Chapter Text
Stiles approached the new Hale house with a soft smile on his lips. He looks down at his watch and sees he’s two hours early, like usual. Arriving early meant he could cook dinner for the pack before their weekly meeting. Cooking was a ritual for him. He’d been in the kitchen since he was a kid, his mom at his side, walking him through recipes with patience and laughter. After her passing, cooking was more than a skill; it was a way to keep her close.
While he enjoys cooking for his dad (mostly to ensure the man ingests something healthy), Stiles loves cooking for the pack. They all have massive appetites, zero complaints, and an eagerness to see what creations he comes up with. Moreover, it gives him a sense of completeness. He may not have super strength or claws, but he can feed the pack meals that are plentiful and made with love. It makes him feel useful to provide, and it definitely helps that each member never misses a chance to gush over his cooking.
As Stiles walks through the front door, he spots Isaac, Boyd, and Erica lounging in the living room. Erica and Isaac are playing a heated game of Mario Kart while Boyd sits quietly nearby, watching with amusement. From what Stiles can see, Erica is in first place with Isaac trailing right behind.
“Ha! Look whose kicking your ass,” Erica cackles with a smug grin.
Isaac growled, “Shut up! You better watch out; I’m right behind you.”
Stiles fondly rolled his eyes at the puppies. “Please try not to kill each other, especially before dinner,” He yelled as he walked past.
Boyd smirked while Isaac and Erica stuck their tongues out.
“Ugh. Fine, Mom!” shouted while grinning cheekily at Stiles. The boy blushes brightly and shakes his head while heading towards the kitchen.
As Stiles steps into the kitchen, he walks straight into what feels like a brick wall. He let out a startled squeak. Confused, he glances up to find Derek smiling softly at him.
Derek’s arms wrap around his waist, steadying Stiles with ease. Instinctively, Stiles rests his hands on Derek’s chest, tilting his head up with a pout.
“Der-bear, you scared me,” Stiles whined, scrunching his nose.
Derek smirked, eyes warm as he looked down at Stiles’ face. “Sorry, baby. I heard you come in and couldn’t wait to see you,” he rumbled, voice low and affectionate.
Stiles flushed at the pet name. “Psh, stop it!” he said with a giggle.
Derek pulled back just enough to spin Stiles around, letting his gaze travel appreciatively.
“You look absolutely ravishing today, kitten,” Derek purred.
Stiles felt heat rush to his face, turning him an unbelievable shade of red. Get it together and act cool, you idiot, Stiles scolded himself internally. He glanced down at his outfit—a short black frilly skirt paired with a floral graphic tee. Knee-high white socks and pink Converse completed the look. “You bet your ass I do,” Stiles said with a smirk.
Derek grinned, clearly impressed.
The pair stood there for a few minutes staring at each other. Mesmerized by each other's eyes.
Realizing how long they’d been staring, Stiles blinked and looked away. He stepped back, clearing his throat, and softly said, “Do you… wanna help me with dinner?” Boy, he needed to calm himself; he could speak to Derek without stuttering and sounding like an idiot. “I was thinking pizza night? I think we have all the ingredients.”
Instead of giving an immediate answer, Derek reached out, tilting Stiles’ chin up with his thumb and forefinger.
“Of course, sweetheart, I’d love to,” Derek said, voice soft but sure.
Stiles’ cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red as he beamed up at the Alpha. “Yay! You’re officially my sous-chef,” he said, bouncing on his feet.
Stiles grabbed Derek’s hand and walked further into the kitchen. “Okay, so we need flour, yeast, sugar, salt, and oil for the dough,” he tells Derek.
Derek nodded his head and let Stiles' hand go as he entered the massive pantry he was forced to build for Stiles.
Stiles watched him with a smile on his face. When Derek comes out of the pantry with all the supplies, all Stiles notices are his amazing muscles.
“Okay, darling, what’s next?” Derek said as he set everything down on the counter.
“Would you be willing to start the dough so I can get started on the pizza sauce?” Stiles asked. Derek nodded and grabbed Stiles’ arms to pull him to his body again.
“I’ll do anything for you, especially since you asked so nicely, Princess,” Derek said.
Stiles blushed; he really needed to get a hold of his silly little crush.
“To make the dough, we have to start with the yeast,” Stiles tells Derek. He starts rambling under his breath, “The dough makes three pizzas, but there are nine people, so we need to triple the recipe to get nine pizzas.”
Derek nodded his head, eager to help the boy in any way.
“We need 3.75 cups of warm water and three tablespoons of yeast. The water and yeast go in a bowl and sit for about 10 minutes,” Stiles instructed him.
Derek wandered over to the cabinets, grabbing a mixing bowl and a set of measuring spoons. He started organizing the ingredients with quiet focus. Once everything was laid out, he turned back to Stiles with a small smile.
Stiles continued, “Okay, next, grab a big mixing bowl and add nine cups of flour, three tablespoons of sugar, and three teaspoons of salt. Once the yeast is done proofing, pour it in along with three tablespoons of oil.”
Derek did exactly as he was told.
