sterekmonthly

The last thing that Stiles thought he’d be on Valentine’s Day was alone. Of course, Lydia managed to get a date which meant their best friend night celebrating unattached drifters Christmas that they didn't participate in fell through. He sighed and glanced at his phone, where the usual texts from his friends littered his notifications. Really, he didn't need their pity. All of his friends either were in a relationship or they had dates.

Stiles closed out of his notifications and ran his hands over his face. All he wanted to do was veg out and eat and watch sappy movies, which meant that he probably shouldn’t. He reluctantly got off the couch and changed into normal clothes, then grabbed his cell phone, keys, and wallet before heading out.

He may not have a date, but coffee sounded pretty good right now. Living in downtown Beacon Hills had its perks. One of them was that Stiles didn't need to drive everywhere. Not that he didn't love his Jeep, he did, but with how much it cost to fill his tank these days he could go for a walk instead. Using it to go to and from work was about as much as he used it now.

Stiles walked a couple of blocks to the little coffee shop he frequented and opened the door, the bell tinkling as he walked inside. He ordered his usual, a honey almond milk flat white, which he refused to tell anyone about, and then heard a squeal behind him. Stiles sighed and closed his eyes.

”Stiles!” came the chipper voice. “Oh my god!”

The last thing that Stiles wanted to deal with right now was enthusiastic positivity. No matter how much he loved Kira.

He turned around and smiled at her as she threw herself into his arms and hugged him. “Hey, Kira. How’s it been?”

”Oh, you know. I’ve just been traveling. I’m here visiting my parents. It’s been so long!” Stiles forgot how pretty she was. It had been years since he’d seen her in person, but they followed each other on social media so he knew all about her travels.

Stiles had really been the only one who came back to Beacon Hills after he’d graduated college. Then again, he couldn't say he hated his job down at the police station. He was a deputy, but he was pretty sure he would be a shoo-in for Sheriff the next time the position was open. He just needed to throw his name into the hat for it.

Kira continued to chatter, which gave Stiles time to think about what exactly he was going to say to her. Not that he was really listening to what she was saying anymore as his mind drifted. Before he could form a response, a familiar figure walked up behind Kira.

Dark hair, broad shoulders, and a thick beard paired with kaleidoscope eyes that were exactly how Stiles remembered them. Although, Derek had a little bit of gray in his beard now.

”Derek,” Stiles said, unsure if he could control his surprise. Derek looked just as shocked as Stiles felt.

“Stiles,” was Derek’s short response. They locked eyes and Stiles had so many questions, like he always did when it came to Derek. How was he? Where had he been for the last ten years? Because it had been at least ten years since he’d seen Derek when he left for college.

Stiles was 28 now. Derek was almost 34, since his birthday was at the end of the year on Christmas Day. And he felt like he was 17 all over again, with his chest tight and his heart squeezing with unshared emotions. After all, Stiles had fallen in love with Derek that summer they spent together looking for Erica and Boyd, when he tried to help him look for the Alpha pack. Then they’d saved their lives. It was a summer that Stiles would never forget.

It felt like so long ago and only yesterday at the same time.

”I—uh, how have you been?” Stiles asked, clearing his voice.

”Good.” Derek nodded, pushing his hands into his leather jacket. “Traveling.”

Oh. So, then, he was traveling with Kira? Stiles looked between the two and Kira gave Stiles a sheepish look. They couldn't possibly be dating, could they? Stiles frowned in response, then raised his hand to rub it over his face. Hopefully to wipe the look off he was sure was still fighting for purchase. One of jealousy and confusion and pain.

Stiles dropped his hand to his side and heard his name called at the counter for his coffee. He breathed deeply and glanced at the barista, then back at Kira and Derek. “Well, it was good seeing you two. My coffee is ready.”

”Wait—Stiles. We should get together sometime this week. I’ll be here for a few days,” Kira said as he stepped backward.

”Yeah, sure. Text me.”

Both of them knew that they’d never hang out again this week, much less text each other. It was a pattern all of his friends he didn't keep in contact with on a daily basis had. The promise of more, with none of the follow through.

At that, Stiles retreated and grabbed his coffee, then fled as quickly as he could. The last thing he wanted Derek to see was how much seeing him had affected him.

***

Stiles stared at his phone and clicked on his contacts. The only person he wanted to call right now was Lydia, because he wanted to tell her about Derek, but she wouldn’t have the answers that he needed. He sighed and scrolled through his contacts, landing on the only name that would know all the details from the last ten years. They didn't talk often, but they were still friends. Erica was just really busy working and making bank. Stiles couldn't blame her though. She had moved to New York shortly after graduating from BHHS.

He poked her name with his finger on the screen and tapped the speaker button.

“Stiles?” Erica’s sharp voice answered. “Is the world ending again?”

Stiles laughed. Of course. He couldn't really blame her since life in Beacon Hills was basically one disaster after another. Erica’s life had been pretty calm once she got out of this hell hole.

“Uh, no. Well, not for the world, anyway. Now my personal life, there could be an argument made there,” he replied with a chuckle.

”Well that was a disaster before we graduated high school and hasn’t really made a comeback since.” Erica snickered and he could hear the sound of a keyboard clacking across the line.

