively. And Stiles? He did nothing about it.

That! That is the issue. The big, really big, problem. That he now knows that Derek was trying to court him back then. Emphasis on Now. Back then? He had no idea. And so, no matter how much Derek did, how hard he tried, Stiles did nothing, said nothing. Not to accept or reject Derek's suit, not even to acknowledge it. So is it really that surprising that Derek would be reacting as he is to Stiles's own courtship attempts? Turn about is fair play after all.

There's another old saying: 'Ignorance is bliss', Stiles thinks it's absolute bullshit. Ignorance is an annoyance at the very least and a fucking catastrophe at worst (he believes his situation is on the 'worst' end of the scale). It'd be easy, so very easy, to blame Deaton for the whole thing. After all, he was supposed to be the Emissary… or former-Emissary. As he kept insisting that he was retired, only to then pop up and act whenever it was convenient, or he needed one or more of them for something, of course all along making them believe he was doing them all a favor… And yet, he was never much of an Emissary to Derek, or Peter or Laura before him; Stiles would even be willing to say that if he was Talia's Emissary he must have been a shitty one (really, with how hard it is to get one's hands on actual mountain ash, and yet somehow Kate-fucking-Argent had no problem getting her hands on enough to surround the entire Hale House in it. And she would have needed enough to make the circle the slow way, since the Argents don't have much of a spark themselves, certainly not enough to create mountain ash barriers the way Stiles himself can, with nothing but a handful of ash and his will).

So Deaton was a failure as an Emissary. He was a failure as a person too, and evil to boot, but that's an entirely different story. The point is that he never told them any of the things they ought to have known. About wolves, about the supernatural, about anything really. Whenever the man talked, it was half cryptic remarks that didn't amount to much, half outright lies. And they trusted him, they believed him because he was the former Hale-Emissary, had been a friend of Derek's mom! Because Scott trusted him and believed the world of him (though that's an entirely other issue!). Stiles really should have known better.

The point is, they didn't know the things they should have known. Like how ranks actually work in a pack, or how bitten wolves are supposed to join, the jobs and special ranks certain pack members can have, their importance; and they most definitely did not know about the rituals that are part of pack-life: when new members joins, when alliances are formed, when battles are about to be fought, and when they are won (or lost)… or when a wolf chooses a mate…

And that's the crux of the matter. Stiles said and did nothing when Derek was trying to court him, because he had no idea. Not really. Like, he might have noticed that right as he was about to give up on insisting that Derek should find another place to live, an actual place, rather than the ruins of something, the wolf finally did exactly that. And the way that there were mattresses (good mattresses!), and then a TV, and Stiles's own favorite drinks… and the way that Derek never seemed to allow anyone but Stiles in his own space. Then again, Stiles didn't give him much of a choice, did he? The spark had always been brash, brave, and more than a bit reckless… though at the same time, if there was one person he never feared, not ever, it was Derek. Even at their worst, even when they weren't actually friends (little more than acquaintances, allies), Derek always did his best to protect Stiles, and Stiles returned the favor as best as he was able (which, really, was quite a lot, even before he discovered his magic).

So, Stiles might have noticed all those little details, but that didn't mean he thought that it was about him. After all, it really wasn't like he gave Derek a choice, half the time. Not that he wanted to force Derek, not at all! If the wolf had really been against it, Stiles would have backed down, really. But most of the time it just seemed to Stiles like Derek wasn't used to taking care of himself, like he needed a reason, a push to do it, and Stiles sought to do exactly that. To make Derek do things, not for Stiles, but for Derek himself. But anyway, that aside Derek is… well Derek, he's always been so entirely out of Stiles's league, the mere idea is simply ridiculous!

Stiles has always known he's not straight, at all. He's never cared much to label himself, though he supposes pansexual might fit, or maybe it's more like demisexual? Sapiosexual? Is there a word for 'he doesn't care what a person looks like, what their equipment is, how they dress, only about how they act'? How they treat him, and others around him. Lydia… He was never in love with Lydia. Truly, as much as he admired her brain, he hated the way she believed that looks and popularity were more important. At the same time, he understood the importance of masks, of not letting others see the truth, see things they'd be able to use against him. So it was easy to pretend. Lydia was physically pretty, many wanted her, so all Stiles needed to do was pretend that he was the same. He probably tried a bit too hard, but then again, that was part of him as well. Of his ADHD and… other quirks.

