Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

Being the middle child, Stiles was used to taking the backseat to his four other siblings. He wasn't like Fran, the eldest at twenty-five, who was in L.A. working as the confident and enigmatic junior editor of a fashion and lifestyle magazine. He wasn't like twenty-two year old Robbie, a total dreamboat with the dashing good looks, the flowing locks, and the culinary expertise he inherited from their mother. He was different from Jill, all sassy sarcasm and their budding musician and composer in the making at seventeen years old, and eleven-year old Ben, young, sweet, hyper to the point of nausea, and everyone’s absolute favorite.

Yes, it was true. Stiles Stilinski, the middle child at twenty-one years old, mouthy, pale skinned, and twitchy, was probably the most overlooked in such a talented and good-looking family. He liked to think that he had a few things going for him, like the sense of humor, the wit, the brains, and the mouth to talk the talk out of anyone. Most days though, he was just the middle kid, the boy-next-door all the girls seems to like, never like like, and the nice boy all the old ladies fussed over.

Stiles made a mark on one of their receipts with one of Jill's pens.

“And the tally has now run up to six against four in favor of Robert Stilinski.” He made cheering and whooping sounds, stopping only when Jill swiped her pen from him with a laugh.

Robbie gave Stiles and Jill a half-hearted glare through his shaggy locks as the two watched the buxom blonde walk back to her table of disappointed friends. She didn't look completely disappointed though. Robbie was direct, but gentle and kind. He would never embarrass anyone who approached him, no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

“Here I thought you have a thing for blondes, big bro.” Jill sipped her mocha frappe as she scribbled down on the music sheet in front of her. She hummed the piece under her breath and ran a hand through the sideways bangs of her short bob cut, which was even shorter than Robbie's long locks. Jill was their tomboy, much to Fran's disappointment at being the only girly one in the family.

“I thought he was more into redheads,” Stiles said, raising an eyebrow thoughtfully at Robbie. “Ginger would go so well with that face.”

“It's not that and you know it,” Robbie said, knocking back the rest of his coffee. He sighed. “You'd think people would get a clue after the first one I turned down.”

“You gotta admire their persistence,” Stiles said, earning a chuckle from Jill. “I noticed you hook more blondes than gingers, Robbie. I counted three blondes, a ginger, a brunette – who you had to admit, was very model-esque with the sharp cheekbones, but you aren’t gay so that was a waste – and the first one with the cool multi-colored tresses. She definitely got some neon in there.” He grabbed his sketchbook and returned a few pages back to his quick doodle of the girl. Just his luck to have accidentally left his pens at home. He’d have to get to this once he got back to his apartment or else he might forget the colors.

“That was pretty cool.” Jill let out a little coo at Stiles’ work. “But I'll classify that one as 'rocker chick, the first to die in a horror film’.”

Stiles snorted into his latte at that.

Robbie groaned, though he couldn't hide the amused quirk of his mouth. “You guys are terrible.”

“Yes, we are.” Stiles stood up, holding his palm out to Robbie. “Now I'm craving a muffin or two, and before you go on and on about how you make better muffins - because everyone knows you do, even the baristas here - save me the lecture. I just need my sugar rush.”

“Why am I paying?” Robbie complained, though he was already pulling out a bill from his back pocket.

Stiles fixed his beanie and ripped out a page from his sketchbook. “Because you are ridiculously attractive and hooking men and women left and right. The least you could do is offer your weirdo of a brother a few bucks to raise his self-esteem.”

Stiles bounced off to the counter, his glasses almost sliding off his nose.

It wasn’t entirely true. Stiles had long past gotten over such childish notions of insecurity or jealousy over his siblings. He felt the occasional punch in the gut now and then, such as whenever he got spectator seats to Robbie or Jill running up tallies of people constantly hitting on them while he only gets the occasional sidelong glance. But Stiles was the weird, awkward, artist in the family, and he had long since accepted that fact.

“Hey, there, ridiculously attractive person behind the counter.” Stiles grinned. “A banana chocolate chip muffin, if you please.” He slid the bill across the counter.

“You speak the truth.” Danny laughed and dutifully rang up his order. “And I’m sure you know, Stiles, that your brother makes better muffins than we do, but I’ll humor your quest for a sugar coma.”

“Thank you, dear sir.” Stiles made an exaggerated bow. “And you’re wrong. Robbie makes better everything than all the coffee shops and restaurants in this place.”

“King Rob is an excellent cook and a total catch, which makes me wonder why no one’s been able to hit that yet.” Danny reached out to grab a muffin from the display case. He handed him the plate. “Still no word on that internship he’s waiting for?”

“Thank you and here is something for you.” Stiles handed over the page he ripped off. “Robbie’s top of his class, so god knows those uppity Manhattan cooks are idiots for making him wait until the end of the year for their decision. But yeah, so far we’ve heard nada. And don’t call him King Rob. You know he hates it.” He took a bite of his muffin.

“You are a gem. Plus, you got my shirt perfectly.” Danny grinned at the sketch, a quick one of him leaning back against the wall behind the counter with his arms crossed, looking off to the side with a grin on his face. Even the logo on his shirt was drawn in complete detail. “And you can’t blame people from calling him King Rob, though. He really does have this kingly aura going on, all proper and nicely done up.” He winked.

Stiles was used to Danny’s blatant adoration of his brother, but he knew Danny wouldn’t hit on Robbie. Well, not anymore at least.

Boyd appeared from the back of the store, carrying a tray of freshly-baked mint cookies.

“Aww, man! My fave!” Stiles was absolutely salivating as he watched Boyd place the tray in the display case. It was one of the rare deserts Stiles favored from someone other than Robbie.

Boyd silently placed one of the cookies on a plate and put it on Stiles’ tray along with the muffin. Stiles looked at him, wide-eyed.

“Seriously? Oh my god! I love you!” He took a deep breath, relishing the smell of a freshly-baked desert. “Do you have a date with Erica? You do, don’t you? That’s why you’re one big fluffy cat right now, yes, you are.”

“At least I have a date,” Boyd said in his usual deadpan manner. “When are you going to ask Derek Hale out?”

“And I’m gone,” Stiles said, trying to make a clean getaway.

Danny grabbed the other end of his tray with a laugh, preventing him from running.

“He has a point,” he said, grinning at Stile’s venomous glare. “It isn’t like you don’t have the chance to chat with him. There’s Mrs. McCall at the hospital, and there’s Isaac and Erica. You can swing through either one of the younger cousins, whoever you prefer.”

“Or go the direct route just to get it over with,” Boyd said. “Besides, he’s coming in right now.”

Stiles turned around with a jerk, his glasses almost skittering off his nose, but the only one who walked in was Lydia. He looked back at the smirking Boyd and laughing Danny, hissing, “You guys suck! Why are we even friends?”

“Hey, beautiful!” Danny shouted at Lydia with a smile. He turned to Stiles. “Come on, Stiles. You’ve been crushing on Derek for who knows how long.”

“About two months,” Lydia said, immediately getting into the conversation. “That was when Ben skinned his knee skateboarding and Stiles met Beacon Hills Hospital’s newest doctor. It was about time they get some new additions, if you asked me. We need more attractive doctors.” She forked over some money. “The usual for me, please, Danny.”

Stiles gave her a look. “I’m taking your statement as: ‘the plus side is encouraging people to get check-ups and stop being afraid of hospitals’ thing. Not in the ‘more people are gonna injure themselves willingly just to see the hot doctor’ angle.” He looked at them all. “And I just like looking at him. Don't pretend you guys don't feel the same. It’s not an issue or whatever. I don’t even know why you guys bother so much.”

“Because we are sincerely concerned about your lack of a love life,” Lydia stated, accepting her latte from Danny.

Boyd snorted. “That’s your reason, Lyds. I’m in it for the entertainment value.”

Danny snickered. “Yeah. You do look ridiculous when around him, Stiles. It’s horribly embarrassing, hilarious, and cute all at the same time.”

“I need better friends, seriously.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest. “And if you guys are forgetting: he is twenty-seven years old, and a GP who is clearly way out of the league of a twenty-one year old college student who spends half his time wallowing in his art.”

“We know Doctor Hale likes you. Isaac and Erica say as much, and they’d know,” Lydia said. “And we all know your Dad likes him and so does Jill and the rest. Doctor Hale’s treated every member of your family at least once, after all.”

“Except for Fran, who’s in L.A.,” Danny added. “Now that I think about, it’s weird that you've only seen him like once or twice considering you injure yourself and trip half the time.”

