Work Text:
It'd been eight months since his birthday and only one week until Christmas and Stiles still hadn't told his dad about him and Derek. He'd been meaning to, of course! But things always seemed to get in the way. Like the Alpha pack (or alphpaca as Stiles liked to call it) that came to town a few months before to try to recruit Derek into their pack - or kill him, which ever conclusion they came to first.
The fight had been long and nasty and not without consequences. Thankfully no one was killed in the making of this fight - except the Alphas, to which Stiles didn't even feel bad about. They had it coming. Boyd and Erica, who'd gone missing months before had been found and were thankfully alive but more subdued than Stiles had ever seen them before. Derek welcomed them back with open arms - literally, and both betas sobbed with relief.
The humans of the pack hadn't gone unscathed either and Stiles had ended up with a broken hand, two fractured ribs and half of his face bruised an ugly colour, and yeah no, he didn't think his dad bought the Lacrosse lie, again, but it'd been a while now that the Sheriff had stopped trying to get the truth out of him and that - that scared him, honestly.
But the pack was back together and whole and everyone was happy - or as happy as they could be at any rate. The Hale house was completely renovated now and all the betas (including Peter, unfortunately) now had a place in the large home, rooms of their own and decorated however they wanted. The cells beneath the house were remodeled so that they weren't so... creepy. It was more used for storage now than anything. Sometimes on the full moons the cells would come in handy, or if they - for whatever reason - needed a place to hide. But they hadn't needed that for awhile.
So for now, things were good. The pack was progressing and so was his relationship with Derek. Except for one big glaring elephant in the room which was his dad still not knowing about them, something Derek urged him to do every now and then. Derek thought that maybe not lying about at least one aspect of their lives might help Stiles to rebuild his relationship with his dad, and Stiles hoped it would.
Which was why he was currently up at seven in the morning on the twenty-second of December, two days before Christmas, making his dad a breakfast fit for a king. Stiles pulled out all the stops for this one. Eggs, bacon, sausage, toast and waffles with butter and syrup. He even picked up the non-fat-free kind of syrup too! He would have made pancakes but he didn't have time, because just as he was setting the plates down onto the dining room table, the Sheriff walked in and came to a stop.
Stiles smiled widely as his dad slowly came into the dining room and stopped next to the table, taking in the spread.
"What did you do?"
Stiles' smile fell into a small scowl. "What makes you think I did anything?"
"Stiles..." his dad replied, in a tone that said he knew exactly what this breakfast was for.
"Okay, in my defense," his father groaned as he sat down. "I didn't actually DO anything. I just. You know, need to talk to you about something."
The Sheriff paused mid-reach for the plate Stiles set down for him, then kept going. "Let me clog my arteries first," his dad grumbled.
Nervously, Stiles sat down as well, fingers drumming against the table as he watched his dad take the first few bites of his breakfast. Well, he thought to himself, if his dad kicked him out he already knew he had a place to stay.
The Sheriff dropped his fork and looked up at Stiles in surprise, "Stiles, why would I kick you out?"
"What?" Stiles asked confusedly, then smacked his face with his hands. "Oh god I said that out loud didn't I?"
"You did," The Sheriff remarked, then sighed. "Stiles..."
"I'm seeing someone!"
They both went silent and stared at each other, then the Sheriff nodded. "Okay, when do I get to meet him?"
"Well, I was thinking that - wait, him? How do you know it's a him and not a her?"
The Sheriff just gave his son a look, because really? He's the Sheriff? But the man just smiled amused smile. "If it was a her you'd have brought her around a long time ago."
"It's Derek," Stiles blurted out suddenly. There. Out in the open.
His dad stared at him for a few long, torturous moments and then sighed and shook his head. "I am really not as surprised as I feel I should be by hearing that," he said, then scooped up a fork full of eggs and sausage, taking a bite.
"Whoa, wait, what? You knew? You knew!?"
"I suspected," his father agreed.
