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The Hot Chocolate Festival was Stiles’ favorite part about December. All the small cafés and shops created their own unique limited time drink. It was Stiles’ goal to try every single one and rate them from best to worst. In prior years, Scott helped him, the two of them shared drinks so the sweetness didn’t overload them. But this year Scott was too busy - his internship at the vet clinic, mixed in with holidays at his girlfriend's place had him tied up. But Stiles knew going alone was a bad idea. All of this was what he told Derek when he barged into the man’s home the morning of the Hot Chocolate Festival.
“Scott’s my brother, but you’re my best friend! Derek, you have to come! Please! I won’t even make you buy anything, you just gotta help me drink and rate them. And I know you have a sweet tooth, so you really have no excuse. Just say yes; Please!” Stiles flashed Derek his best puppy-dog look; just because it wasn’t as well refined as Scott’s didn’t mean Stiles’ look sucked - it worked on his dad… half the time.
“And if I already have plans?”
“With who? My dad’s at work today, and I’m standing here begging for your company. Your circle isn’t very big dude.”
"Work?”
"You always take Mondays off.” Derek raised an eyebrow at the comment: expression a mixture of ‘oh really?’ and amusement. “You told me it's super slow in the shop on Mondays, so you let the staff do their own thing without the stress of having the Big Boss over their shoulder. It’s part of what makes you the best employer ever, and why I know you have no reason to turn me down.”
The sigh Stiles received was one he received often from everyone in his life; three parts annoyed, one part fond. It also let Stiles know he had won. With just a short pause for a victory dance, he ushered Derek out of his home. He didn’t fight when Derek steered them away from the Jeep and toward his Camero. He'd already won one battle, Stiles wasn’t about to sacrifice that win for another.
Once he was buckled into the passenger seat of the Camero, Stiles pulled up the festival's app. He had already organized the list of vendors by their proximity to each other, ending with Bake 'n Skate downtown by the skating rink. They had the only worthy food on the route; and, with the rink there Stiles and Derek could work off all the calories on the ice.
Derek listened silently as Stiles spouted off the plan, interspersed with driving instructions. It was part of why Stiles liked Derek so much. The werewolf was the only person he had ever met who actually listened when Stiles talked. Even if his responses were usually just facial expressions, Derek remembered everything Stiles said: every off-hand comment and rambling thought caught in the steel trap of his mind. Stiles knew this because Derek would bring it up later, following up on a tiff with a classmate, or town gossip; snacks would show up in Derek’s cupboards, or a pack night would be scheduled for a restaurant Stiles had been craving; Derek even once had gotten them tickets to a show Stiles had seen commercials for but knew he would never be able to afford. So he knew Derek was listening, and that he’d remember each tiny nuance. Whenever Stiles thought about it a warm tingling spread through his chest, making his heart flutter.
Stiles was still talking as they left the car, only letting his monologue pause when Derek held the café door open for him, and letting it fade off completely as they approached the till.
“One Chai Passion fruit Hot Chocolate, please!” Stiles ordered, flashing the barista his biggest smile. Her smile curled up in return.
“Your name?” She asked, a blush forming on her cheeks. “F-For the order,”
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t realize that was a thing you did now. You can put down Stiles.” He was about to jump into his usual explanation when he felt Derek press into his space, a low growl vibrating against his back. He wasn’t sure what had made Derek suddenly defensive but the cashier quickly looked down at the register, stuttering out their total - all her earlier friendliness gone. Stiles was annoyed and confused, the combination distracted him from noticing Derek had paid for the drink.
“You totally terrified that poor barista, dude.” Stiles chastised him as they were climbing back into the Camaro. Derek merely grunted in response with a smug look on his face. Stiles rolled his eyes, not actually expecting the werewolf to give a reason for his behaviour.
Stiles sipped the drink, his face pulling back in disgust as the flavour burst across his tongue. The sweet sour fruit mixed with the bitter bite of chai caused him to cough and choke. “I think they decided to punish us for your rudeness, mister smug-wolf. Cause this is awful!” Stiles shoved the drink toward the werewolf to try. Derek’s eyebrows bunched and danced in response, rearranging themselves into a look Stiles didn’t need words to translate: ‘You expect me to drink something you think is disgusting?’ combined with a ‘you’re an idiot’ look.
