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or say we're only dreaming;
O P E N P O S T
❝ don't you dare close your eyes❞
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hi.
i have NOT FORGOTTEN ABOUT THIS
It'd been two years since then, two summers of meals and food and getting to know the staff and the occasional common guests. There's Peter, the owner, who skeeves Stiles out every now and then but pays him well enough he doesn't even care, Laura, the eldest Hale child, who does the accounting and is not allowed within fifty feet of his kitchen, Cora, who teaches a class on horseback riding and judges Stiles constantly (but they're friends, he thinks), Reagan, the youngest Hale, who is Stiles' constant companion in the kitchen and the most eager eight year old sous-chef Stiles has ever met and...
And then there's Derek. Derek works a myriad of jobs around the place, even carpentry occasionally, but he's most often at the front desk. Stiles spilled coffee on him the first day he came into work, and their relationship had been rocky for much of his time here because of it, but...in the past summer and this upcoming one, Stiles had started to feel a familiar, achy twinge in his gut at the sight of him, at his name popping up on his cellphone during the off season. This was going to be one of the first times he's seen Derek since last August, and he's weirdly twitterpated at the thought because--okay, he has a big, huge, obnoxious crush on Derek Hale.
Luckily, though, this comes with a distraction, because Stiles' best friend is coming to stay in the House of Hale for the weekend--and he's bringing his girlfriend. Not just his girlfriend, but his soon to be fiancee. It's a huge deal, and Stiles had pep talked Scott through the entire thing on the phone on his drive back from Berkeley; hell, he even helped pick out the rings.
Scott and Kira are in one of the cozier rooms right now, probably asleep; it's six AM, the beginning of Stiles' shift, and before he cooks breakfast for the guests, he makes something for someone else. Sometime last year, Reagan and Derek had started to do the same for Stiles--once a week, he got a pancake breakfast, complete with dinosaur pancakes.
So what better way to tell Derek the Scott-related-news than pancake communication? That seemed to be the only real communication--besides bickering--that they excelled at. Making his way to the front desk, Stiles walks up behind it, sliding into the little alcove and wiggling to make sure he doesn't disrupt his placement before dropping the tray down in front of Derek.
The pancakes are heart shaped, with a delicate tracing of the maple syrup Conall Hale gathers from the trees in the back--seriously, this family--and covered in strawberries and raspberries. Stiles even sets down a cup of coffee, made just how Derek likes it, and steps back, preening. ]
Wakey-wakey, sunshine. Got a big day ahead of us.
[ It doesn't occur to him until about two seconds later that this could be implying something completely different than "big scott related thing today." ]
HELLO MA'AM.
Not that anyone in his family really blames him, after that entire fiasco. Eventually he plans on going on to get his masters, but right now he's more than content to hide away in the safety of the bed and breakfast-- even if it means that, most mornings, he works at the front desk. Someday he's going to kill Peter, and it'll be the most satisfying thing ever.
It was something he'd thought about the new hand that they hired on, one college student in need of money towards his own schooling. But after two summers, he's changed his tune. Despite the fact that he still gives Stiles hell for the coffee incident, he's maybe more than a little fond of their cook. Laura and Cora give him hell for their bickering, citing them as a long lost married couple on any given day. Peter gives him this smarmy stare, eyebrow arched.
Reagan, god bless his brother, is the most innocent creature that could ever exist. He's thankful for the fact that he just loves Stiles and doesn't question the fact that his big brother tends to spend an incredible amount of time with him, texts him when he's at Berkley.
Sometimes, he wants to pretend that there's nothing there. Kate is still a fresh wound to him-- hell, Paige is still a fresh wound-- but something about Stiles makes it hard for him to. So there's something there, and try as he might to deny it to any of his relatives that give him what they think are knowing looks, there's no real pretending.
Derek looks up from where he's doing booking, double-checking reservations and walk-ins and making sure that everything is in order so that they don't overbook and that they know what rooms need cleaned and who has wakeup calls. His eyes drop down again for a moment as he sees that it's Stiles approaching, hardly registering that he's carrying something towards him. But he's at ease when he sees who it is, tapping his pen in an idle rhythm as he works.