Well, she wasn't wrong. Stiles had never really dated anyone since his and Lydia’s romantic relationship had fallen apart, despite them remaining best friends.

”And that is by design,” Stiles replied, joking, but really, it probably was. He hadn’t really cared to date anyone after he’d tried so hard to be in love with Lydia more than just being best friends when he was really in love with Derek. Something that he’d told himself he’d never confess. But he’d told Lydia, which was why they’d broken up.

”Sure,” Erica replied with another laugh. “You keep telling yourself that.”

”Why are we even friends?” Stiles asked, sounding overly offended.

”Because I’m the only one that tells you how it is.”

Stiles thought about and that was a fair assumption.

”Which is why I called you in the first place.” Stiles paused, fingering the hem of his jeans. “So…I—uh, ran into Kira and Derek in town.”

Erica didn't respond, but the clacking on the other end stopped.

”In Beacon Hills?” She finally asked.

”Yeah…where the hell else would I be?” Stiles asked with a little bite in his voice.

”I wasn't sure if you’d finally decided to take that trip to Italy we talked about a few years ago. Sue me.”

Stiles sighed. “I’m sorry…I guess I’m just a little surprised and well, frustrated with the whole thing. I mean, he showed up with Kira so I was wondering—“

Erica barked a laugh. “Don't tell me you’re letting your mind overwork itself over that. Please, they’re just friends. You really think Kira would put up with Derek’s moody ass?”

”Maybe?” Stiles didn't really know what their relationship was, which was why he was calling Erica to find out. “I guess I thought—“

”No. They’re not dating. They never have and they never will. I mean, Derek’s kinda over the whole chick thing. I can’t remember the last time he even hooked up with a woman…or anyone, actually. He’s been celibate for a long time. With his relationship record, who could blame him?”

Erica did have a point. Derek had the worst luck when it came to relationships. At least the ones that Stiles knew about.

He hated that he felt relieved over Erica’s confirmation that Derek hadn’t dated anyone in a long time, though. Then again, if he’d decided to swear off people altogether, Stiles didn't have a chance. But did he really ever have one?

”Thanks, Erica.”

”No problem. I have to run, though. Text me”!

Before Stiles could reply, Erica disconnected, leaving Stiles in silence.

At least he knew Derek wasn't dating anyone now.

***

Derek’s phone buzzed and he frowned, pulling out of his pocket and staring at the notification.

There was a text message from Stiles.

Stiles.

Stiles who he hadn’t seen since he’d left for the academy. Derek thought Stiles had left Beacon Hills behind forever, but he guessed he’d been wrong about that. Stiles was the last person Derek ever thought he’d run into again. Especially here.

He’d kept track of Stiles for a few years when he’d been in Virginia, but after a while, it only hurt him because he didn't talk to Stiles. So, Derek decided he’d focus on himself instead. He’d finally worked on healing after all these years, traveling and finding himself again. Reinventing himself, mostly, and deciding what his life would be like without Beacon Hills and his family.

He was largely an Omega now, his pack having gone their own ways and living their lives, but he was happy for them and their success. What mattered was that they were alive to do so. That was the only thing that mattered to Derek.

He drew in a deep breath and opened the message. Derek stared at it, confused. All it said was Hey.

He frowned and tried to read into it, but he had no idea what hey meant.

He sighed and typed hi back. Three little dots came up on the screen and he waited. They stopped. Then started again, then stopped. Derek glared at the wiggling dots when they came up again, willing Stiles to just send the damn text already.

As if on cue, Stiles replied: Wanna meet up?

Stiles wanted to meet up. To talk? To….what?

“Hey,” Kira said as she walked into the room, looking comfortable in her pajamas as she sat across from Derek on the other couch. “Your face is speaking.”

Derek glared at her with his grumpy eyebrows and sighed. “Stiles texted me.”

”Oh?” Kira looked interested, as if she’d expected Stiles to text her instead of Derek. “What did he say?”

”He said he wants to meet up.” Derek stared at the message, not having responded yet.

Kira was quiet for a moment, watching Derek. “So…are you going to meet up with him?”

Derek wasn't sure how to answer that question. He wanted to meet up with Stiles, but he wasn't sure how well he’d take it, especially if Stiles just wanted to actually chat and hang out. Derek refused to let anyone other than Kira know that he held a flame for Stiles for so long. Since that summer they’d spent together looking for Erica and Boyd.

If he were honest with himself, he’d had feelings for Stiles before then, but he hadn’t really realized them until he’d spent all summer with Stiles. Not only had they researched and looked for his pack, but they’d hung out and watched movies…they did things that friends and couples did. Things that Derek had never really done in any relationship he’d had before, or after, then.

But Stiles had been seventeen. There was no way that Derek would let Stiles know he had feelings for him. He didn't want to take advantage of him. Plus, he doubted Stiles had more than brief horny-teenage-boy feelings for him anyway. After all, he’d ended up dating his cousin and Lydia at one point.

”I don't know…” he finally answered Kira.

Kira paused before she said, “I think you should. Even if it’s just for closure…”

Derek glanced at her and then back at the phone before taking a deep breath and texting Stiles back.

