Archive of Our Own ^beta

"Damn it, Stiles! How many times have I asked you to fill the ice trays?" Derek slammed the freezer door, causing the magnets to slide down an inch or two. He flipped on the faucet with more force than necessary, the water angrily cascading over the plastic tray.

"I'm sorry. I forgot!" Stiles rolled his eyes as he heard Derek bang around the kitchenette. "You know, we could just buy a damn refrigerator that has an ice machine, so I wouldn't have to remember." Stiles replied, his feet kicked up on the coffee table with his nose buried in a textbook. He could feel the cold gaze hitting the side of his face, but he highlighted the next few lines before turning towards him. Derek had his arms crossed over his chest, the ice tray abandoned as the water continued to spring from the tap. Stiles tipped his jaw towards it. "And you blame me for our water bill."

The glare worsened.

"What? Are you seriously making this a big deal?"

"I just don't understand what's so complicated about filling an ice tray."

"You act like I never fucking fill it! I fill it all the time!"

"Yeah, but only when you need ice."

Stiles jaw relaxed enough that his bottom lip separated from the top. He capped the highlighter, and tipped his knee so the textbook's pages thundered shut. This was going to take awhile.

"And what's wrong with that?" 

"If you notice there's no ice, why can't you make it? And when I notice there' no ice, then I'll make it."

"Or...If I need ice, or predict that I'm going to need ice, I make ice. Then if you need ice, or think you're going to want ice, you make the ice."

 Derek frowned only to quirk an eyebrow, an evil smirk spreading across his face. Oh shit. Stiles thought to himself.

"You want to split it like that?"

Stiles nodded cautiously. "I think it would work out."

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles hadn't realized what he'd signed himself up for, but either way, Derek was true to his word. At first, Stiles was shocked to find that more often than not, there was no ice available to him and he was constantly filling the tray. After three days, it became apparent that Derek obviously had normally taken the majority of ice tray duty.

But it didn't stop at the ice trays.

Stiles didn't bother opening his eyes as he groggily wandered into the kitchen on morning; the wafting scent of coffee was his only guide. He managed to open the cupboard and obtain his favorite mug with his eyes closed as he tried to stretch out the not-asleep-not-awake state he was in. But a distraught whimper escaped his lips as he held the coffee pot in his hands. He slowly peeked open his eyes to see the horror of horrors: the pot was empty. Not a single drop even stained the lip of the spout.

Stiles had been so sure, though. And it wasn't out of the ordinary to wake up to the smell of coffee; it was his routine. This was how it went every morning. Derek would wake up at the ass crack of dawn, make coffee, one cup for himself and two for Stiles, then go for a run. Stiles would then get up after hearing Derek lock the front door, and have his two cups. That's how they always did mornings.

"Fucking ice trays." Stiles swore as the realization dawned on him. "You want to split it like that." Fine, fine. He deserved it, he rationed. He had been kind of a major dick about it. Derek didn't ask for much after all. So, Stiles sighed, resigned, as he pulled down the coffee filters and made himself a pot. He sat at the breakfast bar, his head on the granite countertop, as he watched the amber drip down. When he couldn't wait any longer, he pulled it out and poured a cup's worth before letting the second cup filter down.

He smiled, inhaling the french roast's bouquet, and pulled open the fridge door. Coffee cup in one hand, Stiles used his remaining, less coordinated hand to search for his half-and-half. He pushed aside the soy milk Derek insisted on keeping stocked as well as the non fat plain yogurt Derek bought by the quart. He squatted down to look through the glass shelves, hoping he might spot it from underneath, but to no avail.  

Were they out of half-and-half? They were never out of half-and-half. Stiles admitted to the fact that he turned into a Jerry Springer contestant when his coffee lacked half-and-half (Stiles had found out that anything other than half-and-half in coffee was not worth drinking, and Stiles without coffee was the most terrifying supernatural creature the world had ever seen). So he and Derek, always made sure to have at least a small carton of it in the apartment.

We were getting low a couple days ago, but Derek just went grocery shopping yesterda—He didn't.

Stiles suddenly began examining the contents of the fridge with the utmost scrutiny and his fears were confirmed. The fridge was indeed stocked, but only of Derek's preferred items, which were conveniently all of Stiles' least favorites (putting it lightly). There was asparagus, coconut milk, almond butter, soy milk, cool whip, butterscotch pudding, and fucking bologna. Who the fuck eats bologna? Stiles grumbled to himself, before slamming the fridge door, only to hear all the condiments fall from the door's shelves. Stiles winced.

"So that's how you wanna play it, buddy boy? Well get prepared Senor Alpha, because you just leveled up."

~*~*~*~*~*~

Derek came home to an empty apartment, which was not unusual, being that Stiles had nine a.m. class on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He yanked off his sweaty shirt and threw it in the hamper without a moment's glance. In his rush to get out that morning, avoiding Stiles, he'd forgotten his waterbottle to chill in the fridge.

He now ambled into the kitchen in search of a ice cold glass of water. Derek could picture it, the condensation running down the sides of the glass, and his mouth felt all the more dry. A small piece of paper caught his eye as he pulled down a glass and opened the fridge. His eyes didnt get a chance to focus on it before an avalanche of jars, bottles, and an assortment of other condiments cascaded to his feet.  

"What the fuck?" Some of the bottles were broken leaving chucks of glass to mix with relish and jam. As if that wasn't horrible enough, the egg carton had smashed on top of it, causing yolks and slimy whites to coat everything.  Derek glared at the pile as if it had personally betrayed him. He pulled the water pitcher out and poured himself a tall glass, though he felt like he needed something a lot stronger than that to deal with the mess.