There was a ding as the door opened and Boyd called out, “Welcome to Sweeters!”

“That, or you’d think all the pranks and stunts you and Scott liked to pull would have landed both of you at the hospital by now,” Lydia commented.

Danny raised an eyebrow with a smirk. “Hey, now that’s an idea.”

Stiles gave him a deadpan look. “I am not having Scott throw himself or me into traffic, Danny. Forget it.” He grabbed his tray of goodies, ready to walk off.

“I sure hope not.”

Stiles jumped up and stumbled back, almost losing his balance and his tray.

Well, shit. Speaking of.

“Sorry about that!” Stiles squeaked, looking at the doctor through his glasses.

“No harm done.” Derek said. It was then that Stiles noticed the hand around his forearm. Derek helped him stand steady on his feet and Stiles could feel his skin tingling through the long sleeve of his shirt.

Derek looked as he always did, which to Stiles meant drop-dead gorgeous. He was in a blue dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, dark pants, and black shoes. He didn’t have his white coat or his bag with him, but since it was only half-past four in the afternoon on a Wednesday, he was most likely on break.

Stiles belatedly realized that not only should he stop staring, but it was also a bit worrying how he knew all of that information about the man. He looked away with a flush. He could feel Boyd, Danny, and Lydia’s eyes on him.

“S-Sorry again, Doc,” Stiles said, pushing his glasses up his nose. He thought about what he had on, the nerdy glasses, beanie, skinny jeans, and a long-sleeved black shirt with the white blots on it he DIY-ed when he was bored and wondering what to do with extra fabric paint.

“It’s all right.” Derek gave him a look, his green eyes turning into something intense.

Stiles fidgeted.

Danny cleared her throat. “Good afternoon, Doctor Hale.”

There was a beat before Derek turned to him and only then did Stiles notice that Derek was still holding onto his arm.

“Hello, Danny, Boyd, Lydia,” he said, letting go of Stiles.

With that distraction, Stiles was tempted to run off, but Lydia slipped past Derek and stood by his side, weaving her arm through his.

“Stay,” Lydia hissed into his ear.

Stiles knocked the side of his sneaker against her shin, and was rewarded with a pinch to the forearm.

“Your usual, Doc?” Danny asked.

“Yeah. Thanks, Danny,” Derek said. He looked back at Stiles. “Now if you don’t mind my asking, why would you even think of throwing yourself in front of traffic?”

Stiles fidgeted, trying to resist the urge to glare at Boyd and Danny or step on Lydia’s toes. “Um… well… it was just a joke. Not a very good one, I guess.”

“It’s nothing, Doctor,” Lydia said, smiling politely, though Stiles could contest that with the iron grip she had on his arm. “Just your regular case of Stiles being a drama queen.”

Stiles glared at her. Lydia ignored him. Derek looked between the two of them, confused.

“How’s work so far, Doctor?” Lydia asked. “You’ve been here for only two… three months?”

“Three,” Stiles piped up automatically. Everyone stared at him and Derek’s mouth quirked in a way that seemed like he wanted to smile. “I mean, Mrs. McCall said so… er, right?”

“Yes, three months, and work has been extremely busy, but good. It makes me wonder how Nurse McCall and all the staff managed to keep things running smoothly with the few help they have,” Derek said. “How’s Jackson by the way?”

Stiles couldn’t help chuckling and Lydia punched him hard on the arm. Jackson, Lydia’s boyfriend, was a total jock and he had been in the hospital twice in the last month alone from soccer injuries. He actually just got out of the hospital a few days ago.

“He’s good. He knows to lay off the ankle or else I’d kick him in the face,” Lydia said. Stiles was almost tempted to comment but everyone knew Lydia was the only one allowed to talk smack about her boyfriend. “And he does thank you for helping him out, even if he bitches about. I hope your other patients have been a lot nicer to you.”

“Well, the ones I actually got to talk to,” Derek said. “Most of the people I meet are usually in pain, sick, or worse, so there’s not much to talk about.”

Derek made a joke and Stiles couldn’t help snickering softly. Derek seemed pleased with that, giving him a small grin. Stiles couldn’t help grinning back, like they were sharing a private joke.

“Well, I guess that makes conversing difficult.” Stiles said.

There was a beat of silence before Lydia coughed.

“Anyway, we should go…” Lydia trailed off.

“I’ll see you around,” Derek said, nodding.

“Later, Danny, Boyd,” Stiles called out to the male, who raised a hand in reply.

When Stiles got back to his table, Jill was already giving him a judgmental look, while Robbie was reclining on his chair with an amused grin on his face.

“I know right?” Lydia muttered, answering their silent questions. She sat down beside Jill.

“Stiles, for god’s sake.” Jill hissed, swatting him on the arm.

“Shut up. Don’t you guys start,” Stiles muttered, tossing himself on his chair and placing the tray on the table. “It’s not like that.”

“Not like that, my ass,” Jill said. “That was your chance!”

Stiles groaned. “What is it with everyone suddenly having an interest in my love life? I don’t have a love life. This thing with Derek is just some crush or whatever. Who doesn’t find doctors hot? Especially doctors who look like that? So quit it.”

Lydia pinched him on the arm and Jill kicked his foot. The two then started muttering to themselves, most likely talking about Stiles and his inability to talk to Derek.

Robbie nudged Stiles’ shoulder and murmured, “You might be interested to know that Danny’s showing him your drawing.”

Stiles looked and indeed Derek had his drawing on hand as Danny packed up some deserts in a paper bag. Derek seemed to have asked a question about it and Danny answered, grinning.

Stiles watched Derek look at it. He could remember every single thing about Danny's drawing. It was far from his best work. It was just a raw sketch, done with a quick and steady hand since he was pretty used to drawing Danny to curry favors once in a while. Stiles fidgeted. He could have drawn Danny’s hair much better or refined the shading to accentuate Danny’s profile. He could have done a lot more.

Even from this distance he could see Derek’s face go over the drawing slowly, as if he was actually taking in every detail. The corner of his lip quirked up into a smile and Stiles couldn’t help the slow trickle of warmth down his spine. Maybe it wasn’t that bad if it managed to get a smile out of Derek.

Robbie nudged his shoulder again and Stiles saw his small smile. “Stiles–”

“No, it’s nothing. I guess he just kinda liked it,” Stiles said, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“I think he more than liked it,” Robbie commented softly.

Stiles chose not to answer that.

He grabbed his green sketchbook and pulled out the pencil from the binding. He opened it to a fresh page, making sure to hide some of the finished ones. Knowing the others were probably trying to take a peek, Stiles stopped the urge to draw what he wanted to and instead started a sketch of Boyd.

And if he stayed up until half-past two in the morning later on trying to dredge up the memory of Derek’s smile to capture on paper, well, that was his secret never to tell.

Friday rolled around and Stiles was practically vibrating from head to toe.

They were planning on going on a camping trip and everyone was excited. Fran was arriving tonight from L.A., claiming that she really wanted to get in the fresh air, exercise, and get out of the sky-high heels she always wore. Robbie and Jill were the outdoorsy ones in the family who actually liked camping. This was Ben’s fourth camping trip so far in comparison to his older siblings. Their Dad wanted to get some bonding time with his children. And Stiles was looking forward to some nature-themed inspiration that he can use for his artworks.

Stiles was glad he only had morning classes that day, so by lunch time he was running off to one of the nearby fast food joints to meet Scott. They hadn’t had much bro time since Scott and Allison decided to love together about six months ago. Scott was also busier than Stiles these days, what with classes and his part-time job as a veterinarian’s assistant in preparation for taking up veterinary medicine the next year.

Stiles didn’t begrudge his buddy anything. Stiles adored Allison like a sister and he had his family, Danny, Boyd, Lydia, and even Jackson, keeping him company. But Scott was still his honorary brother and Stiles would bend over backwards to spend time with him.

“Mi amigo!” Stiles shouted, crashing into Scott as soon as he spotted him. His eyeglasses almost went flying.

Scott laughed, hugging him tight. “Hey buddy!”

They chatted and laughed like the excited boys they were as they walked inside. By the time they have their burgers, a mountain of fries, and extra-large drinks, they had to stop and take a breather from catching up.

Scott popped a handful of fries into his mouth. Stiles noted that he made sure to wipe his greasy fingers on a napkin before reaching over to pluck the green sketchbook peeking out from Stiles’ backpack. He was one of the handful of people Stiles allowed to look at his sketchbooks and he was thankful his best friend took that seriously.

“Number twelve and almost full,” Scott murmured, noting the number on the spine. He started at the first page. “How are your artworks coming in?”

