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The Problem Was

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Derek Hale has a weakness.

Well, okay, technically he has several weaknesses: wolfsbane, mistletoe, Scott’s puppy dog face, old dusty bookstores, Stiles’...everything, etc.

But this particular weakness reared its head annually, and was supremely dangerous, devious, inescapable and rather expensive.

Girl Scouts.

Every year they were everywhere, haunting grocery stores and banks and street corners, displayed on bulletin boards and in libraries, at his favorite coffee shop, even at the police station. The Sheriff, regardless of all his good qualities, was a TERRIBLE boss during the months of February and March, as far as Derek was concerned, because the Girl Scouts had free reign of the precinct and took heavy advantage of it.

He liked the cookies, sure, who didn’t? They were good. But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he couldn’t say no to them.

Every single little girl in their uniform, smiling shyly up at him, asking him if he wanted to buy a box or 10, melted something inside his chest and he found himself standing helplessly at the booth, nodding along with the child who was telling him about her favorites and how many she had to sell this season. He couldn’t walk out of a grocery store without half a dozen boxes of a variety of kinds, and always ALWAYS ended up with a pantry stocked, overly full with Thin Mints and Samoas and Do-si-dos. By the third week of sales, Derek had more than he could eat in a year. He started ordering his groceries online and conveniently timing his lunch break for when the girls stopped by the station to harass the Sheriff - who was way better than Derek at kindly rejecting their sales pitch. Derek had never been able to reject a Girl Scout sale in his life. He just COULDN’T.

Little kids had always been something of a soft spot for Derek, especially as he got older and started to think about having kids himself. And Laura had been a Girl Scout, so it pulled at his heart to see their little booths and smiles, and he signed his name more during the cookie season than he did at any other time of the year.

It was a problem.

--

The majority of the pack was in their first year of college now. Scott, Kira, Malia and Isaac going to the local community college, Lydia at MIT and Jackson with her, Erica and Boyd traveling the country and taking online classes, and Stiles was at Berkeley, coming home every other weekend to check on his dad and to bother Derek. Not that Derek minded, in fact, he adored when Stiles chose to spend his time at Derek’s loft or at the station when Derek was working. But there was no way in hell he could let Stiles know that he LIKED it. Hell, it was bad enough as it was, he couldn’t imagine what it would be like if Stiles knew.

Stiles being home almost always constituted in him raiding Derek’s kitchen for junk food, which Derek didn’t eat but started buying when Stiles whined about it. Stiles was resolute in his barring of junk food at the Sheriff’s house - “I will die before I let that man’s arteries kill himself, Derek, I swear,” - so now Derek stocked unhealthy chips and candy and grossly sugary things. Stiles hadn’t said anything about the change in food supplies, but Derek was sure he noticed when Twizzlers suddenly started appearing on the second shelf.

While the pack was still in high school, they would have movie nights at the loft, but would always bring their own stuff to eat - because Derek liked vegetables instead of high fructose corn syrup, and to teenagers, that was practically a sin. He’d never had to monitor what food he had, other than keeping a full jar of the pretzels Isaac liked, but even then - when Isaac had moved out of the loft and into an apartment with Scott close to campus, Derek hadn’t had to worry about anyone else poking their nose into his groceries.

So yeah, he forgot about the cookies. The boxes and boxes and boxes of cookies crowding his shelves and stacking on the floor - he forgot about them. Didn’t even cross his mind when Stiles showed up and demanded food. Derek just waved him to the kitchen like always and got back to his book.

“Dude. What the - why do you have so many freaking cookies?!”

Derek froze, horror crawling over him. NO. If Stiles knew about the cookies, he’d figure out Derek’s weakness and that couldn’t happen. Derek was already trying to forget that Stiles was on his list of weaknesses, he didn’t need the kid to start pulling on his other heartstrings as well.

Stiles popped his head back into the main room, munching on what looked like a Do-si-do.

“You got a secret sweet tooth we don’t know about?” He asked, wiggling his eyebrows. Derek failed trying to not find it endearing.

