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Contraband Cookies

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"Hale." 

Derek did not jump, he did not. He was not staring at the open package of Oreos on the table in the Stilinski’s kitchen and he had not been so sidetracked by said package that he had failed to hear the Sheriff arriving home.

"Sir." He stuck his hands in his pockets and inclined his head. They’d reached a strange sort of accord after the shemozzle with the Alphas and the Darach - the Sheriff had witnessed Derek in a full-form shift and it had been kind of hard to explain why he was naked and covered in blood on the back porch without pulling him into the whole supernatural thing.

"Where is he?" John asked, glancing around the room before his own gaze settled on the cookies.

"Upstairs; he spilled milk all over himself when I got here. He’s muttering about taking a shower and… using language you probably wouldn’t approve of."
"And you’re lingering in the kitchen because…?"
"He shouted at me before he went upstairs. He might have spilled the milk because I startled him."
"Right. Oreo?" 
"Considering it."
"Why only considering it?"
"I may have been guilt tripping him about making you eat health food all the time and never taking his own advice. Be kind of hypocritical of me."
"You mean it’s not worth the wrath of Stiles to risk eating a cookie or two?"
"I don’t see you reaching for an Oreo. Sir."
"Well, you know the kind of reaming out he’d give me, they’re full of sugar…" he drifted off as he looked longingly at the packet of cookies sitting right there, tempting them both.

"Do you think we can risk it?" Derek asked, cocking an eyebrow.

"I think we outnumber him."
"Has that ever stopped him from shouting at us, before?"
"No."

They stood there in silence for a minute or so, both staring at the cookies, before the Sheriff huffed out a breath.

"I don’t care. I haven’t had refined sugar in a month. You in?"

Derek glanced at the ceiling before nodding.

"We’ve got about a minute - he just got out of the shower."
"Good." The Sheriff practically dove for the package, tugging two cookies free and handing them to Derek, extracting two more for himself and stuffing one into his mouth with an almost obscene groan of pleasure.

"He’s going to kill us." Derek commented, biting one of them in half.
"Worth it."
"Agreed."

When Stiles came downstairs a bare minute later, there were two very suspicious looking men loitering in the kitchen, and the package of Oreos he had been about to dig into when Derek had startled him and made him spill half a gallon of milk all over himself looked significantly lighter than it had been when he’d left it there.

"Dad? Derek? You didn’t eat my cookies, did you?"

A shifty-eyed glance was exchanged.

"No, Stiles." they answered in tandem, and Stiles smirked.

"You might want to take a look in the mirror, both of you… you’ve got a little something-" Stiles nudged at the corner of his own mouth and the colour drained from his fathers’ face as Derek’s ears turned pink.

"I’m a grown man and I’ll eat cookies if I want to." the Sheriff defended himself, and Derek muttered something similar.

"You are so lucky that I love both of you." Stiles rolled his eyes and picked up the last few Oreos, crossing the room to kiss the top of one of Derek's now almost-red ears. "We’re still having vegetarian stir-fry for dinner."