potosi | or say we're only dreaming;

[ Fundraising for Beacon Elementary is probably Stiles' least favorite part about being a teacher. The older kids are expected to try and sell candles or magazine subscriptions or whatever BS the administration is trying to get them to pawn off on their unsuspecting families, and the younger kids--and their teachers, usually--are left floundering trying to make up the missing amount in their yearly budgets. Fundraising buys things like new crayons (the ones that are nontoxic, preferably), and new storybooks, and more activities and toys and games for the kids--it buys them so it doesn't have to come directly out of Stiles' pockets. He loves the kids and does usually end up spending a couple hundred bucks a month to keep his supplies replenished, but when it comes down to it, he's broke. Teachers barely get paid, anyway.

So when the ~genius~ idea had occurred to him, Stiles had suggested it to his very enthusiastic parents at a PTA meeting--god bless this crop of parents, seriously, aside from the ones who were asking him about their kid's college prowess in kindergarten, they were a great bunch--that they have a bake sale to support his classroom. He'd locked eyes with Laura Hale for half a second and she gave him an absolutely devious look before she'd raised her hand to agree, and Stiles would be mortified if he wasn't a tiny bit excited.

He shoots a text off to Hot Chef Guy (and now known local) Derek Hale, before he even gets home. ]

You're about to hate me for the next thirty six hours. :)

[ He even saw Laura sign Derek up to volunteer. Perfect.

The day of the bake sale dawns warm and clear, and Stiles is running on about an hour of sleep--he's got a huge pile of cookies in his apartment, now, from red velvet cake cookies to peppermint pinwheels to plain old chocolate chip, and he is ready to tackle the battlefield, which is outside of a local Starbucks.

Stiles is a genius, thank you.

He sets up the table, throws a bright tablecloth with plastic pockets that held the kids' artwork over it, and gets to work setting out his own display of cookies, plus prices. (50 cents, or a donation of their choosing.) Parents are milling around helping set up within a couple minutes, and excited kindergarteners are having to be corralled into helping. At this point, Stiles is just hoping he actually makes a profit and that only about half of the cookies get eaten by the kids. ]

[ Derek looks at his phone warily when it goes off, sees the text on his lock screen before it disappears, and wonders what he's about to get himself into.

He legitimately does hate Stiles for thirty-six hours, because Laura comes home with the most manic grin on her face and barges into his apartment instead of hers like a bat out of hell. And she absolutely does use her daughter against him, sending Talia over to him to make big eyes until he complies with their requests. ]

May every cookie you eat give you indigestion.

[ But when push comes to shove, Derek arrives and parks his Cruiser close by to where the tables have been set up. Not in a place that'll block potential customer traffic, but somewhere where he has easy access to his car. He cracks his windows, hoping the warm and clear weather won't give way to rain suddenly but that this will prevent anything from melting, and gets out of the car.

He's roped Talia and a couple of friends into helping him, so the moment that he gets out of the car he calmly moves to the passenger side, opening the door and taking the tupperware containers out of his niece's lap so that she can climb out. But the moment that she's out, he's giving the baked goods back to her so that she can skip off to Stiles, cheerfully calling out with a "Mr. Stiles!" to him as she goes.

Next comes the three little girls in the backseat, and he helps them out in much the same way he did the littlest Hale. It's like he's turned around and gone from an army of housewives to an army of girl scouts, all of which head over to where Stiles has set up the tables with things that Derek had been making all the way up to twenty minutes ago.

He stays at the Cruiser for a moment, popping open the trunk door to survey the rest of his haul, making sure that nothing got tipped over on the drive to the Starbucks. ]

[ Stiles definitely grins at the text message when he gets it, elbow deep in his own flour--guess that meant Derek was coming along. And sure enough, it's while he's busy setting up their little price cards, bright red cards with white centers that he worked hard on, dammit, Talia Hale comes running towards him with more baked goods. Stiles opens his mouth in a grin at her and kneels down to take the cookies from her, peeking through the lid. ]

Wow, Talia, did you bake these all by yourself? They're amazing! [ He exaggerates on purpose, because he knows the answer, and takes them to set them on the table carefully. Locking eyes with one of the mothers, he gives a smile and jerks over his shoulder with his thumb towards the cruiser nearby, muttering that the moms are better at food presentation than him and he's just gonna. Yeah.

