Baking My Way Into Your Heart - Integrate

Derek was currently roaming around a bookstore, trying to locate its psychology section. He needed to pick up a book for one of his classes. Once he found the right shelf, he easily spotted the required reading and tucked it under his arm. As he was walking over to where the registers were, another book caught his eye. Derek picked it up, flipping through the pages.

It was a cookbook. More specifically, it was a dessert cookbook. On every page was a picture of the dish it described; its instructions on the opposite page. Derek looked at a picture of red-velvet cupcakes with a cream cheese frosting. 'I wonder if Stiles can make that…' He skimmed through a few more pages, pausing at a picture of coffee-crumb cakes. He wondered if Stiles knew how to make that too.

Derek decided that getting the book wouldn't hurt. He could give it to Stiles and maybe Stiles could try out some of the recipes he found in it. He tucked it under his arm with his psychology book, heading to the registers once more. But then, something else caught his eye. Soon, Derek found himself in the cooking section of the store. He picked up one book, leafed through the pages, liked what he saw, and then added it to his pile. He found another book, thumbed through it, liked what he saw, and then added that one as well. He did this three more times before he felt he sufficiently went through all the relevant cookbooks related to desserts and pastries. He finally went up to the register, not even caring that what should have been a fifteen dollar purchase turned out to be almost seven times that. Actually, it didn't even really occur to him what he had done until he was safely back in his home, after scrounging up something for dinner, and setting the bag of books down at his desk.

Derek blanched. 'What did I just do?' He emptied out the bag, strewing its contents over the tabletop. There, staring up at him was one psychology book and six different cookbooks. Six.

'Oh my God,' Derek reached into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet with the receipt from the bookstore. 'Oh my God.'

He looked at his watch. It was already getting pretty late and Derek didn't think he could make it to the store before closing, even if he took his car. Derek sat down, burying his head in his hands, tugging at his hair.

'It's fine. I can just return them tomorrow. I'll go back after classes and just return them. It'll be fine.' He exhaled, feeling himself relax. He took a few deep breaths before deciding to continue his schoolwork. Derek pulled his psychology book over to him, flipping it open. He grabbed a pen and some sticky notes so that he could make notes in it while reading.

Derek lost himself in his studying for the next hour or so. He had already read well into the recommended reading, so he soon found himself getting distracted. He kept glancing at one of the cookbooks, still sitting messily on his desktop. He tapped his pen against his lip. Giving in, he pulled the book to him, flipping it open.

The next morning, Derek finished up his routine before packing up his school stuff. He shoved his psychology book into his satchel, setting it by the door so he could grab it on his way out. And then, Derek froze.

'Oh no…' he groaned. Derek rushed back to his desk. He remembered now. After finishing with his psychology book, he had picked up one of the cookbooks. And marked it. He flipped it open to one of the tagged pages. There was writing on the margins. In pen. 'Oh my God!' Derek screamed to himself.

He had made comments. He made little notes in the margins asking if Stiles knew how to make this or that. There were even little doodles of caricatured lemons on various pages. His eyes trailed over to the other books on the desk. 'You have got to be kidding me…' All six of them had tags sticking out. Derek dropped the book in his hands, grabbing another one and throwing it open. Surely he couldn't have made notes in all of them. But, sure enough, there were little notes in his handwriting. He dropped it and picked up another. Then another. All six of them were marked up. In pen.

Derek dropped the last book on top of the pile before running a hand through his hair, placing his other hand on his hip. He began to pace. 'Okay. Maybe it's not such a big deal if I give it to him. He'll probably be grateful for them. I'm sure he likes finding new recipes.'

Derek nodded to himself, satisfied with the thought. It was decided. He grabbed a bag, stuffing all six books into it, taking it with him as he headed on over to the coffee shop.

"Good morning, Dustin," Stiles greeted as he walked through the door.

Derek nodded in greeting before setting his stuff down in his regular spot. He put the bag of books on the floor by his feet. Stiles soon joined him, setting the coffee in front of Derek. Today's drawing was of a very intricate leaf. He had to ask Stiles about that one day. Where did the kid learn all this stuff?

"Let me go check on the tarts," Stiles grinned. "I get to work with a blowtorch with these!" He rubbed hands together before eagerly dashing away.

