Five Times Stiles Didn't Get His Milkshake
Stiles hummed to himself as he squeezed the last of the chocolate syrup into the blender and jammed the cap on. He wasn't entirely sure why there was a blender in the kitchen of Derek's new loft, but the amenities in the spacious apartment beat the last two places Derek had lived hands down. Of course, considering those places had been the abandoned train depot and the burned-out husk of Derek's childhood home, the loft had a pretty big advantage as the only place actually fit for human - or werewolf - habitation.
The whirl of the blender filled the room and Stiles waited until the contents had come to a complete stop before he let go of the lid. Stiles and Scott had only had to learn that lesson once when they were kids - the next three times they had let go of the lid had been to see how far they could get the contents to splatter. After a brief search of the cupboards he found a tapered glass that was perfect for a midday milkshake study break and brought it back to the blender. The contents fit perfectly inside, the blender was apparently a one milkshake at a time blender, and Stiles went to the fridge to seek out the can of whipped cream he was sure he'd seen at the back just the other day when he was searching for ingredients for a quick stir fry.
When he turned back around he felt his heart jolt slightly, but otherwise didn't react to the werewolf that had suddenly appeared at the kitchen counter. After months of werewolves he was finally getting used to them sneaking around and then disappearing without a word. It was little like a running gag on a comedy sketch, where Stiles was left talking to himself when the werewolf he'd been talking to disappeared while his back was turned for maybe all of thirty seconds.
"Hey buddy," Stiles said when Scott didn't say anything.
Scott didn't move from where he was face down on the kitchen but he mumbled "hey" in return.
Stiles set down the can of whipped cream on the counter and leaned his elbows on the smooth surface, wondering briefly if Derek had bought a loft with a designer kitchen on purpose or if it was just a hilarious accident. Probably the latter, if Stiles was to place a bet. "Didn't go so well?" he asked - he'd already known that Scott would want to talk when he returned from seeing Allison, regardless of what her response had been.
Scott shook his head and looked up briefly. "She said she needs more time. Which I get, I do. Things were a mess for a while. It's just..." he trailed off and dropped his forehead down on the counter with a thump.
"Hard," Stiles finished, nodding. As frustrating as it was to see Scott obsessed with a girl, not that Stiles didn't know all about obsessing over a girl firsthand, it was even worse to see him utterly miserable and heartbroken. He rolled the edge of the can of whipped cream along the countertop and suddenly realized that he knew how to cheer Scott up, at least a little bit.
"Here," he said a moment later, pushing the chocolate milkshake across the counter to Scott and passing over a long spoon a moment later. "Do you remember when your mom would let us make ice cream in the backyard? And we could add anything we wanted to it?"
Scott picked his head up and blinked at the milkshake for a moment. "Yeah, I do. We made ice cream with like, everything in it," he said, watching as Stiles reached over and sprayed the top of the milkshake with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream.
"Carrot ice cream," Stiles agreed, nudging the spoon towards Scott's hand.
"Bacon ice cream. That was awful," Scott added, the corners of his mouth pulling up ever so slightly.
"No, no, the worst was the cheese. They're both milk products, it should have been good," Stiles said with a theatrical expression of distaste.
Scott took a spoonful of the chocolate milkshake, and when he licked his lips there was a bright smile left behind. "Thanks Stiles. You always know what to say."
Stiles shrugged, but he was pretty pleased with himself. "Well, I say a lot, so at least some of it has to be right."
Stiles did jump this time, nearly dropping the last of the strawberries that he was about to put in the blender. "A milkshake," he said, glancing over his shoulder and was unsurprised to find Boyd standing behind where Erica was perched on the island countertop. Ever since they'd returned from being held by the Alpha Pack he'd never saw one of them without the other.
"Why?" she asked, and when Stiles looked back he found that she genuinely looked curious.
"Because I like milkshakes?" Stiles asked, waving one of his hands in a gesture of 'who the hell knows why I do the things I do'. "They're delicious and perfect and potentially nutritious. I mean, they have milk and fruit in them, what more can you possibly want?"