Stiles grinned. “Got a few commissions, actually. I got about three from my website, plus Heidi asked me for a piece for her mom’s birthday. She drew up the design for it, but I’m still figuring out the paint scheme and how to tweak it and make it look not so boring – don’t tell Heidi I said that, though – so I’m thinking of maybe giving it a nature theme. Total coincidence and perfect timing that we’re going camping.”

“Sounds great.” Scott grinned at his friend’s enthusiasm. “Allison told me she had some of her friends check out your site a couple of days ago. They were really impressed and there were two who were pretty interested when she told them you were willing to do artworks. Hopefully this means you get more business coming.”

“Really?” Stiles bounced up and down on his seat. “Allison is a goddess! Ugh! Tell her I love her and my offer still stands to make her any artwork she wants for free for the rest of her life.”

Scott laughed. “She is still madly in love with that portrait you made for her and loves showing it off when she has the chance. Plus, I’m sure she’ll say that she’d pay you even if you’re willing to do it for free. You know how much she loves you.”

Stiles smiled, remembering the portrait he made for Allison two years ago. It was a marvel of a thing painted by hand – literally by all ten fingers and nails and his palms, as well as one occasion where he needed to use his bent elbow – with an earthy color scheme of browns, yellows, reds and golds. It was made from the memory of Allison laughing at one of Scott’s jokes just before she kissed him, the one moment Stiles knew his best friend finally found the one.

Scott stopped, scanning his work. “Is this your first of him?”

He motioned at the sketch he stopped at, one of Derek when Stiles first caught sight him at the hospital after Ben’s accident. Derek had his back turned and only half of his face was seen. Most of the drawing was actually of his broad back and doctor’s coat.

Stiles choked on his fries. “Wait! No! Not that!” He made to grab the sketchbook.

Scott pulled it away with a snicker. “It was just a question. You get embarrassed so quickly at every mention of De-”

Stiles literally lunged for him this time, slapping his hand over Scott’s mouth and most of his face. “Shut it! What if someone hears you?”

Scott rolled his eyes and pushed Stiles away. “You’re exaggerating. And even if they did hear, come on dude. I think practically everyone in town knows you got this massive crush on him.”

Stiles sputtered indignantly. “Shut up.”

“Have you talked to him?” Scott asked, as he looked at more drawings, some of them of the Stilinski family, his Dad's deputies, some of Lydia, Danny, Boyd, one caricature of Jackson with horns and fangs, one of Scott, and… quite a fair few of Derek. “You do know that the first step to establishing a relationship with someone is to actually engage in face-to-face conversation?”

Stiles scoffed. “Oh sure, as if you just went up there and asked Allison out back in the day.”

“Yeah.” Scott rubbed his neck with a huff of embarrassment. “So I’m not the best example. Still, you should talk to him, dude. Like, go visit my mom at the hospital or something and make conversation with him. You talk nonstop half the time and you’re the most fun person I know, so it’s a wonder you can’t talk to Derek.”

Stiles groaned. “Ugh, bro, the dude’s so out of my league, and no way is a guy like that even gay.”

“We can ask Isaac.” Scott bit into his burger.

Stiles shook his head. “No way, dude. That’s going to be like the most awkward conversation ever. We can’t just go up to them and ask, ‘hey, we just wanted to know if your incredibly hot cousin has any chance of hooking up with a guy? i.e. Stiles.” He snorted.

“Why not?” Scott shrugged. “I’m not kidding. Or maybe we can just ask Erica. She’s more forward.”

“Can we not, dude? Seriously. I’m getting a heart attack just thinking about it.” Stiles winced.

Scott gave him a look and nodded. “Fine. Be a coward for all I care.”

Stiles threw a handful of fries at his face for that.

They spent the rest of the time hanging out, went to some of the stores, and even tossed around a football in the park. By the time it was a quarter to four, they were piling into Scott’s car to go and fetch Ben from school.

Stiles and Scott waited by the parking lot, occasionally making conversation with some of the parents, kids, and families. It was one of the nicest things about their town; everybody knew one another.

Stiles kept his eyes peeled, looking out for Ben. He perked up as he saw a familiar face.

“Ms. G!” He bounced over to the woman as she was making her way to her car.

Ms. Grant was the school’s elderly art teacher. She’d been teaching for decades, long enough that all of the Stilinski children passed through her kindly gaze. She’s their favorite teacher even though it was apparent that Stiles was her favorite among them, as evidenced by how she easily offered to became his art mentor.

“Hello, my Genim,” Ms. Grant said, smiling and accepting a huge hug from Stiles. She called all of the Stilinskis hers, and also called them by their complete first names. “How are you?”

Stiles smiled, straightening his glasses. “I’m doing really great. Fran’s coming home and we’re going camping this weekend.”

“Ah yes, Benjamin told me. It would be good to have Francine home. Do be careful my dears. We’ve been having rain the past few nights and it might make your trek difficult.” Ms. G patted his arm. 

“We'll be careful, Ms. G,” Stiles nodded. “How about you? The cold and rain not getting to you, I hope.”

“These old bones are fine, dear boy. Continuing on with my artworks, as I hope you have been doing.” Ms. G smiled. “Mrs. Martin has been trying to buy one of my works. I do adore her and Lydia, but she is rather insistent on a piece that is just not hers.”

Stiles nodded in understanding. Ms. G wasn’t against selling her works. She always said that given how old she was and without family of her own, she would rather her works found new homes before she got even older. However, she was a bit critical on the recipients as she always felt like some people match a certain piece better than others.

“I think it’s because Mrs. Martin is just a really big fan and your works really are extraordinary,” Stiles said.

Ms. G kissed his cheek at that. “How is your artwork coming along? You haven’t shown me any new ones this month.”

Stiles frowned. “Sorry about that. I have a few commissions for some of the folks around town and even out of town, really, and I’m making clay models for a new work I wanted to try. Once I’m done, I’ll make sure to drop by and show you.”

“I would love that,” she said.

Stiles saw Ms. G off to her car and when he got back, Scott had found Ben and the two were talking and laughing.

Benjamin Stilinski was the eleven-year-old baby of the family. Everyone loved him, absolutely everyone.

“Stiles!” Ben jumped towards him, hugging him around the middle. Even Stiles knew that he had always been Ben’s most favorite older sibling. “Guess what?”

“What?” Stiles asked, ruffling his brother’s hair.

“I got the highest mark in Math today!” Ben crowed.

“That’s great!” Stiles grinned, lifting his brother up in a hug. “You know what that means, right?”

“Robbie’s lasagna and pineapple upside down cake! Just like he promised me!” Ben bounced up and down.

Scott groaned. “Oh, that sounds good.”

“Fran likes lasagna too, so Robbie can make it for when she gets home tonight. And he can make extra for Scott and Allison!” Ben said.

Scott was absolutely delighted at that and he ruffled Ben's hair fondly. “Thanks, bud!”

“Oh yeah! And Dad told me to remind you of something,” Ben said as they got into Scott’s car. He dug into his backpack and pulled out a list. “You forgot the list this morning.”

“Oh yeah! Sorry!” Stiles took it, scanning the content. “We need to restock our first-aid kit for our camping trip tomorrow. I totally forgot Dad asked me to,” he told Scott.

Scott checked his watch. “I can drop you guys off at the hospital since I’m meeting my mom anyway, but I gotta pick up Allison so you gotta find someone to take you guys home.”

“It’s ok. Robbie can take us home.” Stiles brought out his phone. “I’ll text Robbie so he can get groceries and pick us up on the way home and tell him to make a lot extra for everyone.”

A few minutes later, Scott was pulling up into the hospital parking lot. As soon as the car stopped, Ben was already climbing out.

“Ben!” Stiles shouted. “Where are you–”

“I’m off to see Nurse McCall!” Ben shouted back, already running off.

“Ok, but don’t–”

“And Dr. Hale!”

Stiles stomach plummeted. Shit. He forgot. He whipped around at Scott, glaring at him.

“Don’t look at me like that. I forgot.” Scott was grinning far too widely for Stiles to believe that.

A few minutes in and Stiles ended up by himself. Scott had gone to see his mom and Stiles wasn’t able to find Ben, who was probably going around saying hi to some of the nurses, doctors and patients he knew. Stiles knew he didn’t have to worry about him. Everyone knew to look after the Sheriff’s youngest and Ben was a sweet kid who knew not to be a bother. Stiles could ask one of the nurses page him later.