"What person in their right mind gave you permission to use a blowtorch?" Derek called after him, making the boy pause at the door.

"Ah ha! Therein lies a perfectly good question. To which I reply, you only need permission on things people know you're going to do." Stiles tapped his temple. "Think about it."

Derek knew what he meant in an instant. He shook his head solemnly. "Just be careful, okay?"

Stiles smiled. "Yes, dear." He laughed before disappearing behind the door.

Derek scoffed, but smiled to himself. He shifted in his seat, feeling his foot knock against the bag on the floor. And then his doubts about giving them to Stiles returned. 'What if he doesn't need them? He seems to have a huge collection of recipes already in his head. Will he think it's strange that I did this?' Derek frowned, gulping down some more of his coffee. 'This was a dumb idea. I shouldn't have brought them here. I shouldn't have bought them in the first place.' The inner turmoil in his head was driving him crazy as he inwardly growled out his frustrations. But he still managed to look calm when Stiles came back out with a plate of torched apple tarts.

"So, what's in the bag?" Stiles asked, nodding to the bag on the floor.

For a fraction of a second Derek's eyes widened before he caught himself. "It's nothing. Nothing."

"Can I seeeeee?" He grinned, sliding into his chair and bending down to grab the bag.

"Stiles, no." Derek felt himself blushing, snatching the bag up before the boy could get to it. He held it against his chest, determined not to let him see the product of his embarrassing lapse of better judgment.

Stiles relented, sitting back up in his chair with his hands up. "All right, all right. But just so you know, I'm going to be coming up with some pretty ridiculous ideas on what's in the bag and will be asking you periodically through the morning. You can't just bring in a mystery bag and assume I'm not going to try to figure out what's in it. To this day I'm still trying to figure out what was in that briefcase in Pulp Fiction. It keeps me awake at night."

Derek just affixed Stiles with unsympathetic gaze.

The boy pouted.

And still, Derek gazed.

"Guh! Fine!" Stiles said, throwing his arms up in the air. "Let me die of curiosity. You can find someone else to bake rainbows and sunshine for you."

Derek just cocked an eyebrow. "You know, you can't actually die from curiosity."

"I think maybe you can. Like if you're curious enough, your brain will explode. And then the rest of you will just spontaneously combust."

Derek scoffed. "You're an idiot."

Stiles mocked offense. "That's no way to talk to the Stilinator!"

And with that, Stiles went on a tangent, from topic to topic like he normally did. Derek made his little comments, sipped his coffee, devoured his tarts. He eventually relaxed enough to put the bag back down on the floor, not even really thinking twice about it. And when it was time to head on over to the school, Derek strolled along, both hands swinging freely at his sides.

He froze again. Both hands. Were free. 'No! That sneaky little… He lulled me into a false sense of security! The hell, Derek! What kind of criminologist would fall for something like that?' Mentally haranguing himself, Derek full on ran back to the coffee shop. He threw open the door, but it was too late. Stiles was standing next to the table, bag situated on a chair, one of the books open in his hands. Derek could have died. "Those aren't- they- I'm not-" Derek couldn't seem to find the right words.

Stiles glanced over to Derek who could only stare from the doorway. "Is… this for me?" he asked.

Derek thought it would be best at this point to keep his mouth shut. So he just stood in the doorway, mentally freaking out, though you wouldn't guess it if you saw his face.

Stiles looked back at the bag, then to Derek, then at the book in his hands. Something seemed to click. A soft smile began to form on his lips. "Thanks, Mr. Hale," Stiles lit up. He closed the book, running his thumb over the various tags sticking out. "I love it. I'll try some of these out tomorrow."

Derek could only nod, turning his face away from Stiles to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks. He stood glued to the spot for several more minutes before he heard Stiles chuckle.

"Dude. Aren't you gonna be late for class?"

Derek jerked his wrist up, looking at his watch. "Shit!" He spun around, running down the block, hoping to make it to class on time.

Later in class, it would hit him. Stiles loved it. Derek actually did something that Stiles loved. He knew he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn't care. It's not like anyone was paying attention to him anyway from where he sat in the back of the room. All that mattered was that Stiles was happy. And it was Derek who had made it so.