Most probably found it curious that when the 'supernatural shenanigans' started really happening in earnest, he stopped pursuing her. It's rather simple really, he had more important things to do by then. Also, as things got more and more complicated and the stakes all the higher, Stiles eventually decided that he just didn't care for keeping up appearances anymore. The teenagers around him, and the entire Beacon Hills, could think whatever the hell they wanted about Stiles, he had more important things to worry about. Like the safety of his family and friends, his pack.

It was until after the mess with Monroe was finally over, that things changed. With Deaton and Morrell dead Stiles had to find someone to help him control his spark, which as it turned out was much more powerful than anyone could have expected. Turns out that while spark is usually used as an umbrella term to refer to any and all magic users that do not fit in any of the other, more formal categories because they're not strong enough for their kinds of magic; it can also be used to refer to those who do not fit because they do not limit themselves to a single type of magic. Deaton had lead Stiles to believe that he was of the former, but that was a lie, it was all part of the bastard's plan to use Stiles and Scott and drain the Nemeton's power. The plan failed, for so many reasons, and while a part of Stiles still wishes and will always wish he'd had the chance to make the bastard pay… well, karma took care of that.

So Monroe and her cult were gone, Deaton and Morell were dead, Scott too was gone, blaming Stiles for the death of his mentor (like, the bastard died because his attempt to use Stiles backfired on him, and somehow it was Stiles's fault?! Then again, that was the kind of stupid logic he'd come to expect from Scottie so…). The FBI were willing to let Stiles officially retire as long as he was willing to be on-call for cases that needed his 'special touch'; and Stiles needed to find someone to teach him actual magic before all the uncontrolled power burned him from the inside out! He ended learning a lot more than that. Including all the things he should have known already, about werewolves, about packs and being part of one.

When Stiles first found out about all the things he'd been ignorant about, when he learned about mating rituals, and especially that Derek had been trying to court him, from the summer after sophomore year, all the way to when he finally left Beacon Hills… Stiles was almost sick. It was also almost enough to make him decide to give up on it all entirely. He had to go back to Beacon Hills, of course, his connection to the Nemeton demanded it, but he'd been ready to just give up on the whole mating thing. His teacher though convinced him to try, to give him, give the both of them, a chance. Which is how he started cooking for Derek. He's been doing it at least twice a week for almost a year now and still nothing. Stiles is about ready to give up. He's tired. Tired of hoping, of praying, of feeling pain and disappointment and so much sadness… It's probably high time he accepts that he lost his chance when he was blind to Derek's own attempts at courting him. Still, because it is him, and because Stiles is an idiot even at the best of times, he decides to give it one more try. One last one…

xXx

It's been a week. A full week since the last time Stiles brought him… ehm, all of them, anything. Derek cannot help but notice. He knows it's not a matter of him being sick, or having too much work, he still sees the other man often enough to know that, so why then…? As if his thoughts alone were some kind of spell, the station's door opens right then, he senses Stiles arriving, somehow, moments before he even picks up on the younger man's scent, or hears his heartbeat; it's something he's been able to do for a while now, ever since the last fight against Monroe's psycho followers. The wolf doesn't even know how it is he does it, though he does realize it only happens with Stiles.

Stiles is carrying three boxes. A medium-sized one, and two smaller ones. As always, he heads straight for Derek first, placing the boxes down on a corner of the desk before picking up the bigger of the smaller boxes, which he then proceeds to present to Derek with a bit of a flourish. The box is a pretty plain white cardboard one, and he can smell the sugar even before opening it. Sugar and a hint of something else, something tart… or sour? And yeast, he's quite sure he can also smell yeast, and fried dough…

"Thank you Stiles," He says automatically.

The younger man stares at him briefly, before exhaling. For a moment Derek wonders if he's going to say something, but in the end Stiles just nods once, picking up the other two boxes and walks away. He places the bigger box on a table in the corner, beside the coffee machine, saying something about how it's two for each and they better be good and share… before walking into the sheriff's office with the smaller box, the one for his dad.

Being respectful of both his Emissary (and best friend) and his boss, Derek makes sure not to eavesdrop on their conversation. He makes such a point on focusing on anything else that he doesn't notice when that conversation ends, only just noticing as Stiles walks out of the station, completely missing the sad look the younger man directs his way as he walks past. He's at a bit of a loss actually, Stiles never leaves without saying goodbye to Derek, never, so why… He turns to look at the sheriff, who's standing at his office door and looking straight at the wolf with an unreadable expression. When he notices Derek is looking at him, he gestures for Derek to join him and the wolf does.

