Sweet Love

Title: Sweet Love
Fandom(s): Teen Wolf
Relationships: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Tags: One-Shot, Alternate Universe, Establish Relationship,
Warnings: No Warnings Apply
Summary: Derek loved Beacon Hills; the only thing that New York City held to him was that it was where most of his family was. Then he met Stiles.
Word Count: 3,240
Year: Future
Spoilers: All of the TV Series
Notes: This is a completed One-shot. There will be no more written in the universe. Written for the Just Write Discord Server’s 2022 Holiday Bingo challenge. For the prompt of Fire and the holiday of the 4th of July.
Beta: Grammarly

Despite everything, Derek wasn’t afraid of fire. He loved hearing the crackling of the wood as it burned. He loved the smell of it as well. Summers in Beacon Hills were wonderful. Bonfires popped up all over in places where it was safe, and there was always someone who watched it or the fire department put it out.

The best thing about summer was the fireworks. Derek could smell the pile of them and was happy to be around. The festival was bigger than the year before. Derek had not been happy that it was so small the year before.

“I don’t think I have ever seen someone smile that big just standing and looking.”

Derek looked to the side at the man in the cupcake truck. There was a bit of frosting on his nose, and he looked like he was dying a little in the heat. He was covered in sweat, but he didn’t seem to have too many issues with smell, as Derek could only smell the sweetness of the icing.

“I love these kinds of things, is all. The kinds of festivals and carnivals that Beacon Hills puts on. None are quite like it anywhere else.”

“Ah, returning home, are you?”

“Passing through. I did it last year, and it wasn’t nearly this grand.”

“No, there was a huge thing with the planning committee and someone making off with half of the money that had been built up for this. My father made sure it was found but not in time. It wasn’t enough time to get the vendors and fireworks in.”

“Why wasn’t that made a bigger deal?”

“It was trying to be kept quiet. Less of a deal was made of it so no one could hush things up and run away. Good old police work had got dad to catch them. You don’t keep up with the news of what happens in Beacon Hills?”

“No, I stay mostly to myself and just come back for this, or at least last year I had. Finally got up the nerve to come home, as it were. The festival was so small that I almost didn’t come back this year, but I was moving through the area anyway. Or at least close enough.”

“Well, come here,” the man said.

Derek stepped closer to the cupcake truck, and he saw there was an array of different flavors. The listing was all there, and there was one that was just for the festival, the pale green icing on the image matched what was on the man’s nose.

“Pick one,” the man said.

“I will but first, who are you?”

“Oh, yeah, that’s right. You wouldn’t know who I am. Stiles Stilinski at your service.”

“Mischief?” Derek asked. He hadn’t thought about Cora’s best friend in a while. She had been very upset at leaving him behind. They wrote letters to each other until it had just tapered off with not living in the same city.

“Of course, you only remember that name.”


“Derek Hale, yes, I know,” Stiles said with a smile. He leaned over, put his head on his hand, and grinned at Derek. “I know those eyebrows anywhere.”

“And that’s what you remember of me?” Derek asked.

“You remembered my nickname that I have not been called in nearly two decades.”

“Yes, you proclaimed yourself Stiles when your mother died, wasn’t it?”

“I did. How do you remember this?”

“Cora’s best friend? You were always underfoot. You loved baking, though. Started a cupcake truck, did you?”

“No, I took over Miss Emily’s bakery when she retired, and I used that money to start this. Park it downtown in various spots three days a week. Then on Tuesday and Thursday, I take it to Beacon City. I sell myself out there in hours. I do sell out here just takes all day. I think that Beacon City doesn’t have a good cupcake anywhere. If that is to go by. I’m thinking of adding in a Saturday stop there as well. My driver and seller wouldn’t do it, but I am sure I can hire some college kid who needs the money.”

“I’m sure that there is a pair you could hire. They could take turns running the till and checking people out, some weekends alone if need be based on their exams and such. I knew of places that did that when I was in college in New York City. It allowed a group of people that could be counted on but also make sure that they weren’t pressured to work to fill a gap.”

