Baking My Way Into Your Heart - Delay

When Derek woke up, there were quite a few things that didn't make sense. One, half of him was warm while the other half was cold. Two, his neck felt like shit. Three, his head felt like shit. And four, he was sitting, not lying down like he should have been.

Derek cracked an eye open to try to make sense of the world. What he saw was surprising. Instead of the inside of his bedroom, he was staring at another building. It then occurred to him that he was outside. He jerked his head up, eyes popping wide. He regretted the movement immediately, his neck throbbing in pain from having slept in an awkward position. He rubbed it, trying to massage the kinks out.

And then he realized another thing. His other arm was trapped under the weight of whatever it was warming his side. Or, rather, whoever. Derek nearly jumped up in surprise.

'What the hell? Stiles?' Derek was confused. 'No. We went inside. He fell asleep so I carried him inside. And that's when I-'

Derek immediately flushed. 'I kissed him! But… wait…' He frowned, feeling even more confused than ever. 'If we're still outside, that means…'

A dream. The kiss had been a dream.

Derek eased back into the couch, letting his muddled mind catch up. 'I must've fallen asleep after he did. Which means we never…' Derek glanced at the sleeping figure, eyes trailing down to lips slightly chapped. They had felt so real. They had felt so right. But it had never happened.

Disappointment overcame the boy. He had wanted it to be real.

Derek was quickly snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the sliding door open. Isaac stepped out, barefoot and stretching his arms above his head as he let out a big yawn. He glanced over to the side, jerking back in surprise in seeing the two figures on the couch.

"Uh, hey Derek. Morning," he said softly as to not disturb the still sleeping Stiles. A sly smile grew on his face. "Fell asleep there, didja?"

Derek just rolled his eyes. "What time is it?"

Isaac yawned again, bringing his wrist up to his face. "Almost 10?"

"Jesus…" This was not how Derek usually spent his Saturday morning. But to be fair, that wasn't exactly how he usually spent his Friday night either.

As content as he was to just sit here and let Stiles use him as a pillow, Derek thought the boy would be more comfortable in his own bed. So, as he had in his dream, Derek shifted around to gather the boy into his arms, cradling him against his chest. He carried him inside as Isaac watched with amused eyes.

Oddly enough, it was actually Jackson who ended up with the wig from last night. He and Lydia were lying down on the couch while Danny slept sprawled out on the floor. Allison and Scott were nowhere to be seen, but Derek could assume that the pair were sleeping in Scott's own bed. Derek walked past the mess of a living room and down the hall. He opened the door to the boy's bedroom, taking immediate notice of the lack of stuffed wolf on the nightstand. Derek couldn't understand the disappointment he felt in that as well. Gently he placed Stiles down onto the bed, pulling the covers up over the boy. He sat down on the edge and sighed.

'It was just a dream…' Derek repeated to himself. He glanced down at the sleeping figure, finding himself wanting to trace the boy's features as he had in his head. He found himself wanting to kiss the boy's lips as well, but ultimately decided against it. He just sighed again before standing up, crossing the room and closing the door behind him.

When he walked back out into the living room, Isaac was there, tying his shoelaces. He stood from where he had been sitting on the floor. "Come on," he said jerking his head towards the door.

"What?"

"You're coming with me."

Derek shook his head. "I'm going home."

Isaac rolled his eyes. "No. You're coming with me."

"And where, pray tell, are we going?" Derek huffed out. He was in no mood for this kid's sass.

"We've got an apartment full of sleeping college students who probably had one too many drinks. And soon, this is going to be an apartment full of awake college students who are hungry and hung over. So we're getting breakfast."

Derek just studied Isaac, trying to make sure whether or not the boy actually thought he cared. "Yeah, no. I'm going home." He made his way to the front door.

"Okay," Isaac shrugged. "I just thought it was something they'd appreciate. I know Stiles would greatly appreciate it."

Derek froze, his hand on the doorknob mid-turn. He scowled over his shoulder at the curly-haired boy. "You don't get to use that anymore. I'm not just gonna flip over every time you mention his name."

Isaac smiled to himself. "All right, all right. So you're not coming with me then?"

Derek sneered at the door before ripping it open and walking out. "…I am."

He ignored the chuckle he heard from somewhere behind him.