Stiles scratched his head as he read the list in his hand, almost dislodging his glasses. He murmured to himself as he walked up and down the aisles, putting things into his basket. He was in the middle of wondering how much sterile gauze pads was needed for six people – though god forbid all of them ended up injured, but it was better to be safe than sorry – when someone called his name.

“Stiles?”

Stiles fumbled with the box of gauze in surprise. He looked up and Derek was walking over.

“Did I surprise you? Sorry about that,” Derek said, giving him a polite smile.

“It’s ok, Doc. I… um… I was in my head.” Stiles rubbed the back of his neck.

Derek looked at the gauze in Stiles’ hand and then at his basket. Stiles was looking so closely at him that he saw the way his face turned from relaxed and loose into what was probably his ‘doctor face’, a slight frown, brows furrowing, and expression closed off.

“Is someone injured?” he asked, voice taking on a professional tinge.

Stiles shook his head quickly to placate him. “No, no! Don’t worry! It’s nothing like that! We’re just restocking our first-aid kit.”

Derek looked surprised by that and a bit pleased.

Stiles went on. “We have four kits in the house, actually. Having five of us around, my parents got used to patching up every scrape, cut, bruise, and bite. In fact, we all know how to, even Ben.” He motioned to his basket. “Fran is coming home tonight and the entire family’s going camping for the weekend. With five of us running around, I bet you someone’s gonna get a scrape or two.”

Derek winced. “It has been raining the last couple of nights. You guys should be careful on the trek.”

“We’ll be peachy. Don’t worry,” Stiles said.

“I’m a doctor. It’s normal for me to worry.” Derek rubbed his neck. He gave him a small smile and Stiles felt his face flush a little at the expression.

Stiles looked down at his dirty sneakers and tugged the edge of his brown cardigan. “So um… yeah, just grabbing some stuff.” He wrinkled his nose at the list in his hand. “A lot of stuff actually, though god forbid we all end up getting injured.”

“Need a hand?” Derek asked, peeking at the list. “And before you ask, it’s been a slow day and I’m on break.” He smiled.

“Yeah! That’ll be a big help!” Stiles bounced on his heels, pushing his glasses up his nose with his thumb.

The two of them continued down the aisle, looking for some of the items on Stiles’ list. Derek was very methodical, precise, and very good at his job. He gave Stiles tips on each bandage, ointment, cream, tape, splint, and medication. Stiles had to replace some of the stuff he already picked out, picking other items on Derek’s advice. He couldn’t help feeling so mesmerized by the way Derek thought things out thoroughly, always accounting for the fact that there were six of them in the family, one of whom was young enough that he would prefer the non-stinging antiseptic wipes.

Stupid attractive doctor with his stupid face and stupid beard and stupid kindness making Stiles’ heart flutter.

“So, Fran, she’s your eldest, right?” Derek asked as Stiles debated between a Batman band-aid and a Disney Princess one. As much as he’d enjoy seeing Ben with Sleeping Beauty on his shoulder or Robbie with Ariel on his chin, he wouldn’t want Jill to kick up a fuss.

“Francine Stilinski, our queen with the sky-high heels.” Stiles snickered. “A bit of a joke there ‘cause Robbie’s tallest, I come in second, Jill is already just a few inches shorter, and we’re expecting Ben to shoot up. We’re pretty sure she’s gonna end up shortest of us.” He tossed the Batman bandaid into his basket. “Fran works in L.A as an editorial assistant, though there are talks of a promotion for her. She’s kind of a big deal there.”

“I heard. Some of the staff and patients here talk a lot about your family,” Derek said. “Not that they had anything bad to say. I meant that your family is quite well thought of.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, smiling. “Probably since Dad’s sheriff and everybody in town babysat us at one point or another. We’re one of the largest families in town, apart from Mrs. Simmons at Cleft Street with her seven cats.”

“That, and your talents are talked of quite a lot,” Derek said, handing Stiles a small packet of cotton balls. “Your Dad’s a good sheriff, Fran works for a good company, Robbie’s a cook, and Jill’s really good at… was it piano?”

“Piano, drums, guitar, and one of her goals is to learn the flute and violin in a year. Crazy kid,” Stiles said, unable to help the pride in his voice.

Derek chuckled. “Quite a tall order. And then there's you.”

Stiles tilted his head to the side. “Me what?”

“I’ve been hearing about your artworks around town,” Derek said, curiosity radiating from his eyes. “In fact, I’ve seen a few of them.”

“You have?”

Derek nodded. “Some of the patients bring it with them, like Roy Peterson and the keychain with the lion you molded for him and Barry Allen and the drawing you did of his daughter. There were also the few times I did house visits, like Lily Albert showed off the cartoon strip you drew for her birthday and how you painted a mural for Jory Miller’s room after his cancer scare.”

Stiles was really proud of his works. If he wasn’t, or if he felt they were in some way inadequate, he wouldn’t have given them to or done them for others. But still, he hoped Derek didn’t think they were amateurish or anything.

“You’re really good,” Derek said, looking straight at Stiles with a small quirk of his mouth, as if he was stating a fact or some absolute truth. “I haven’t seen a lot of your works, but I liked everything I've seen so far. They’re lovely.”

Stiles’ face flamed at that, his neck and ears and upper chest heating up and turning awfully red in the way it did when he was either really, really pleased, or really, really embarrassed. Now it was a little bit of both as he was incredibly happy Derek liked it and also embarrassed that he couldn’t hide the large, toothy grin he knew was on his face right now.

“Really?” he asked, his voice pitchy. “That’s great! I mean, I’m really, really glad you like them. Some of them take only days while some take weeks, but everyone always seems happy with what I put out. I try to make them fit, like some people like the cartoony stuff better and some like them all life-like.”

Derek looked a bit surprised at the reaction and onslaught of emotion he caused, but he smiled large enough to show the dimple on his left cheek. “A lot of people go on about it and I know some people around town who want to get a work from you.”

Stiles rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the hot skin and furiously tried to get himself to relax. “Yeah. I would if I could, but in between studying and not having enough art supplies, I can’t always–”

“Der!”

They both jumped up, Stiles knocking his heavy basket against his own hip by accident. They turned around to see a head of blonde curls and a large smile.

“Isaac.” Derek raised a hand in greeting.

Isaac jogged over to them, smiling brightly. “Hey, Der. Someone’s looking…” He paused, looking at Stiles. “Oh, hey, Stiles! Didn’t see you there, but just my luck…”

“Hey, Isaac.” Stiles said, rubbing his hip. That was going to bruise.

“I think this is yours.” Isaac looked behind him, before gently tugging on someone behind one of the shelves.

Ben appeared, a Twizzler in his mouth and playing with Isaac’s PSP. He brightened up upon seeing Stiles and Derek.

“Hi, Doctor Hale!”

Isaac pulled out a packet of Twizzlers from his pocket and stuck one end in his mouth. “Found Ben in the hall looking for you, Der. Turns out you were right here chatting up Stiles.” Isaac looked between the two of them meaningfully.

Stiles squirmed. He was absolutely certain Danny and Lydia, that devious talkative duo, blabbed about Stiles’ crush to Isaac and Erica. Stiles tried to glare at him, but Isaac was raising an eyebrow at Derek.

Stiles looked away and occupied himself with his brother, who kept on playing on the PSP. “How many Twizzlers have you had?”

“Two,” Ben said, not looking up.

“Well, you can’t have more. You won’t get to eat Robbie’s cooking if you do,” Stiles said. “Have you seen Scott?”

Ben didn’t even pause his game. “He's gone.”

Isaac nodded. “I bumped into him at the parking lot on my way in.”

Stiles sighed. Oh yeah, Scott had to go pick up Allison. You would think he’d say goodbye before hoofing it. He pulled his phone out from his pocket and handed the basket to Ben.

“Take this to the counter, would you?” he told Ben as he checked his messages. “And give Isaac back his PSP.”

“I’ll help the man out,” Isaac said. He grabbed the heavy basket from Stiles and nudged Ben to the counter. He looked back. “You two and Der… um… get on with whatever you were talking about.”

Stiles was a bit too busy checking out his messages to wonder at the reason for Derek’s heavy sigh.

From: Scottie Dog
Message: left already. have fun playing doctor w/ hale. tell me about it l8r.

Stiles deleted that message. Scott was a traitor.

From: King Rob
Message: Bro, already did d groceries b4 I got ur txt. making Ben’s treat & Fran demanded chicken parmesan. cant leave d house. cant Scott take u guys home? sorry.

Stiles groaned at that, pocketing his phone without replying. “Well, that’s just great,” he sighed.

“Something wrong?” Derek asked.

