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Derek doesn’t even know why he’s doing it. There’s no point. The only other person who knows is Peter, and Peter had smirked at him earlier when he was over together with Isaac, Stiles and Scott. He’d clapped Derek on the shoulder before he left, off-handedly threw in, “Congratulations,” and went his merry way.
“What was that for?” Isaac asked, confused and curious, and Scott looked the same.
“For surviving that long,” Derek answered. Stiles had rolled his eyes in a way that implied he got the sarcasm whereas both Scott and Isaac seemed like they were unsure if Derek was being genuine or not. They’d followed Stiles out, though, without further questions, and that was that.
Derek likes to think that he wasn’t disappointed that they dropped the topic. It doesn’t matter anyway. They have problems at hand; things that are more important than Derek’s birthday. It’s not like it’s going to be his last.
There’s a little box on the table in the kitchen with an artfully frosted and decorated cupcake in it. A little note is stuck under the edge of the box and when Derek unfolds it, it reads, Enjoy while you can, in Peter’s handwriting. He’s not sure what he expected but he snorts nevertheless, crumples up the note and tosses it into the garbage.
Splaying out his hands on the table, he leans onto the surface. For a moment, Derek wonders if the pastry is poisoned, but thinks better of it. It wouldn’t put his uncle in a better place if Derek died now. He still probably should just dump the cupcake in the trash but...
But.
But it’s his birthday after all, the first one he’s truly alone, and even though Peter isn’t his favourite person and bought him that cupcake more to mock him that to bring him joy, it’s still there. Derek can let himself have this. Enjoy it while he still can.
He pulls open a drawer that has a bundle with little birthday candles. Derek found them when he went through the house one last time after the county took it over.
It’s more for the sentiment’s sake that he puts one tiny candle on the cupcake and lights it. Derek puts the cupcake on a small plate and carries it to his desk in his living room area where the light of the setting sun is fractured by the large window, drawing patterns on his walls and the floor.
He remembers the last birthday when his family was still whole, before everything went to hell; before Laura died and Peter turned into a raging maniac. It was Cora’s, his little sister’s birthday, and it had been loud and crowded. Cora had refused to share her cake with anybody. Derek had driven his spoon into the cake and taken a huge chunk out of it just to tease her. It was worth it both the cake and Cora’s indignant, outraged face.
Derek smiles at the memory while the flame of the candle burns bright in the stark contrast to the fast approaching darkness of the evening.
There are a lot of things Derek wants to wish for. He wishes for Boyd’s and Erica’s safety, for defeating the Alpha pack with as little losses as possible, for his family to be here, for not feeling so damn--abandoned.
Derek blows out the candle.
The door to the loft is being shoved open and Derek is so out of it, he startles at the sound, hackles rising on reflex.
“Hey dude, sorry to interrupt,” Stiles’ voice floats across the room. The tension leaves Derek’s body as fast as it came. “I forgot my ph--you alright?”
Derek stares at him over his shoulder, blocking the cupcake from Stiles’ view with his body. There’s no need for him to see this. He’d be a dick about it, maybe, rolling his eyes, wishing him a happy birthday in the same mocking tone Peter used earlier. Derek doesn’t need that; he doesn’t want it.
“Yeah,” Derek answers belatedly, slowly turning around fully to face Stiles, painstakingly managing to not let him see the cupcake. “What?”
“I, uh, I forgot my phone here,” Stiles says waving his hands around. “That’s why I didn’t call before I came over.”
“There’s a bell on the door, you know,” Derek points out dryly. Stiles smirks with a shrug.
“I like the element of surprise.”
“You’re not very stealthy.”
“You did look like a deer caught in the headlights, though, I’m not even kidding.”
“I’m practicing impressions.”
“Obviously.”
“I think your phone might be in the kitchen,” Derek says dismissively. Stiles looks at him appraisingly, narrows his eyes, but then he just shakes his head before hopping down the stairs and stalking off into the kitchen.
Derek exhales deeply through his nose. It’s just an attest to the bad luck of his life that he can’t even have this moment of his birthday for himself. He rubs at his eyes while he listens to Stiles putter around in the kitchen looking for his phone.
“It’s not here,” Stiles yells right before he walks back into the living room.
“I don’t know where your phone is,” Derek says, hopes that maybe Stiles left his phone buried in his backpack or something.
“Well, then would His Wolfiness deign to help me look?” Stiles mocks with arched eyebrows, looking put out for all it’s worth. Derek crosses an arm over his chest and pinches the bridge of his nose with his free hand.
“Have you considered that maybe it’s not here?”