"Oh my god, why didn't you tell me!? Do you know how long I've been agonizing over this!?"
The look his dad gave him told him he knew exactly how long. Now he knew where he got his cunning dickishness from.
"I figured you'd tell me when you were ready to, Stiles. It's not something I wanted to force you into telling me, especially if it wasn't something you were... sure about," The Sheriff replied delicately.
The look on Stiles' face softened as he smiled. "Thanks dad. I just... I wasn't sure if... and I mean Derek's a guy so..."
The Sheriff put his utensils down and leveled his son with a look. "Stiles, I would never, under any circumstances love you any less for who you date or who you want to be with. I would never love you less over anything, period. You know you can always talk to me."
Stiles tried to keep himself from tearing up as he nodded, but he wasn't sure he succeeded. "I know dad, thanks. Thank you. He's a really good guy, he really is and I - I love him a lot."
The Sheriff went quiet at that but after a moment, nodded. "He treats you good? Does he make you happy?"
Stiles couldn't stop the grin that crossed his face. "Yes he does, and yeah, happier than I've been in a long time."
His dad nodded again, then went back to his food. "Then that's all that matters."
After that, not another word was said on the subject as the Stilinski men finished up their breakfast. In fact it wasn't brought up again until the Sheriff left for work, pulling Stiles into a hug at the front door.
"Invite him over for Christmas dinner," was all he said before shutting the door behind him, the tone of his voice telling Stiles his dad would not take 'no' for an answer.
Still, Stiles grinned, heart aflutter. "That went a lot better than I thought it would."
-----
The sight Stiles walked into a few days later gave him a rush of deja vu. In the kitchen of the newly renovated Hale house stood Derek, once again covered in flour and the scent of warm cookies filling the air. He couldn't stop the grin from crossing his face or the way his stomach knotted up pleasantly as he walked further in.
Derek seemed to be lost in what he was doing, pressing little shaped cookie cutters into rolled out dough on the marble counter top. Stiles didn't stop until he was standing right behind the Alpha werewolf and wrapped his arms around his middle.
The man seemed to stiffen slightly in surprise, then relaxed as he went back to the task at hand.
"That's a lot of cookies," Stiles commented, grin widening when Derek handed him a frosted one over his shoulder. Gleefully, Stiles took it and bit down, groaning in Derek's ear. "Oh my god, these are the best cookies ever. I am never going to buy another store brand cookie again. You're going to bake them, all the time, I swear."
Derek smiled a little as he went back to cutting out various shapes. It always pleased him when Stiles babbled about how much he liked his baking. It was something he picked up from his mother and cousins, back when they were still alive. Baking, especially around the holidays, eased the ache inside of him created by their loss.
He knew Stiles understood, the teen never pestered him or asked 'why', though others would. Because Stiles knew, had been through loss of his own. He knew it was why the teen liked cooking so much, just as he enjoyed baking.
Derek fed Stiles another cookie, a snowman this time, before the teen could get all grabby-hands with the racks of them cooling on the counter.
"So," Stiles started, biting the head off the snowman cookie. "I told my dad the other day. About us. Apparently he's suspected for awhile but didn't want to like, I dunno, force me out of the closet, I guess?" The teen shrugged and broke off an arm, popping it into his mouth.
"He suspected you liked men or that we were dating?" Derek asked, pausing in his frosting of cookies to turn and look at the teen.
"Both? But he did tell me to invite you to dinner and I don't think you can say no. So he'll probably wait until we've all eaten and then shoot you and bury you in the back yard."
"How reassuring."
Stiles rolled his eyes and shoved the rest of the cookie into his mouth. "But he knows now, and that's the important part." The teen then looked over the counter top and took a few steps forward. "Can I help?"
Derek shrugged and stepped aside to make room for the teenager. "Sure, you can cut the dough and put them on the pan, I'll frost the ones that are done."
"Awesome," Stiles said, then began to do just that. He couldn't stop smiling to himself as he cut out each new shape, alternating between the five or six Christmas shaped cutters Derek had sitting out.