And, awkward excuse made, he skitters across the parking lot and leans on the frame of the cruiser, looking into the trunk and trying to pretend the stupid flutter his heart does when he sees Derek doesn't exist. Act natural. Luckily, the food itself is a good distraction, and he lets out a long, low whistle. ] Damn, how late were you up last night?

I made a lotta 'em! [ Or, well, Derek will allow her to think that. She certainly helped, for much of the first two hours that the baking happened. But either way, Talia beams up at her teacher before she goes to help-- or make an attempt thereof-- because her mother's told her plenty about when her uncle and teacher are in the same space. Usually it's best to just get out of the way and become busy when they start up.

Said uncle turns his head a little as he hears heavier footsteps approaching him, raising his eyebrows in amusement as Stiles leans against his car. Popping open one of the containers, he withdraws a chocolate cookie with peanut butter chips, casually proffering it without a care in the world. It's from the most recent batch, so there's still a warm softness to it compared to the room temperature the rest are at. ]

I haven't slept. Eat a cookie before everyone else gets into them. [ Of course he says that like it's nothing in the world, but Derek knows that most people don't stay up all night and day making cookies for their niece's bake sale. Most parents don't do that.

He maybe wanted to give Stiles plenty of stock to sell, considering he knows how much he pays out of pocket for his class. And maybe he wanted to show off. ]

[ Apparently his parents didn't really mind that he disappeared for a second, and Stiles is kind of dumbly grateful--he pauses for a second as suddenly his senses are filled with cookie and his eyebrows go up before he grins and takes the proffered food, inhaling it with only the speed of someone on approximately two hours of sleep can really manage. He chews it, swallows, and then makes a noise. ] Ughhh, would it be totally counterproductive if I just bought the whole table myself?

[ He already knows the point of that question, and Stiles winks at him and reaches for a couple of the tupperwares, peeking in the lids before picking them up, rolling up his sleeves to get out of the way. ] So you stayed up until...now, making cookies for your niece's bake sale. Sounds like you're--[ And he pauses for dramatic effect ] nice, Derek. Like softer-than-cookie-dough nice.

[ Please to be ignoring the little flush across his cheekbones. ]

[ Waiting for him to take the cookie, Derek reaches to grab a few of the muffin tins with both muffins and cupcakes in them, balancing them with a practiced ease on top of a few tupperware containers that he settles on his bicep. He's catered one too many times for friends and associates and at Laura's request that he's used to this by now. He should also be used to people gushing over his food, but Stiles doing it makes him preen. (Also he shouldn't make those noises, Jesus.) ] Yes, it would be. I'll save you some for later, c'mon.

[ He nudges at him as he reaches to grab some more baked goods, watching with a distracted sort of interest as he rolls his sleeves up. That's way too interesting a sight for something so mundane. But Stiles poking fun at him brings his attention back, and his eyebrows twitch up again. ] I know, it's shocking isn't it? To learn that the hot guy on youtube is actually nice.

[ Still, he disregards the warmth that dusts across his neck and reaches up to close his trunk, effectively hiding the rest of the stock for now. ]

Don't act so surprised, dude, you've got this weird aura about you. [ He makes a noncommittal gesture with his right hand, waving in Derek's general direction and making an overly exaggerated face at the thought. ] Like the I drive an expensive car and frown at small children just to terrify them kind of thing.

[ But his expression belies that he obviously knows that isn't true. Stiles grins at him and hitches the pile of tupperware in his arms up a little so he doesn't drop it and turns back towards the table, flashing a grin at Derek. ] So what'd you bring, Mister-I-Have-My-Own-Cooking-Youtube-Channel? I'm expecting to be impressed.

Ah, yes. That's my favorite hobby, bar none. [ Except the only people Derek ever makes a point of scaring are adults, and children tend to get the smiles and goofy faces instead. He gives Stiles a dry look, but there's a twinge of fondness to the edges of it regardless. Locking his car and sticking his keys into his jacket pocket, he makes his way over to carry the goods to the table.