Stiles rubbed his chin in thought as they headed for the counter where Isaac and Ben were piling up the stuff. “Robbie was supposed to be our ride home, but he’s already cooking and can’t leave the house, and Scott’s already long gone.”

“Don’t have a ride home?” Derek asked. “Where’s your Jeep?”

“Dad took it for Jill’s dentist’s appointment.”

“…I can give you guys a ride home.”

The sudden offer surprised Stiles so much he ended up tripping over his feet and banging his hip against the edge of the counter, the same side he had hit earlier. Ben and Isaac jerked in surprise, even the woman at the counter did.

“Dammit.” Stiles winced, bending over a bit.

“You ok?” Ben asked.

“Sorry!” Derek reached for his forearm and looked at his hip as if he could see through Stiles’ t-shirt.

“I’m good. I’m ok,” Stiles said, not even touching his hip. Now, it was definitely going to bruise. “I just tripped over my own feet, that’s all. Totally used to it.” He tried to hide his grimace.

“Sorry,” Derek said again.

Stiles waved a hand. “It wasn’t because of you and what you said, which is totally cool, though that also caught me off guard, I mean, in a nice way. And I just really trip over my feet a lot, that’s all. Ha-ha. Clumsy me. It’s all good. I’m fine. Don’t worry.”

Derek still looked really sorry. “I just thought I’d help since you need a ride home. I get off work soon anyway.”

Stiles saw Isaac glance between them at that and he fumbled for his wallet to distract himself, accidentally dropping it. Ben took it and handed it to him helpfully and Stiles finally managed to hand the credit card over to the curious woman behind the counter.

“You giving them a ride home, Der?” Isaac asked nonchalantly, though the small smirk on his face definitely meant something. “Fine by me. I actually came by to say that I have to drop by Danny’s place, so you’re on your own on the way home.”

“Dr. Hale’s taking us home?” Ben asked, jumping up. “That means we get to ride in his cool car! Oh, man! That’s sweet! Can I call shotgun?” He bounced right up to Derek, clutching his arm. “Can I, Dr. Hale?”

“Sure thing,” Derek said. Ben’s hand shot up into the air and Derek laughed, low, rumbly, and pleased, and Stiles couldn’t help gaping as Derek grinned at him, “Your loss Stiles.”

“You didn’t have to…”

“It’s no problem,” Derek said. “When will you get home, Isaac?”

Isaac shrugged. “Half past-six probably. Erica’s got a date, by the way.”

Derek nodded. He checked his watch. “I just have to clock out in ten minutes and get my stuff. I’ll see you guys at the lobby.”

“Can I come with you?” Ben asked, bouncing up and down. He looked back at Stiles. “Can I?”

Stiles sighed. “Fine. Just don’t bother, Dr. Hale.” He looked at Derek. “And thanks, really, for…” He motioned to himself, Ben, and the contents of the first-aid kit.

Derek grinned. He rubbed Isaac’s shoulder fondly and walked off with a Ben, who excitedly related the tale about his Math score and the lasagna and desert waiting for him at home.

Stiles was snapped out of his stupor as Isaac moved to stand beside him. He didn’t know what to make of what just happened but there was one thing he knew. He turned to the blonde.

“You can’t possibly be meeting Danny. Danny got off school early for some obscure relative’s birthday. I texted him just this morning.”

Isaac didn’t seem surprised at being called out on his lie. He grinned instead.

“Derek loves his car,” he commented.

Stiles looked at him in confusion.

“He doesn’t let just anyone ride it. In fact, he doesn’t just offer anybody a ride home.”

With that said, he walked off, waving over his shoulder.

The ride to the Stilinski household was nice, really nice. Ben was in front relishing his shotgun privileges but Derek was very firm about the seatbelt, which Stiles appreciated. Stiles was at the back, his favorite green sketchbook out, making quick outlines and writing down notes here and there so he could draw Derek better. His side profile was something of a marvel, the chiseled jaw, beard, and perfect nose.

Ben was thankfully leading most of the conversation while Stiles was drawing, switching from talking about school, his older siblings, his Dad, and asking Derek about himself. Stiles would be embarrassed, but Derek didn’t seem to mind, gamely answering Ben’s questions.

Thanks to Ben, Stiles now knew that Derek graduated from Columbia University and was really smart, one of the top ten students of his year. He was ridiculously humble about it though, which Stiles found endearing. He was a really big fan of baseball, looking really pleased when Stiles mentioned that his entire family loved the sport. His favorite deserts were brownies and cookie dough ice cream, his favorite subject in school was History, and he wasn’t embarrassed to admit that he liked the occasional romcom movies. He didn’t play video games, but managed to appease the disappointed Ben by saying he loved to read and was into comic books and that he had a soft spot for the Flash and Gambit. His favorite color was green.

“Stiles favorite color is green, too,” Ben said. “Mine’s white and blue.”

“That’s a nice coincidence.” Stiles caught Derek’s eye through the rearview mirror, his expression making Stiles’ heart beat louder.

However, for all his answers, Stiles noticed that Derek’s taboo topics included why he became a doctor or why he decided to move from glamorous New York to boring Beacon Hills.

“How come you’re the only one here at Beacon Hills?” Ben asked as Derek turned down their street.

Stiles had been looking closely at Derek that he could see the way his shoulders tensed a little under his violet dress shirt.

“I have Isaac and Erica,” Derek said, voice softer than his earlier jolly tone. “I’m not alone.”

Ben pursed his lips. “Are Isaac and Erica really your cousins? You don’t share the same surnames.”

Stiles jerked. That was not a good topic of conversation, something Derek, Isaac, and Erica never broached. Erica would only scoff and throw her hair back, not answering. Isaac would shake his head or walk away or both. Derek, who many have asked, even by the Sheriff himself, simply shook his head, claiming it to be a personal matter. While everyone gossiped about it though, Isaac Lahey and Erica Reyes were of legal age. If they consented to stay with Derek, there was nothing anybody could do.

“Ben, buddy, that’s not our–”

“No, they’re not,” Derek said, and Stiles immediately clammed up. Derek met Stiles’ apologetic and panicked gaze from the rearview mirror with a soft smile.

“Isaac and Erica aren’t my actual cousins, but they are family.” Derek glanced at Ben. “My parents are gone. I have an older sister, Laura, and my uncle Peter, but they’re in New York right now. They have really demanding work so they stay there most of the time. My immediate family’s very small. With Isaac and Erica around, it’s not so lonely.”

Ben was quiet, mulling that over for a moment. “But you must be extra mega not-so-lonely right now, right? Because everyone is town is nice, and everyone likes you because you’re a really great doctor, and you probably have lots of friends because you’re really cool, and we’re friends, too right?”

Stiles looked at his baby brother, smiling fondly at him. Ben grew up straight off the bat with a large family and tons of friends-slash-honorary family to talk to or hang out with. The idea of being lonely was something foreign to him. It was because of that upbringing that Ben knew to never let somebody feel that way. It was one of the best things about him.

Ben wasn’t finished though. “So is Stiles, and Robbie, and Jill, and Fran. We’re cool and we’ll be your friends, right?” He looked back at Stiles. “Right?”

Stiles grinned and popped up between the seats, poking Ben’s cheek fondly. “Righty-o, baby bro.” They turned to Derek expectantly.

Derek looked really happy to hear that. He kept his eyes on the road, but smiled at both Stilinskis.

“Yes, of course. I would love that.”

Ben grinned widely, bouncing on his seat.

As soon as Derek parked the car, Ben was a whirl of movement, already taking off his seatbelt in a flash and then clambering off the car.

“Come on, Dr. Hale,” Ben said as he opened the door. “You can see our house.”

Derek shook his head. “I… well… I wouldn’t want to impose.”

“Oh, come on,” Stiles said, grinning. He leaned between the seats and thumped him lightly on the arm. Derek looked back at him and their faces were so close Stiles almost stopped breathing. He swallowed thickly. “I mean, have a drink on us and, I don’t know, like chill for a sec. It’s the least we could do.”

Derek nodded. A small smile blossomed on his face. “I can’t stay for long, but I’d appreciate a drink. Thank you.”

Stiles tried to fight off a goofy grin on his face, completely failing, while Ben let out a whoop and grabbed their bag of purchases before running off into the house.

They got out of the car and Stiles tried not to watch as Derek rolled his shoulders in a little stretch. He looked ridiculously good in his violet dress shirt. He didn’t roll the sleeves up, like he always did, but he did leave the cuffs open and despite having already seen, internally drooled, and even dreamt of Derek’s rather toned forearms, Stiles was practically salivating at just the sight of his strong wrists.