Stiles went to the two ovens and put them both at 425 degrees Fahrenheit. Tonight, two ovens are necessary. “While the yeast is proofing, I’ll go ahead and start on the pizza sauce,” he said with a smile.
He headed into the pantry and returned with canned whole peeled tomatoes, tomato paste, extra-virgin olive oil, cane sugar, dried Italian seasoning, fresh garlic, salt, and pepper. Setting everything on the counter, Stiles grabbed the food processor from the cabinet and plugged it in.
“Der, would you help me while you wait?” he asked, glancing over with a soft smile. He really did love having Derek nearby—it made everything feel easier, lighter, warmer.
Derek nodded and said, “Yes, darling, how can I help?”
“Will you get three garlic cloves, put them in the food processor, and pulse them until they are finely chopped?” Stiles asked.
Derek gave a nod and got to work.
While Derek prepped the garlic, Stiles grabbed the can opener and opened the 28-ounce can of tomatoes. Once he finished draining them, Derek finished pulsing the garlic.
Stiles handed the man the can. ”Go ahead and toss those in the processor. I’ll grab the measuring spoons and get the rest of the ingredients,” he said.
Stiles measured six ounces of the tomato paste and scraped it into the processor. Then he scooped out one tablespoon of Italian seasoning and passed it to Derek, who chucked it into the food processor.
Next came three tablespoons of extra-virgin olive oil, which Derek also added without question.
Stiles followed with a teaspoon of salt and a half-teaspoon of cane sugar. “Der, will you grind in a little pepper? After that, just blend it until everything’s nice and smooth,” Stiles instructed.
Once Derek added the pepper, he pulsed the mixture until it reached a perfectly smooth consistency.
“Der-bear, you’re doing so amazing. The gang will no longer need me since they now have a new chef,” Stiles said jokingly.
Derek immediately turned off the processor and reached for Stiles, gripping his arm gently but firmly. “Don’t say that,” he said, voice low and serious.
Stiles blinked, looking startled. He’d only been joking. He knew he mattered, but he didn’t think he was that important to the pack. They all could easily survive without the spastic teen; all he was capable of was researching the last bad guy, keeping them fed, and helping them pass their classes.
Derek cupped Stiles' cheek. “Darling, the pack will always need you,” he said with his eyes boring into Stiles. “I will always need you.”
Yikes. Maybe Stiles had said that the last part out loud.
Stiles nodded his head gently, his voice soft. “I won’t say that again.”
Derek must believe Stiles because he turns back to the sauce and finishes it.
Once it’s done, Stiles moved on to the dough. He poured the proofed yeast mixture into the bowl, added the oil, and began mixing. His hands worked the dough steadily, fingers dusted with flour as he kneaded with practiced care.
Derek stepped up behind him, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. Stiles leaned back into the warmth of Derek’s chest.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you, baby,” Derek murmured into his shoulder, his voice low and sincere.
Stiles swallowed thickly, heart fluttering. Somehow, that meant more than anything else.
Stiles hummed and said, “Probably starve and have the crazy puppies ruining your house.”
Derek snorted at Stiles' comment.
“You do more than you think; you are the glue that keeps us together,” Derek said softly. He placed a gentle kiss on Stiles’ neck.
Stiles shivered and let out a quiet moan.
Derek chuckled and did it again.
“EW! We can hear you guys! No one wants to hear you making out,” Isaac yelled from the living room.
Their special moment was over. Stiles felt as if someone dumped a cold bucket of water on him. He stepped forward so that he wasn’t leaning against Derek.
Averting his eyes, he asked Derek, “How about you grate the cheese while I get all the dough separated?”
For a moment, Stiles swore he saw a flicker of hurt cross Derek’s face—but just as quickly, it vanished behind a soft smile. “You don’t need to ask, princess. Just tell me what to do,” Derek said, his voice light. He turned toward the fridge and pulled out the block of mozzarella cheese.
Stiles divides the dough into nine even portions, then heads to the cabinets and pulls out all the pizza pans they own. He presses the dough into the pans to carefully shape them. He pokes holes in the dough with a fork to prevent bubbles while baking. Taking two pizza pans at a time, he slides them into the oven. Once they are all in there, he sets a timer for 8 minutes.
Stiles walks over to the fridge and pulls out all of the cold toppings: jalapenos, pepperoni, sausage, peppers, pineapple, ham, spinach, chicken, tomatoes, and onion. Then heads to the pantry and grabs olives, bacon bits, and basil. With everything laid out, he gets to chopping peppers, onions, and olives first.
Earlier, he texted the puppies to ask for their pizza orders. Stiles wanted meat lovers, of course. Allison requested a Margherita. Isaac asked for chicken bacon, Boyd went for Hawaiian, and Erica claimed dibs on pepperoni with jalapeños. Lydia picked pineapple and spinach, while Jackson demanded a supreme.
Derek, as always, liked meat lovers with pineapple for some reason, Stiles would never understand. As for himself, he stuck with classic pepperoni. Simple, reliable, and always delicious.
