Derek rose from bed with heavy limbs and half-lidded eyes. He dragged his feet across the cold hard wood of his bedroom, using his other senses of smell and hearing to figure out his way to the stairs that he hopefully wouldn't fall down.
He took them one at a time, like a big boy who didn't need to jump and clear all the steps at once to look intimidating. His hand clung to the railing, guiding him down until he reached the even colder floor of the loft. At least hard wood retained some heat, this concrete like shit did nothing for his poor toes.
Finally he made it to the kitchen after nearly toppling over the couch, stupid couch didn't make a single sound to alert Derek of its presence... stupid couch was stupid and hard. He should evict that stupid couch.
Derek yawned, stretching out his hand to reach blindly on the counter. He knocked some things to the floor, nothing broke, and then his hand was on it. The plastic container Stiles had dropped off. He pried the lid off with one hand, stuck his hand in, and wrapped his fingers around his glorious prize. His earnings for waking up in the middle of the night and needing something to settle him so he could fall back to sleep.
Slowly, carefully, he brought his treasure up to his mouth and sunk his teeth into that delicious, soft, heart warming baked good in the form of his favorite thing... a homemade cookie.
annabethlemorte requested: sterek: derek playing tea party with his daughter and her stuffies
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"Would you like some more tea, Princess Erica?" Derek raises the pink plastic teapot, carefully refilling the girl's cup with apple juice when she nods.
"Thank you, Prince Daddy," the-four year-old says primly, sipping from her teacup with her pinky poked out, just like Dad does it. "May I have another cookie?"
"Of co– uh," Derek stops, looking blankly at the empty cookie plate.
Erica follows his gaze. "Daddy!" she says, exasperated. "Did you eat all the cookies?"
Erica inclines her head regally, tiara slipping askew in her bright gold curls. He'll fix it when she notices. Derek turns away, biting back a laugh when he hears her murmur, "How rude," and giggle to herself.
Stiles is still set up at the kitchen table, typing furiously. He looks up at Derek and offers a tired smile. "How's the party?"
"You're missing out," Derek says, pulling the cabinet open. "Lady Hippo and Lord Giraffe have all the latest gossip."
"They always do," Stiles says fondly, propping his chin on his hand. He watches Derek root around for a minute, then sighs. "There's raspberry milanos under the sink."
Derek shoots him a grateful look. "Sorry," he says, ducking to find them tucked away behind the detergent.
"They're emergency cookies," Stiles says, shrugging. "This is definitely an emergency."
"Still." Derek loops around the table on his way back to the door. "I'll replace them."
Stiles tilts his head up to nab the kiss Derek had meant for his temple, grinning when Derek laughs against his mouth.
"Go," he murmurs after a moment, pushing him gently towards the door. "Return to your castle, rapscallion! You distract me from my work."
Derek smiles, ruffling Stiles's hair just to hear him squawk as he returns to the living room, triumphant.
Derek sat in the loft, staring at the ceiling with a blank expression on his face. In his mind, he was replaying all the moments of the past year, but for some reason, his mind only focused on the parts he wished he could forget. There was evidence of his progress forward, the growth he'd gone through, the moments where he felt happy and included with people.
He knew those existed. But when you were in this sort of state... your mind skipped over them like scratches on a CD.
Derek's head rolled over on the sofa, turning his eyes to where Stiles was proceeding to haul the door back closed, making no actual effort to lift his head.
Once Stiles had finished struggling with the door, he turned around with a beaming smile. One of those wide ones that was too big for his face, genuine and honest and it already started to make Derek feel like he was worth something if someone like Stiles could smile at him like that.
That's when he noticed the jar in the crook of Stiles' arm.
He didn't speak, just furrowed his brows in question, nodding his head slightly to the jar.
Stiles grinned, pulling it out from where it was tucked beneath his arm and sauntered closer to Derek. Once he was close enough to Derek, Stiles removed the lid of the jar and held it out at arm's length away from him. It was a few inches away from Derek, but he could smell the flood of delicious home baked cookies reach his nostrils.
He leaned forward into the scent, head lifting on it's own but as Derek moved closer, Stiles took a step back with a challenging flick of his brow.
Derek glared at him and made to move his arms and grab the jar, but Stiles dashed backward, practically moon walking out of range. He smirked as he shook the cookie jar in front of him. The cute little bastard was actually going to make him get up for these cookies.
With a loud exhale, Derek hauled himself off the couch and dragged his feet across the floor to get to Stiles. That time, Stiles didn't move. He let Derek reach his hand into the jar and pull out a cookie.
Once that cookie was in his mouth, Stiles settled the jar on the counter next to him and wrapped his arms around Derek's shoulders, pulling him into a warm embrace.
"Isaac told me," Stiles whispered, stroking his back soothingly and Derek practically melted in his arms. He caught the purr that nearly escaped around the cookie, however, and continued to munch on the delicious sweet instead.
"I'm always here for you," Stiles kissed the side of Derek neck and Derek brought his arms up to snake around Stiles' waist and hug him tightly.
"I know," He mumbled around the softening cookie pieces in his mouth and nuzzled into Stiles' shoulder, soaking up the comfort only cookies and Stiles could give him.
Derek only owns one glass, now. He rinses it twice before pouring from the half-gallon of milk from the gas station, opening the noisy package of oreos, going through the familiar motions.
He looks down and realizes he's set out two stacks without thinking.
I've been reading The Hour of the Wolf by Suaine today (refreshing tumblr between scenes, like you do) and I just got to this line:
He considered ignoring him altogether, but Stiles had piqued his curiosity just enough that staying in the car would be torturous speculation. Maybe the bag was full of cookies. They could be walnut-raisin or chocolate chip or peanut butter, they could be anything!
“I'm doing this for the cookies,” Derek said to the steering wheel.