"Do the others know you bake?" Stiles asked, putting down the cutter so he could carefully move each cookie to the baking sheet.
"Just Isaac, since he's here the most," Derek replied, outlining a gingerbread cookie with white icing from the pipping bag.
It made sense, Stiles thought, since Isaac pretty much lived here with Derek and Peter. He's glad there's someone else in the house besides them. While the house had been renovated and looked almost brand new, the memories of 'before' and 'back then' would always be there.
Stiles just hoped that now they'd be able to create some new ones.
"Well don't worry, your secret is safe with me," he said, grinning over at the werewolf. The corners of Derek's mouth upturned into a small smirk that made Stiles' heart flutter.
"I know."
The silence between them was comfortable, the only sound coming from either of them were their soft breaths and the slight scrapes of them working side by side at the counter.
At least until Stiles felt the need to break up the monotony a little. By pelting Derek in the side of the face with a small bit of left over dough that was too small to properly use.
"Stiles," Derek growled, pausing in his pipping to glance over at the teen who had adopted a look of innocence that Derek just knew was all for show. "Stop it."
"I don't know what you're talking about, Derek," Stiles said as he waited until Derek went back to work to pelt him again, then scuttled back way from him and around the center island in the new kitchen.
"Stiles, I mean it. Knock it off," the Alpha growled out, but didn't look up, at least not until Stiles pelted him again.
That was when Derek slammed the pipping bag onto the counter top and Stiles squawked as he watched the werewolf nearly vault over the middle island to get to him. Stiles barely had time to scramble backward before Derek had him pinned to the kitchen wall, hands on either side and bracketing him in.
"I - I - Sorry, I didn't mean to make you mad - okay, no I did but not like REALLY mad or anything and I'm really sorry. I just - I-I don't know, I wanted to have some fun? And it sounded like a good idea at the time!" Stiles exclaimed, then winced a little as his tirade tapered off.
"Stiles?"
"Yes?" the teen all but squeaked out.
"Shut up."
Before Stiles could get another word out, Derek had claimed his mouth in a rough kiss, tongue licking into his mouth and tasting the gingerbread cookie he had eaten earlier. Stiles moaned softly as his hands came up, scrabbling to hold onto the other man as Derek pressed him back into the wall, pinning him there with his hips.
Pulling away from the kiss, Derek rest his forehead against Stiles' own and gently nosed against the boy's face. "I know," Derek said quietly, voice rough from their kissing. "I'm not mad."
"Oh thank god," Stiles breathed out, cheeks still flush from their make out session, fingers gently kneading against the back of Derek's neck. "Can we go back to the kissing and the making out now? 'Cause that was awesome."
Bringing his hand up to gently cup against Stiles' warm, flushed cheek, Derek grinned.
---
"You're only twenty minutes late," The Sheriff said in lieu of greeting the two when they showed up at the Stilinski house for Christmas dinner, and the tone of voice suggested he knew the exact reason they were late, too.
It made both of them blush, Stiles obviously and surprisingly enough, Derek too. "We brought sides! And dessert!" Stiles said, holding up the dish of green bean casserole that he made at Derek's because Derek didn't normally cook.
Derek offered a small smile and held up a plate of neatly suran wrapped cookies. The Sheriff eyed the plate and nodded, stepping aside to let them both in. Stiles cast his dad a small glare, much to the older man's amusement as he shut the door behind them.
"Food's about done, why don't you two get the table set up," The Sheriff said, passing them by and into the kitchen.
With the fixings on the table, the three men sat down to eat. The silence was comfortable, followed by the soft clink of silverware on plates as they all ate. When the Sheriff deigned to speak up, it nearly made Stiles choke.
"I hope the two of you are at least using protection."
"Dad!"
"I'm just worried about you, son."
"Oh my god."
"Stiles, it's alright." That was Derek's voice but Stiles refused to lift his head from the table, his face dark red in embarrassment.
