There were a lot of things Derek had expected for his birthday. A somewhat-rowdy party, for one, because even though he didn’t particularly care for parties, the rest of the pack did and they had been thrilled to have a reason to celebrate. He’d also been expecting a cake, though admittedly the six-foot-tall monstrosity Scott rolled in just barely fit that description.
He had most definitely not been expecting a mostly naked Stiles Stilinski to jump out of the cake, shouting “Happy birthday, Derek!” and flinging icing everywhere.
Everybody cheered. Derek blinked and wiped a dollop of white icing off his face. He rubbed his eyes, because maybe he was seeing things.
Nope. That was still Stiles. Standing in the middle of the cake. Wearing nothing but a “Happy Birthday” banner and a gold Speedo.
Why was this his life?
Derek shook himself out of his stupor long enough to walk over and help Stiles get out of the cake. “What the hell are you doing?”
Stiles grinned and patted his cheek. “We wanted to surprise you, big guy. Were you surprised?”
“Very,” Derek said dryly.
“Look, we thought it would be funny to have someone burst out of your cake. But we figured a stranger wouldn’t go over well and, honestly, it would be funnier if it were one of the pack. So!” Stiles waved an arm over himself. “Here I am.”
He smelled like sugar and vanilla. Derek had to hold himself back to keep from licking. “I was very surprised,” Derek said again, and then nodded back toward the kitchen. “I’m going to get a beer and some air.”
He retreated before Stiles could say anything else. He had definitely not anticipated dealing with a mostly naked Stiles tonight. Derek needed to breathe somewhere without people for three minutes, maybe get rid of the images now emblazoned on his mind.
He stepped out onto the much cooler balcony, where the air smelled crisp, and took a long drink of beer. He could handle this. He’d been handling his feelings for Stiles for months; he could handle this.
The balcony door slid open, and Stiles stepped out. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. “Holy shit, it’s way colder out here than I thought.”
Derek cursed and took off his jacket. “You idiot, why don’t you have any clothes?”
“Because it’s actually really fucking hot in a cake,” Stiles said. “What are you--”
Derek settled his jacket around Stiles’s shoulders. “Should have had someone bring you some clothes,” he muttered.
“Yeah, well, I didn’t think ahead.” Stiles shuddered. “Besides, your jacket’s warm enough.”
Derek should’ve let go of the jacket, should probably have stepped away from Stiles. He didn’t.
Stiles’s eyes flicked from Derek’s mouth to his eyes and back again. “So, uh, did you like your surprise?” Stiles asked.
“I did,” Derek said hoarsely.
“Good, because, um. I kind of volunteered.”
Derek kissed him. He knew as soon as he did it that it was a bad idea, he should pull back and ask and--
But Stiles made a delicious noise in the back of his throat and threw his arms around Derek’s neck, burying his fingers in his hair and pulling him closer. Derek kept kissing him, letting himself get lost in the smell of sugar and vanilla and the feel of Stiles’s lips against his.
“Holy shit, if I’d known this is what it would take to get you to kiss me, I’d have jumped out of a cake years ago,” Stiles murmured.
“You weren’t legal years ago,” Derek pointed out.
Stiles grinned and scratched the back of his head. “I was legal three years ago, so there. You should tell me what you really want for your birthday.”
Derek felt heat race up his neck and cheeks. “I, um...”
Stiles winked. “Want me to stay after the party?”
(He stayed after the party, and the rest of the night, and by the next morning, Derek was hoping Stiles would just stay forever.)
(Spoiler: He did.)