"Sit down son," The sheriff tells him quietly, waving a hand at the chair across his desk, as he heads for his own seat, placing his box of whatever Stiles cooked, on the edge of his desk. "You know, you didn't have to bring that with you. Whatever some people might think, no one would have tried to take them, They know better than that."

It's only then that Derek notices he's holding the box, still. He hasn't yet let go of it. The sheriff shakes his head and says nothing else as he sits down, opening his own box and…

"Oh Stiles…" He breathes out.

What…?!

"Sheriff…?" Derek begins, questioning, not sure what's going on.

"Why don't you see for yourself Derek?" The Sheriff asks softly.

Derek opens his own box and what greets him… well, he doesn't understand.

"Are these, mini doughnuts?" He asks, not understanding how some doughnuts are making the sheriff act like that.

"I suppose that's what you'd call them." The Sheriff nods. "The correct name is Paczki." Derek has no idea how to even pronounce that right. "Yeast cake donuts, smaller than American donuts I suppose, they're the epitome of Polish desserts. Unlike most American versions of the dish, this ones don't have a hole in the middle, and they're all filled, usually with jam." His sighs. "They're very popular in Poland. And while I've no doubt that the ones in the main office will have basic fillings, like pineapple, strawberry, blueberry and the like. These ones," he gestures to his own box. "are four apple ones, and a single chocolate filled one. Because Claudia always said that while she understood I love chocolate, I could only have one of those."

Derek says nothing, looking down at his own box. He has a dozen doughnuts, rather than five, but none of them smell of apple, or chocolate, or any other fruit he can think of. It's… the smell is almost like apricot, almost but not quite and… there seems to be a flowery note?

The sheriff shifts a bit taking a look at the inside of Derek's box before another sigh escapes him.

"What is it?" Derek asks.

"Just like I thought." The Sheriff shrugs with a hint of helplessness that Derek cannot understand. "Yours are filled with powidlo, plum-jam. It's…" He swallows. "It was Claudia's specialty. Her personal recipe, variation of an old family recipe or something. No one but Stiles knows how to prepare that jam anymore."

Wow… that… that sounds like a big deal. Derek's a little afraid to ponder what it all means.

"If you're letting my son down, I'd appreciate if you could be gentle with him." The Sheriff says next. "I know with the pack…"

Wait what?!

"What…?!" Derek cuts off the sheriff, taken completely by surprise.

"What?" The Sheriff echoes.

"What do you mean let him down?" Derek somehow manages to string the question, even as his mind is having trouble grasping it.

"What do I mean…?" The Sheriff begins, trailing off as he actually focuses on Derek, on his confused expression and seems to realize the wolf isn't joking. "Oh Lord…"

"Sheriff…?" Derek asks, unable to conceal his worry.

"First of all, call me Noah, son." The Sheriff… Noah, says; because really, if they're about to talk about… that, they should definitely be at least on first name basis.

"Sure Sher… Noah." Derek looks even more nervous at that for some reason.

"How long has Stiles been bringing you food Derek?"

"I… uh… he doesn't bring it just for me sir…"

"Maybe not, but I'm sure neither of us has failed to notice that you're his focus. Really, if it were about the station, or about me, he wouldn't be following you, whether you're here or at the school. He might make enough for others to enjoy it too. But it's about you, it's always been."

"I… don't know what you want me to say…"

"I want you to tell me that you see he's doing. That you understand what all this means…"

"It's… it just…" His mind goes blank not knowing what to do, what to say and…

"Son, breathe!"

"Ah…" Derek forces himself to do just that. "I know what this kind of behavior means for… for us, our kind. But that doesn't…"

"You realize my son is part of that by now too, right?"

"Of course! Stiles is pack, has been from the start really and…"

"And that's the issue." Noah cuts him off.

He wonders if he's the first person to realize it. Then again, as much fun as Peter might be having with everything going on, and while the others might be making an effort to stay out of the whole thing. He's probably the first person to be able to see both sides of the current mess, understand it and, well, care.

"Tell me something son, who taught you about… well everything, about being a wolf, about… pack?" Noah still has some issues finding the right words, not being as tightly involved in things as his son and the others.

"My dad." Derek answers immediately. "And Peter."