/\/\/\

As Isaac led the way to a hole-in-the-wall donut shop, convinced that the fried concoction was the best hangover cure, it gave Derek some time to think about what didn't happen. He considered it some small consolation that while he didn't actually kiss Stiles, he did end up falling asleep with the boy snuggled up next to him. Just remembering Stiles' warmth against him seemed enough for Derek. Also, not kissing Stiles meant that he and Derek were still just good friends, which Derek was totally on board with. He had very good and valid reasons as to why he was so focused on his schoolwork. There just wasn't any time for any potentially romantic entanglements. That would just screw with his carefully plotted out college life. Besides, just because he dreamt of kissing Stiles didn't exactly mean he wanted a romantic entanglement with him. Derek's the kind of person who believes that dreams are simply a manifestation of the day's events, scrambled all up in your subconscious, that don't particularly mean much of anything. He was at a party where people were kissing Stiles, so it made sense that in his dream, he had kissed Stiles as well. See? Simple. Logical. Yeah. He'll go with that.

Once they reached the shop, Isaac picked two dozen varying donuts, handing one box to Derek to carry on the way back. Wanting his own slight hangover to be cured, Derek reached in and grabbed one before Isaac had even finished paying for it.

On the trek back to the apartment, Derek massaged his neck again, wishing the kink would just go away.

"Creak in the neck?" Isaac asked, munching on his own donut.

Derek simply nodded. Lightly. "A downfall to using someone's head as a pillow," he said, rolling his neck gingerly.

Isaac snorted. "I'm sure you didn't mind it."

Derek just ignored the statement. "Where did you end up crashing?"

Isaac glanced over to the older boy. "Stiles' bed."

Derek turned his head to give the blonde a sidelong glance.

"What?" Isaac shrugged sheepishly. "He wasn't using it. Besides," he said, focusing his attention back to the sidewalk in front of him. "It's not like I haven't slept in his bed before."

This time, Derek made a complete stop, staring down the boy who carried on a few more paces.

"Relax," the blonde smirked. "I meant it in a completely platonic sort of way."

Derek continued walking, but didn't find himself relaxing. "Are you two close?"

"We're pretty good friends, if that's what you're asking. I'd say I'm closer to Scott than to Stiles." At this, Derek finally felt his shoulders relax. "There was a point in time that Stiles actually hated me. Thought I was trying to take Scott away. But he got over it." He turned to look at Derek. "We've been buddies ever since."

"All of you seem pretty close…" Derek said, mostly to himself.

"Well we've known each other for some time now. We went to high school together. I mean, we didn't all get along at first. Who does? But, eventually it all worked out. You spend enough time with a person and they just get familiar, you know?"

Derek nodded slowly. He definitely understood that.

When the two finally returned to the apartment, the front door swung open just as Isaac reached out for it. Danny was there, a surprised look on his face before he let out a smile in seeing what was in the blonde's hands.

"Perfect! Just what I needed," he said, reaching into the box and stealing a donut for himself. "I gotta go though. Work in an hour."

"Yeah, see you later Danny." Isaac said, giving the boy a half-hug with his free arm.

"Later Isaac. Derek," he smiled at him. Derek just nodded a goodbye, letting the boy slip by.

The smell of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as they made their way back into the apartment. Both Lydia and Allison were awake, tidying up a bit, but mostly just chatting away. Jackson was still passed out on the couch and Scott was probably still asleep in his room.

Derek inwardly smiled in seeing a yawning Stiles sitting at the counter, nursing some freshly brewed coffee. He immediately took a seat next to the boy. "Morning."

Stiles did a double-take. "Derek. You're here," he smiled. "I thought you might've gone home."

He just shook his head, placing the box of donuts in front the boy, taking notice of the fact that Stiles had finally slipped out of his dress and into some pajama pants and a plain tee. Stiles perked with excitement in seeing the box, instantly figuring out what was inside before he even threw open the lid.

"Yesssss," he groaned out, grabbing a jelly-filled pastry. "You're awesome!" He professed before digging in. Derek absolutely didn't swell with pride… much, anyway.

"See… greatly appreciative," Isaac whispered lowly into Derek's ear, elbowing him slightly before leaving to offer up some donuts to the girls.

Derek just ignored Isaac and the blush creeping up on his cheeks. He distracted himself by snatching Stiles' abandoned cup of coffee, taking a swig of it for himself. It was a bit sweeter than how he liked his own, with a hint of vanilla rather than the hazelnut he preferred, but it was still pretty good. He took another drink. And then he almost choked on it when it occurred to him that if Stiles had placed his lips exactly where Derek's were while drinking, they'd actually be sharing an indirect kiss. The faint flush on his cheeks deepened in color.