“If you don’t mind my asking, you don’t live at home, right?” Derek asked. “I remember hearing that from Erica and Isaac.”

Stiles shook his head. “Nope. I have my own apartment near the college. Me and Fran are the only ones who don’t live at home while Robbie doesn’t want to leave his perfect kitchen.”

“Not that I don’t appreciate having your own personal space, but why?” Derek looked curious. “Your house is close enough for a back and forth trip home with your Jeep.”

Stiles nodded. “Yep, and I do spend pretty much every weekend here, but my apartment is also my studio. I do my art there.”

Derek looked really impressed. “Wow. That sounds really awesome.”

“Thanks,” Stiles said, smiling weakly. Having his own place was the one accomplishment he was both proud of and ashamed of. But Derek didn’t need to know the truth behind that.

“By the way, Stiles, I’m off duty now,” Derek said as they walked towards the front door.

Stiles made a mental note to berate Ben for leaving the door ajar, before turning to Derek in confusion.

“So you can call me Derek.”

Stiles paused mid-step. He fiddled a little with his glasses, as was his habit. “But that wouldn’t be… I mean…”

“Like I said, I’m off-duty,” Derek said again, looking at Stiles patiently.

Stiles still fumbled at that, ecstatic and delirious at the idea. Actually call Derek by his name? That was a major thing, much more than anybody else who called Derek by just his title and surname.

“If it makes you feel better, I’ll say it this way,” Derek said with a small chuckle. “Stiles, I would prefer it if you called me Derek when I’m not on duty.” He tilted his head to the side. “Even when I’m on duty actually. My surname sounds too formal.”

“But, I mean… why?” Stiles blurted out, before mentally smacking himself on the forehead. “I mean, I’d like that! I would! But…”

“It’s nothing much. I like you, that’s all,” Derek said.

Stiles’ heart stuttered at that as Derek gave him a shrug and a small smile. Stiles was internally lecturing himself not to put too much thought into a few friendly words, but he couldn’t trust his voice to not betray the feeling of glee creeping up his spine.

Stiles smiled, a bit wobbly, and nodded.

Derek seemed pleased with that and motioned to the door. Stiles stepped through the doorway and was immediately met with the smell of mouth-watering pasta. Stiles took a huge lungful. He turned to Derek who had paused to wipe his feet on the door mat. Once Derek took a whiff, his eyes widened.

Stiles grinned at him. “I know, right?”

“Oh, that smells good,” Derek said, taking another breath.

Stiles tore his eyes away from the way Derek’s dress shirt stretched around his deliciously broad chest.

“Anyway, welcome to our house,” Stiles said, acting as tour guide. He led Derek down the small hall straight to the living room. “Two storeys, with all the bedrooms on the second floor. This is the living room. Scott and Lydia keep saying we have a really spacious living room but, trust me, pack all the Stilinskis in here and it is still way too small. I think it’s a family trait how we all move around and fidget so much. It’s crazy.”

Derek looked around, appreciatively humming under his breath. The living room was painted with warm yellows, browns, and peaches with a couch, two love seats, and two beanbags surrounding a large round wooden coffee table laden with magazines, DVDs, books, and papers. Hanging on the wall to the left was a large-screen TV, towering over a few speakers, several players, and various game consoles. The wall across the front door was divided between the floor-to-ceiling shelves and a sliding glass door leading to the backyard. The space to the right contained an upright piano and a guitar stand containing an acoustic guitar. The wall beside it called to the eyes, looming in an explosion of pictures frames and knick knacks.

Stiles noticed Derek looking and grinned, tugging his wrist. “Jill named it the Stilinski Wall of Everything. I could show–”

“Stiles!” Robbie’s voice carried from the hall to their left.

“We’ll be there in a sec!” Stiles looked at Derek, who was still staring at the wall. “Sorry, but Robbie’s…”

“No, it’s fine,” Derek said, whipping around to look at him, though Stiles could feel the curiosity emanating from him.

“No biggie. I can show it to you next time,” Stiles said. Realize what he said, he backtracked. “I mean, you could if you want. It’s just a wall, but you could totally look at it. Everyone who comes to our house always stares at that wall. Even Scott still gets kinda mesmerized by it and he’s seen that like a million times. So I can show it you if you drop by. I mean, not like just drop by, as in randomly, but I mean, not that we would mind you here in our house, but we could–”

Derek, obviously noting Stiles discomfort, gently cut in, “You can show me if I get another chance to drop by. We’ll see how it goes.”

Stiles could work with that, with the way Derek said it. Yeah, he could. He nodded quickly.

It was only then that Stiles noticed that he was still oddly clinging to Derek’s wrist. If he took his hand away, Derek would notice, but if he kept his hand there, Derek would still notice. Before he could embarrass himself further, he nodded one last time and decidedly tugged Derek by the wrist towards the kitchen.

The other room was their combined kitchen and dining room divided by a minibar and was about twice the size of the living room. Their dining room was a light baby blue with a wooden ten-seater dining set. There was a heavy-duty oak cabinet of fine china and also a few picture frames at the corner of the room.

Stiles led Derek past the dining room and the minibar where Robbie was manning the kitchen as he always did, his flowing locks tied into a small ponytail. Ben was seated on the counter snacking on one of Robbie’s leftover double chocolate chip cookies.

“Ben already had four Twizzlers,” Stiles said.

“I didn’t, you snitch!” Ben gasped.

“Isaac told me, you little liar,” Stiles said as he waved to Derek to sit on one of the bar stools.

Robbie rounded on the youngest Stilinski. “You only get one cookie, Ben, especially if you want a slice of cake later. You know what happens if you get more sugar than you can handle. You won’t be able to get any sleep for tomorrow’s camping trip.”

“And too much sugar is bad for you, Ben,” Derek piped up, much to Robbie’s pleasure and Stiles’ amusement.

“See? Even the doctor said so,” Robbie said.

Ben pouted and looked at his cookie. He stomped off to his room. “Fine.”

“He’ll get over it,” Stiles assured Derek, snickering.

“Anyway, Dr. Hale! Hi!” Robbie grinned. There was a streak of sauce on one cheek and on his collar. “Welcome to my kitchen, and thanks for taking my brothers home.”

“Hey, Robbie, and it wasn't a big deal,” Derek said. He looked around at the kitchen, spacious and homey with light yellow walls. It was equipped with almost every kitchen utensil and equipment a budding chef would need and then some.

“Do you want anything?” Stiles asked as he headed for the refrigerator. “We have freshly squeezed OJ, iced tea, cola, beer, gatorade, or plain old water.”

“Iced tea’s fine,” Derek said. “Thank you.”

Stiles grabbed some orange juice for himself and sat down beside Derek, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed. Stiles almost poured his drink on himself as Derek licked his lips.

“So Robbie,” Stiles said, noting Robbie’s raised eyebrow. Stiles did a do-not-say-anything-shut-up brow raise. “What’s cooking?”

Robbie coughed, ignoring Stiles’ glare. “I got lasagna and pineapple upside down cake, as requested by Bennie-boy and I also got Fran’s chicken parmesan.” He grinned at Stiles. “You will be happy to know I made some chicken, veggie, and beef quesadillas and baby veggie burgers, mostly to finish off what’s left in the fridge. I’ll make you some chili and buffalo wings next week, Stiles, so we can complete the whole Mexican theme.”

“Yes!” Stiles pumped a fist in the air. “I love you, Robbie. Seriously.”

“Mexican food is your thing, huh?” Derek asked, grinning at Stiles.

“I’ll eat anything, honestly,” Stiles said, with a laugh. “But I have this thing for Robbie’s chili.”

“Also, to apologize for not being a more accommodating host, Dr. Hale, and also to thank you for looking after my brothers,” Robbie said, as he moved fluently around the kitchen. “I do have something for you, Isaac, and Erica.”

Derek shook his head. “Oh no, you don’t have to, I–”

“I insist!” Robbie said, eyes widening with the joy of what he was doing. “And besides, I already have it packed.” He winked and motioned to several containers on one of the counters.

“That’s… a lot,” Derek said.

“It’s all good,” Robbie said. “I got baby veggie burgers for you guys and the first batch of quesadillas I made – veggie, beef, and chicken so you can get a taste of them all – and also some of the double chocolate chip cookies I made last night.”

“That’s… a lot,” Derek repeated with a laugh.

Robbie grinned at Derek. “I’m still waiting on the pasta to cook, but we’ll save some for you guys, and for Scott and Allison. I always make enough for like, two dozen people. Honestly.” He bustled about, humming to himself.