Stiles nodded his head like he was thinking about it. He smiled and shook his head to clear it.

“Anyway, enough about the less fun aspects of work. So what cupcake do you want to try?”

“The special one for the festival.”

“Okay, well, alcohol or no alcohol?”

Derek raised his eyebrows at that.

“I’ve been carding people just to make my father happy. The icing has it mixed in or just that alcohol flavor in the ones that are for the under twenty-one.”

“Alcohol,” Derek said. It wasn’t going to do a thing to him, but he would like to try it with the alcohol at least once before going to the other if the taste was too strong.

“Great.” Stiles turned back into the truck and to the fridge along the back wall. There was a prep area on either side of the fridge, and the fridge was stuffed with cupcakes. The various flavors Stiles had on him were at about half, but the ones with pale green icing were full.

“You get more of them in?”

“Yeah, my staff made more of the cupcakes, and I put the icing on them here. While sneaking a few sips of whiskey.”

“That’s what is inside of them?”

“It’s my favorite alcohol. Just ask my father. Daddio, how’re things shaking?”

Derek looked behind himself to see a man standing there. He was in plain clothes, but Derek knew he was a cop by how he was holding himself. Derek had run into his fair share of them over the years as he moved around for work.

“Stiles, I had a complaint about a cupcake,” the Sheriff said.

“Ah, Dad, Jackson’s just being an asshole. He shouldn’t give any if he can’t take it.”

“It looked like a finger.”

“It was a plastic finger, and I put it in the cupcake after it was baked and cooled.”

“And the blood?”

“Raspberry jam. He ate it. I watched him after he plucked the finger out.”

“And what did he do?”

“Salt in the sugar bin on the truck here.”

“I swear the pranks. I’m sure that this was a prank as well.” The Sheriff looked at Derek and eyed him up and down. “And who are you?”

“Derek Hale, Sir.”

Derek got to enjoy a few seconds of the Sheriff’s demeanor slipping, and his eyes bugged out before he got them under control.

“Noah Stilinski, son. Welcome home.”

“He was here last year and was appalled at the festival. He almost didn’t come this year. It would have been a tragedy.”

“Well, since nothing is going on, just try to keep the jokes down. Don’t make me arrest you again.”

“Again?” Derek asked.

“It’s a whole big story.” Stiles handed over a cupcake that had a pair of fangs hanging off the edge, making the dog that it had been look like a Werewolf.

Derek eyed Stiles, but the man was just grinning at him. Derek wandered away as he dealt with the fact that Stiles seemed to know he was a Werewolf. Had Cora told him? Was that what had turned them apart?

Settling on one of the park benches, Derek started to watch the people as the night crept closer.

“I thought I scared you off,” Stiles said when Derek stepped up to the counter in the middle of the line that was forming as Stiles sold the last of the cupcakes before shutting down to get ready for the fireworks.

“No, just needed to think,” Derek said.

“So pick your poison,” Stiles said.

“Two more of the same cupcake.”

Stiles packed up two of them, adding the fangs with a pair of tweezers. He rattled off the price.

“You didn’t have me pay for the last one.”

“Nope, and I won’t. Don’t fight me, or I won’t take money for those, and since you touched them, I can’t take them back. They would just end up in the trash. Poor, sad, lonely cupcakes with no one to eat them.”

“Be careful, or I’ll eat you.”

“That’s not a threat, Jackass. I know how much Danny loves getting eaten by you.”

Derek handed over the cash and stepped out of the flow of the line to figure out who this Jackass was. He was a little shocked at the pair of men standing on either side of a woman who stepped up.

The smell of death was all around them, but not like they had killed someone. No, it was coming from one of them and invading everything. There was an undercurrent of shifter to them as well.

“Derek Hale,” the woman said.


“Lydia Martin and these are my two assholes, Jackson Whittemore and Danny Māhealani. I heard a rumor that you were here.”

Derek looked at Stiles.