"Are you okay?" Stiles asked, noticing how red Derek was.

Derek just coughed. "Yeah. It's hot," he lied.

Stiles just gave him a look of understanding. "Did you move me inside? Cause I remember sitting outside with you but then I don't remember going inside…"

"Uh, yeah. We fell asleep out there. I… moved you inside when I woke up."

"Oh," he was quiet for a moment before he turned to smile at the older boy. "Then you must've been a pretty comfy pillow. I usually toss and turn at night." He chuckled. "Can't keep still, even when I'm asleep."

"You were probably just exhausted," Derek rationalized.

"…Probably."

Derek brought his hand back up to his neck, massaging it again.

"What's wrong with your neck?"

"I just slept on it wrong."

"Well then here," Stiles said, licking his fingers and wiping them on a napkin. He spun on his seat, swirled his finger, motioning Derek to turn around.

Derek was frozen to the spot, not because he didn't understand what Stiles wanted, but because he knew exactly what he wanted. Derek wasn't sure if he could take it without his head exploding. Or his pants. Either or.

"I work with dough all morning," Stiles assured, taking his hesitance for resistance. "My fingers are like magic." He didn't wait for Derek to move himself. He scooted closer before spinning the older boy's seat so that his back was to him.

Derek felt his heart begin to race, anticipating Stiles' hands against him. His hands were warm as they massaged stiff shoulders. Derek nearly cursed himself for wearing a jacket, but soon it didn't even matter as Stiles moved up the curve of his neck, digging his thumbs into the tense area. Derek unconsciously tilted his head to the side, inviting Stiles to massage deeper on the afflicted side. He shut his eyes, enjoying this. Stiles hands really were magic.

"Ooh! Donuts!"

Derek snapped his eyes back open as Scott finally emerged from his room, only to squeeze in between Stiles and Derek to grab a fried pastry in the box just past them. Because it's not like there was a whole other side of the counter Scott could have reached over in order to get one. Except that there was. Which meant Scott ruined this perfectly perfect moment for no reason. Derek nearly growled his frustration.

"Morning Stiles! Morning Mr. Hale!" he grinned, oblivious to the murderous thoughts running in Derek's head. Scott walked around into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of juice. "Last night was great, wasn't it?"

"Last night was crazy," Stiles agreed.

Scott took a swig of his juice, setting it down to devour the donut. "Oh man, did you bring these?" Scott asked Derek. Not even waiting for a response, he leaned over the counter, kissing a startled Derek on the cheek.

"Dammit, McCall," Derek scowled, pushing the boy's face away, wiping his cheek with his sleeve. "What the hell? Don't ever do that! Besides, Isaac was the one who bought them."

"You're welcome," Isaac smirked, coming up behind Derek and Stiles, placing a hand on both their shoulders. "Don't ever say I never did anything for you. And keep your lips to yourself."

"Dude, anyone who brings food here deserves much love," Scott said matter-of-factly, not caring what Isaac had to say. He jumped up on the counter to wrap an arm around Isaac's head to pull the taller boy in for a kiss of his own. Unfortunately, this caused the messy-haired boy to knock over his juice, effectively splashing it across the counter. And all over Derek's shirt.

"Dammit Scott!" Derek hissed, jumping back. But the damage was already done.

"Aw man! I'm sorry!" Scott scrambled, grabbing a towel from the kitchen and moving to wipe the mess. Stiles and Isaac were just laughing as Scott tried to dab down Derek's chest.

"I'm glad you guys are amused," Derek deadpanned. "Give me that," he snapped, snatching the towel from a sheepish Scott to wipe his chest himself.

"Come on, Grumpy Gills," Stiles said between chuckles. He stood up, taking hold of Derek's wrist and pulled him into his room. "You can borrow one of my shirts."

"Is this gonna be a thing now? Should I just start bringing a spare shirt whenever I come over?"

Stiles just laughed.

Derek shrugged off his jacket and tossed it onto the bed. That's when he noticed that the pile of gifts from the living room had been moved to it. There was wrapping paper scattered about. Stiles had obviously opened a few of them while he was out with Isaac. He recognized one particular print on the floor and scanned the rest of the room. And there, just as it was in his dream, the stuffed wolf was sitting comfortably on Stiles' nightstand, as if it had been there all along, complete with the red ribbon around its neck. Derek froze, wishing someone would pinch him to make sure he was actually awake.