Derek turned to him and Stiles couldn’t help snickering into his hand at the expression on his face. Derek knocked their shoulders together with a low chuckle.

“Seriously though, this is a lot.”

Stiles leaned over to him, “Robbie likes this kind of stuff. Not really being showy and all that, but he just really likes feeding people. Let him.”

Derek looked back at Robbie, the cook flitting about his massive kitchen with an air of joy.

“Ok,” Derek said softly. There was a sudden chirp and Derek pulled out his phone. “Oh, excuse me.”

Stiles nodded and watched as Derek took the call. It was obviously related to work as his ‘doctor face’ was on. Stiles left him to it, sliding off his stool, and decided to pack away Robbie’s containers of food for the Hales.

“How sweet,” Robbie murmured under his breath as he leaned over Stiles to get something from the cabinet. “While the doctor takes calls, the lovely househusband gets the meal all packed up and ready. Will you be adopting Isaac and Erica, too?”

Stiles elbowed him in the ribs. “Shut up.”

“Bro, the smell of your pining is overpowering the smell of my pasta.” Robbie rolled his eyes.

“Shut up,” Stiles hissed. “And I’m not pining.”

“I beg to differ,” Robbie said, ducking when Stiles made to hit him on the face. “Well, whatever, but don’t make it too obvious. It’s not cool.” He laughed and nudged his hip against Stiles.

Stiles hissed, grabbing his side. “Aww, shit.”

Robbie almost dropped a bowl. “What?”

Derek was suddenly there, a hand on Stiles’ forearm, his ‘doctor face’ turned on full-blast. “What happened?”

“Nothing, just…” Stiles rubbed his hip lightly. “I hit my hip twice earlier.” He winced, accidentally pressing a bit too far.

Robbie walked forward. He grabbed the edge of Stiles’ shirt.

“Woah, woah, woah. Don’t.” Stiles tried to bat him off but, trapped between Robbie and Derek, he had no choice as Robbie lifted his shirt just a tad to show his left hip. The skin was already turning from pale white to a sickly combination yellow and green.

“And you happen to bruise like nobody’s business, bro,” Robbie sighed, worry creasing his forehead. “My god.”

Derek was still hovering and he used his grip on Stiles’ forearm to steer him sideways. Stiles now had most of the front of his body pressed against Derek’s side, exposing his hip.

“We should get some ice on that,” Derek said in his doctor’s voice.

“Ok! Ok! Will do, Doc!” Stiles said, shaking Derek off. The proximity was stifling him. He felt his face heat up faster than he could try and tamper it down.

Derek let go in a flash, taking a few steps back as Stiles half-lunged for the refrigerator to get some ice.

“So…” Derek cleared his throat after a beat of silence. “I actually have to go.”

“Oh?” Stiles looked up from half-immersing his flaming face into the freezer and looking for ice.

“Sudden house visit for a patient.” Derek shrugged. “Well, patients actually, plural.” He looked over at Robbie. “Seeing you in action has been a sight, Robbie, and thank you for the food.”

Robbie handed Stiles a clean rag before shaking Derek’s hand warmly. “Oh, wait until you get a taste of my food, Dr. Hale. You will soon be kissing the ground I walk on.”

Derek laughed as Robbie handed him the small bag of goodies. “Thank you, really. Isaac and Erica will love this.”

“No problemo,” Robbie said, grinning widely. “I’ll be seeing you.”

“I’ll see Dr. Hale out,” Stiles said, wrapping a block of ice with the rag and pressing it to his hip with a wince. Before Derek could comment, Stiles shook his head, “I’m good. Come on. You better say goodbye to Ben.”

“Derek.”

Stiles looked back at him as they walked back to the living room. “Hm?”

Derek tilted his head to the side. “Off duty, remember?”

“Oh.” Stiles’ eyes widened. “Yeah.” He fidgeted a little. “Um… Now?”

Derek gave him an expectant and amused look in reply.

“Oh. So. We’re starting now. That’s cool. I can. Yeah. Why not now? Um.” Stiles cleared his throat. “Ben! Dr. Derek… Derek… Doctor… Ben, Derek’s leaving!”

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Derek laughed.

Stiles wasn’t able to answer as Ben bounded down from the second floor with a grin, having forgotten his earlier conundrum with the sugar.

“See you, Dr. Hale!” Ben said. “Thanks for taking us home.”

“Sure thing. You guys enjoy your camping trip.” Derek patted him on the shoulder.

Ben gave him a toothy grin and ran back to the kitchen, probably to get Robbie to give him more dessert now that the doctor’s leaving.

“This was nice,” Derek said, smiling at Stiles.

“Yeah, it was.” Stiles grinned back, flinching a little as the ice on his hip dripped down his pelvic bone. He wiped it off.

“Just keep on icing that and if anything hurts, call me,” Derek said, tilting his head at the bruise.

“Thanks. Safe drive.” Stiles waved as Derek jogged off down the drive.

Stiles closed the door as soon as Derek’s Camaro revved off, Derek waving an arm through the window. Stiles ran through the house towards the dining room, shouting.

“You did that on purpose!”

“What?” Robbie asked, holding the jar of cookies high above the head of a whining Ben.

“My… when you… my shirt…”

“Whatever you’re accusing me of, say pulling up your shirt in the presence of your dream doctor, that was not my intention,” Robbie said. “And no more cookies, Ben!”

“Yes, it was!” Stiles shouted. “You are totally devious enough to jump at that chance just because I injured myself!”

“I was legitimately concerned!” Robbie countered.

“Does Stiles have a crush on Dr. Hale?” Ben asked, looking at his brothers in confusion.

“Stiles, if I didn’t take the chance, you certainly wouldn’t,” Robbie scoffed. “And yes, Ben. Stiles totally has a crush on Dr. Hale. They’re even on first name terms now.” At Stiles’ affronted look, Robbie rolled his eyes. “I heard you shouting his name. Don’t look at me like that.”

“I like Dr. Hale. I don’t mind if you marry him Stiles,” Ben said, leaping up to hang from Robbie’s arm in his hunt for cookies.

Stiles groaned and decided he really hated his brothers.

It was always total pandemonium whenever Fran returned. It had been six months since her last trip home so the entire family was excited to be complete – with the exception of their late mother, bless her – and was making a total ruckus.

Fran wasn’t exactly a wild child, but having lived at Los Angeles for almost five years now definitely had its influences. Her waist-length brown hair was dyed with auburn highlights; she had three tattoos, plus one below her left breast that only Stiles, Robbie and Jill knew; and her skin was a gorgeous honey-brown in contrast to the trademark Stilinski pallor. Despite all that, Fran was still her straight-forward, no-nonsense self, and was all loud laughter, putting her feet up, and dishing out the jokes like there was no tomorrow.

Ben, Jill, Stiles, and their Dad, John, were laughing loudly as Fran related one of her way-out work stories. Their Dad was at the head of the table, with Jill and Stiles at his right and Ben, Fran, and Robbie at his left. Robbie was moving back and forth between the kitchen and the dining table.

“It was crazy!” Fran shouted, waving her arms and almost hitting her glass of iced tea.

“It was your idea,” Jill laughed, taking a bite of her veggie burger. “You’re crazy.”

“What did your editor say?” John asked, handing Ben some more quesadillas.

Fran smirked. “I got a congratulations and a few days of paid vacation, which means I’ll be able to watch a certain someone’s school play next month.”

“Awesome!” Stiles shouted, pumping a fist in the air.

Ben stood up, eyes wide and excited. “You promise?”

“I promise.” Fran laughed. “I’d take the six-hour drive any day for you.”

Ben ran around the table, throwing himself right at Fran.

“That’s great news!” John said, grinning widely at his children.

Dinner continued on in the same thread. More stories, laughter, teasing, and joking as more of Robbie’s food was consumed.

“Robert Stilinski, this is glorious.” Fran groaned around her bite of chicken parmesan. “You get better every single time.”

Robbie laughed. “Thanks, Fran. And it’ll just be my luck if I nab that Manhattan internship.”

“If those Manhattan cooks don’t sign you up, I will take a flamethrower and a machete to them, seriously,” Fran said.

The pineapple upside down cake was consumed while watching The Incredibles in the living room. Fran commandeered a loveseat, while Robbie and their Dad shared the couch with Ben snuggled under his father’s arm. Stiles was on the floor, leaning against a beanbag with Jill pillowed against his side.