A part of Noah notes the fact that it was his father and uncle, and not his mother; not the person who, if Noah understands correctly, was the leader of their family… pack. He wonders if that's significant, somehow; before deciding that it doesn't really matter right now.

"And who taught… well, the rest of your pack?" Noah finally gets to what he sees as the crux of the matter. "Scott, Melissa, Lydia, Malia, Stiles…"

"I…" Derek opens his mouth, then closes it again with a snap, his eyes going wide as it apparently hits him. The truth he's failed to see thus far.

On that front, Noah wonders if anyone ever taught Scott and Melissa anything. He knows his son has a habit of researching things to hell and back, and also that his doing that doesn't mean that whatever he finds will be right (after finding out about the supernatural himself he had to listen to more than one rant from his son about all the insane things people will say about the supernatural, that aren't true at all, and all the ways they'll twist the truth). Malia might have had Peter to help her learn the ropes, eventually, and Lydia… well the Sheriff has no idea, but his son… Noah knows that he did what he could with what he had available, but there's a lot he didn't really know until recently, until he got an actual teacher, one that was worth the title, rather than useless Deaton (Noah might not know all that happened on that front, but he knows it was bad). He's aware that was one of the reasons that made Stiles finally decide to become a PI, instead of joining the Sheriff's Station, when he left the FBI. The realization of all the things he hadn't known, how different things might have been if he had; all the things so many people wouldn't know, and all the ways Stiles wanted to be able to help them, to be for them what he wished someone had been for him… Noah supported him completely.

"Stiles is always saying that Ms. Flowers was a godsend, she taught him so much." Noah goes on, carefully staring at Derek, waiting for his reaction. "Things that, according to him, he should have known from the start. But better late than never, right?"

"Right…" Derek murmurs half-absently.

"So, like I was saying, if you're planning on letting my son down, I hope you can be… kind to him. I know it's probably not my place, but he's still my son and…"

"What…?!" Derek cuts him off, eyes focusing on Noah, finally. "I… I don't…"

Noah says nothing, waiting.

"I need to go." Is all he says in the end.

Noah doesn't even try to stop him, just watching him leave, the start of a smile on his lips as he pulls out his cellphone.

"You owe me…" He announces. "I will take my payout in wine… Well, I might be willing to share some of my apple paczki with you, if you're interested… yeah, he did that… Plum, of course, Claudia would be so proud, and she'd definitely love Derek… Well, it was about time, don't you think? And it was getting painful to watch! … See you tonight… Yeah no, I'm not planning on going home tonight… Yeah, see you then Peter…"

xXx

Derek ran all the way to the Stilinski place. In part because it was faster than driving, at least for him; and in part because he just didn't think he had the control to focus on driving a car, not right now, not with… everything. He comes at the house from the preserve, jumping clear over the fence without even having to think about it. He's almost at the back-door when he glances at the window, getting his first look at the kitchen. It looks like a war-zone, or like a disaster zone… well, not quite that bad, but somewhat. The sink is filled with soapy water and enough things (mostly pots and such, by the looks of it) to be noticeable over the suds. There are several jam-filled jars over the counter, beside pieces of cardboard (maybe un-assembled boxes?) and several canisters, probably with other foodstuffs. Stiles himself is just in his white under-shirt, plaid shirt and jacket both abandoned over a kitchen stool, and he's very focused on cleaning the counter… which is already pretty much sparkling.

Stiles… wasn't entirely focused on what he was doing. Things were… not very good. It's not like he was expecting for Derek to take a bite of the extra-special Stilinski-paczki, go nuts and declare his undying love for Stiles (though wouldn't that have been awesome?)! It certainly would have served to shut up Hannah, the secretary, once and for all, regarding Stiles's one-sided affection; because apparently his dear Alpha being (either accidentally or willfully) blind, doesn't mean other people failed to see how far gone the sheriff's son is on the older man. But no, Stiles wasn't actually expecting such a thing, PDA might look good in movies, but he wasn't interested in it in real life. It'd always felt to him like such things were less real and more for show. Because really, Jackson and Lydia? Scott and Allison? Such big shows of affection and devotion and the like, and what was the point in the end? None of that stopped Jackson from leaving, and the other two were over even before Allison died.

So no, it wasn't that he was expecting any grand declaration but well… some kind of reaction would have been appreciated! Still, he decided a week ago that this would be his final attempt. It was why he finally decided to bring out the 'big guns' as his dad called it, and use the family recipe for paczki, and if that weren't enough, he filled Derek's own with his mom's own plum-jam recipe, flavored with wild-roses and a bit of something extra (top secret!).