Setting everything down, he starts to open things up, taking care not to make a mess with the plastic wrap that's been spread over the cupcakes and muffins. Instead of balling it up and pitching it, though, he holds it out to Stiles to have the icing that sticks to it. ]

In these containers? [ He looks at everything, and begins pointing to each individual thing. ] The chocolate cookies with peanut butter chips, triple chocolate cookies with an advisory label to not eat without milk, gingersnaps, snickerdoodles, orange zest muffins, cookies and cream cupcakes, and Boston creme pie cupcakes.

Edited (AND THEN I NOTICED I FUDGED UP MY CODING WHILE POSTING THE SCOTT PROMPT fuuuu) 2014-02-01 02:10 (UTC)

[ It had come down to this, one summer between years at Berkeley: Stiles needed a job. Period. His dad worked hard and made enough money to keep the two Stilinski men comfortable--not to mention to keep Stiles in school--but he felt bad about asking him for money for games or the copious amounts of Mountain Dew that were getting him through his capstone. So Stiles picked up on a hobby that he'd had back when his mother was still alive and applied for a job in the kitchen of the House of Hale bed and breakfast just outside of Beacon Hills at the beginning of the summer of his freshman year.

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." ]

[ Working for his family has been something that Derek has known for years and years now. Through high school and one funeral, through college and one nasty affair, he's the jack of all trades that's more than just a jack that his parents and uncle have all tasked with assorted jobs over the past twenty-four years. It was only when he was away for college that he could escape it for a couple of months at a time, but now it seems like he's slated to work at House of Hale for the unforeseeable future.

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?

[ Would it really be so bad if Stiles was hitting on Derek? He'd be congratulating himself for his smoothness, because this would have been the perfect segue into asking him out.

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. ]

[ It wouldn't be bad, but Derek is a little sideswiped by the idea that Stiles is being... well, direct about it. He's very aware that they flirt frequently, because that's essentially what they do when they banter and it's more lighthearted.

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. ]

That's right, a legitimate guest. Who everything has to be perfect for. [ Stiles nods as Derek's hands come free, and pretends that he doesn't feel a tiny bit relieved, if only because it felt like his heart was going to flutter out of his chest. God this was bad.

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. ]

[ Stiles' jaw drops open as Derek continues to list. And list. And list. ] H-ooooly jesus, we're going to have the most gourmet bake sale in Beacon County.

[ And he's so thankful, so pleased, so--a little proud of himself for making the effort to connect with Derek. Because since day one, the kindergarten teacher had found this weird sense of camaraderie with the guy who looked like a serial killer but had the best cooking channel on youtube, who brought him lunch every now and then at work, and who texted him hangover recipes when he was whining in bed alone on Sunday nights. Derek had even, hell, taken care of him while he was drunk.

God.

The crush he had on the dude was astronomical, and the fact that he was showing up with this much for his frickin' kindergartners bake sale was...well, it was a lot for Stiles' heart to handle this bright and early in the morning.

Immediately, he takes the plastic wrap, and spreads it out wide to lick it clean like a classy adult. ]

That's only what's out here. There's also lemon meringue cookies, cherry almond muffins, strawberry lemonade cupcakes, chocolate raspberry crisps... [ Derek squints down at everything, considering. ] Pumpkin spice cake loaf slices...

I think that's everything. Possibly. I lost track of everything. [ He shrugs, like it really isn't a big deal. But he knows that it's a big deal, because who stays up all night and morning to make such a collection of baked goods for a kindergarten bake sale? It isn't even for his own kid, for as much as he'd helped raise Talia.

But it was also for Stiles, because he knows how much comes out of his pocket for these kids. He's a bit of a dork, sarcastic and rude when the kids and parents aren't looking, but they just... Clicked. And the kindergartners mean a lot to him, so.

He winds up staring as he licks the plastic wrap, distracted. ] Wow, that's attractive.

Precious tan ninja babies. I wonder about the things that come out of your mouth sometimes. [ Derek shakes his head at Stiles slowly, before he takes a sip of his coffee. It is, actually, perfect, and he continues to pretend that it doesn't slowly do things like build knots in his chest. Someday he'll unravel them, but apparently Stiles is determined to get them so entangled in his ribs with the things he does.

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.

Edited 2014-02-21 01:15 (UTC)