Sheriff John Stilinski x Reader
Cooking dinner for three wasn’t supposed to be this hard, was it? It was supposed to be easy, especially when you were reading from a million and one recipes- and were feeding two people who wouldn’t care as long as they got food in their tummies. But it wasn’t, not in the slightest. You were doing everything at once; cooking the turkey, cutting the vegetables, stirring all of the different cake mixtures, putting said cake mixtures in different bowls and then into the oven, making sure the table was nice and ready for when they got home, and all the while trying to make sure nothing got burnt and everything was perfect.
You were failing at it though; things got burnt, you cut yourself and then spent five minutes (yes, five minutes) trying to find the mini first aid kit they kept somewhere, and then you lost certain ingredients required for certain recipes (though you did find them - eventually). Everything that could go wrong, did; and honestly, you felt like you were going to scream.
To make matters worse, you had nobody to call. Scott couldn’t cook to save his life, Mrs. McCall - though a brilliant cook and therefore definitely a wonderful advice-giver when cooking - was busy with work at the hospital, Derek wouldn’t help regardless, and everyone else was either busy with their own families, couldn’t cook too or just didn’t want to help. So you were stuck, really, and with only two hours left to have everything ready, you were panicking.
Maybe you shouldn’t have done this. After all, it could be taken two ways; you were either trying to replace Stiles’ mother, or you were just ‘trying to be all goody-goody’ with his father, therefore ‘getting all the attention away from Stiles’. He seemed to think that ever since you arrived, you’ve been trying to come in-between the two of them, separating them from each other, but you haven’t, of course. You wouldn’t dare; they were father and son, and the last thing you would ever want was to come in-between the two of them. Besides, not only would John choose his son over anyone anyday, but you saw Stiles as your own son. All you wanted was to become a family…
You sighed. But that wouldn’t be happening anytime soon, if at all, though not for lack of trying on your behalf. You were always talking to Stiles, making sure he knew you were there for him while also giving him the space he wanted, always looking after his father so he didn’t have to worry about it (and therefore could focus on school). In fact, you even made sure he had something to take to school for lunch, when he couldn’t make it himself or the Sheriff was out earlier than expected, and therefore didn’t have time to give him money for lunch.
Everything you could possibly do, was done and yet...it was never enough. You refused to give up though, which was why you were making dinner for today. It was Thanksgiving, and John was coming home earlier today, which meant Stiles would be home as well, spending the special day with his father. John had told you that every Thanksgiving, they’d attempt at dinner, fail and then order something, and you hadn’t wanted them to have that. You wanted them to have a proper Thanksgiving feast, and so what better than you making it, you had thought.
A couple days prior, you had brought everything, made sure you had everything and then on the day, you got to making it, so excited to make this dinner and maybe - hopefully - get Stiles to understand you just wanted to be a family, to see the relief on John’s face that they didn’t have to eat something green like usual but still not completely unhealthy. You wanted to be a family….was that so much to ask for?
The sound of a shrill ding suddenly startled you from your thoughts, and you jumped, spinning in time to see your phone flashing the alarm you had set for the turkey. Eyes widening, you quickly grabbed the oven gloves, opening the oven up and carefully dragged the large tray that had the turkey in it out, placing it on the side. You closed the oven door shut, slipping one glove off and leaving the other one to hold the tray as you stabbed a fork into the meat.
It was cooked. You smiled a little, glad you at least didn’t burn one thing. But what good is a cooked turkey when everything else is burnt? The thought came like a bucket of iced water, quickly and startling, with the sudden realisation that you were still doomed - you just now had a cooked turkey. Groaning, you rubbed a hand over your face, eyes slipping closed as you pinched the bridge of your nose.
What were you going to do? Most of the vegetables were burnt, the casserole tasted disgusting, the salad was ruined because the lettuce was out-of-date (trust you to buy probably the only bag that was out-of-date), and everything was going to hell- and you now had only thirty minutes ‘till they both arrived back home. That time had flown past, and you could feel the panic getting stronger once you realised this.
Huffing, you pushed yourself off the counter, rubbing another hand over your face before covering the slowly-cooling turkey with a round net cover. You couldn’t just stand here and wallow in self-pity. You needed to do something- even if you weren’t sure exactly what. It wasn’t like there was even a close shop you could quickly go too for the food items you needed. You probably wouldn’t have had time to cook it anyway.
Well, there goes any chance at Stiles even liking me, you thought, and all I’ve really done is put more pressure on John. He’s always worrying about Stiles and- oh god, I’ve worried everything! You slumped into one of the chairs at the table, shoving your face into your hands as you tried to hold back the urge to cry. It felt like such a dramatic thing to do but...you really just wanted to make this perfect, and you couldn’t even do that.
“(Y/N), I’m home!” John’s voice suddenly called, and you jumped, eyes widening as you stood up. Frantically, you glanced around the kitchen, glancing over the many ruined pieces of food and dirty pots and pans. You had a ton to wash up, and John was already home, which meant Stiles was too or he was close by. This also meant you hadn’t the time to do anything, so you would have to find a way to distract him long enough to clean the kitchen up. “(Y/N)?” He called, and you coughed before replying, “In the kitchen.”
You ran over to the doorway, placing an arm against it in an attempt at casually blocking the kitchen from sight. He was just close enough to kiss you, which he did, leaning down to give you a big long kiss. Pulling back, you smiled as his eyes lit up with love, staring into yours. “Long day at work?” You asked, wrapping your arms around his neck and turning him slightly so he wasn’t looking in the room behind you. He sighed and leaned down, placing his head on your shoulder. “Yep. It seems even on Thanksgiving Day, criminals can’t slow down.”
Running a hand through his hair, you hummed in agreement. “Maybe that just love to see your handsome face,” You joked, and John looked up long enough chuckle sarcastically. You beamed at him and pecked him on the lips. “Why don’t you go and sit down, maybe put the telly on? I’ll get us some drinks - beer, right?” He nodded, tiredly, not bothering to protest and walked into the living room to do as you said. You waited until he was out of sight to sigh silently before slipping into the kitchen.
There was a lot of dishes to do, but you managed to wash them all up quite quickly and quickly, and before you knew it, the only evidence you even started cooking was the turkey in the middle of the table, still covered with the net cover. You had no other place to put it, so you decided to just leave it there and quickly grabbed two cans of beer.
Walking into the living room, you saw John had his eyes closed and his head was falling, though he kept waking up and looking back up. He repeated this a few times before you eventually sighed and put the cans on the coffee table. Sitting down beside him, you got comfortable before grabbing his feet to place on your lap.
You watched TV in this position, making sure the volume was down low enough not to disturb your boyfriend, and he silently napped. Halfway through a movie, the phone rang, to which you and picked up to find it was Stiles, who sounded really apologetic when he said couldn’t make it. Though he wasn’t pleased it had been you who’d picked it up, he hummed when you said you’d relay the message over to his father, and when you told him to be safe, there was silence before he muttered an ‘okay’ and then hung the phone up. Smiling, you placed the phone back down and snuggled deeper into the sofa.
So it turns out a huge feast of a dinner would’ve been a complete waste, after all. You sighed in relief and continued to watch the movie, deciding that take away could wait until the end of the movie.
Coding by SimplySilent
I also made this for Thanksgiving, which I don't celebrate (being in the UK, of course), but I kind of just wanted to do something for it anyway. XD