In any case, he focused on cleaning up the kitchen. Cooking could be messy, and he always ended up using more pots, pans and dishes than seemed possible. So he washed most of the dishes, before placing the pots and pans in soapy water to ensure they'd be easier to wash later on. Then got to cleaning up the counter from the mix of flour, powdered sugar and traces of jam. It wasn't easy, there was a part of his brain that kept reminding him of what he'd done, of how wrong things had gone… of the fact that Derek didn't want him…

He's so in love with the sourwolf… but if he doesn't want him… Stiles can accept that, he really can. He won't be creepy, or a stalker, or anything like that. He can accept that Derek doesn't want him, never has and… And he's not saying that it'll be easy, it won't, but he can do it, he will do it. He'll pack up those feelings to the point where Derek won't notice them and focus on being the best friend, packmate and Emissary he can possibly be for the wolf. He can do it! He really can. It probably won't be easy at first but he knows he can…

Stiles loses his train of thought entirely as his instincts make him snap to attention abruptly. Making him realize he's no longer alone. Derek's nearby… no, more than that, Derek's right there in the house, in his kitchen! How did he not realize that earlier? How did he not sense him approaching?! Is he really so distracted that… well, yeah, probably.

"Hey! Derek, fancy seeing you here…" He calls as he turns away, trying for a cherry tone (and probably failing miserably) as he carefully does not look straight at the wolf, going straight to the dishes (he needs to keep busy, and an excuse not to look at Derek).

"Stiles," Derek calls to him several times. "Stiles, will you look at me?"

"I'm afraid I'm a bit busy sourwolf, these dishes won't wash themselves, you know?" He states, in the most even tone he can.

He's not actually washing anything, not really, just holding himself back from looking at Derek, from asking what the hell he's doing there exactly, and shouldn't he still be at the station? … taking more energy than he truly has.

Derek doesn't reply, and Stiles very carefully does not ask any questions, doesn't even turn around. Seconds pass, then minutes. Eventually Stiles manages to actually get to washing the dishes, he rinses them. Doesn't have any energy for drying them, but that's fine, he'll just leave them to dry on their own and focus on something else in the meantime. Probably something in his room, where he can sulk and brood in peace… He turns around absently and then just… freezes. Because Derek's still there! He's standing there, in the middle of his kitchen just… just staring at Stiles and saying nothing and… what the hell is going on?!

Stiles… says nothing. Derek stands there, looking at him, waiting for the younger man to say something, anything at all (he's always such a chatterbox, even in the middle of a crisis it's next to impossible to get him to shut up, so how is it that now that Derek wants him to talk, not a single word is coming out of his mouth?!). Stiles says nothing. He just keeps staring at Derek, as if waiting for the wolf to just, say something, or do something… or just vanish. Really, the way things are going, the alpha turning out be just a figment of his imagination wouldn't even surprise him! (It also wouldn't be the first time… but the less he focuses on that, the better).

Derek's never been good at finding his words. Or rather no, it's not that. He used to be very bad at it (comes from being a born werewolf, he thinks, they communicate in so many different ways, sometimes words just aren't needed), and then he became better. For Paige, because he liked her, he liked her so much and wanted her to like him too. And then Paige was gone and Kate showed up, and Derek talked… he talked too much. And after the fire, and the grief and the loss, Derek decided that maybe he was better off not talking. Except that now it's an issue, because he doesn't know how to talk, how to find the right words to express himself, and Stiles is just standing right there, looking and at the same time not-quite-looking at him, like he cannot bare to look at Derek or… or like he thinks Derek isn't real at all…

That thought, that is what gets him moving. He goes for Stiles, taking hold of the spark's hand who almost (almost!) flinches, not like someone bracing for pain (thankfully!) but rather, like someone taken completely by surprise. So it really is like that. The wolf pulls at him, guiding Stiles to the closest kitchen stool (not occupied by articles of clothing) and gets him to sit down. Stiles just… goes. Just following Derek's lead like he cannot do anything else.

