Sterek Valentine Prompt: Stiles is the romantic one, he plans the dates and anniversaries, etc. Derek decides that for this Valentine's Day he's going to do something special but everything goes wrong/gets ruined, Stiles finds him pouting, possibly in the middle of a mess. Stiles comforts him, lots of fluff please :)
This was such a fun prompt! Also on ao3!
It was ruined. Everything was ruined.
Throughout their entire relationship, Stiles had been the romantic one despite his typically flippant, irreverent attitude especially when it came to love and romance. He was the one who planned all of their dates and anniversaries, the one who arranged surprise parties and holiday celebrations.
But with their first Valentine’s Day together quickly approaching, Derek decided to take the initiative and plan something himself. And, of course, everything had gone to shit.
There had been a mix up with the flowers he had ordered, a few days earlier placing an order for a bouquet of pink orchids and carnations in a bid to get away from cliché red roses. But the bouquet that arrived on his doorstep wasn’t what he ordered. Not at all.
It was a bouquet of stark white lilies. In all honesty, he wouldn’t have cared much about the order being messed up if the flowers were for anyone else, but white lilies were Stiles’ least favorite flower. He hated them.
They’d had white lilies at his mother’s funeral, the sickly sweet smell of pollen filling the Stilinski home for weeks following the funeral. Once upon a time, Stiles hadn’t really minded them but now all they did was remind him of death. Derek couldn’t very well give a bouquet of them to his boyfriend on Valentine’s Day.
He had immediately contacted the florist company he had ordered the flowers from, waiting on hold for upwards of twenty minutes before he actually got to talk to a real person. They informed him that they could rectify the mistake. But he wouldn’t get the correct bouquet until the next day, the company swamped with orders due to the holiday.
He contemplated simply ordering a new bouquet from another florist but everyone he called wasn’t accepting new orders, leaving him stuck with the wrong bouquet. Groaning, he dumped the flowers into the trash can, deciding that they just wouldn’t have any flowers. Flowers were overdone, anyway.
The box of chocolates he had gotten for Stiles was wrong, too. He had explicitly requested all peanut butter chocolates, Stiles’ absolute favorite, from a gourmet fine chocolate company but it had still gotten messed up.
Derek had snuck one of the candies, hoping Stiles wouldn’t mind that much or even notice, taking a bite out of the little chocolate only to find that it didn’t have a peanut butter filling. It had a strawberry center.
While normally that too would not have been very upsetting, Derek himself actually a huge fan of strawberries, there was one big problem. Because there was only one thing on the face of the earth that Stiles was allergic to ― strawberries.
Like the flower shop, the chocolate company offered to fix their mistake, the next business day of course. Popping another candy into his mouth, making a mental note that he would have to brush his teeth again before Stiles came over, Derek tossed the box of chocolates into the trash.
He consoled himself with the fact that chocolates were a little too cliché, almost as much as red roses. Besides, he didn’t imagine anaphylactic shock was all that romantic.
With both the flowers and the chocolates discarded, Derek had to think on his feet, racking his brain for some other way to show Stiles a great Valentine’s Day aside from mind-blowing sex. He finally settled on baking a red velvet cake which, while fitting the theme of the holiday, also happened to be Stiles’ flavor of cake. But that got ruined too.
The cake was burned to an ashen crisp in the oven, filling the loft’s kitchen with thick black smoke as Derek fumbled to throw the brick of charcoal that had once been a pan of cake batter into the sink, ignoring the burns the hot pan left on his hands. Coughing at the smoke that soon engulfed the entire loft, Derek grabbed a hand towel to wave by the smoke alarm that had blared to life with a piercing screech that physically hurt his ears.
He had managed to ruin everything. Stiles was going to arrive at the loft, see the damage he had done, and think that Derek was an awful boyfriend. And he would be right. Derek couldn’t even arrange something for Valentine’s Day without screwing it all up.
He buried his face in his hands, trying not to cry as the fire alarms continued their incessant shrieking, his ears ringing painfully. That was how Stiles found him fifteen minutes later when he let himself into the loft with the key Derek had given him for their two month anniversary.