"Why don't you just buy one?" Boyd clarified, watching with interest as Stiles finished fitting in the last of the strawberries and snapped the lid in place.
Stiles started the blender without answering, watching as the ingredients blended together into a speckled pink mixture of awesome. When he turned the blender off he looked back to find both Erica and Boyd with their hands over their ears and giving him identical reproachful glares. "Because homemade is better. You can put however much of whatever you want in there. Haven't you ever had a homemade milkshake?"
Erica and Boyd shook their heads in unison.
After a long stare of disbelief, Stiles turned back to the blender and poured the milkshake into the glass he'd already set out, barely refraining from muttering about the lives of people who became werewolves. He topped it with whipped cream, found two long spoons in the drawer, and brought the whole thing over to the island counter. "I'm warning you now, once you've had this you will be forever ruined. Never again will you be able to fully enjoy a milkshake that you've bought at a restaurant. Are you sure you want to go through with this?"
Erica held out her hand first, Boyd a moment later. "Challenge accepted," Erica said, plunging her spoon into the milkshake. Boyd followed her lead, taking a much more careful spoonful.
Stiles watched, smirking when Boyd's eyes widened in surprise and Erica moaned around her spoon.
"You bastard," Erica said as she possessively grabbed the milkshake.
Boyd just nodded and took another spoonful, deftly avoiding most of the whipped cream and going straight for the chunk of strawberry near the top.
With a flourish he added whipped cream to the top - every milkshake needed whipped cream as far as Stiles was concerned - and then stepped back to consider his creation. "Something's missing," he said to himself as he slowly turned around the kitchen and tried to decide what had gone wrong. The proverbial light bulb lit up over his head a few seconds later and he went across the kitchen and climbed up on the counter near the fridge. Crushed peanuts would go perfectly on the top of a banana milkshake and he knew exactly where to find the jar of peanuts he'd seen Derek hide away just a few days prior.
The creak of a door caught Stiles' attention and he twisted around from where he was kneeling on the counter just in time to see Jackson disappear out the room. Stiles' milkshake was nowhere to be found.
"That's right! Lizards like bananas!" Stiles shouted, frowning at the empty space where his milkshake had been only a few seconds earlier. "I know you can hear me!"
He grabbed the jar of peanuts and hopped down off the counter, deciding it was probable that his milkshake was already long gone. "You forgot the nuts! The joke's on you; you stole a substandard milkshake!" he shouted.
"I don't even want to know," Lydia said as she breezed through the room, exiting through the same door that Jackson had left through a minute earlier.
"Story of my life," Stiles grumbled as he snacked on the peanuts.
He was about to sit down on the couch when he saw Isaac sitting on the floor near the huge bay of windows that overlooked the downtown area of Beacon Hills. The midsummer afternoon had been quiet and wet, raindrops pattering relentlessly across the glass. Isaac had been quiet for the past few days and had disappeared more than once when the pack was hanging out.
"Hey," Stiles said, not really sure what to say. He wasn't exactly friends with Isaac, not more so than he was any of Derek's betas at least, but the hostility between them had eased now that they were fighting on the same side of the war against the Alpha Pack. He walked across the room and sat down next to the windows, a few feet away from Isaac. It was chilly on the floor, something that should have been soothing given that the recent heatwave had been unbearable, but instead Stiles just felt uneasy.
Isaac looked at Stiles and nodded once, his lips drawn into a tight frown.
"Just one of those days, huh?" Stiles asked, bobbing his head a little.
"Yeah, I guess," Isaac said, almost inaudible as he turned back to stare out the window. "I don't really like the rain."
A half dozen suggestions were about to cross Stiles' lips before he bit them back. He looked down at the milkshake in his hand and gave a one shouldered shrug. If it worked for Scott, maybe it would work for Isaac too. It's not like he hadn't already sacrificed milkshakes for the greater good of werewolf-kind. "Here, you like mint, right? Everyone likes mint."
Isaac stared at the milkshake that Stiles pushed in his direction and then looked at Stiles in confusion.