/\/\/\

It was late one Sunday evening and Derek was brushing his teeth when he heard his phone chirp. Curious, he rinsed his mouth and made his way over to his nightstand. There was a new text message from The Awesome Cool Guy Stiles :D. Derek smiled, tapping his phone to open the message.

hey mr. hale srry if im distrbing u but i frgot to mention that i wont be there tmmrow morning. but dont worry cuz i taught isaac how to make ur coffee just how u like it. im just givin u a heads up so u dont idk KILL the poor guy. our first mrning was tres harsh. frreal.

Despite the joke, Derek couldn't help but frown, pushing aside the wave of disappointment that was trying to force itself on him. He quickly typed a message back.

Is everything okay?

yea evrythings fine. not tryin to be a debbie dwner or anything but tomorrws the annivrsry of my moms death. i figure im allowed to have a day off.

'Oh wow.' Derek thought.

I'm sorry.

its cool. i just dont really feel like working ya know?

Yeah, I get it.

He wanted to say more, wanted to sympathize with the boy. But words were never his strong suit.

but hey! ill be back on tuesday to spoil u explicitly with choco and lemn macaroooooooons mmmmmmm!

Derek smiled.

Don't worry about it. Have a good night, Stiles.

gnite douglas ;)

Derek stared at his phone a few seconds more before giving in. He tapped through a few menus until a smiling face was looking back at him. Derek collapsed into his bed, feeling his heart swell just looking at the picture. 'I wish there was something I could do for him. But what?' Derek sighed, studying the features of the boy's face as he had done numerous times before.

He could imagine how Stiles felt. He had been there himself. Derek had lost both his parents. It had been the worst time of his life. Fortunately he had his sister to help him through it, plus his uncle Peter who took them in without a moment's hesitation.

A dull ache pinched his heart whenever he thought about his parents. He wondered if Stiles felt that too. Finally tearing his eyes from his phone, Derek cleared the screen before burying his face in his pillow and hugging it tightly, wishing it were more than just a pillow.

/\/\/\

Derek went through the motions of the day. He got his coffee from Isaac, and while it was adequate, it didn't compare to how Stiles prepared it. Even the pastries seemed a bit drier this morning. Classes were boring and the walk to his mythology was unsettlingly quiet. He thought back to what he had said to Erica the day he made a complete fool of himself. 'I miss his stupid chattering and I miss his stupid foam drawings and I miss his stupid face.' It had only been a morning apart from him and those words felt truer than ever.

He still wished there was something he could do. So after class was through, Derek found himself just outside Stiles' apartment building. Even though he wasn't with the boy, just knowing that he was nearby helped ease his mind. Plus, he felt that in some way, his proximity meant something, even if the boy himself didn't know he was there. He had considered just visiting Stiles to make sure he was okay. But surely if Stiles wanted company, he would've asked his friends. In fact, Derek wouldn't be surprised if there was a whole pack of people up there to support the usually jovial boy. And it wasn't even like Derek knew which apartment to go to anyway. He sighed, deciding it was best to just go home. He was just about to turn away when the entrance door swung open, leaving him face to face with Scott.

"Dude! Mr. Hale! You're here!" Scott instantly grinned.

For a second, Derek had panicked. He didn't want Stiles to know he was here, just standing outside his home like a stalker. Which he seriously started to feel like despite not intending to.

"It's good that you came, too," Scott continued, "cause I don't like leaving Stiles alone when he's all down, you know? I'd stay myself but I'm already having a tough time in economics and if I miss another class, I'm totally gonna fail and my mom's gonna get pissed if I screw this up so I need to get to class before my life is over. I mean I have a job and all but I can't be a vet's assistant forever you know what I mean?"

Jesus. When did this kid breathe? He could see now why he and Stiles were best friends. They were probably the only people who could keep up with each other.

"Come on," he said, grabbing Derek by the arm and pulling him inside. "I'll let you in."

Derek frowned. This kid was surprisingly strong despite his slight frame. "Actually, I wasn't- He's not expecting me-"

"Oh that's cool. Don't worry about it. I'm sure Stiles will be stoked to have you over. He thinks you're pretty awesome."

