Gingerly
Rated: Teen (2k)
Relationship: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale, Erica Reyes, Vernon Boyd, Isaac Lahey, Jackson Whittemore, Scott McCall, Alison Argent, Sheriff Stilinski
Tags: POV Stiles, Magical Stiles, Alpha Derek, Baking & Brewing, Accidental Secret Admirer/Assumed Creeper-Bad Guy, Scenting, Kissing, Hickeys, Getting Together
Summary:
Stiles already knew that the secretive Alpha had a not-so-secret sweet tooth, but not about a favorite spice. He could do something with that.
The Stilinski men were only passable in the kitchen, but he figured he could learn to bake. Woo the guy of his literal and figurative dreams, experiment with finer magic control, and enjoy snacks as he went? Win-win-win.
For Noxnthea and Stiles Shipping Central Ficlet Exchange. Prompt #3, Secret Admirer:
Stiles didn’t mean to end up as [person’s] secret admirer. He’d fully intended to announce his intentions, okay? But then, well… then he accidentally did [insert mistake here], and now [person]’s convinced they’ve got some creepy dude stalking them and goddamnit, if this gets out, the pack is never gonna let Stiles live this down.
Wolf & Snow Moons - Snow prompts: 12, Ginger, Hidden
Stiles began working on his magic over the summer, but didn’t tell anyone because he wanted to have something impressive, or at least reliable, to show when he was inevitably asked to demonstrate. Struggling to light a candle in front of a skeptical audience? No thank you.
So he borrowed some books, started a herb garden, learned various grounding techniques, and eventually it wasn’t so hard to draw from that well of power inside him. Apparently, soon he wouldn’t even need anything except his own will, but for now he actually enjoyed the little rituals. He even got multiple sternum tattoos to aid with things like stealth, protection, and healing and to strengthen his connection to the land and elements. (They looked pretty fucking cool and he only fainted twice.)
Stiles was practicing extending his senses while walking near the new Beta House one evening when he overheard Boyd telling Erica how he realized that whenever he had something gingery back at the loft — drinks, stir-fry, cookies from his grandma — that some of it always disappeared. At first he’d thought it was Peter or maybe Jackson, but he eventually caught Derek red (or rather, yellowy brown-beige) handed.
Interesting. Stiles already knew the secretive Alpha had a not-so-secret sweet tooth, but not about a favorite spice. He could do something with that.
The Stilinski men were only passable in the kitchen, but he figured he could learn to bake. Woo the guy of his literal and figurative dreams, experiment with finer magic control, and enjoy snacks as he went? Win-win-win.
After numerous attempts ranging from “exploding goo turned charcoal” to “pretty good” his latest batches came out perfectly. Chewy triple ginger molasses cookies, crispy gingersnaps, and decadent dark chocolate gingerbread brownies. The power of three, baby!
He snagged some for himself (quality control) and saved two of each for his dad, but still had a dozen left of everything for Derek. On the way over, he stopped to buy some tea for good measure: chai and lemon ginger. Then it was showtime.
But when Stiles knocked on the door there was no answer. How anticlimactic.
He waited a few minutes and then enhanced his hearing to check for sure that Derek wasn’t home, but instead he heard Isaac, Erica, and Jackson approaching the elevator in the lobby — a.k.a. 3 of the 4 worst possible people to witness anything sincere and potentially embarrassing — so he set the bag at the door, quickly erased his scent. and ran down the stairs while hiding his presence.
The mystery gift was the first topic of discussion at the next pack meeting. Derek apparently enjoyed the goodies (yes!) and only gave the envious betas one of each before absconding with the rest. He assumed it was left as thanks by a half-fae waitress he’d helped the week before, but when he complimented her in passing a few days later she had no idea what he was talking about. None of the wolves could pick up a scent on the packaging and bemusement turned to fear (no!)