He drank looking away from the mess only for the yellow paper to flicker at the edge of his vision. He turned and plucked the sticky off of the coffee pot and read Stiles' hurried chicken scrawl.

I get it now. -S

P. S. don't open the fridge

Derek looked at the mess spilling on the floor, and for some odd reason smiled. Only Stiles.  He could just see Stiles, infuriated at the lack of half-and-half, slamming the door, and then running too late to do anything about it. Derek had made his point, he decided. As soon as he finished cleaning up the kitchen, he’d take a shower then head back to the grocery store and grab all of Stiles’ favorites. Because after all, Stiles had learned his lesson, right?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Stiles peeked his head in the door and looked around seeing that Derek’s jacket wasn’t on the hook, and his keys weren’t on the ledge, confirming that Derek was out. Stiles’ first clue that he was out was that Derek’s car wasn’t in his parking space, but Stiles needed to make sure.

He slipped in, banging the three large plastic bags against the door frame. The plastic handles stretched tightly over his fingers as the cardboard boxes began to tear the bag.

Stiles didn’t waste any time as he dropped the bags on the couch and jerked open the junk drawer for the screwdriver. Stiles used the screwdriver to poke holes in the tape of the boxes, too excited and pressed for time to get scissors. He glanced at the instructions and pulled out the hard plastic pieces. He found he didn’t even need the screwdriver as they clicked into place. Stiles set the first one up in under fifteen minutes, and the other four took a combined ten. Stiles cackled to himself as he surveyed his handy work, then plopped himself in front of the TV.

Derek arrived home a whopping forty five minutes later. And they were the longest thirty five minutes Stiles had ever endured. Stiles had made four or five trays of ice to pass the time. Filling the trays with water and setting them in the freezer were easy mundane tasks; Stiles would have to remember that for the next time he was procrastinating.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder as Derek strode in, arms full of groceries. Derek was just saying ‘Hey’ when he tripped over the first plastic barrier.

He toppled over it, and used the three grocery bags as a buffer. Stiles pretended not to hear smashing of glass and what was sure to be the cracking of eggs. Fuck, that reminds me I forgot about the fridge. I gotta deal with that.

Derek swore loudly, “A-fucking-gain?” Oh shit.

“I left a note!”

Derek glared up from the floor, before pushing himself into a standing position and throwing the ruined bags into the sink to be dealt with later. Derek shook his head, before jerking his sight back to the plastic monster in entranceway to the kitchen. He looked at the plastic gate that was wedged between the curved wall and the breakfast bar.

“What the hell is that?” Stiles rocked back on his heels a few times before answering. His silence earned him a worried stare from Derek.

“A dog gate.” Derek’s eyes widened and he turned to look at it with disbelief. Having abandoned his station on the couch, Stiles still stayed a safe distance away, on the other side of the island. His hands pulled behind his back, pinching himself to keep his smirk hidden. Derek’s glare returned to Stiles, and it was anything but amused. It made laughter bubble in Stiles’ throat.

“A what?”

“A dog gate...to keep you out of my side of the apartment.” Derek’s eyes widened even further before narrowing, his jaw set tight. The silence that ensued seemed to last hours, the only sound being the deafening drip of the faucet. Stiles was losing control over his composure and was dying just standing there.

“Speak.” Stiles’ didn't bother suppressing the large grin that overtook his face as Derek’s eyes burned red.  Derek tore into the bag and grabbed the destroyed carton of eggs and hurled two of them at Stiles. The first hit Stiles in the chest and while he dodged the second one, it still clipped his shoulder with a considerable amount of force. Derek pulled out several more eggs before leaping over the island. Stiles screamed as he took off down the hallway. Another egg exploded as it hit the back of his head, but he missed two more when he took the sharp turn down the other hallway to their bedroom. Stiles leapt over the dog gate placed in the hallway and skidded into their bedroom. Stiles heard a loud clamor, the snapping of plastic, and a loud “Fuck!”,  and couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips.

Stiles jumped into their bed and hid underneath the covers, as Derek’s loud footsteps announced his arrival.

“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m so sorry. Please don’t!” Stiles squealed from underneath the blankets. Derek pulled the sheets back and wrapped an arm around Stiles’ waist and pulled him off of the mattress onto the floor.  Derek pinned him down and shook his head amusedly.

“Dog gates? Really?” Derek smashed the last three eggs into Stiles hair and smeared it around for good measure.

“No HALF AND HALF?” Stiles said his face still pressed against the ground.

“I admit that was a little overboard,” Derek smiled before pushing himself off Stiles, and helped him up, “but dog gates?”

 “What can I say? My mind is brilliant and evil, which is a deadly combination.” Stiles winked exaggeratedly.

“Mm-hmm.” Derek rolled his eyes, then placed a kiss on Stiles’ hairline.

“I made ice by the way.” Derek’s lips pulled at the corners. 

“No kidding?”

“Yeah!”

“I bought a fridge. With an ice dispenser.”  Stiles pulled away from Derek to look at him.

“You did not.”

Derek nodded. “I swung by Sear’s before going to the grocery store and buying all the replacement condiments that jumped out of the fridge this morning.” Derek raised an eyebrow at Stiles. Stiles let his mouth stand agate for a moment.

“I left a note, what more do you want?” Smiling, Derek shook his head and shrugged in response. Stiles smirk grew wicked, “Good boy.” Derek’s eyes narrowed once more and he flicked Stiles behind his ear.

“Stiles...”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~