“No, the Sheriff is a huge gossip regarding that. You’ll have to blame him for that one. Are you planning on moving back?”

“No, the family is all staying in New York City.”

Lydia was a Banshee, and Jackson was a shifter, but Derek couldn’t place what kind just from scent. He knew that there had been a small population of shifters that had popped up in the wake of the Hales leaving, and his mother hadn’t been all that fussed about coming back. There was no alpha in Beacon Hills; it was the only thing she worried about.

“Are they? Huh.”

Derek narrowed his eyes at the woman, but Lydia turned her attention to Stiles, ordering a dozen cupcakes. It was like Derek wasn’t standing there then. Not even Jackson and Danny looked at Derek. He wasn’t sure what was going on in Beacon Hills, but it seemed that what Talia had been told by the previous emissary wasn’t the truth.

Something was going on in Beacon Hills, and Derek planned on figuring it out.

Derek paused on the threshold of Sweet Love. The shop had been updated after Stiles had bought it; it looked modern where it had been very dated even when Derek had last lived in Beacon Hills. It still looked a lot like it had, though; the decor was the same theme, just 2000s instead of the 1960s.

There were few people inside, and Stiles was at the counter decorating a set of cupcakes. Derek took a deep breath, and he opened the door. Stiles looked up at him with a big grin on his lips.

“Welcome to Sweet Love,” Stiles said. He laid down the tweezers he had been using. “What can I get for you?”

“Can we talk?”

“Ah, so it’s one of those visits. Sure. LIAM!” Stiles waved Derek to follow him as he headed into the back. A man who looked to be a few years younger than Stiles came running, going through the door.

“Pack stuff?” Liam asked.

“Something like that. Just cover the front and maybe text Lydia?”

“I can do that, boss,” Liam said. He pulled a phone out of his apron and started to text someone.

“Why Lydia?”

“You don’t need to know that right yet.” Stiles headed to the back of the shop and into an office that looked well-used.

Beyond it was another door, and Derek felt the magic of the doorway as he slipped through. It was very, very protected. Whoever the magic-user for the pack was, they were powerful.

“Are you here on behalf of your mother?”

“Yes,” Derek said.

“Well, We aren’t giving up Beacon Hills. You can tell your mother that. She left and just left this place in shambles. We get that something huge happened with the fire, that you all no longer felt safe here, but you also left a Nemeton with no one to protect it.”

“My mother’s former emissary was supposed to take care of that,” Derek said.

“Ah, I see. Well, I have no clue who that is. I have a guess, but I can’t be sure.”

“I have no clue either. My mother never told any of us. The emissary was to be protected above all else as they were the pack’s weak spot.”

“Ah, that’s what happens when the magic user and the emissary are the same person.”

“It’s not for your pack?”

“No, it’s not. Our magic-user does have another role, but it’s no emissary.”

“Can I meet with the alpha?”

“Nope, you can’t. You aren’t an alpha. You aren’t the emissary; from what I know of your pack, you aren’t in the upper hierarchy at all.”

“My father has served as my mother’s second and third since my uncle slipped away from the pack.”

The door on the far side of the room opened, and Derek swallowed as he saw his uncle for the first time in nearly five years.

“Nephew,” Peter said as he sat down.

“Uncle, what are you doing here?”

“I told your mother I was coming back to Beacon Hills to help settle the place. It’s not my fault that she never thought that I would be stepping into a role here in this pack.”

“I want to speak to your alpha,” Derek said.

“Oh, Derek, don’t think we will let that happen,” Peter said.

“You get me as the left hand, Lydia as the emissary, and Stiles as the face of the pack. That’s it. Take it or leave Beacon Hills.”

“You don’t scare me; you never did.”

“No, I never did, and I never tried.”

“This is Hale land.”

“For as long as the Hales hold it, yes, but there were many years there were no Hales here. So the Nemeton threw itself in with this pack because this pack protected it. The Nemeton will no longer bow to Talia; you can tell her that.”

“She’s not going to be happy.”