“I used to design for gods!” All Stilinski kids quoted along with the movie, Fran waving her fork in the air like a sword, Ben bouncing on the couch, Robbie calmer but gamely joining in, and Jill and Stiles both raising hands in the air in proclamation.

“No capes!” Ben shouted, launching himself from his father’s arm and straight on top of Stiles and Jill.

They all giggled, high on good food, sugar, and the warmth of family.

Once the movie ended, they all dispersed. Stiles and Jill had dish washing duty. Ben, Fran, and Robbie got first dibs on the bathrooms, while their Dad reclined in the living room watching the news.

Stiles was on rinsing duty and he and Jill work in tandem, chatting all the while.

“You gotta pick just one,” Stiles insisted. “You can’t possibly learn the flute and the violin at the same time. You’re still alternating between guitar and bass. You’ll kill yourself.”

Jill flicked a few suds at him. “Shut up! I totally can! And you know I’ve gotten more badass with the bass.”

“You know what they say, kid: jack of all trades, master of none.” Stiles put away some of the glasses.

“That’s true.” Robbie walked in, fresh from his shower, shirtless, and running a towel through his hair. “You might be stretching yourself too thin. You still have those auditions next month.”

Jill pouted sullenly. “You know I can do it!”

“Of course, you can,” Stiles said soothingly. “But you can hold off the violin and flute next year at least.”

Robbie padded over to them and started grabbing some tupperwares and containers. He started packing away the rest of the food.

“Don’t forget that we have to drop this off at the hospital first thing tomorrow,” Robbie said. “I’m divvying this up between Scott, his mom, and Allison, and Dr. Hale, Erica, and Isaac.”

“I am always so amazed by how much food you make,” Stiles said.

“It’s barely cutting it, actually,” Robbie said with a laugh. “The McCalls get the rest of the burgers and quesadillas and most of the pasta goes to the Hales since they’ve gotten a taste of the rest. The cake is, as Ben demands, off-limits.”

“I don’t mind if Dr. Hale had some,” Ben pipes up as he suddenly walked in, already decked out in his white and blue striped pajamas and clutching the new Game of Thrones sweater Fran bought him. “It’ll make Stiles happy.”

Stiles was thankful he was still leaning over the sink when he dropped a bowl. He whipped around. Jill and Robbie burst out laughing.

“Who are we talking about?” Fran asked, walking inside. She was barefoot, with a towel wrapped around her long hair. She was in a man’s oversized shirt, probably from her boyfriend, that fell over her skimpy shorts and the neckline slipping down to reveal the mockingbird tattoo below her collarbone.

“Dr. Hale,” Jill said, not minding the way Stiles’ flicked water right onto the side of her face. “He gets Stiles’ motor revving.”

“Dudes!” Stiles flailed his arms in the air and sent water flying everywhere. Robbie smacked him on the arm for that. “Language! Seriously!”

“Oh, god, really? That Dr. Hale? The really hot one with–” Fran paused and glanced at Ben. “Benny-boo, time for bed.”

Ben pouted. “What? Why?”

Fran smiled, kissing him on the cheek. “Because it’s late and you ate a lot of sugar. If you don’t try to sleep it off now, you won’t wake up tomorrow and we’ll leave you.”

“No, you won’t!” Ben shouted, looking aghast at the mere idea.

“No, we won’t,” Robbie placated their brother. “So get to bed, kiddo.”

Ben frowned, looking around at his older siblings. “You’re just gonna talk about your boyfriends and all that icky stuff, aren’t you?”

“Maybe,” Jill teased, grinning over her shoulder.

“Jill’s not even eighteen yet, but she gets to stay!” Ben shouted. “That’s so unfair!”

Fran patted him on the arm. “Jill will get right to bed after she finishes washing up. She’s not gonna stay here with me, Rob, and Stiles.” Fran sent Jill a secretive look. “You can sleep with me instead, ok Benny-boo? Get your big blanket.”

Ben looked around at them all. He pouted. “Fine. But I don’t want to go to bed yet!” He stomped off, shouting, “Dad, everyone’s ganging up on me!”

As soon as Ben was gone, Fran practically launched herself on the countertop. Stiles felt his stomach drop at the wicked smirk and predatory gleam in her eyes.

“So?” she asked.

“S-So what?” Stiles asked, almost dropping another bowl when Robbie leaned against the refrigerator and Jill pressed up beside him.

“I’ve only met this Dr. Hale once when I last visited like, six weeks ago,” Fran said. “He’s the hot one with the attractive face, the beard, the broad shoulders, and looks like he’d have some killer abs, right?”

“That one,” Jill said with a laugh, “Though he’s the only doctor in Beacon Hills who looks like that.”

Fran giggled. “So? Give me the scoop.”

“There is no scoop!” Stiles protested. “Seriously! There’s nothing going on!”

“Which is exactly the problem,” Robbie said, scoffing. “The man was right here in our kitchen earlier today and the pining was ridiculous.”

Robbie had already recounted the tale of Dr. Hale’s visit to their pleased Dad, who had always liked the young and courteous doctor. Robbie kept it relatively light, wary of Stiles’ long legs under the table trying to kick him in the shin every two minutes. Stiles made sure Ben was kept busy eating though, just in case his baby brother mentioned something to embarrass the hell out of him.

“It wasn’t a big deal!” Stiles put away the rest of the plates before the broke them. “Scott took us to the hospital so I can get all the stuff for the first aid kit, but he couldn’t take us home so Derek offered to. I invited him in because, you know, it’s the polite thing to do, and Robbie wrapped up dinner for him and then Derek left. That is all.”

Jill elbowed him in the ribs. “Oh, sure, that’s all that happened. But since when have you been on first name terms with him?” She grinned at Stiles dirty glare.

Fran cackled. “Well, you’ll get no complaints from me, to be honest. You have good taste, bro. Derek’s absolutely scrumptious.”

Robbie groaned. “Describing people and their bodies as if they were food always turn me off. Please don’t.” They ignored him.

“Have you put the moves on him yet?” Fran asked.

Jill scoffed. “Oh, sure, because Stiles has enough balls for that.”

Stiles, who had been wiping his hand on a rag, tossed it right at Jill’s face. Jill made to retaliate but Fran gave her a warning look.

“Well, I do gather our good doctor was making his own moves,” Robbie said. “Too bad Stiles was dense as cinderblock to notice.”

“He was not, and never will, make a move on me.” Stiles’ protests were getting weaker and weaker with his siblings’ incessant prodding.

Robbie rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. You couldn’t see the way he was eyeing you when you flashed him your hip.”

“You flashed some skin?” Fran asked excitedly. “How daring.”

“Robbie pulled up my shirt when Derek was there.” Stiles glared at him. “And seriously, some personal boundaries would have been nice, you ass.”

“You got a bruise on your hip. I was being a concerned brother,” Robbie protested. “And stop talking as if I was defiling your virtue or whatever.”

“It’s not as if you haven’t gotten your v-card punched yet,” Fran said, toweling her hair. “To both sexes, if we’re being specific.”

Jill snickered. “And you do bruise awfully quick, bro. Dr. Buff was probably imagining leaving bruises all over you during hot, sexy times.”

“Oh my god, guys!” Stiles flushed hard, as Fran and Robbie laughed uproariously.

Fran tucked her legs under her and raised an eyebrow at Stiles. “Moving on. Genim, baby, please, for the love of all that is holy, do something about this crush of yours. I am only home once every few months and I would consider it a nice surprise to catch you making out with that hot doctor of yours. Really. That would be an awesome homecoming present.”

Stiles flushed harder as his siblings laughed at his expense.

There was a sound and they all jerked in surprise when their Dad stuck his head in.

“Chop, chop, kiddos. Don’t forget to double-check your bags. Fran, check Ben’s, would you? We have an early day tomorrow.”

“Yes, Sir!” They all shouted.

“What’s up with the laughter, by the way?” John asked. “Not at Ben’s expense, I am hoping.”

“It wasn’t that,” Fran said, sliding off the counter. “Just some stuff. Is Ben ok?”

“Fell asleep,” John said. “He kept complaining about you four leaving him out.”

“I’ll go get him,” Fran offered. “If he wakes up and sees he wasn’t in bed with me, he’ll get into a fuss.”

John nodded and walked off.

“You guys should learn to shut up,” Stiles muttered. Thank god their Dad didn’t hear anything. “What do I have to do to get you guys off my back?”

“Snag a date with Derek,” Robbie said.

“Get into Derek’s pants,” Jill said.

“Get caught getting into Derek’s pants,” Fran said, kissing Stiles on the cheek.

“Fuck off. I hate you all.”