But then he's suddenly got one limby college student squeezed into the alcove with him, and he moves his right hand to steady Stiles at his waist. Mostly to make sure he doesn't topple over on him, or dump what he has in his hands onto his head. It's an easy gesture as he writes with his left hand, handwriting not quite as neat but still tidier than Stiles' messy scrawl.
And that's when he actually sees what Stiles is setting down in front of him. He blinks once, slowly, as he stares down at the pancakes before his eyebrows slowly start to raise.
He clears his throat a little, looking up at Stiles from where he's seated. ] Do we?
uwu*
But this is not a perfect world, and this is Stiles. His face goes bright red and he throws his hands up like he's trying to physically push that idea away, because, well--he only wishes it was about him and Derek. ] I--yes, uh, not for us but--it's for Scott!
[ Scott's been around most summers; he's Stiles' attachment, which means wherever Stiles goes, Scott follows, so he's spent a good amount of time at the House of Hale, too. That was part of why Stiles had offered the venue for a proposal, because not only is it beautiful here, but the Hales would make sure it went off without a hitch. He wasn't worried about Kira saying yes--she would--it was just a matter of making sure that everything in the bed and breakfast was ready for it. Including Stiles.
And Derek.
Right. He was explaining how he totally wasn't trying to hit on him. It doesn't help that Derek's arm is around his waist, either, his palm hot against his side, and it's making Stiles feel kind of squirmy all over. He can pretend it doesn't, right? ]
The man, the legend, Scott McCall is here for the weekend, and not to take samples of everything I cook this time. Nay, he is getting married. [ A beat. ] Or, well, getting on the road to getting married. He's gotta ask her first.
[ And now he gestures at the pancakes. See look! Convincing. ]
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He should probably draw his hand away from where it's settled, but it's strangely comfortable where they're situated. Not that it's particularly new, given the fact that they don't know what personal space is. ]
Scott. [ Right, of course. Scott is a constant presence when Stiles is here, and sometimes it's to help out as a worker, sometimes it's just as a visitor. This weekend, he's actually listed as a guest. Derek had seen him jittering around yesterday, watched him sign his name into the book with a nervous scrawl. He'd come in with his girlfriend, also a common visitor, and it was sort of sweet. They were sickeningly cute, like sunshine embodied in two people reunited or something equally as poetic.
And, with Stiles' explanation, he gets it. A small hum leaves him, and it's only then that he draws his hand away from his waist. He gives the plate in front of him a quick look, eyeballing it before he's looking up at Stiles again. ]
So that's why he's actually signed in as a legitimate guest and not just a freeloader hanging around you. [ Reaching, he picks up the coffee instead of going for the pancakes. He breathes it in briefly, pretends that his heart doesn't squeeze in his chest when he picks up the familiar brew, and takes a sip. ]
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But, he's going to use this handy Scott related distraction to save himself. Stiles hops up on the desk behind the counter and steals a strawberry off of Derek's plate, because his pancakes are, in fact, banging, and he would totally give his own compliments to the chef. ] Scott is so freaked out I'm just kind of waiting for him to puke in the bushes. I don't know why--I mean, they've been together since high school. They have been together as long as I have been actual-dating-age-single, and that, my friend, that is impressive. I have a track record, they're going to have precious tan ninja babies.
[ And Stiles is so going to be their godfather. Honestly, the whole thing makes him a little giddy, and he kicks his feet idly where he's off of the ground, shamelessly swiping another strawberry and trying not to smile when he sees Derek breathe in the coffee, which he knows he made perfectly. ]
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Sighing out something quiet and content, he swats Stiles' hand away-- gently, instead of giving him the usual sound slap on the top of his palm-- from his plate, because stop stealing the strawberries before he can try them with the rest of the plate. ]
I'm sure everything will go fine. They make disgusting doe eyes at each other constantly, there's no way she'd say no even if a bomb went off. Which one won't, so the garden will be fine. [ He picks up the silverware as he speaks, calmly cutting a wedge out of the pancakes and stabbing a strawberry before Stiles can steal it too.
And then he goes quiet as he eats it, head tipped a little in consideration while he chews. It's only when he swallows that he actually gives a verdict. ]
And they'll have an amazing breakfast in bed.