“Shut up,” Derek said, knowing his face was pink, and held the book up to block Stiles’ view of his face.

“Whatever, sourwolf, you’re allowed to have SOME weaknesses. Might as well be cookies.”

If only Stiles knew. Which he would never.

--

“Hey, can we stop at the store on the way? I want some more Twizzlers and I ate all of yours yesterday. You need to stock up.”

Derek glanced over at Stiles in the passenger seat, bouncing around as usual. They were on their way to the loft to meet Scott, Kira and Isaac for a movie. Stiles had been at the station all afternoon so Derek just offered him a ride.

Derek almost said yes out of instinct, but just then they passed a Girl Scout booth on the corner. No. They would get him, and Stiles could not know.

“No,” he growled, and Stiles turned to him, surprised.

“Derek. It’s on the way.”

“I don’t want to go to the store, I just want to go home.”

“It’ll take 20 minutes! Max! You can glare at the cashier! You love glaring at cashiers!”

“Stiles.”

“Derek.”

“No.”

“Twizzlers, Derek.”

“You’ll live.”

“What is with you? Come on, man, it’s just some candy.”

Oh no. Derek could feel his resolve crumbling, and he was lucky he had to pay attention to the road or he would have the full force of Stiles’ honey eyes on him, and he would be gone.

“Can’t you get them later?”

“Why? It’s ON THE WAY.”

“Stiles.”

“Twizzlers.”

Stiles.

Twizzlers.

“Ugh, God, fine,” Derek said, turning at the last second to pull into the parking lot. He could see the cursed booth from here, and there were five - FIVE - little girls in front of it. No way was he going in there.

“I’m staying here.”

“What? No! Cashier glaring!”

“Stiles, come on.”

“Derek, COME ON.”

With a long-suffering sigh, Derek made the mistake of meeting Stiles’ imploring gaze and - that was it. He was a goner. Dead. Damnit all to hell.

He unbuckled his seatbelt and Stiles crowed in joy. Derek had no idea why he liked the idiot.

They approached the door and somehow Derek to get on the other side of Stiles, so that he was in between Derek and the booth, and they walked inside without incident. He could probably manage it on the way out as well. Totally.

Derek did indeed glare at the cashier, much to Stiles’ amusement, but it was more to do with the fact that she was blatantly checking Stiles out than the notion that Derek enjoyed glaring at cashiers. Stiles was crazy.

Stiles was in the middle of a story as they left the line and headed for the door, gesturing wildly, which - in the end - was Derek’s downfall. He was distracted and therefore not prepared and caught, like a deer in headlights, when one of the Girl Scouts stepped in front of them as they exited.

“Excuse me, would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?”

Oh no. OH NO. She had curly brown hair in pigtails with ribbons - RIBBONS - and sparkly shoes and had to be no more than 8 years old and staring up at Derek expectantly. She was ridiculously cute and Derek was trapped.

Stiles was being no help at all, just looking between the girl and Derek’s face with an increasingly amused expression.

Derek gulped, glanced at Stiles, and then just gave in. He crouched down to the ground in order to be at eye-level with her, and smiled.

“Sure, what’s the best kind?” He asked, and reveled in the way her eyes lit up. She grabbed his hand - she had such tiny hands! - and dragged him over to the table, shoving an order sheet at him. The two moms and one dad behind the table noticed him and all three raised an eyebrow, but Derek was mesmerized by Amelia - the little girl had said her name somewhere in the babbling conversation spilling out of her mouth - as she described each cookie, in detail, and why she ranked them in the order she did. She reminded him a little of Stiles, in fact, who Derek couldn’t bear to look at and see the smug grin on his face as he realized that Derek was a textbook sucker for Girl Scout cookies.

By the end of Amelia’s explanation, Derek had three more boxes of Thin Mints and one box of every other flavor that Amelia had - which equalled 11 boxes. 11 more boxes. Derek had no idea where he was going to put them.