“The last time I had it was when I was here,” Stiles insists stubbornly, crossing his arms in front of himself, chin raised.
“Maybe you stuffed it into the very bottom of your backpack,” Derek suggests as patiently as he can manage, which is--not much.
Stiles rolls his eyes, hard. “I never put my phone into my backpack, Derek.”
“There’s always a first time.”
Stiles huffs, aggravated. “Fine, you don’t have to help me,” he snaps. “Go back to hovering dubiously over your desk while I look for my phone.”
Derek closes his eyes, swallows down his uprising annoyance and takes a deep breath. When he opens his eyes again, Stiles has stepped around the couch, his view locked on something behind Derek and--crap.
There’s the cupcake, sitting lonely on the table with its blown out candle. Stiles’ eyes are wide in wonder or in shock, Derek can’t tell. His brows draw together, Derek can practically see the wheels turning in his head. Stiles drags his eyes away from the pastry and to Derek, then back again.
“Dude,” he says slowly, meeting Derek’s glance again, face disbelieving. “Is--is it your birthday?”
“No,” Derek sneers. “I’m just treating myself to a cupcake.”
Stiles stares at him wordlessly before his gaze wanders back to the pastry. He takes several steps towards the desk and sweeps up--his phone. Derek hadn’t even noticed it was lying right there. His fingers run along the smooth surface of the screen, fiddling with it a little until he shoves into the pocket of his pants.
“On your birthday,” Stiles says, although it sounds like a question, and, with a deliberate pat on his hips and a smirk, adds, “You sure you won’t plump out?”
Derek frowns at him, sets his jaw. “Go home, Stiles,” he replies defensively. “You got your phone.”
Stiles doesn’t move for a beat, just looks at Derek with something that Derek can’t decipher. His shoulders slump a little and he turns, walking in long strides over to the door. Derek stares at the cupcake, doing his damndest not to glance at Stiles.
“Hey, Derek,” Stiles calls out at the door. He has one hand shoved into the pocket of his pants and is running the other through his hair. “There’s this, uh, new place just outside of town,” he tells him hesitantly. “They’ve got burgers to d--they’re kinda orgasmic.”
His voice trails off into--not a question but a tentative invitation. At least that’s what Derek thinks it is. Stiles looks sheepish, fingers tangling in his hair, scratching the back of his head. He looks up through his lashes, and he seems so different from all the times when he’s determined to help, to put a plan into motion.
Derek looks at him contemplatively, considers him with narrowed eyes. Stiles shrugs in a defeated kind of way.
“Just an idea,” he mutters, waves and leaves without another word. Still, Derek can hear him say, “Gee, no need to glare daggers into me,” but he’s probably not meant to pick that up.
Derek looks at the cupcake Peter left for him and then turns to stare at the door.
In the end, it’s probably the prospect of eating out with Stiles than having to cave to Peter’s cupcake that makes him climb into the passenger seat of Stiles’ jeep. Stiles stares at him in surprise, frozen in his motion to buckle himself up. Derek lifts his eyebrows minutely, prompts him to say something, but Stiles just shakes his head and slides the lock into place.
The drive is quiet but not uncomfortably so. Stiles keeps glancing at him surreptitiously, like he can’t believe Derek’s actually agreed to this. There’s a tiny smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. Derek wouldn’t notice if he wasn’t looking for it.
Derek is out of the car before Stiles, rounds the jeep and watches how Stiles makes an acrobatic show of getting out of the driver’s seat. Admittedly, he’s never seen somebody climbing out of a car like this, not even remotely like this. Stiles combines a lot of things Derek’s never experienced with other people before. It’s refreshing and...nice.
“What?” Stiles asks when he catches Derek staring.
Derek shrugs nonchalantly. “Just wondering if it’s your specific brand of gracefulness or if your brain-limb-communication is severely damaged.”
“You’re just jealous of my winning charisma,” Stiles replies loftily.
“What charisma?”
“Oh, you’re so funny.”
“I’m hilarious.”
Stiles rolls his eyes. “The worst part about this is that I can’t even deny that.”
It takes a moment for that to sink in but it leaves Derek’s heart beating a little bit faster when Stiles pushes open the door to the restaurant. He swallows around the dry patch in his mouth, wordlessly following Stiles to one of the unoccupied booths.
“Don’t strain yourself,” Derek finally manages, embarrassingly late, and Stiles picks up on it--of course he picks up on it. The smirk he flashes Derek is shit-eating. He should’ve just kept his mouths shut.
“So, birthday wolf,” Stiles says when Derek settles in across from him and kicks him gently against in the shin. “Why didn’t you tell us that it’s your birthday?”