Derek glanced over to the other boy. "He said that?"

"Dude! He totally doesn't have to!" Scott just laughed, leaving Derek a bit confused. He felt like he needed a translator for whenever Scott spoke. Either that or a voice recorder that gave him the option of slowing the speech down.

The younger boy twisted the knob of his apartment and practically shoved Derek through the door. Derek would have snapped the guy's neck for manhandling him so much if he weren't partially frozen at the fact that he was in Stiles' apartment.

"Stiles! Mr. Hale is here! Don't forget to make me dinner! Love you, buddy!" Scott grinned at Derek before waving at him and closing the door behind him.

"What are you talking…?" Stiles appeared from down the hall, dressed in pajama pants and a plain tee. His eyes widened in surprise once he looked up to see Derek standing in his living room.

"Um, hi," was all Derek could think to say.

"Hey… Mr. Hale…."

Derek rubbed the back of his neck. "I was just… passing through. Then your friend kind of just… grabbed me…" he felt incredibly awkward with the way Stiles was just staring at him. Derek pointed to the door. "I'll just go- I didn't mean to disturb-"

"Oh- no! No, no! It's okay," Stiles said, snapping out of whatever reverie he was in. "I was just surprised to see you, is all."

"If you're busy I can just-"

"No, wait. Stay. Please stay. I want you to stay."

Derek slowly nodded, ignoring the slight hitch in his breathing at the words. "Okay."

"Well, wait," Stiles shook his head. "What are you doing here? Don't you have like a strict routine you do after school? I don't want you to break it."

"It's okay… something more important came up," he said automatically, surprisingly honest. It took a few seconds for it to occur to Derek what he had just said aloud. He broke eye contact, fighting the blush on his cheeks. 'Idiot…' he berated himself.

He heard Stiles chuckle softly. Peeking up, he watched as the boy walked up to him, placing a hand on his arm. "Thanks, Mr. Hale. I'm glad you're here." He smiled softly, easing any doubts in Derek's head.

"Yeah," he breathed out. "No problem."

For the next hour, the two crashed on the couch as Stiles schooled Derek in the art of video gaming.

"Dammit Dawson, what are you doing? You need to pick up a gun!"

"I have one!"

"Shoot him! Shoot him!"

"I'm shooting!"

"Mash X. Mash X. B-B-X-Y!"

"I don't even know what that means!"

Needless to say, Derek learned that video games certainly have gotten more complicated than the joystick-toggle of his Pac-Man days. Luckily, Stiles saved him from feeling like an utter failure by turning their attentions onto a new task.

Which is why Derek was currently sitting at the kitchen counter, cracking open a huge bag of walnuts.

"Why don't you just buy the shelled ones?" Derek grumbled, trying to extract the nut from the shell without breaking it.

"Because they don't have the same taste. People usually add like a preservative or whatever to it. Fresh walnuts are the best because they are untouched by the time you use them. They have more of a nutty flavor to them."

Derek looked at the bag beside him. "So why, exactly, do you need so many?"

"Well, one of my mom's specialties was the walnut pie. So every year on this day, I make some in her honor."

He glanced up. "Some. Not just one."

"Correct. It used to be just the one for me and my dad. But now a couple of people back home who my mom used to be friends with want it too once they realized what an awesome chef I was." At this, Derek snorted, but didn't disagree. "So after these bake and set, I'll ship them out. Four of them for my mom's friends, one for here, and one for my dad, even though I know I shouldn't cause he needs to be eating healthy and this pie isn't exactly a fruit salad if you know what I mean."

Derek cleared his throat. "So-um… how is your dad?"

"He's good. I talked to him this morning. I know he misses her, but he keeps himself busy with work and all."

Derek just nodded, cracking open another nut. In hearing Stiles chuckle, he looked up. "What?"

"Nothing," he grinned, a box of brown sugar in his hand. "It's just… Veruca Salt, eat your heart out."

Derek frowned in confusion. "What?"

"I got my own walnut shelling squirrel," Stiles said, lighting up with pride. At the blank look Derek was giving him, he continued. "Oh come on. You know. Haven't you watched Charlie and the Chocolate Factory?"

"Watched? Don't you mean 'read'?"