He signed his name and number, gave Amelia a smile and a wave, and turned back to Stiles and his eternal mockery.

To Derek’s surprise, he was not greeted with a smirk, but with a soft, shy smile. Stiles just fell into step beside Derek as they headed back to the car, silent for once, and Derek didn’t know what to do with himself. Thank God he had his hands full of boxes, just to give him something to focus on.

Derek popped the trunk to drop his cookies and Stiles slung his sack of Twizzlers in beside them, and they both got in the car. Stiles was still silent and it was starting to freak Derek out. But Derek didn’t know what to say - rarely started a conversation on his own - so he just started the car and pulled back onto the street, heading towards the loft.

“You okay?” He finally asked, turning slightly to look at Stiles, who was biting his lip nervously.

Stiles nodded, and Derek noticed his cheeks were pink.

“What?” Derek asked.

“That was just - you - you’re gonna be a great dad,” Stiles said, and Derek sucked in a surprised breath.

He waited for more, because with Stiles, there usually was more, and Derek had no clue how to respond to that.

“That’s why you have so many cookies. You can’t say no to them.”

Derek sighed, and nodded, accepting his fate.

“That’s - that’s - how - that was so cute, man, how the hell do you get MORE attractive than you already are? HOW?!” Stiles asked, almost sounding angry.

“Wait, what? Attractive?”

Stiles looked at Derek like he was a massive imbecile.

“Yes? Have you seen you? And the face and the shoulders and the eyes? And then the - you - just you, in general? And then with the Girl Scouts, man, you just - you’re trying to kill me.”

“You - think I’m attractive?”

They had just pulled into the complex’s parking lot, and Derek had never been so grateful. He couldn’t concentrate on driving if this - if Stiles -

“Dude, I am so ridiculously gone on you that it’s not funny anymore. And apparently! Apparently you have a weakness for little girls selling cookies! Which sounds way creepier than it is, whoa, but you know what I mean! How dare you!”

Derek was confused.

“Stiles, are - what?”

Stiles looked at him for a moment, unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned over. He stopped just a hairsbreadth away from Derek’s face and Derek couldn’t breathe.

“Derek freaking Hale. Watching you with that cute little girl and your inability to not buy more cookies even though you have like - 100 boxes - is the cutest fucking thing I have ever seen and I have never been more in love with you. Please tell me I can kiss you.”

Derek didn’t answer with words - he surged forwards and tasted Stiles like he’d wanted to for far, far too long. Stiles melted into the kiss, and they softly explored each other’s mouths. Derek ended up breaking the kiss from smiling, but Stiles had a huge grin on his face when he broke away too, so he didn’t think it was a problem.

“I have wanted to do that for a really long time, man,” Stiles said.

“You - really?”

“You didn’t know?”

Derek shook his head.

“Oh, I figured you - you just weren’t ready.”

“No! I - what? You knew that - that I?”

Stiles laughed, and nodded.

“You never let anyone get away with anything, until like - two years ago, you started letting me get away with whatever I wanted. Drives my dad crazy, by the way. Thinks I’m a bad influence.”

“You - I do not let you get away with everything.”

“Yes you do! You literally took me to the store when you didn’t want to go!”

Derek glared.

“You have three non-supernatural weaknesses, Derek Hale: Scott’s puppy face, bookstores, and more recently, moi. But now! Now I can add Girl Scout cookies to the list!”

“You made a list?” Derek growled, even though it was 100% accurate.

“Well, you start noticing things and remembering things about somebody when you fall in love with them,” Stiles said. opening the car door and stepping out with one move.

Derek stared out the window at him for a few seconds before leaping out himself, running to the back where Stiles was pulling out the boxes to carry them upstairs. Instead of helping, Derek pressed Stiles into the side of the car and buried his face in Stiles’ neck, breathing down the scent that had been driving him crazy for over a year.

“Cookie?” Stiles asked, a smile in his voice. Derek growled at him.

--

Derek Hale has a weakness - several weaknesses - but now, he didn’t mind them so much.