With a sigh Derek looked at the display in front of him. The horrible color searing his eyes and the smell of stale chocolate making him nauseous – though at least it was currently overpowering the stench of perfume otherwise permeating the air around him.
One could wonder why a werewolf would subject himself to the horror of the mall on Valentine’s Day and the sad truth was that it had completely escaped his mind, despite it being the only thing most of his pack had talked about since New Year’s.
Nevertheless, between being Beacon Hills’ newest deputy – therefore getting all the boring jobs and the worst shifts – and sneaking around with Stiles – they’d told John and the pack, but Derek didn’t want his fellow officers to think the sheriff was playing favorites when bringing Derek to crime scenes (when suspecting the supernatural was involved) – the passage of time had… simply slipped his mind.
It hadn’t been until the night before when Scott had called him in a panic begging him to come over that the penny had finally dropped. Derek’s alpha had been standing in a kitchen that looked as if a bomb had gone off; cake batter, flour, sugar, eggs anything covering practically every surface of the room (and Scott, obviously). Derek had managed to keep from laughing – barely – turned on his heel to get the cleaning supplies and started cleaning up the mess, letting Scott’s nervous chatter wash over him. It wasn’t until the word “Valentine” was uttered that Derek’s ears perked up.
As soon as the kitchen was spotless once again Derek had hastily made his goodbyes and taken off, his mind a jumbled mess of half formed thoughts and an insistent voice telling him that less than half a year in he’d already screwed up this whole “relationship”-thing. He hadn’t fallen asleep until the sun was peaking over the horizon so obviously he’d slept late and was now surrounded by equally desperate shoppers.
In the end Derek does what anybody with his enhanced sense of smell would do: Grabs the nearest box of chocolates and making his way to the register in the hope of paying and getting outside before emptying his stomach on the floor forcing some poor employee to mop up his mess.
The second he’s out he makes his way to his car and drives back to the sheriff’s house.
Because Derek’s a functioning member of society – and because the sheriff had forbid him to climb through his son’s bedroom window ever again – he politely rings the bell even though Stiles’ the only heartbeat he can hear inside the house. Waiting for his boyfriend to open the door gives him ample time to panic that Stiles is going to throw him to the curb when he sees the less than impressive Valentine’s gift Derek’s holding in his hands.
It turns out he needn’t have worried so much as Stiles takes one look at the box, declares that while he loves the sentiment he prefers something a little more bitter in his mouth right now. When Derek’s able to form words once again the chocolates are long forgotten, both having gotten much more enjoyable gifts.