There were any number of malicious spells or supernatural substances that could be activated through food, which would explain the lack of scent. And how did the sender find out about his penchant for ginger anyway?
Having lost his nerve (he’d never live it down if they found out now,) Stiles sent an anonymous text the next afternoon to try to put Derek at ease, but that only made things worse. After receiving an angry voicemail on his burner phone he panicked and tossed it.
Another pack meeting was held and they were worried enough to bring in Scott and Allison, though thankfully Chris at least wasn’t there. Allison swept the place for listening devices and Scott asked Deaton to strengthen the wards once the clinic closed. Everyone was now on high alert for what Erica dubbed the “Cookie Monster.”
If Lydia or Peter were around they probably would’ve been suspicious of him being unusually quiet, but she’d left early for MIT and their semi-resident zombie wolf (the 4th and final boss of jerkfaces) was off gallivanting who knows where. There was no evidence pointing in his direction. He just had to relax and keep his mouth shut.
“Definitely sounds like some psycho stalker to me,” Jackson said, making the “screw loose” sign.
“That lady on the second floor who’s always checking you out?” Boyd wondered.
“Ooh, what about that guy at the coffee shop that always gives us extra pastries if you pay for it? I bet he knows how to bake,” said Erica.
“If it’s him, you should roll with it,” Isaac joked, earning a glare from Stiles. How dare he credit some skeevy barista.
“Yeah, maybe it’s just someone with a crush,” Scott said, ever the romantic.
“A creepy person,” Allison emphasized with a frown. Erica nodded.
“Yeah, and with his luck…” she muttered, wincing and turning to a silent Derek. “Sorry, big guy,”
As the others continued speculating Derek only looked more and more irritable and withdrawn. Angry, yes, but even worse, sad. Stiles dreaded the embarrassment and hassling to come, but he hated seeing Derek upset even more.
“It was me, alright!” he shouted, shooting up from the couch.
Everyone paused and turned to stare at him. Scott tilted his head, his expression that of a confused puppy.
“Dude, since when do you bake?”
Stiles shrugged awkwardly. “Since recently.”
“But why couldn’t we tell that it was you?” Erica asked.
“I, uh, might’ve done something with my magic? Surprise,” he said, making jazz hands.
“Magic?”
He turned toward Boyd, who was looking him over as if to check for any changes. Glittery skin or a tail perhaps. Stiles was amused because he wasdifferent now, but only under his clothes were they — and his father — couldn’t see.
“Yeah,” he replied, grinning. “I’ve been learning for a while “
“You, magic?” Jackson scoffed, leaning against the wall. “The only—“
“Me, jackass” Stiles cut in, locating and drawing out streams of flour and black pepper from the pantry and dumping it on his head.
“Dude, that’s so awesome!” Scott exclaimed, coming over to fist bump him as Jackson coughed and sneezed, beating at his hair and clothes. Then Jackson stomped towards him so Stiles stopped him in his tracks just like he kept a pan of B- coffee cake from hitting the floor a week ago.
“Duuuude,” Scott said as Isaac and Erica laughed gleefully. Allison grinned, giving him a thumbs up.
Proud of his progress, he momentarily forgot the situation until he turned and saw Derek watching him with an intense, but unreadable expression. His stomach dropped, but he was still relieved that the subject had changed to his magic and he showed off a few more times, including cleaning up the mess he made. Even the now pristine and mobile Jackson was begrudgingly impressed.
He worked his way closer and closer to the door hoping that with a last good diversion he might even manage to escape (for now, anyway.)
Then Isaac had to ruin it, raising an eyebrow and smirking before asking about his “sneaking around like a weirdo” and wondering why he made a bunch of desserts for Derek in the first place.
Stiles froze, face flushing as he rambled about training exercises and then made up some tradition of potential emissaries leaving gifts for Alphas. He caused the alarm on his phone go off and then silenced it, saying he had to go.
Even with just his normal hearing the sound of laughter echoed as he fled.