"No, silly. Who reads the book? They make movies about everything nowadays."

Derek scoffed. "So wait. Are you calling me a squirrel?"

Stiles sighed blissfully. "My own personal squirrel." Derek just glared at the boy, throwing an empty shell at him. "Hey! Bad squirrel! Bad! Don't make me get out the spray bottle."

Derek rolled his eyes before continuing his task… like the good squirrel that he was.

Once the pies were safely baking in the oven, Stiles determined that it was time to teach Derek how to make some whipped cream.

"There's nothing like some homemade whipped cream to go with a slice of freshly baked pie," Stiles smiled, taking up Derek's previous seat behind the counter to watch him at work.

"What's wrong with the canned stuff? Or Cool Whip."

Stiles just stared at him as if he had been smacked. "What's the-what's the difference? God, do you live in a cave?"

Derek scowled.

"Okay, first of all, half of that stuff isn't actually whipped and the other half isn't actually cream. Just trust me on this. Have I ever led your taste buds astray?"

True. Derek had to agree there. When it came to his taste buds, Stiles never did him wrong.

"Okay, so what? Just dump some cream in the bowl and start mixing?"

"You're a brute, you know that? I bet in a past life you clubbed a baby seal on the head, dragged it over a fire pit, and called it 'dinner.'"

The older boy rolled his eyes, looking lazily at his companion. "I could just club you on the head."

Stiles just gave him a withering look. "All right. Just pour the cream in the bowl. Now add the vanilla, some honey and now the sugar."

Derek did as was instructed.

"Okay, now put the bowl under the mixer. Make sure it's on low or else it'll splash everywhere."

He checked the settings, adjusted it, and then looked to Stiles. "Now what?"

"Flip the switch and let 'er rip!"

Derek turned the machine on, the mixer whirring to life as it whisked the ingredients together. Together they watched as the liquid slowly grew fluffier.

"You can turn it up once it gets thicker."

"What, like this?"

"No, wait!"

The contents of the mixer exploded up into Derek's face, getting in his hair and all over his shirt. He heard a snicker of a laugh coming from across the counter. Derek wiped his eyes with his fingers, snapping them up to pierce Stiles with a glare of warning.

"Don't."

"I'm not laughing." Stiles said with a straight face. A second later, a little snicker escaped from the boy's nose.

"Stiles." Derek warned.

"I'm not laughing," he repeated.

Derek sighed, looking around for a towel or something he could wipe himself down with.

"Hey, Duncan."

Derek looked back up only to be hit by a sudden flash.

"Stiles!" he snarled, realizing the boy had just taken a picture. The boy leapt off his chair as Derek made a grab for the phone. "Stiles, give me your phone," he warned.

Stiles was sporting an ear to ear grin as he quickly typed away on the device. He jumped away with a strangled squawk as Derek made another grab.

Quickly looking around, Derek snatched a nearby towel, wiping his face of the cream haphazardly. He threw down the towel with a snap, affixing Stiles with his most dangerous glare. "Stiles. Give me. Your phone." He said through gritted teeth.

Stiles burst out laughing. "No way!" And with that, the younger boy made a mad dash for his bedroom.

"Stiles! Get back here!" He cut the boy off, blocking the path to the hallway. Stiles, still laughing, darted away, making sure to place the couch between him and the angry man. "Stiles, give me the phone!"

"Never!"

Stiles shifted one way, then the other. Derek mirrored the movements, determined to get the phone to erase the incriminating photo. With a quick dart to the right, Stiles feinted left, effectively ducking Derek's defense, as he charged down the hall.

Derek was hot on his tail, chasing the kid. Stiles slipped into his room trying to close the door behind him, but Derek barged right in.

Stiles backed up. "Okay, hold on a second. Just hold on a second," he said, still smiling, with a hand out as if to stop the older boy.

Derek saw Stiles' quick glimpse of the bathroom door, figuring out his game plan. When the boy tried to make a run for it, Derek caught him, knocking the both of them backwards onto Stiles' bed. Derek straddled the boy's waist, trying to wrestle wayward hands into submission for the phone they desperately clung to.

"Stiles, would you just-"

"No!"

"Just give me the damn-"

"Never!"