"Deeeeeerek."

He snapped out of his daze and looked to the boy. Stiles was holding out a shirt for him. Derek took it, nodding in thanks. He pulled his ruined shirt over his head.

"Hey, you have a tattoo."

Derek just paused, his ruined shirt in one hand and Stiles' shirt in the other. He looked over his shoulder. Stiles was studying the mark curiously. His finger was twirling in the air, as if tracing the image. It faintly registered in Derek's mind that Stiles was technically checking him out. And with this in mind, he completely and totally did not stand up straighter… or flex a bit. No. Definitely not.

"What is it?"

"It's a triskelion."

"What's it mean?"

"Well, the symbol itself can mean different things to different people. But to me, it's about past, present, and future. And how the roots of all three can shape a person."

Stiles nodded in understanding. "That's cool. I want one. I mean- not a triss- triska-"

"Triskelion."

"Yeah, that. Not that specifically. Just a tattoo. But I think I might faint at the sight of my own blood."

Derek snorted, finally tugging the clean shirt over his head. He actually should have thought twice about just accepting whatever shirt Stiles handed him cause as he looked down, he saw a picture of a "stud muffin" looking back up at him. "Stiles, what the hell?"

He heard the boy laugh. "It was just the first one I grabbed, I swear."

Derek sighed and spun around, causing Stiles to laugh even more at the full effect. Of course the shirt was two sizes too small, which meant the little muffin was stretched tight across his broad chest.

Stiles took in Derek's unamused expression and tried to calm his giggles. But all that came out - between laughs - was, "that's right. I forgot. You're not a muffin man."

Derek scowled at the boy laughing at his expense. He grabbed his jacket, slipping it back on to cover himself. "You know what? I'm taking the wolf back."

Stiles instantly sobered and gasped. "You wouldn't!"

Derek turned back around and moved towards the nightstand.

"No, no, no!" Stiles whined, rushing over, blocking Derek's path. He grabbed it first, snuggling it close to him. "It's mine. I like him."

Seeing it up close, he spotted writing on the ribbon that wasn't there before. "What'd you write on it?"

"His name, duh."

"You named your stuffed animal," he said, incredulously. "What did you name him?"

A grin spread across the boy's face. "Sourwolf."

Derek scoffed. "That's a terrible name."

"I think it suits him. I mean, the person who got it for him is pretty sour. He threatens to take away a person's birthday gift."

Derek narrowed his eyes. "It's not even your birthday."

"Okay then, someone's unbirthday gift."

He frowned. "What does that even mean?"

Stiles blinked. "You're hopeless."

Derek just shook his head and turned back around to leave the room. He paused when he got to the door. "That card that went with it-"

"With Sourwolf."

Derek pursed his lips, not even going to comment on it. He continued. "Invest in bigger shirts."

Then, "Cause it means you'll be by more often?"

Derek didn't respond, but the smile on Stiles' face said he already knew the answer to that.

/\/\/\

Two shirts. One and two.

Derek stared at the two shirts folded neatly on his bed. One was a plain black one; the other was black as well, but with a picture of a muffin on it. Both belonged to Stiles.

He knew he needed to return them. There was no use in keeping them. They didn't exactly fit him. But…

Derek harrumphed before taking a seat in the middle of his bed. He turned the shirts around to face him as he continued to stare at them, arms crossed over his chest.

'This is ridiculous. Just return them,' Derek told himself. 'You can go over there right now and return them. Stiles is probably at home, wasting his time playing video games.'

'Cause staring at shirts is an entirely productive use of time…' Derek sassed himself. He frowned at his inner voice. 'Shut up.'

Derek closed his eyes, half-aware that he was arguing with himself. He inhaled deeply. And therein lay the problem.

The smell. There was a smell coming off both shirts that Derek inexplicably liked. He may or may not have spent an afternoon with that first shirt over his face just smelling it. Because that's not creepy.

It had hints of coffee and sugar, and just a blend of baked goods, with an undertone of Stiles. It smelled good. It was part of the reason why he hadn't washed it yet. And now he had a second one. A second one that was ripe with Stiles' scent. Yeah, he hoped the boy wasn't expecting these back any time soon.

