Who knew that cooking for nearly two dozen people could be so exhausting? Well, Stiles had a pretty good idea that it wouldn’t be easy, seeing as how he’s been responsible for meals during his fair share of pack nights over the last decade, but it’s the first time he’s taken lead on an elaborate holiday meal. Previous years, they’ve just done pot lucks, but this is the first Thanksgiving since he and Derek got married, so he’d thought it would be nice to do something really special. If he’d realized how much work would go into it, even with Derek helping, well, he’d probably still have done it, because it did turn out awesome, but there’d have definitely been less to cook.
The water is nearly at the appropriate level to not spill over once they’re both in the tub, so Stiles turns off the faucet. “I’m getting in without you,” he says loudly, knowing Derek can hear him without shouting but figuring the higher volume might get his husband’s ass upstairs a little quicker.
Since he got undressed when the water was running, he’s able to just step into the tub and sink down into the warm water. There are way too many bubbles, the product of him zoning out while pouring in the bubble bath, but he doesn’t really care. Derek likes bubbles, after all, and Stiles likes how they tickle his arms before popping. His legs and back ache like he’s an old man, so the warm water is actually helping ease some of that pain. It would be so easy to fall asleep like this, all warm and relaxed, so he’s thankful when he hears Derek in their bedroom because he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally sleeping in the tub. He gets a handful of bubbles and brings them to his face, trying to create a bubble beard to match Derek’s because he’s secretly five years old sometimes.
“It’s about time. I was starting to think I was doomed to take a solo bath tonight,” he grumbles when the door opens wider. Looking up, his exaggerated pout immediately disappears when he sees Derek standing there naked holding a plate with a large slice of pumpkin pie on it. “Gimme! Gimme!” He makes grabby hands, dripping water and bubbles onto the tile floor as he attempts puppy dog eyes the way Erica’s tried teaching him.
“You’re making a mess.” Derek shakes his head and walks away from the tub to their shower. “Did you use the entire bottle of bubble bath, Stiles?” He smirks slightly. “Beard envy, huh? I told you that not all men are capable of growing out beards as good as mine.”
“Derek! Stop teasing me.” Stiles is flat out whining and has no shame about it because, really, it’s two of his favorite things in the world: Derek and dessert. He’s way too worn out to enjoy Derek fully, not without several hours of sleep and possibly a really good Derek-massage, but he can totally indulge in the dessert before bed. “And stop gloating about your gorgeous beard. We agreed to never speak about my pitiful attempt to grow a beard, remember?”
“Teasing would be me sitting on the toilet lid and eating the last piece of Grandma Boyd’s pie while you watch.” Derek pulls the towel from their joint shower earlier off the glass door and tosses it on the tile by the tub. His eyebrows are totally judging Stiles for making a mess even as he takes the precautions necessary to ensure that Stiles doesn’t slip getting out of the tub later and fall on his ass. He’s the best husband ever, even without the pie. “And I do remember that scraggly patch of hair that took you months to grow and had the neighbors convinced you were dealing drugs to high school kids.”
“You’d never do that,” Stiles tells him confidently. “You love me too much to make me suffer in such a cruel and heartless way.” When Derek gets closer, Stiles throws a handful of bubbles at him. “That’s for telling old Mrs. Sanders that I was working undercover selling drugs, thus starting said rumors and causing our neighbors to compare me to Channing Tatum. There is no comparison, Derek. He’s Channing Tatum.”
“You’re right. You beat him every single time.” Derek smiles, the big smile that makes his eyes crinkle and flashes his teeth in an adorable way that makes Stiles forget what they’re even bickering about.
“Put that thing away before you kill someone with it,” he mutters, scooting up enough for Derek to join him in the tub.
“Which thing?” Derek gyrates his hips in a way that makes Stiles laugh, which pulls on the aching muscles in his back and causes this awful laughing grimace thing to happen.
“Stop being awkward funny. I’m in pain.” Stiles sticks his tongue out before noticing the pie again and, that’s right, dessert! God, he’s more exhausted than he realized. Either that or Derek continues to have some sort of effect on him that turns him into a hyper focused sap whenever he’s in the immediate vicinity. It’s actually probably a mixture of both tonight. “Is that really the last piece?”