“How can you help me judge them properly if you don’t try them?” Stiles shot back with his own dance of challenging eyebrows.
Derek’s sigh was exaggerated but he took the drink regardless. His sip was smaller but if he found it as revolting as Stiles, the reaction didn’t show on his face. However, he left the cup to cool in the cup holder, so Stiles decided to mark that down as an overall fail.
The next five stops were largely uneventful; nothing as bad as the tropical drink but they had different opinions on which one was currently winning. Derek voted for the Caramel Cinnamon from the hipster place, while Stiles insisted the Lavender White Chocolate Mocha from the Japanese bakery was the best. They needed a tiebreaker, and Stiles had an idea of just the right one: Last year's winner, the Caramel Apple Hot Chocolate. It was right next to the ice rink and had a great sandwich shop - Stiles had originally planned it as their final shop, but it was coming close to lunchtime and he was getting hungry. Plus, If it broke the voting stalemate it would be worth the schedule change.
The downtown core normally had this large grassy park area, with the gazebo in the center; but in the winter the town turned the grassy area into a small rink, with the gazebo a romantic candle-lit center where people could catch their breath. In a few hours, the place would be steaming with people - adults off work, kids off school, and everyone wanting some holiday-style fun. But right now only a few couples and young families were circling the rink, with a few random people sitting at the small pop-up tables outside the food truck that was Bake 'N Skate.
Stiles was eager to get to the truck, his stomach rumbling as they pulled the Camaro into park. But Derek was taking his time coming around the car. Eyes taking in the scene around them. Impatiently, Stiles grabbed onto his hand and pulled Derek toward the food. Had the werewolf wanted, he could have resisted, but Derek let Stiles pull him forward. And if Stiles forgot to drop his hand once they made it up to the food truck, well Derek wasn’t about to remind him. Not that Stiles forgot, his hands were cold and Derek had all that werewolf warmth. Or so he tried to rationalize with himself.
“They have the best sandwiches, I always get their Chipotle Turkey Club, but Scott likes their Bacon and Ham Grilled cheese, and I always have to watch my dad or he’ll get their Steak and Cheese. You’ll probably like that one, I know how much you like the darker meats, though it might not pair as well with the sweetness of the hot chocolate. So I mean, it's up to you. Whatever you wanna order.” Stiles looked up from the A-sign menu to look at Derek. The werewolf’s face was bunched in an expression of deep thought. Stiles wanted to reach out and smooth his features, feel the tension melt away under his fingertips. He held tighter to the hand in his grip to keep the urge locked away. Still, he let his eyes map out Derek’s face while the werewolf was distracted by the menu.
Standing here, holding his hand, surrounded by the laughter of families, the crisp winter air, and the twinkling light of the overcast afternoon, Stiles could almost convince himself they were here on a date. That Derek had wanted to come with him, that his growl at the barista was possessive werewolf posturing, and that after food and drink, Derek would hold him close on the ice. In his fantasy, Derek would take him to the gazebo to catch his breath and they’d kiss; it’d be slow and gentle, but full of passion and romance and just perfection.
Fingers snapped in front of his face. Stiles blinked back to reality, seeing Derek's amused face staring back at him. “If you’re done daydreaming, I’d like to order." Sass and sarcasm dripped from his tone.
Stiles fought the blush creeping up his face, knowing Derek would have been able to smell the spike of arousal and longing in his scent, and pulled them toward the ordering window. Derek’s quiet chuckle eased some of the embarrassment, replacing it with warmth, but the gentle squeeze of Stiles’ hand when they stopped, made his heart rate spike once more.
“What can I get you boys?” The man in the truck asked. “We’ve got a new couples combo if you’d like to try it. Comes with two sandwiches, a shared side, and a shared large drink.”
Stiles felt his heart stutter in his chest. They looked like a couple? Sure they were holding hands, but did this man think Stiles could snag someone like Derek? His brown eyes flashed toward Derek. The werewolf showed no reaction to the statement but looked thoughtful, his free hand coming up to scratch his beard.