“Then she shouldn’t have been gone so long. The Nemeton was so alone it was calling people to it to protect it. How else do you think we got a Kanima, a Banshee, and a Hellhound?”

Derek knew that Peter said the last one on purpose. Hellhounds were rare, and one had never come when Talia was there. It had been a hundred years since Beacon Hills had a Hellhound to help the Nemeton. He wasn’t sure how it would go that everything was so different and so much better without his mother there. Derek knew that running had not been what most of the pack wanted. There had been a few that had shown their displeasure over the years about it.

“I think I need to think about things,” Derek said.

“Here, think but also go here. I promise you that there is no one there that will do you any harm.”

Stiles slipped over a sheet of paper, and Derek eyed it before looking at Peter. Peter shrugged his shoulders.

“I’ll text Dad where I am going before I go.”

“If you go soon, they will be sitting down to dinner and would gladly entertain you for the meal.”

“You are just offering them up on that?”

“I am because they told me that I could. I think you’ll enjoy yourself.”

Derek laid his head back on the seat of his car, and he looked at where Cora and Spencer were sitting and chatting in the park. Spencer had looked at him twice while he had been sitting there. Derek wasn’t sure what he was waiting for, but he felt he needed to wait.

The family was upset about Cora and Spencer’s news, and Derek felt like a heel for wanting to follow them here. Beacon Hills was his home; he had felt more at home here over the last two weeks than anywhere else.

A few minutes later, more people joined Cora and Spencer. Derek wasn’t shocked when Peter sat on the blanket and then Stiles sat down on his lap.

Derek had known that there was something different about his uncle. He had been settled in a way he had never been before at that meeting. Derek was vastly changed by his time in Beacon Hills; he wasn’t changed by fire like he had been as a teenager, but he felt just as changed.

The 4th of July was his favorite holiday, and he didn’t know what he would do for the next one. He didn’t know where he was going to be.

The crack of the first firework sounded, and the bright showers lit up the sky. Derek leaned back on the blanket and laughed when he bumped into someone.

“It’s okay, Derek,” Stiles said. He pulled on Derek’s shoulder until Derek was stretched back like he liked to be when watching. The fireworks were beautiful, and the bonfires around the field were not detracting from the show that was being put on, but the smell of the bonfires just made Derek happy.

“You look like a cat,” Stiles said.

“Don’t pick on him,” Peter said.

“I love picking on my nephew,” Stiles said.

Derek laughed. Despite everything, the fact that Stiles and Peter were together was the least shocking of everything. They were happy, and that was all that mattered to Derek. The pack was the strangest in the world, but it worked for them. They were happy and healthy. The land showed how happy it was with them. Derek hadn’t been this happy in a long time. He wasn’t upset about not being in New York and didn’t miss as many people as he thought he would since the ones he cared about were already here.

“Happy?” Peter asked as he settled down beside Derek. He handed over the glass of lemonade that had been spiked with something. Derek could smell the alcohol in it but knew there was something else there as well. The whole pack was half-drunk all around them. It was the kind of party that Derek loved.

“Yes, I am. I’m very happy. Thank you for not trying to sell me on this.”

“I knew I didn’t need you. You’ve been searching for a home since we left Beacon Hills. You’ll find someone to love here, and then life will be even better. You’ll see.”

“Even if not, I’ll be happier here than anywhere else. I’ll make a good life here,” Derek said.

“I know you will. I’m not worried about that. I want you to have the best life.” Peter wrapped his arm around Derek’s shoulder and held tight for a second before letting go.

Derek waited until Peter had laid down before he did the same, his head tipping toward his uncle. Derek heard the rest of the pack talking and laughing. It was the kind of thing the family didn’t do anymore, and it settled Derek all the more.

Beacon Hills had been the first place Derek called home, and it was going to be the last.

The End

7 thoughts on “Sweet Love

  1. Awww, this was adorable. I’m glad Derek was able to return home and settle down somewhere he would be happy. ❤ ❤ ❤


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