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Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things
A 5+1 story set in that amorphous fan-time where most things happened but no one died.
A pot plant
A house
A car
A coffee maker
A library
Plus one Stiles to share it with
#1 The Pot Plant
Derek looked askance at the small blue pot with a green branch sticking out of it, a gold ribbon tied neatly around the green. It was no rounder than his cupped hands, and perhaps the length of one hand tall. He juggled the groceries into one hand, pulling out a keychain with a small matt black triskele hanging from it and ignored the plant while he put them away. Ten minutes later he was crouched in front of it looking at it from as many angles as he could, trying to scent for the giftee…
‘It’s not cursed. I just didn’t think I’d be able to get here in time.’
‘Stiles. You got me… a plant?’ Derek looked back at it, confused, picking it up to look at it properly.
‘It’s a bamboo plant. It’s supposed to bring luck.’ Stiles shrugged, picking at the arm of his shirt. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to say Happy Birthday. I mean, you don’t seem to celebrate it, but…’
He trailed off, shrugging one shoulder and turning away.
‘Want a drink?’ Derek forced the words out, stepping back through the door to gesture the teen in. Stiles slipped through the doorway, sitting stiffly on the bar stool at the kitchen island, looking anywhere but at Derek.
Derek placed the bamboo shoot on the bench, reaching to grab cups and plates and setting them down before pulling out the chocolate milk and a box from the good bakery across town.
‘Laura and I, well, we didn’t do much for our birthdays after, though Laura used to have these stupidly huge parties.’
He opened the box, pulling the simple red velvet cake in between them and sinking two forks into it, nodding to Stiles to pour the milk.
‘I hated vanilla cake, and chocolate was Michael's favourite. Laura liked Jaffa, Peter’s wife Amelia introduced her to it, and Blake liked confetti cake.’
‘My dad always gets the same store bought mud cake for his birthday. He loves it but isn’t allowed it any other time of year. Mum always wanted “something simple” so Dad and I just picked something from the bakery. There was usually something new they were trying.’
‘What about you?’ Derek asked, sipping at the chocolate milk.
‘My Babcia used to make me this old drożdżówki yeast cake with rose jam, I loved it. But I can’t bake for shit and I haven’t had it in years, so these days I usually pick Red Velvet.’
‘I like the frosting, and if you got him the right mood Uncle Peter would bake it and let me lick the bowl.’
‘Peter bakes,’ Derek laughed at the spluttering boy in front of him, ‘no way. He’s way too uptight for that!’
‘Well, he used to. Made it with more white than milk chocolate and the red was so intense and he’d put lemon in the frosting so it was just sour enough to bring it all together.’
They spent most the night picking at the cake, finishing off the milk before Stiles finally headed home, scent less anxious than it had been and filled with a warmth he hadn’t realised was missing until it returned.
#2 A House
The pack had talked about rebuilding the Hale house numerous times over the years; debating where to put it, what style it should be, how big, colour schemes. Anything that could conceivably be related to building a new house had been raised, considered, shouted over and finally left alone when the County had demanded the remains be removed. Derek had a small notebook with the suggestions he’d liked, writing them down carefully when he was alone, not wanting to hear the opinions on what he’d kept and what he’d very carefully tried to forget he’d heard. The sex dungeon room came to mind, they were a filthy and very well read group of teenagers.
In the end he couldn’t face the idea of rebuilding in the same space or even the same style, so armed with a folder of pictures of what he didn’t want, he’d gone to an architect and sat through five hours of “yes”, “no”, “maybe” to designs and features and another thirty of actually putting together the things he liked.
The first person to realise the new house was being built (nearly a mile closer to the town but on a secondary road through the preserve) was Stiles. Not surprising since he had access to the Sheriff and part of the planning had been redirecting the lanes that lead into the preserve and turning it into a proper road. He’d come to see the progress of the foundations and found the teenager sitting on the trunk of his car, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders in the cool spring air.
‘Dad didn’t have copies of the plans, but he was able to tell me the new location.’
‘Tell you, or did you pick the lock?’
‘They were sitting on his desk at home, so they were fair game,’ Stiles grinned. Derek slid up on the car, leaning into the teens space, offering to share heat. He ignored the sense of peace that came with it, grateful that the teen hadn’t gone too far for college unlike the rest of the pack. He was close enough to come up every month, sometimes more often.
‘I’ll send them to you. There’s computer generated end result photos in it, so you can see what it’s supposed to look like. I kept Lydia’s water feature.’
Stiles laughed, Lydia had eventually convinced everyone that a moat was really the only sensible way to go about it if you were preparing for a siege. Given that at the time they’d been fighting off what eventually turned out to be a colony of salamanders she hadn’t been far off the mark.
‘You did not!’
‘Well, it doesn’t have a drawbridge, but there is a perfectly symmetrical river circling the house. I’m having koi fish delivered. Lydia’s going to love it.’
‘You set up a running water protection circle for fun. Sourwolf, you might actually be insane after all.’
‘It’s a perfectly valid protection!’
‘You don’t even know if it will work! It’s entirely theoretical! What if it keeps you out too?’
‘That’s what I have you for remember? The squishy human with a spark. You can knock over the filter system and stop it running’
‘I can’t believe you’ve actually considered that,’ Stiles burst into laughter, nearly falling off before Derek dragged him back to safety.
‘I do try to plan for contingencies,’ he reached into the bag he’d bought with him, relishing the rich smell of cinnamon hot chocolate as he poured from the thermos. He carefully didn’t look at the long fingers wrapped around the travel cup.
‘What else you got?’
