This is an expansion of the following idea, written by the lovely @artemis69:
the coffee!AU, where John goes to the same coffee shop every day, and there is this very grumpy, quiet barista that always makes him amazing coffee and keep the best pastries for him. And one day the Sheriff learns that Derek is the one to bake them all, so he decides: this will be my son in law, I need a reason to have this man in my family for at least forty to fifty years. Then he matchmakes with no subtility whatsoever, basically offering his only son on a silver plate, Stiles spluttering all the way (but he takes Derek’s number anyway because the guy is just amazingly cute)
John’s on his regular morning stroll when he stops in his tracks and takes in the brand-new coffee shop, complete with a banner advertising their opening day. The little corner space has been boarded up for over a year, and John had no idea it was opening today.
Any new businesses are a boon for Beacon Hills, especially family-run ones like this one is rumored to be, so John ducks inside. It’s warm and homey, and there’s a pair of young dark-haired people behind the counter, close enough in features that they’re probably siblings. The quiet bickering points that direction, too.
They stop, though, when they see the Sheriff—the uniform tends to have that effect—and he pastes on his public servant smile. “Hi there. I saw this place was open and wanted to come on in and introduce myself. Sheriff John Stilinski.”
“Oh, it’s so nice to meet you,” the woman says, holding out her hand for a shake. A nice strong grip—John likes this girl already. “I’m Laura Hale, and I own this place with my brother Derek, our resident grumpy barista-slash-baker.”
Derek rolls his eyes at Laura, but his smile to John is genuine, if small. “Hi, Sheriff. Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise, son,” he says, perusing the case full of tempting sugary treats. “You made these?”
He nods. “Can I get you anything?”
John hums. “A medium coffee, and…any one of these delicious-looking goodies. You pick. Just don’t tell my son,” he adds, and Derek looks up at him.
“I have slightly elevated cholesterol,” he says, stressing the word. “Nothing to worry about, honestly. But he polices my diet. I don’t think he knows about this place yet, though, so this is great.”
Derek hums. His tongs hover over a muffin—lemon poppyseed, it looks like—before moving to another one. Raspberry-almond, according to the sign, and well, John isn’t picky. Derek drops it into a little bag and hands it over.
“Happy to help,” he says.
John thanks him and opens the bag. Laura’s still pouring his coffee, but it smells so damn good that he can’t resist.
“Wow,” he says, his mouth full. “This is delicious.”
Derek looks quietly proud, and Laura claps him on the shoulder as she reaches over to hand John his coffee. “On the house, today, Sheriff,” she says. “Thanks for stopping by.”
“I’ll be back tomorrow,” he promises.
“Thanks, Nina,” John says dryly, leaning back so she can put his plate in front of him.
“You’re welcome, Sheriff,” she says with a friendly smile, ignoring his stink eye.
Stiles just grins at both of them and digs into his French toast. He insists on having their weekly father-son breakfast at Paulie’s Diner because no matter what John orders, Nina will only bring him an egg-white omelet with a dry English muffin. Stiles must have some serious blackmail or be paying her off somehow, and John is, he has to admit, grudgingly impressed.
“Don’t look so bummed out, Pops,” Stiles says, around a mouthful of what’s surely syrup-drenched deliciousness. “At least I let you have turkey bacon.”
“It’s not the same,” he says grumpily, poking at it. “But at least I’m getting a steady stream of baked goods now.”
Stiles glares at him. “Are you serious? From where? I thought I had paid everyone off.”
He knew it. “I’m not telling you,” he says, a little displeased with how childish he sounds.
“Fine,” Stiles says, sniffing. “I’ll figure it out, you know I will.”
He will, John knows. Goddamn, he loves his kid, even if his life goal seems to be depriving John from any and all delicious food. “And speaking of, I met someone the other day,” he starts, and Stiles gasps theatrically, his hand coming up to cover his mouth.
“Is this you crapping all over my dream of having Melissa as my stepmom?”
John sighs at the reminder. Melissa is…well, she seems happy with that Argent guy. Whatever. He’s not bitter.
“Not for me, Jesus,” he says, shaking his head. “For you.”
“Oh my god,” Stiles says, slumping back in the booth. “Eye roll” is too mild, John thinks. It’s more of a whole head roll. “Seriously, Dad, I’m only 25. You don’t have to marry me off quite yet. You’ll get your grandchildren someday, I promise. Stop trying to set me up with people.”
“I’m just trying to be helpful!” John protests. “He seems nice.”
And makes really good treats, he adds in his head. That’ll be a good trait for a son-in-law.
“And who exactly is he?”
John pauses. “I met him at the aforementioned undisclosed location.”