Stiles twisted himself under Derek, curling himself into the fetal position with his phone securely tucked against his chest. He shut his eyes tightly as if this would make Derek go away.

"I emailed myself the photo so you might as well just give up and let me keep the picture cause even if you delete the one here I can just download it all over again and besides you have a picture of me on your phone and now I have one of you on mine that's only fair right?"

The words were a seamless stream as they flew out of the boy's mouth.

Derek growled in frustration. It was hopeless if Stiles had already sent out a copy of it. He relented, sitting back on his haunches.

Stiles popped an eye open, then the other. He turned his head to look up at the other boy, but was still tucked in tightly. "You're letting me keep it?"

Derek sighed in defeat. "Fine. But I swear, Stiles, if that thing shows up online or on posters all over campus-"

"I got it, I got it," he smiled. "I promise." He uncoiled himself, adjusting so that he was lying on his back.

They were both breathing a little heavy from the chase, adrenaline still pumping through their veins.

Finally, Stiles reached up, curling his fingers softly in Derek's ruined shirt. "I'm really glad you came over today," he said softly, eyes trained on where his hand gripped the article of clothing. "Most people don't know how to handle me when I'm not… you know. All me. So when Scott said that you were here, I really thought he was just bullshitting me, but you really were here. It made me really happy." He finally met green eyes, his brown full of sincerity. "So, I guess what I'm trying to say is thanks. For today. For everything."

Derek gazed down as the boy below him, feeling his heart expand as the words sunk in. He didn't know what to say to that.

It was strange to Derek. He didn't know how, but Stiles managed to become part of Derek's routine. His days no longer felt complete without seeing the boy or at least hearing from him. It was new to Derek. It was precious to him. Here was the first person he could honestly call his friend.

And for the first time, Derek smiled at Stiles. A full, genuine smile. They were frozen in this moment, truly appreciating what it was that had grown between them.

Then something caught his attention. A scent wafted in the air. He frowned. "What's that smell?"

Stiles' brows furrowed before they shot up in surprise. "Oh shit! The pies!" He wriggled out from under the older boy and ran to the kitchen.

Derek seemed immobile as another thing caught his attention. He was in Stiles' room. On Stiles' bed. And had not ten seconds ago been straddling the boy down. The thought sent his heart racing as if he had been chasing the boy through the apartment once again. It took a few minutes for Derek to collect himself. Luckily, Stiles had been too preoccupied with the pies to notice.

"Well those first two were ruined," Stiles pouted once Derek appeared, opening the balcony door to air out the smell. "Which means you get to open more walnuts? Pleeease?"

At this point, Derek was beginning to believe he couldn't refuse the younger boy of anything. He sighed. "Can I at least wash up first?" He asked, waving his hand up and down his disheveled appearance.

A cackle came from Stiles as he raked in the memory of the whipped cream debacle. Derek glared again. "Sorry, sorry. I'm not laughing," he lied despicably. "The bathroom's down there," he pointed. "You can grab one of my shirts from my dresser."

Derek ambled over to the bathroom, partially afraid of what he was going to see in the mirror. He was a mess. His hair and his face were sticky and his shirt was starting to cling to him. Derek pulled the offending piece of fabric over his head, turned on the sink, and began rubbing down the sticky skin with warm water. He reached for a towel, drying his chest and running it over his face. He caught himself in the mirror again. 'How do I get myself into these things?' he wondered. He was pretty sure the answer had something to do with the kid in the other room.

He wandered into Stiles' bedroom, walking over to the dresser. He pulled open one of the drawers and promptly shut it afterward.

'So that's the underwear drawer.' Derek shut his eyes, taking another second to gather himself again. He moved to the next drawer, holding his breath, and to his relief, pulled out a plain white tee. He held it up and frowned. His frown only deepened as he glanced over the rest of them.

"Stiles! None of these shirts fit!"

He heard the boy snicker from the other room. "Just pick one! Unless you wanna go shirtless!" He added with a laugh.

Derek groaned, but tugged out a black shirt that looked like it could fit. He was wrong, but it was better than being naked. When he finally went back to the kitchen, Stiles had to stifle another laugh.

"I don't know what you're talking about," the boy teased. "I think it fits you perfectly."