‘Bay windows to curl up in, a library and an over sized kitchen. Seriously it’s massive. Landscapers will come out after it’s done to make sure it grows something more than mud and solar panels on the roof. No basement, wide windows, an attic.’
‘This is going to be amazing Derek. I’m really glad for you.’
‘Thanks.’
He thinks idly of the small pot plant he’s had to trim since he got it, safely tucked away on a window sill in his current apartment. It’s followed him through five moves now, sitting pride of place and safe in each car trip. He’ll put it in the study eventually, where the weak afternoon sun in winter will keep it warm.
#3 A Car
Derek had loved the Camaro. It was Michael’s first, and the only one available when they’d run to New York. They’d not driven it often, public transport was often faster if they couldn’t run without attention and getting lost in the press of unwashed humanity had only sucked for a few weeks before it became almost comforting. After the pack had grown and the enemies kept coming the SUV had been a better choice and he’d sold it to a collector. A series of horrible events happened and he went through two more SUVs before the pack split up, half to MIT and Boston and New York, and the rest of them to San Fran and LA. Even Jackson had applied to US colleges, ending up in Boston with Lydia.
With no one else to worry about needing to pick up, the Nemeton finally contained and the ever present waves of enemies slowed to a once in a blue moon occurrence he’d finally decided it was safe to buy his own car.
He couldn’t resist visiting Stiles in Eleanor, a sleek Shelby GT500 rerelease with leather interior. A small black triskele - fourteenth in six years, he was beginning to think the gifter had bought an entire stores worth - hung from the new keychain and the drive stick had an alpha red version enameled into the top.
The stupefied look on Stiles face as he finally exited the building was well worth it, he decided. He leaned up off the trunk, accepting the hug before Stiles circled the car.
‘Dude. You bought Eleanor. I can’t believe you. How did I not know you loved that movie?’
‘No idea, and don’t call me dude.’
‘Sure Sourwolf, you gonna take me for a ride?’
Derek raised an eyebrow, watching the flush crawl up Stiles face.
‘Figured Id’ drive you home, since Roscoe’s in the shop, again.’
‘Sold, lets go! Have you opened her up on the high way yet? How fast does she really go?’
Derek smiled, listening the chatter as he maneuvered the car toward the small apartment Stiles shared with some other sophomores. By the time they’d eaten, packed Stiles an overnight bag and gotten out of the city Stiles was half asleep, contentment and excitement seeping through the car.
‘You ready for this?’ He asked, switching lanes.
‘Bring it.’
Derek didn’t think about the feeling that spread through him at the trust the other man was showing, simply putting his foot down and letting the car run, speeding down the freeway. The speeding ticket was worth it.
#4 A Coffee Maker
The coffee maker was the single worst decision he’d made in his life Derek decided. It was ridiculous. All the blasted thing needed to do was heat water and force it through ground beans. WHY were there seventeen buttons on it! And it was LOUD. Yes the grinder was, grinding, but that really shouldn’t have to mean that he was subjected to the sound of screeching each and every time he wanted a cup.
‘You know you could just buy a new one, right? I mean, it’s not that hard.’
‘I think Isaac hates me. It’s the only reason he could have found to buy this.’ Derek tucked the phone against his shoulder and grabbed at the coffee that had finally dribbled into his cup.
‘It’s not even a proper espresso, there’s barely any crema and that milk wand thing is useless.’
The laugh that echoed down the phone made his lips twitch, and he gave in, grinning into the empty apartment.
‘Do you think that if I knock it off the bench I can say it was an accident and Isaac will believe me?
‘Probably not, but if you replace it quickly enough he won’t care.’
‘You’ll forgive me if I hang up to go order a new machine right?’
‘No I won’t! Besides, how are you going to tell how loud the bean grinder is if you buy it online? The reviews won’t exactly advertise “fine for werewolf sensitive ears”.’
Derek groaned knowing Stiles was right.
‘I don’t want to go shopping. I just want my coffee,’ he whined.
The box that was delivered the next morning had a printed series of reviews “amazingly quiet” “doesn’t hurt my ears” “would definitely recommend if you have a baby in the house”. The sticky note on top had Stiles spiky handwriting saying “go nuts Sensitive Wolf” and he couldn’t help but chuckle setting up the new machine - five buttons, impressively quiet grinder and a new milk wand.
#5 A Library
The final crate of had been delivered, a stack of three wooden crates nailed shut sitting on the patio. By the time the driver was out of earshot he’d ripped off the top of the first one and was well on his way to filling the floor to ceiling shelves of the large room. There was plenty of natural light thanks to a bay window and strategic lamps along with the regular ceiling lights all designed to keep the room comfortably lit, warm and inviting. By the time the sun set he’d finished all three crates, filling a little over three quarters of the library. Plenty of space left for more books, and easy to move them around if the alphabetical order wasn’t good enough for the readers.
Plus one Stiles
Derek stood, heart beating double time as he stood in the garden. The summer heat had faded, leaving behind a pleasant warmth that filled the air with the scent of wildflowers. His suit, charcoal grey with a white shirt and alpha red bow tie, was matched by the four boys behind him, red shirts and white bow ties.
Across from him, the four girls of his mates pack stood, red dresses and white flowers and their hair done in victory rolls. The Sheriff, suit pressed to perfection and shoes shined walked in time with the music, a few tears trailing down his cheeks, eclipsed by the proud smile.
Derek smiled, finally looking at the man walking toward him. Matching suit, red shirt, white bow tie, he’d finally filled the promise of those broad shoulders. The wide grin matched his father's, and with an elegant shuffle managed to kiss his father on the cheek and turn to face Derek reaching out to link their hands.
‘Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today…’