Stiles snorts. “Find out if he actually likes dudes, then get back to me.”
Derek Hale is two hours late. At each passing minute, Stiles feels angrier and the only reason he hasn’t left is because Derek needs to come home at some point and when he does, Stiles is going to yell at him so hard he’s going to give him this interview just to send Stiles away.
Stiles can be pretty annoying when he wants to, that’s how he gets most of his job done.
Derek Hale though, he’s been fucking infuriating. For starters he lives in the middle of nowhere, Stiles got lost twice before he found someone who actually knew where Derek’s freaking cabin is. And there’s also the fact that he’s a nobody - Stiles’ only picture of him is from his High School graduation, like, fifteen years ago.
And that’s the most fascinating thing – not many people know about him but the ones who do can’t stop praising his work. The guy is an angel, but instead of protecting people he protects wolves. According to Scott’s boss – who’s like, the one person who has seen Derek in person and can attest he’s real – Derek has a vet degree, doesn’t like people and built his own cabin in the woods. To live amongst the wolves.
Stiles needs to interview this guy. At first because he got curious about a thirty-one year old guy living alone and now it’s about pride. He doesn’t just spend two hours outside someone’s house, especially when it’s snowing.
“Come on.” He groans. It’s freaking Alaska. Angel or not – Derek Hale is also a huge dick.
Stiles is beginning to think about breaking into the guy’s house (he can’t feel his toes) when he hears a car and a minute later a battered truck is parking next to Stiles’ rental car.
The man who steps out looks nothing like the High School picture Stiles found. For starters he look like a mountain man with a beard that does nothing but make him look hotter, the jeans doesn’t leave much to imagination either when it comes to his ass and the huge winter coat only accentuates his broad shoulders.
Stiles swallows. “Hey!” He yells, watching as Derek opens the back door. “Derek Hale?” He can’t hide his groan when Derek barely spares him a glance. “Hey, it’s freaking freezing here, you know?”
Derek lets out a groan of his own as he lifts something in his arms and steps away from the car. “I know.” He walks towards the house and as he gets closer, Stiles notices Derek is carrying a wolf. “Now, help me out here, yeah?”
Stiles doesn’t even think twice before dropping his bag and stepping closer. “What can I do?”
“Grab the key,” Derek instructs, “it’s in my back pocket.”
Later, Stiles will want to hide his face in embarrassment but now he can only think about the poor wolf whining in Derek’s arms as he touches Derek’s ass to find the key to open Derek’s house.
Once inside, Derek deposits the wolf on the floor, wrapping him further with blankets and asks Stiles to light up the fire as he goes around the house collecting things. “Is he going to be okay?” Stiles asks as Derek kneels in front of the wolf and runs a soothing hand over his head.
“Hopefully.” Derek answers. “And it’s a girl.” He tells Stiles. “She’s in labor.”
“What.” Stiles squeaks. “Really? But –”
“In the kitchen,” Derek interrupts him, “get some hot water, and close the fucking door.”
Stiles blinks, watches as Derek tells her everything is going to be okay. She’s obviously uncomfortable, but stops squirming when Derek smiles and runs his hands over her belly.
“Water.” Derek growls.
“Right.” Stiles gets on his feet. He so didn’t sign up for this.
“So,” he collapses on the floor, “does this happen a lot?”
Derek collapses next to him, eyes on the mother wolf and her six pups. “Is this part of your interview?”
Stiles snorts and rolls his eyes. “No, this is just me trying not to freak out.” He turns to look at Derek – his eyes are green, he realizes, and beautiful, he adds mentally.
“No, this doesn’t happen often.” Derek answers, finally. “Thankfully.”
Stiles nods and smiles when Derek turn to him. “You’re amazing.” He blurts out and Derek blinks, surprised. “Anyway,” Stiles shakes his head, tries to pretend the butterflies in his stomach are just from the adrenaline rush, “we’ll have to postpone the interview, but I think that’s justifiable.” He gets up, looks at his hands and realizes they are covered in blood. Ew. “Uh, can I use your bathroom before I go?”
“Go?” Derek asks, standing up too.
“I’m gonna get a hotel in town.” The nearest town is two hours away, but what can you do? He glances at the sleeping wolves. It’s not like this was Derek’s fault. “I think.”
“Don’t be stupid.” Derek says, bluntly. Stiles snorts – yeah, Derek really doesn’t have a way with people. “I have a spare bedroom.”
Stiles smiles. “Thank you.” He says. “I don’t really like driving in the snow.”
“Who does.” Derek says, asks maybe. Stiles still doesn’t know him, but as he follows Derek up the stairs, he realizes he really wants to.