Derek scowled. The shirt was way too tight for his liking. "You're scrawny," Derek huffed, that being the only thing he could think to say.

"Now, now. We can't all be built like you. Besides, my personality all but makes up for it."

Derek just scoffed.

Stiles tossed Derek a towel. "Come on, grumpy. Help me clean the mess you made."

"You said to turn it up."

"Yeah, but I didn't mean for you to crank it all the way up to eleven."

Derek blinked. "What? Eleven?"

Stiles rolled his eyes. "You really do live in a cave, don't you?" At the blank stare he was receiving, Stiles shook his head. "Forget it. Just help me wipe down everything and we'll tackle those walnuts together."

Derek sighed, but did as he was told.

The two eventually managed to get all six pies made. Derek even retried making the whipped cream, this time with no mistakes. By the time Scott came back from school and work, the pies were occupying the refrigerator, and there was a hot plate of spaghetti waiting for him. Derek, who had passed on spaghetti that wasn't made specifically for him, was happily munching on a slice of pie, now understanding why Stiles insisted on making his own whipped cream.

It was getting late and Derek still needed to do some reading before bed. Plus he still wanted to take a shower to wash out any traces of the cream on him. Stiles had packed him a large slice to take home with him, insisting that Scott needed to cut back on the sweets anyway.

"I'll get going then," Derek said, holding his ruined shirt in one hand and the container with the pie in the other.

"Hey, wait up. I'll walk you down," Stiles said, hopping out of his seat and slipping into his sneakers. As they entered the elevator, Stiles turned to him. "I had fun today, Dwight. I mean, it was nice. Making the pies with you reminded me of when I made them with my mom."

Derek nodded in understanding. "Did she teach you how to bake?"

"For the most part. She taught me basics, but I didn't really get into until after she passed and that's cause I had to teach myself how to cook since my dad usually worked late. So I guess for me, baking's a great way to keep her memory alive."

They walked to the entrance of the apartment complex, Stiles holding the door open for Derek. A hand on his arm made Derek pause. He turned to look at the boy. "I meant what I said earlier. I really appreciate you stopping by. It meant a lot to me. It means a lot to me. So thanks, Mr. Hale. Or Dominic. Or Deon. Or Darryl, Dane, Duke, Dionysus, Dante, Dale, Deiter-"

Derek shook his head in resignation, feeling the corners of his lips tug upward. Finally, he relented. "It's Derek."

Stiles smiled softly, biting his bottom lip as he nodded slowly. "I know." Derek snorted, but he couldn't say he was surprised. Stiles lightly squeezed Derek's arm before dropping his hand to his side. "Good night, Derek."

"Good night, Stiles."

Unable to fight off the urge any longer, Derek draped his shirt over his shoulder before pulling the younger boy into a one-armed embrace. He wanted to pour everything he couldn't say into the hug, everything he wanted to say to comfort his friend. Even now, he struggled with words.

But Stiles seemed to understand. Stiles always seemed to understand. He felt the boy's arms wrap around him. "Thanks, Derek."

Derek pulled back and simply nodded. He nodded again before heading on home.

Later, while Derek was in the shower, he received a text from The Awesome Cool Guy Stiles :D. It was the picture of him covered in whipped cream plus a little message.

like my new wallpaper? ;)

Derek scoffed, a smile playing on his lips, before getting ready for bed.

Notes: Holy hell this was a long one... I didn't mean for it to be. I don't actually plan this thing XD Oh hey, 3AM. When did you roll in? Guh. Anyway, here's my tumblr if you're interested: effinlemon. Oh wow. Any actual notes on the story itself? Ha. Um. During the straddling part, my mind instantly wanted to change it into sexy times, but no no. Also, I worry that Derek is too OOC in this, but I also try to rationalize that we're in his head and Derek can't be all broody and stoic in his head even though he acts it on the outside. Even the most arrogant guys have insecurities. Plus, I like to think that Stiles draws that part out of him. Um oh yeah. I was gonna make Derek peek at Stiles' underwear again, but that's like SUPER creeper mode haha and I don't think Derek is there just yet. Or will be ever. IDK. Also... I imagine all of Derek's lemon caricatures have unibrows. I don't know why X3