Slowly, unsure if it's the best idea, but unable to think of anything better, Derek lets go of his hands and moves away, to where he left his little box of treats on the counter closest to the kitchen door (mentally cursing for having put it down). He brings it with him to the island, placing it on it before taking hold of Stiles's hands again with one of his own, while with the other one he opens the box and picks one of the donuts… paczki, the sheriff… Noah called them paczki (however that's pronounced!). He picks one up, breathing in the mix of dough, yest, a fruit that smells somewhat like apricot and he knows now must be the plum, cinnamon, sugar and… something flowery? He's not a hundred percent sure, but he could almost swear it's like roses, not the kind flower-shops sell, but the kind found in the forest, wild roses… Only instead of bringing the treat to his mouth, he brings it to Stiles's.

Stiles for his part, he's not quite sure what's going on anymore. It's… he knows it's not a panic attack, because he's not forgetting to breathe, or feeling dizzy, or losing time, or anything like that. But at the same time he doesn't feel quite… real. He can see Derek standing in front of him, can feel the wolf's warm hand holding his own, yet it's almost like he's half in a dream or something. Like there's a part of him that doesn't quite believe any of it is true. Not even… or rather, especially not when he sees Derek pull one of the paczki out of his box, and instead of biting into it, he lifts it to Stiles's own mouth!

Stiles's reaction is instinctive, visceral. He pulls away from Derek, tearing his hands out of the alpha's and practically stumbling away, so abruptly the stool he was sitting on screeches against the linoleum floor at a high enough pitch to make the wolf wince, the stool itself almost falls, and would have if Stiles didn't react automatically, pulling it up and half using it to hold himself up, half to put some sort of barrier between himself and Derek.

"Sti…" The alpha begins, in a low, soft tone, as soft as he can make it.

"Is this some sort of joke…?" Stiles gasps, voice strangled. "Is… Am I a joke to you?!"

"No!" Derek gasps, horrified. "What… why would you think…?"

"You don't want me!" Stiles snaps. "I know that. I swear I can handle it, I can. What I… I refuse to deal with your… your pity, your…"

"No, Stiles, no. This… this isn't about pity. I swear to you. I… I lo…"

"No! No you don't."

"Stiles…"

"Look, I tried, okay? I tried, and maybe it was the worst idea I've ever had. But it's okay. Because I know now that it was a bad idea. And I can take it, okay? I can take rejection. I can move on. I will…"

"I didn't reject you!"

"Come on Derek! You cannot tell me you…"

"I didn't know…"

"Don't you dare…" Stiles's voice goes abruptly low, cold. "Don't… don't insult my intelligence, okay? It's one thing for you to turn me down. I won't have you lie to me. We both know the truth. We can deal with the consequences. I tried courting you, you didn't want me. Wish you had said something instead of just letting me keep trying for a whole year but I suppose I had it coming. At least I hope we can now get past it and…"

"I… no… wha… you think I was punishing you?!"

"What else am I supposed to think?"

"That I didn't know…"

"I told you not to lie to me! I understand why you did it, okay. Turn about and all that…"

"No, Stiles no. Never. I'd never do that. I mean, yeah, I thought you'd ignored my own attempts at courtship years ago, yes. Did that hurt? Definitely. But I'd never do something to hurt you and think that you deserved it!"

"Then… then why?"

"Because while I could see how your actions could be interpreted, I didn't think you did."

"What…?!"

"I thought you didn't know. I… that's what I told myself, after… after all that, with my own attempts. That you didn't know I was courting you, and that's why you didn't say anything. That you… that you weren't so cruel as to let me try so hard without saying anything either way."

"I'm not. I'm not. I swear Derek. I would have never… I didn't know."

"I know. I… so I thought that you still didn't know."

"What…? But… How did you explain all I was doing then? I kept cooking for you! Kept bringing you all sorts of food!"

"For your dad too, and everyone else."

"Because I didn't want to be too obvious! Not to them, they'd never understand." He makes a pause, revises. "Well, my dad does, and maybe Parrish, but everyone else?"

"I… I didn't want to believe you knew…" at Stiles's sudden, sharp whine, he hurries to add. "Because you knowing what you were doing, the implications, meant you had to have known back… back then too. And that meant that you didn't want me then but you did now? Why?!" He takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down as much as he can, this conversation is important, he needs to find the right words. "I didn't know that Ms. Flowers taught you about packs and… and their… our traditions too."

"Oh? Oohhh…." Stiles exhales, slow and low as he finally understands what Derek's saying, and what he isn't. "Fuck."

Indeed. For a handful of seconds neither of them say anything, they just stand there, in the kitchen, looking at each other, breathing, fast at first, then slower, and in tandem.