“Yes, unfortunately. I managed to sneak it into the fridge when the pack was attacking the dessert table.” Derek hands him the plate to hold before he gets into the tub and settles down behind Stiles. “I thought Jackson and Isaac were going to have a battle to the death for the last slice in the pan, so you should be extremely grateful for my foresight and planning.”
“Yeah, yeah. You’re a regular genius.” Stiles grins as he leans against Derek’s chest, feeling the wiry hair there tickling his skin as he gets comfortable. “Next year, we need to ask Boyd to bring like a dozen of these pies. I don’t know what his grandma does to the recipe, but it’s the best pumpkin pie I’ve ever tasted.”
“There’s a combination of spices that I don’t normally taste in other pies.” Derek wraps his arms around Stiles and kisses his neck. “Is the bath helping the muscle aches?”
“Definitely. It’s better now that you’re finally here, though.” Stiles kisses Derek’s jaw before he slices the tip of the pie off with the edge of the spoon. He takes the first bite, moaning wantonly as the pumpkin and spices dance over his tastebuds. So damn good. He’s tried getting the recipe from Grandma Boyd before, but she’s always able to resist him. Maybe he should send Derek to try next time. He’s pretty irresistible, after all. Besides, Grandma Boyd has helped Stiles write bawdy odes to Derek’s ass before so maybe Derek in tight jeans will tempt her into finally giving up the recipe.
“Stop making those noises. I refuse to get jealous of pie,” Derek says, taking the fork from him before getting his own bite of pie. He makes some overly exaggerated sex noises while his eyebrows judge Stiles. It’s impossible not to laugh because the noises are like bad porn, but Stiles resents laughing over being made fun of, so he lightly pinches Derek’s bicep to let him know he’s laughing on the outside but totally getting revenge at some point in the future when Derek least suspects it.
“Whatever, asshole. I don’t sound that bad,” Stiles mutters once he’s stopped laughing. He lets Derek feed him his next bite, licking the prongs of the fork clean in a way that would totally lead to sexy times if he weren’t so worn out right now. “Can we IOU hot passionate sex for, say, six hours from now?”
“Oh, well, I suppose we can. It better suitably hot and passionate, though, since I’m having to wait for it.” Derek sighs dramatically before taking another bite of the pie. He licks his lips and then offers Stiles another bite of pie. “Seriously, though, you might need at least eight hours to recover from being on your feet most of today. I could smell the pain by the time we sat down for dinner.”
“Six hours and a Derek-massage should be enough.” Stiles takes the fork and gets a piece of pie on it before holding it up for Derek to eat. “It’s mostly my legs and lower back. I totally overdid it with all the different sides and desserts. However, if you say I told you so, you’re sleeping in the guest room tonight.”
“Who? Me? Would I ever say that? That’s something you’d do, not me.” Derek moves his hand to Stiles’ head and begins rubbing his scalp in the way that makes Stiles feel like his leg would be twitching if he were a dog. It relaxes him and comforts him all at the same time, and he feels his eyes starting to droop. “Anyway, next year, let everyone pitch in and help. That’s what family is for, you know?”
“I know. I just wanted something special this year because of us and the marriage and everything.” Stiles eats another bite of pie then lets Derek take the fork from him. “The turkey turned out really good, by the way. Better than last year definitely.”
“Last year, we foolishly let Scott near the oven, and we had dry bird.” Derek makes a disgusted noise because, well, the turkey last year was the stuff of nightmares. This year, Derek had insisted on cooking the turkey, even bringing out the alpha eyes to prevent Stiles from objecting, and it had been juicy and tender. “I don’t know what dressing recipe you used, but maybe try a different one next year? This one had too many nuts and stuff.”
“It was a healthier option because we’re all getting older, and we might not all be supernatural creatures with amazing health.” Stiles elbows Derek’s gut lightly before taking the bite of pie off the fork before Derek can eat it. “But I agree that it wasn’t the highlight of the meal, so perhaps I can try something different next year. By the way, the pack agreed that you are now officially Turkey Maestro every year. There’ll be a t-shirt as soon as Isaac gets it made.”