When Stiles got home he distracted himself with a new game he hadn’t started yet, storming through the fantastical countryside and targeting particularly tall and smug-looking elves. A few hours later he saved his progress and took off his headphones, sighing and knocking his head against the couch cushions. He soon found himself back in the kitchen where he saw some texts and a bunch of group chat notifications when he took out his phone to check a recipe. He ignored the latter, but read the texts from Scott.
< r u okay? >
< do u likr derek?! >
< like >
< ?🤔🤯?! >
Groaning, he replied < can’t talk, abducted by aliens > as if he wasn’t thinking of a certain Sourwolf at that very moment. He added < (not really) > right after because this was Beacon Hills and then slid it back into his pocket.
His dad came down an hour later in his uniform, yawning as he got a sandwich from the fridge. He was two days into a week of night shifts and was still adjusting to the schedule.
“Hey, kiddo.”
Stiles saluted back and poured him the coffee he started when he heard movement upstairs. His dad thanked him, watching as he finely chopped a bunch of ginger and then added it and some sugar to a jar of water.
“What’s that?”
“A ‘ginger bug’. It’ll be a starter for ginger beer in a few days,” he replied, stirring and covering it with cheesecloth.
He received the patented Sheriff’s Eyebrow and rolled his eyes, explaining that there was negligible alcohol content if you drank it soon-ish or refrigerated it, especially without using extra yeast. None if you just added carbonation instead of letting it ferment.
“Like this one” he said, pointing to a bottle with seltzer and the lavender ginger syrup that he prepared already. His dad hummed dubiously.
“So what inspired all of this?” he asked, gesturing with tonight’s allotted brownie. “And why does everything have ginger? Not that I’m complaining.”
Stiles once again made up some excuses as he cleaned, this time about trying new hobbies and how ginger was supposed to help with focus.
“Uh-huh,” his dad said, giving him a knowing look and the “I’ve got my eye on you” motion. “Negligible.”
“Okaaay!”
His dad ruffled his hair and chuckled as he left. “Alright, I’m off. Be good!”
“I’ve got nothing better to do,” Stiles grumbled to himself.
Or so he thought until he went upstairs and found Derek in room.
“Heyyy, how's it going?” he asked after having a minor heart attack.
The look on Derek’s face could only be described as predatory and he swallowed, backing into the wall as 190 pounds of werewolf prowled towards him. Here it was, his somewhat deserved and unfairly attractive doom.
But instead of mangling him warm fingers circled his wrist and slowly brought it millimeters away from stubbled cheekbones and parted lips. Derek inhaled deeply and sighed.
“You know, I’ve always loved that smell. My uncle, Daniel, used to make these elaborate gingerbread houses full of ‘gingerwere’ cookies in different stages of shifting,” he said, shaking his head with a bittersweet smile. “But I kind of forgot about how much until I came back here.”
Derek let go, but stepped even closer, leaning in to nuzzle at his neck. Goosebumps rose in his wake and Stiles shivered when he spoke again, a now huskier voice pressed directly to his skin.
“And then there was this troublesome brat everywhere, smelling of locker rooms and lust. Cheetos and body spray and the usual things…” Derek's chest vibrated against his when he laughed. “But underneath all of that, his scent was like ginger and honey.”
Stiles moaned as Derek licked his throat, clutching at muscular arms and letting his head fall back in offering.
"Mmm, delicious...just like what you made for me. And now I'm thinking that maybe it’s not just aimless, rampaging hormones with you. That maybe you actually want something more." Derek drew back just enough to meet his eyes with a darkened, red-ringed gaze. "Do you want...something more...from me?"
Stiles surged forward with a wordless cry to meet him, possessive mouth hot and spicy-sweet and even better than his dreams.
"Yes," he breathed, hips jerking and becoming speechless again when Derek switched to trailing bruises down his neck and below.
It seemed like he was going to show off his tattoos after all.