"I haven't done anything untoward with Stiles," Derek said, looking honest.
"I highly doubt that, but I'll take your word for it," the Sheriff replied, an amused smile crossing his face as he looked over to Stiles, who finally lifted his head and stilled, eyes wide.
"Oh my god, you did that on purpose!"
"Consider it my Christmas present."
Even Derek laughed at that, full out and boisterous, complete with sexy eye-crinkles. Derek leaned in and nudged Stiles' arm. "I like your dad," to which Stiles replied with, "Someone's got to."
"Alright you two, I need to head into work. I want all this cleaned up before you head to bed," the Sheriff said, getting up from the table to take his plate into the kitchen, then snagged a cookie from the tray on the way back.
"Dad?" Stiles asked, unsure if he'd heard right.
"Hm? I assume Derek'll be spending the night?"
"Yes!" Stiles exclaimed, before Derek could even open his mouth to reply.
The Sheriff simply shook his head and ruffled Stiles' hair as he walked past. "See you tomorrow kiddo."
"Night Dad, love you!"
"Love you too, son."
There was a small pause as the Sheriff grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair and slid it on. "See you later, son." Stilinski said, clapping Derek on the back, causing the younger man to still in surprise. It made the corners of the Sheriff's mouth turn up in a sad smile.
"Have a good evening, sir," was Derek's eventual response.
Stilinski just nodded and gave a short wave as he headed to the door. "I don't need to remind you to keep it down. The last time you had someone over Mrs. Hickenmeyer called the station."
"I swear that wasn't even my fault!"
"Don't feed him after midnight."
"I won't, sir." "Hahah, the cop thinks he's funny!"
The two watched Stiles' dad leave, door closing on his way out, the police cruiser rumbling to life and taking off down the street. It was a few moments before either spoke up and per usual, it was Stiles first.
"You're totally adopted now."
It made Derek laugh and something ease inside his chest. The Alpha moved around the dining room and began to clean up, watching as Stiles made a face and pitched in to get it done quicker. Once the food was put way and the dishwasher turned on, Stiles grabbed Derek's hands and slowly began to lead him toward the stairs.
"I think we should totally go upstairs and to my room," Stiles started, grinning. "Where you can fuck me into my bed."
"Stiles," Derek groaned, allowing himself to be pulled up the stairs, both taking two at a time.
"You know you want to," Stiles replied, stopping at the top of the stairs so he could lean in and kiss the werewolf on the lips.
"I do," he said, pausing. "Stiles..."
The teen frowned though as he continued down the hall and into his room. "What's wrong? Derek? Did I - did I do something?"
Derek shook his head, entering the room and pushing Stiles back against the wall, hands coming up to cup his face, thumbs brushing back and forth. "No, it's nothing you did or didn't do, Stiles. I just - I want -" Derek murmured, hazel-blue eyes searching Stiles' own amber ones.
Stiles smiled then and shook his head, arms coming up to loop around Derek's neck. "Okay, we'll just sleep." It'd been a rough day for both of them. He knew that it must've had something to do with his dad acknowledging Derek has part of the family. It'd been such a long time since Derek's had anything resembling one.
He might be an impulsive teenager most of the time, but he wasn't insensitive or inconsiderate. He knew when to back off and let things go. He didn't mind it - not when it came to Derek.
The two undressed in relative silence and crawled into Stiles' double bed, barely big enough for the two of them, but the closeness they shared because of it meant more.
Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and pulled him in against him, growling contently, low and deep. Stiles rest his head against the man's chest, arm draped over Derek's side as they laid tangled together under the covers.
"Merry Christmas, Derek," Stiles murmured against Derek's shoulder, the arm draped over him squeezing gently.
"Merry Christmas, Stiles," the werewolf replied quietly, voice a low rumble as he turned his head to press his mouth against the top of Stiles' head in a tender kiss.
"You're totally blowing me in the morning, by the way."
"Jesus, Stiles, go to sleep."