Derek shrugs. “It doesn’t matter. We have more pressing issues at hand.”
Stiles rolls his eyes again, in a way that heavily implies he thinks Derek is an idiot. “Dude, just because I don’t think anyone’s in party mode right now but that doesn’t mean we can’t acknowledge the fact that it’s your birthday.”
“Well, Peter knows,” Derek says a little helpless, short of anything else to say.
Stiles snorts. “Yeah. He was such a sweetheart about it.”
“He brought me the cupcake.”
Stiles’ eyes go wide with incredulity. “Did you eat it?”
“No, you barged in before I could.”
“Thank god,” Stiles says and clutches at his chest like he’s deeply relieved. “One bite and you’d been bound to the Hades.”
Derek lifts his eyebrows questioningly.
“You know, Hades and Persephone...” Stiles trails off and scratches under his chin. “You know what, never mind. It made more sense in my head.”
Derek huffs out a laugh.
“Just don’t eat the cupcake. Who knows what Peter spiked it with.”
“I don’t th--”
“Don’t eat the cupcake, Derek. I’ll get you a bigger and better one.”
A waitress arrives at their table before Derek can reply and takes their order. Stiles doesn’t let Derek decide what he wants to eat, just orders two burgers with fries--the specialty of the house--and something to drink (he lets Derek do that himself).
Derek arches an eyebrow as soon as the waitress leaves.
“Don’t look at me all judgey,” Stiles huffs and jabs a finger at him. “Trust me.”
Surprisingly, it’s easy to just do that. Even if it’s about burgers.
The waitress brings over their drinks. Stiles gets up after, announcing, “I have to pee.”
Derek sighs long-sufferingly, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Vital information.”
Stiles salutes with a bright smirk and saunters away. Derek watches him disappear around a corner.
It feels a little bit surreal, sitting in some restaurant for burgers on his birthday, with Stiles of all people. Derek didn’t assume anyone would take him out for food, even if everybody knew it was his birthday. So he’s plenty surprised that he’s here now, got ordered a burger, and Stiles said he’d get Derek a better cupcake than Peter’s. (He tries really hard not to get his hopes up about it but Stiles also didn’t seem to be sarcastic about it.)
He starts doubting if he should really be here, now, enjoying this, when Stiles comes back around the corner. There’s a wide smile on his face; he winks when he meets Derek’s eyes--and maybe Derek is allowed to have this night. Maybe he’s allowed to enjoy himself a little, on his birthday, with Stiles.
“Stop having internal freak-outs,” Stiles says as he slides back into the booth.
Derek scowls. “I don’t have internal freak-outs.”
“You’re right. If they were internal you wouldn’t be able to see them from space.”
“You’re an idiot.”
“A+ comeback, Derek. I’m wounded.”
“I think it’s better if I just go. Let you eat the burgers yourself.”
“That would be such hard punishment.”
“I’ll take both burgers, let you pay them and eat them myself.”
“You fu--”
“It’s my birthday,” Derek reminds him with a smirk. Stiles glowers at him, fiddling with the straw in his glass. Derek watches mesmerizes how he sucks the straw between his lips. It should be more ridiculous that it is endearing but Derek wouldn’t admit it even under torture.
“Yeah,” Stiles says eventually, looking over Derek’s shoulder. “Happy birthday,” he adds when their waitress returns to their table with a tray in her hands. There’s a plate with the fries and a plate with a giant burger on it. The top half of the burger is completely covered with little birthday candles, all alight.
Indistinctly, he registers the waitress wishing him a happy birthday too but he’s too busy processing this to really pay attention. If it wasn’t for him, he’d probably mock the shit out of this. A bunch of candles stuck onto a burger, it’s even more ridiculous than it sounds.
Yet, here is is, stunned into silence. His heart flutters in his chest, several different emotions clash, leaving him unsure of what to do.
When he looks up, Stiles is watching him closely; eyes hooded and assessing but timid. “I don’t actually know how old you are,” Stiles admits quietly, “So I just asked them to cover the burger with candles, you know, for good measure.”
Derek swallows against the lump in his throat. “Thanks,” he croaks, winces inwardly at how affected he sounds. Stiles smiles softly at him, eyes reflecting the light of the candles, and it makes Derek’s heart swell behind his ribs.
“Wish for something, Derek,” Stiles says, voice low but clear in Derek’s ears.
There are still a lot of things Derek wants to wish for. He closes his eyes taking a deep breath. He knows what he doesn’t have to wish for: for not being alone on his birthday, or on any other day.