It was decided then. Derek was keeping the shirts. And it was for a completely logical reason. Should Stiles come over and spill anything on himself, well then there's already a shirt here for him. Two in fact. He'd have a little special place in his dresser just for that. Because it was normal to have a drawer for your friend who has only come over once, and during that one time never even managed to get a crumb of food on himself. Perfectly. Normal.

Derek groaned, hating himself. He grabbed the shirt with the muffin on it and draped it over his face as he lay back down onto his bed, not worrying about wasting any time. It's okay. He had no problem penciling in some time for his creepy affixations.

/\/\/\

Derek was seated against a planter with his legs swinging back and forth. He had just finished his jog and cool down and was now waiting for Stiles to get out of class, as was their tradition the three nights of the week he had added the workout to his schedule.

Stiles had been in a particularly good mood that day. He had given Derek some extra lemon-cornmeal shortcakes on the way out of the coffee shop that morning and had even slipped him a bag of cardamom butter cookies between classes. Now, Derek certainly wasn't going to complain, but it did leave him curious as to why the boy was so perky that day.

"Hey, Mr. Hale," Stiles beamed, hopping down the steps over to where Derek was waiting, his backpack slung off of one shoulder.

"Hey," Derek nodded in greeting, sliding off the planter. "How was class?"

Just then, someone dressed in all black with a hood pulled over their head darted out of nowhere and snatched the backpack right off of Stiles' shoulder.

"Wha-hey!" Stiles yelled.

Without a moment's hesitation, Derek was in pursuit. No one, and I mean no one, steals from his Stiles! Er… just Stiles.

The assailant tossed a glance over his shoulder. "Oh shit!" He sped up, trying to get away from the angry man.

There was no way Derek was going to let this guy get away. He picked up the pace, reaching out. The black sweatshirt was just out of his grasp. With a final burst of speed, Derek tackled the guy to the ground. He pinned him down, struggles useless against the full weight and strength Derek had against him. He was just about ready to lay into this guy for even thinking about attacking Stiles when he heard the boy running up. He was… laughing?

"Wai-wait!" Stiles laughed, bending over, trying to catch his breath. "It's Jackson! It's – haha – it's Jackson!" At this, he finally toppled over, rolling on the floor, laughing.

Derek looked back down at the figure underneath him. He yanked the hood down and sure enough, the blonde was staring up at him wide-eyed with terror. "Oh," was all he could think to say. He stood, offering a hand to the flattened boy, helping him up.

Jackson was scowling now, brushing himself off. "Jesus Christ, Stilinski. Get your boyfriend under control."

Derek just glared at him, causing the blonde to take a step back.

Jackson averted his gaze back to the boy on the floor. "Keys. Now." He tossed the backpack onto him.

Stiles, still chuckling, zipped the bag open, pulled out a set of keys and tossed them to Jackson who caught them deftly in the air.

"Steal my keys again, Stiles, and you're dead."

At this, Derek took a step forward, making the blonde stumble a bit back before turning and walking away.

"I love you, Jackson!" Stiles called from his seat on the floor. "That was totally worth it!"

Derek, needless to say, was a bit confused. He just helped Stiles back onto his feet before fixing him with a lost expression. "What the hell was that?"

Once Stiles got his giggles under control, he explained. "Yesterday, Jackson was going on and on about the new rims he put on his Porsche. He - rather stupidly - left the keys out while I was there so I took them. I guess he was trying to scare me, acting like a robber while getting them back."

Derek shook his head in dismay. "You two have a very strange friendship."

Stiles smirked. "Not unlike our own. You totally took him down for me." Derek flushed, grateful for the darkened sky. "Like, if that had been a real attacker, he would have been pummeled to death by now! That was awesome!"

Derek just began walking away.

"No, seriously, Derek. You're my hero!"

"Stiles. Shut up."

Stiles jogged up, looping his arm through Derek's before nuzzling it. "Thank you for that. Just seeing Jackson's face was so totally worth it."

Derek didn't respond. But with the way Stiles was merrily pressed against him, he found he couldn't agree more.

Notes: I'm sorry. I'm going to hide in a corner for a bit. And then once you've calmed down over the fact that the kiss was not a kiss then I shall return. Haha.

Hey. But if the dream had been real, then Derek wouldn't have gotten that massage, right? He also wouldn't have gotten that second shirt. And he also wouldn't have gotten that kiss on the cheek from Scott... but I'm sure he could've lived without that.

Oh! And thank you so much for your reviews. I am amused by them. I want to respond to some of them D: Ah well.