"Come on, eat it. It's delicious, yum yum," Stiles said, miming eating.
Isaac's eyes opened even wider but before Stiles could start guessing at what werewolves said to get their little kids to eat - 'open your mouth for the baby rabbit, hop hop hop'? - Isaac picked up the spoon and took a tentative bite.
"See. Good, huh?" Stiles said with an exaggerated nod. "I've already ruined Erica and Boyd for life with my milkshakes, might as well get you too, right? Soon I'll be ruling the world with my milkshakes." He considered his solution a success when the corners of Isaac's mouth twitched upward as he took another spoonful of the milkshake.
With the list finished, Stiles hopped off the barstool and went over to the blender that he'd set out, next to the frozen block of ice cream that had needed to thaw a little before he dug into it. There was no fruit left in the loft, no cookies or chocolate either, but Stiles had found a bottle of vanilla extract in the spice rack along with a nearly empty container of ground cinnamon. Stiles got to work making a vanilla milkshake, with just a tiny pinch of the cinnamon. "Mmm," he said when it had finished blending, and he poured it into the milkshake glass with a content sigh. After a day spent evading Hunters and the Alpha Pack a good old fashioned vanilla milkshake was just what he needed.
"What-" Derek started to asked, but stopped when Stiles swung around and stared at him.
"Really?" Stiles interrupted, taking just a moment to realize that he discovered what Derek slept in - a pair of worn sweat pants and nothing else. "Really? Is this really happening? I was going to let you know that you needed to do something about your pack, but clearly I've found the source of the problem right here."
"There's a problem with the pack?" Derek asked as he ran his hand through his already stylishly ruffled hair, looking half-asleep and completely confused.
"You. You're the problem," Stiles said with an aggressive nod. He may have used a little more force than necessary when adding the whipped cream to the top of the milkshake. "But here. Here I am taking care of your pack. And I just want you to remember that the next time you tell me to stay behind."
Derek blinked at the milkshake that Stiles had placed into his hands. "I just came out to find out what that noise was."
"I don't want to hear it!" Stiles called as he grabbed his jacket. "I'm going to go sleep at Scott's place where there's only one werewolf hanging around eating my milkshakes!"
On his drive to Scott's house Stiles was pretty sure that he caught a glimpse of red eyes in his rearview mirror more than once, but he chose to ignore them. Either Derek had followed him or the Alpha Pack was stalking him and he was completely done with werewolf shenanigans for the night.
"Turn that thing off!" someone shouted from across the room. Stiles turned the blender up a notch, just to be contrary, but turned it off a moment later before he turned the pieces of pineapple into pineapple juice.
He did a little dance to the pop song that had been stuck in his head ever since he'd driven over to Derek's loft that morning and poured his milkshake, leaving it unattended on the counter top while he went to get the toppings from the fridge. The whipped cream came first, of course, followed by two wedges of pineapple and a maraschino cherry on top of the whipped cream. With a straw in one side of the glass and a spoon in one hand, he was ready. He took a sip of his pineapple milkshake, savoring the conflicting flavors, and then wiped at where he'd gotten a little whipped cream on his nose. "Heaven," he whispered.
"That looks incredibly suspicious," Lydia said, already sipping on the berry smoothie she'd made before Stiles made his milkshake.
"If by suspicious, you mean delicious," Stiles said, not really caring what anyone thought about his milkshake because it was all his.
"I heard there was a bit of a commotion the other night. Something about milkshakes, but no one was really sure what had happened," she offered, elegantly raising her eyebrows.
Stiles shrugged. "Actually, the solution to my problem was ridiculously simple. I should have thought of it weeks ago."
They both looked to where the tray of cookies Stiles had just pulled out of the oven a few minutes earlier was being devoured by the rest of the pack. Even Derek had been lured in by the smell of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies.
"You do know that if you feed a dog, it's going to follow you around until you feed it again, right?" Lydia asked as she leaned against the counter.
"I guess we'll find out if that applies to werewolves," Stiles said. He had a sneaking suspicion that it did.