“They did, huh? And when was this decision made? Because I certainly don’t recall voting.” Derek moves the fork quickly and leans over to get the next to last bite of pie before Stiles has a chance. He gives Stiles a smug look as he leisurely chews.
“It was when you went outside with Lydia’s mom to discuss plans for chaperoning the high school holiday dance.” Stiles rolls his eyes before he just reaches for the last bite of pie with his wet fingers. He sticks it into his mouth, chewing while letting the plate fall onto the floor. Derek takes his hand and licks his fingers clean, sucking on them in a way that has Stiles a little more interested in cashing in that IOU right now instead of waiting.
“Put that thing away before you kill someone with it,” Derek says in a prim tone that is totally contradicted by his wicked smile.
“Don’t do that, Der,” Stiles groans, wiggling in the water and staring at the ceiling as Derek rubs circles against his scalp. “My body aches, and I’m actually resisting sexy times for sleep. What’s happening to me?”
“You’re an old married man now, babe.” Derek huffs a laugh against Stiles’ neck before rubbing his beard against his skin. “It’s alright. I know you’re mentally ravishing me right now, so I’m not feeling undesirable or unwanted sexually. Our marriage is still strong despite you choosing sleep over sex a mere six months into our wedded bliss.”
“Why does everyone think you’re so sweet and kind when you’re really a sarcastic ass who actually makes me look nice sometimes?” Stiles hmphs. “Nevermind. It’s totally the whole high school librarian thing you’ve got going on. Don’t even try to deny it. The glasses, the soft sweaters, the gentle smiles…it fools everyone, even the pack.”
“It’s never fooled you.” Derek kisses his jaw. “And stop grumbling about the librarian thing when we both know it gets you hot.”
“It never fooled me because like recognizes like. We’re both assholes.” Stiles shrugs as he pokes at some of the remaining bubbles. “Do you really want me to point out how aroused you are when you see me in uniform? It’s like Pavlov’s dog. The uniform comes out, and the D goes up.”
“Do not ever call it the D again.” Derek shoves Stiles under the water, laughing when Stiles swats at him when he sits back up. He rolls over in the tub, dragging Derek down, too, wrestling with him and splashing water over the sides of the tub.
“Oh ow. Fuck.” Stiles stops playing when his back reminds him why he’s taking a warm bath in the first place. He grimaces as he moves to his knees and leans over Derek. “I’m not admitting defeat. It’s a tactical retreat due to injury. We shall continue this battle again, and I will win. To the victor, the spoils!”
“I’ll surrender this time because I forgot about your back pain.” Derek strokes Stiles’ wet spine and then there’s a tingle before the ache eases up some. Thank you, werewolf mojo. “You can claim your spoils after we get some sleep.”
“There’ll definitely be claiming later.” Stiles waggles his eyebrows and leers before he pulls the plug out of the tub so the water can drain. “Speaking of sleep, I’m barely keeping my eyes open, so we should go to bed.”
“Let me get out first. The floor’s wet and slippery, so we don’t need you hurting yourself.” Derek gets out of the tub and grabs a dry towel, wiping up some of the mess before getting another towel and quickly drying off. He adds that towel to the pile on the floor. “Laundry tomorrow. We’re almost out of towels.”
“Ugh. We’re so adult and grown-up that it’s sickening.” Stiles stands up and grins when Derek picks him up and carries him towards the dry part of the bathroom. “My hero. Saving me from wet tile and my own clumsiness.” He bats his eyelashes and blows kisses at Derek.
“I’m over thirty, and you’re closer to thirty than twenty. I hate to break it to you, Stiles, but we are grown-ups.” Derek actually dries him off, not lingering or trying to be seductive because they both know sexy times aren’t happening until later. Once Stiles is dry, Derek takes his hand and pulls him closer, kissing him thoroughly before leading him back into the bedroom. “Pajamas or no?”
“Nah. They’ll just get in the way later.” Stiles crawls into bed and holds his arm up, putting it down around Derek when he joins him. He kisses Derek’s kiss before scooting up against his back, letting the warmth of him pull him into a much needed sleep.