As soon as Stiles finished chopping, the timer for the dough went off. The boy made his way to the ovens, carefully pulling out the crusts. Grabbing the sauce, he began spreading it over each base with practiced ease.
By the time he finished, Derek was just wrapping up with the last of the grated cheese. Stiles turned to him with a playful grin.
“I’m so glad I’ve got a big, strong alpha to do all the heavy lifting,” he teased. “If I had to shred all that cheese myself, my poor arms would be so sore.”
Derek smirked and walked towards Stiles with the cheese and said, “I wouldn’t want you to be in any pain, kitten.”
Stiles sprinkled the cheese and got to work on assembling all of the pizzas. He was thankful he came early, even though there were two ovens, it would take a while for nine pizzas to finish.
At exactly 6 p.m., the rest of the pack trickles in. It was perfect timing because the final two pizzas had just come out of the oven. Stiles lined all nine across the counter like a proud chef and grabbed the pizza cutter.
“Oh my, this looks delicious,” Scott said, practically drooling.
“I’m glad you think so. You all will be surprised at how our big, bad Alpha made the most of it,” Stiles announced with a proud grin, shooting a proud look at Derek.
The pack froze, eyes wide in disbelief.
“Derek helped make this? I thought he was banned from the kitchen after he forgot about the bacon in the oven and burnt it all?” Jackson questioned.
Stiles laughed, “Well, I decided to give him a second chance.”
The pack laughed and turned their gazes toward their alpha, who looked mildly embarrassed, but the red tint on his ears gave them away.
“Well, I’m super proud of him. He’s the best sous-chef a guy could ask for.”
Derek walked over to Stiles and slipped an arm around his waist, “I couldn’t have done it without this beauty keeping me in line. Honestly, with him guiding me, I feel like I could cook anything.”
Stiles blushed and waved a hand. “Nonsense. I barely did anything. It was all you and your big muscles.”
The pack snickered, and a few rolled their eyes.
“Can we eat? I’m starving. I’ve been smelling the pizza for about an hour now,” Boyd asked, as a man of not many words, the gang was surprised he was the one to ask.
Stiles grinned. “Yes! Let’s eat. I’m starving too.”
Once everyone had their slices, the pack migrated to the dining table. Allison made her way to the fridge and started handing out drinks. Scott grabbed a root beer, Lydia reached for water, and Isaac went for a Sprite. Boyd chose orange Fanta, Erica snagged a Pepsi, and Jackson picked Dr. Pepper. Stiles and Derek both settled on Coke, and Allison grabbed a strawberry Crush for herself.
Everyone found a seat around the table, leaving the head chair for Derek and the one beside it empty. Stiles set his plate down and slid into the chair next to him. Just as he was about to take his first bite, Derek reached over and tugged Stiles’ chair closer until it was nearly touching his own.
“Der, I’m already so close to you, I’m practically in your lap,” Stiles said jokingly.
“You could sit in my lap, princess. I wouldn’t mind,” Derek said slyly.
Stiles blushed and shook his head, “Don’t be silly, eat your food.”
Everyone ate their pizza in a matter of minutes. “Wow, Mom, that was delicious! I guess we should also thank you, too, Dad,” Isaac said.
“You’re welcome, puppy,” Stiles exclaimed. Stiles looked over at Derek and noticed he had a hard look on his face.
He glanced over at Derek and noticed the hard look on his face.
"Isaac, come with me. Now," Derek said, his tone firm.
Everyone looked around, puzzled, as Derek and Isaac stepped away.
"Guys, don’t worry about them," Stiles called out, clapping his hands to get their attention. "Let’s clean up so we can keep pack night going."
The group nodded and got to work. Boyd and Erica started clearing the table, Lydia and Jackson grabbed brooms and swept the floor, while Scott and Allison gathered the dishes and brought them to the sink.
Stiles figured he could do the dishes, so he put on gloves and started.
Ten minutes go by when Derek and Isaac return. Isaac’s head is down, but he doesn’t seem to be too upset. Without a word, he walks up to Stiles and hugs him.
“I’m sorry, Mom, I didn’t mean to upset you earlier,” Isaac mumbled.
Stiles turns to face him and hugs him back. “Oh, buddy, don’t worry about it. All is forgiven,” Stiles said while rubbing his back.
Once they pulled away, Isaac said, “Since you cooked, I’ll finish the dishes.”
Stiles nodded and got out of the way.
Stiles gave him a grateful smile and stepped aside. He peeled off his gloves, then walked over to Derek, took his hand, and tugged him out of the kitchen.
“You didn’t need to say anything to him,” Stiles said once they were alone.
“I disagree,” Derek replied. “I just told him he shouldn’t have done that, and he needed to apologize to you.”
“Derek, it was fine, I just got a little embarrassed.”
Derek shook his head, “You shouldn’t be embarrassed. Isaac didn’t need to make that comment earlier. He knew how you would react,” Derek said firmly.
Stiles nodded and wrapped his arms around Derek tightly.
“Thank you, alpha, for doing that,” Stiles said softly.
Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and held him close.
“Anytime, baby.”