"Okay…" Stiles murmurs when he's fairly certain he's calmed down. "Okay, how… how about we try this again?"

As he says that he takes another deep breath before pushing the stool back to its original position (careful not to make that horrible screech again), then goes to sit on it, breathing in and out deeply a couple of times, never looking away from Derek, waiting.

It actually takes a couple of seconds for the wolf to realize what's going on, that Stiles is waiting for him. Then it's the most natural thing for him to pull a paczki out of the box once again, and very slowly raise that same hand, until the donut is a hairsbreadth from the younger man's face. It's only for a second. As in that moment, finally, after so long, so many tries, and more misunderstandings than should have been possible… in that moment it's the easiest thing for Stiles to incline his head, just a bit, open his mouth, and take a bite out of the paczki.

It tastes… exactly the same as it always has, every time he's done them, almost exactly like the ones his mom used to make back when she was alive… and at the same time completely different. And he knows that the latter has nothing to do with actual taste. No, it's a matter of intent, of what it means for him to be biting into that paczki, for Derek to be offering it to him. His acceptance of Stiles's courtship of him…

After that it's quite easy for the both of them to push the box of treats aside and come together in a kiss. One that feels nothing at all like they'd expect a first kiss to. There's no shyness, no doubt, no fear, only tenderness, devotion, passion, and love… so, so much love.

xXx

"You know, I'm pretty sure this wine is worth more than any bet we could possibly make." Noah murmurs as he contemplates the glass in his hand after taking the first sip.

It's rich, sweet, with a slight hint of bitter and something almost… salty in the background. Probably one of the best wines Noah has tasted… ever. Which tells him that the wine cannot possibly be cheap, and knowing Peter as he does, it might even cost more than Nosh makes in several months, if not a year! So really, way too expensive for a minor bet lost… and one he knows a part of Peter is really happy to have lost.

"Ah, but we never actually agreed on an amount for the bet, or a price range, did we?" Peter points out with a too wide grin.

Noah snorts and says nothing, he knows this isn't an argument he's going to win. Not that he actually wants to. He likes the wine. It's nice, and goes surprisingly well with the paczki.

"Stiles is a remarkable baker…" Peter comments as he takes a big bite from one of the donuts. "My nephew is a very lucky man…"

His voice is full of implications, which only makes Noah groan loudly before he takes a big gulp of the wine, probably more than he should in one go (really, such a wine deserves to be tasted, enjoyed), but he just wants Peter to shut up! There's a reason he decided not to go home tonight. And it's not just that he knows Peter's more than happy to have him stay the night. Noah might be glad (ecstatic, really!) that Derek and his son will finally stop staring longingly and then sadly at each other in turns whenever they think the other one isn't looking, but that doesn't mean he wants to be there for it!

The human man doesn't even look as he pulls out the next paczki, only realizing it's the chocolate one when he bites into it and the deep, bitter and rich flavor of the dark chocolate explodes on his tongue. Somehow that seems to go even better with the wine than the apple one.

"Hmm… that smells like very good chocolate…" Peter murmurs as he reaches into the box himself, only to scoff a moment later. "Hey! Why aren't there more of those in here?"

Noah thinks about Claudia, about her rule regarding paczki filled with chocolate, and how he'd always end up sharing that one with her. Half for him, half for her. The way she'd smile, that smile that was just for him when he placed the treat on her mouth; the way she'd sometimes take the chance to tease him…

Noah loved Claudia so much… there's a part of him that still does, and always will. And yet she's dead, has been dead now for longer than they were ever together, and while that doesn't really erase his love, doesn't erase the fact that a part of his heart will forever be hers… that doesn't mean he cannot move on. He can, he has…

"Open up," he murmurs, not even stopping to think about it as he takes advantage of Peter's automatic reaction and places the second half of the chocolate-filled paczki in his own mouth.

Peter's mouth closes around the treat automatically, though still with enough thought for him to take advantage to tease Noah just the slightest bit.

Noah pulls his hand back, saying nothing about Peter's tease, though he doesn't fail to notice the way the wolf's eyes darken, either because of that, or perhaps it's the chocolate…

"So…?" He asks after several seconds.