“Does the drink include the festival one?” Derek asked. His question barely registered outside of the fact that he wasn’t disputing the man’s assumption.
“You bet! It’s always our most popular this time of year. Camilla - my wife - designs it every year. This year it's this cinnamon pumpkin blend. Should have seen the mess our kitchen was in while she was working on getting it just right.” The man let out a full-body laugh.
Derek bumped against Stiles’ shoulder, his chuckle echoing the man’s. “Yeah, Stiles has made a mess of my kitchen with his new recipes more than once.” Stiles met Derek’s eyes, taking in the humour and happiness in them. The lack of tension around his shoulders, the warmth and openness of his face.
Stiles remembered all the times he had broken into Derek’s space arms laden with shopping bags. Derek’s kitchen was better laid out for cooking, his appliances newer and after the first time he had complained about trying to make a pack meal without the proper tools, Derek had bought every cooking tool you could possibly imagine. He’d even bought a flour sifter! Of course, Stiles was going to do his cooking at Derek’s place, and he always cleaned up after himself… eventually.
“You okay?” Derek’s voice brought him out of his spiralling thoughts. They had moved away from the order window, and Stiles realized he’d missed Derek ordering for them - and paying, again. He hadn’t mentioned any of the shop's available sides in his earlier ramble, yet he had full faith that Derek had chosen his favourite.
“Are we dating?” Stiles hadn’t meant to ask that. But it came tumbling out all the same, and as it did Stiles found himself hoping desperately for a positive response. He had liked Derek for years, but he had pushed the crush aside, content to enjoy a friendship with Derek - not wanting to ruin it with his needy obsessive emotions (like he had with Lydia).
The way Derek’s eyebrows shot up in shock sent a pang of pain through Stiles’ chest. He was reading everything wrong. He should have kept his mouth shut, Derek wasn’t going to want to finish the day with him now. Stiles went to pull his hand back from Derek’s, but the werewolf held on tighter. Eyebrows falling back down, confusion pulling them toward the center of his forehead. “You didn’t think we were dating?”
Stiles' mind screeched to a halt. “I - what?”
Derek’s sigh was long and full of exhaustion, there was a tension in his expression and shoulders now. He looked like a man preparing himself for the worst. And Stiles wanted to take everything back, if only to make that look vanish. But he also was glad he asked, because if his ears were hearing right then, he just learned he was dating the man of his dreams.
A smile slowly grew on Derek’s face, his chin falling to tuck into his chest; and Stiles realized he must have said some of that aloud.
“Order 213!” A worker called out of the truck, placing a full food tray on the counter next to them. Stiles spied his turkey club and a side of curly fries. A smile curled his lip; Derek had guessed right.
“When’s our anniversary?”
Stiles spotted a blush on Derek’s cheeks as he grabbed the food, eyes not meeting Stiles. “May 4th.” He mumbled so low Stiles almost didn’t hear it.
“The Star Wars musical showcase in New York! Dude! That night was the best, I couldn’t believe you had managed to get tickets. Damn, I wish I realized it was a date." His steps momentarily faltered, heart skipping. "Wait, that was six months ago! You never kissed me, we’ve been out so many times since then!” Stiles slapped Derek’s arm, hoping he could read the happiness that was vibrating through him. The werewolf always seemed to understand him. So, Stiles knew that even though he was letting his annoyance out on Derek, he would know it was because Stiles was more annoyed at himself.
“I’m going to kiss you today. I mean, if you’re okay with that? Six months is a long time to not, and so I totally get if that's not your thing, or not a thing you want with me specifically, ‘cause I totally want to kiss you but I understand boundaries and we can have a no kiss zone if that's what you need…” Stiles was cut off by the sudden pressure of Derek’s lips against his. Just a quick warm press that sent electric tingles down Stiles spine. Then Derek was gone, sitting down at a table with their food in front of him.
Stiles knew a smile was stretching his face into comical levels of happiness, but he felt like he was walking on a cloud as he made his way over to Derek - to his boyfriend. Nothing could make this day any better.