"I think both my nephew and myself are very lucky…" Peter murmurs, voice low and husky as he stares straight at Noah, eyes dark and intense, full of promise. "Very lucky indeed…"

Peter uses one of his hands to gently take hold of Noah by the chin and pull him into a deep, filthy kiss, which the other man returns with the same intensity. Very lucky indeed.

xXx

Derek slips back into the bedroom with nary a sound, wearing nothing but a pair of old, loose shorts he fished from one of Stiles's drawers, they're a washed-out gray, a bit threadbare and hang low on his hips, leaving very little to the imagination, but it's not like he could have gone to the kitchen completely nude. Even if the house is supposed to be empty, better not to tempt the fates. Stiles is on the bed, which has clean sheets now, the old set already in the washing-machine, the duvet still on the floor (not like he's going to need it), his hair still a bit damp after the quick shower they shared (and in which there was very little actual cleaning up and a lot of… other things). He's wearing a pair of dark-red boxer-briefs which, judging by his wolf's (and Derek truly is his now, as much as Stiles is Derek's!) expression, they won't be staying on for long, oh well!

"What did you bring sourwolf?" Stiles asks eagerly as he shifts on the bed until he's sitting with his back against one of the bed posts, body angled just right for Derek to sit beside him, back to the other post, the two of them half curled against each other, arms and torsos touching and legs tangled together.

The answer to the question turns out to be: a couple of beers and Derek's box of paczki. The beers are open already and they each take a drink. They drank enough water both before and after the shower, so they aren't really thirsty, still, the beers don't taste half-bad, it's a microbrew, nothing like the stuff usually found in supermarkets. Peter was the one who first introduced them to it. First to Noah, while Stiles was still with the FBI, and then to Stiles himself when he returned to Beacon Hills, tightly strung and tense all the time. Peter gave him the chance, the security for Stiles to just drink until he was drunk enough he didn't feel self-conscious or guilty as he ranted, raved and even screamed himself hoarse deep in the preserve. Letting out all the feelings he'd been keeping carefully (oh so carefully) in check since the showdown against Monroe and… everything else.

In any case, the beer is decent, and seems to go well with the paczki. Not what Stiles was expecting when Derek said they should eat something, had to keep their energies up and all that, but still, it's nice. Though even nicer is just being there, on his bed, in each other arms. Stiles truly believes it's the happiest, the most at peace, he's been, well, ever.

Stiles chuckles, just a bit, low in his throat, when Derek offers him a bite of one of his paczki, taking the second half himself. And then again with the next one, and the next.

"You don't have to keep doing this, you know?" Stiles murmurs even as he runs his tongue across his lips, catching some of the sugar left there.

Derek, it seems, cannot help himself, as he bends down to kiss Stiles, quick and dirty, pulling a small groan from Stiles.

"I don't want there to be any doubts." The wolf points out.

"Well, I'd say there are no doubts left on my end…" Stiles begins, and there's a glint in his eyes that tells Derek all he needs to know.

"But…?" The alpha rumbles, voice low and deep, he knows exactly where Stiles (his Stiles, his lover, his mate!) is going.

"But we can always work on that… together…" He says the last word full of innuendo, eyes dark and his natural scent blanketed in lust.

"You're insatiable!" Derek chuckles even as he puts his beer and box of treats on the night-table, twisting to straddle the younger man, crowding him but not quite touching him.

"Only for you… alpha…" His mate murmurs in a breathy tone, barely managing to put down his own half-empty beer bottle on the other night-table without dropping it, or even looking at it at all, as he arcs his body as much as he can in their current positions, tilting his head to the side, baring his throat to the wolf.

It's enough to make Derek's eyes glow alpha red, his instincts pushing him to kiss and nip at the exposed skin. Pulling more deep groans and breathy moans from his mate. His original plan was to wait, to give it some time for the two of them to be completely sure before they sealed the mating, before he bit Stiles, made him, truly, his mate. Somehow he doesn't think it'll work that way. If the both of them don't end up fully mated by the morning the wolf will be surprised. Very surprised indeed!

Yeah, there are definitely no doubts left, in either of them; but the night is young. There's much fun to be had, and not only that night, but every night Mother Moon sees fit to grant them. They're together now, finally, and that's how they'll stay, to the end of time.

So... what do you think? I left some things in the air, especially with regards of what happened between canon and the fic, mostly because I didn't want for the fic to end up being too long, or to focus too much on things that had nothing to do with the prompt.

The Noah/Peter side-pairing caught me completely by surprise but I like it. And I like it when the Sheriff goes all parental, not just on Stiles, but on Derek as well.

Now I have to go find some paczki for myself because this fic has given some serious cravings of that treat... or the closest I can get to it.