Derek: Meet you at our spot in the preserve?

Their spot. He wondered if Stiles would remember.

Stiles: When?

Derek: Two hours.

Stiles: I’ll be there.

“I guess I’m meeting him in two hours…” Derek locked his phone and shoved it back into his pocket.

He might as well go there now before he decided against seeing Stiles again. Alone this time.

“I’ll see you later,” he told Kira before standing and heading out of their hotel room before she could say anything.

***

Stiles rubbed his hands together as the chilly weather made his fingertips cold. He wasn't even sure why he asked to meet Derek, other than he wanted to look into his eyes one last time in case he never saw him again.

He really hoped that never happened. Stiles wanted so much more than one last meeting before Derek disappeared back to wherever he’d come from.

Stiles could barely see as he walked through the preserve to the lookout point he and Derek frequented that one summer together. It had to be the spot Derek was talking about, because he sure wasn't talking about the old Hale house.

When he reached the spot, he could feel Derek before he could see him. That familiar warmth Derek always gave him and the hairs on the back of his neck standing as if his body knew a predator was watching him.

“I wasn't sure you’d come,” Stiles said as Derek stepped from the shadows.

“I wasn't sure I was showing up either, so I’ve been here for a couple of hours,” Derek admitted. “I’m already here so I might as well stay.”

Stiles chuckled. “Valid argument.”

He looked Derek over slowly, studying the lethal lines of his body, the broad set of his shoulders, how Derek held himself confidently, and that little speck of gray in his beard that Stiles was a little obsessed with.

“So…” Derek started, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“Well, I thought maybe we could get a coffee, but we’re a little far out for that right now,” Stiles teased. He couldn't help himself. It was his default in most situations.

“Well…there could always be a next time.” The way Derek said it was hesitant and unsure, but it sent a flutter through Stiles’ chest at the potential for more.

“I thought you were traveling?” Stiles asked, kicking himself for not just saying yes, whatever Derek wanted was what he’d do.

“I could…stay, for a bit. I don't have any immediate plans,” Derek assured him, his eyes locking with Stiles’.

“Kira?”

“She can travel alone for a bit. We don't always travel together. We just met up in France because we were both there at the same time.” Derek shrugged, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

“Oh.” Well, that wasn't something Stiles really expected to hear. One, that Derek and Kira didn't travel together all the time, and two, Derek offering to stay. For him.

“I mean—I’d like that. I’d like that a lot.” Stiles stepped closer, taking a steadying breath. “I was hoping…we could see more of each other. At least, until you decide to leave again.”

Derek was quiet as Stiles closed the space between them and he stood in front of Derek, a mere few inches separating their bodies.

“Okay…” Derek replied with a nod.

“Okay…” Stiles said with a smile. “So… constellations?” His smile grew as Derek’s did and he chuckled as Derek nodded.

They both walked to the ledge and sat together on a large rock, staring up into the night sky. They looked for constellations, pointing them out and naming them, their voices but a whisper in the darkness.

Stiles knew he’d stay here forever if Derek let him. If Derek wanted him. He knew he’d do anything to keep him just the same.

***

Stiles smiled at his phone, checking his messages and chuckling at the memes Derek sent him. It was a thing they’d started during the last month of Derek’s extended stay in Beacon Hills. Stiles pushed his phone into his pocket and focused on the files in front of him.

Minutes became hours and before Stiles knew it, there was a knock on his door. He looked up to see Derek there, which made his heart skip a beat. It was the first time Derek had come to the station to see him at work and the first time Derek would see him in his deputy uniform.

“Derek.” He put the folder in his hand down and smiled.

“I thought it would be a nice surprise to show up at the end of your shift and take you out to eat,” Derek replied where he was leaning against the doorframe. Stiles’ eyes traveled over Derek’s body from head to toe, knowing that Derek could hear his heart flutter.

“I could eat.” Stiles grinned and pushed away from his desk before standing and stretching, turning to face Derek. “But, I was actually hoping we could stay in. I—uh, bought some stuff so we could make dinner together. How does that sound?”

“I’m up for whatever you want to do, as long as there is food,” Derek replied with a chuckle. “So, what are we making?”

“I thought we could make homemade pizza.” Stiles grabbed his jacket and shrugged it on.

“I don't think I’ve ever had homemade pizza…” Derek looked at him dubiously and Stiles laughed.

“Well, it’s taken me a long time to learn how to throw the dough. I’m pretty good at it now, but there were plenty of disasters and plenty of sacrifices made for that skill.” When Derek smiled, it reached his eyes and Stiles wanted to kiss him stupidly when he looked like that. He managed to refrain as he walked up to Derek, who was still leaning against the doorframe.

The faint hint of sandalwood and earth filled Stiles’ lungs. A scent that was uniquely Derek which Stiles longed for the more Derek was away from him. “So, you ready to head home for some homemade pizza?”

“I’m going wherever you’re going,” Derek said softly, not moving away as Stiles stayed in his space. It made Stiles’ heart flutter, even though he knew it was only his home and not their home. But Derek never corrected him.

After a few more moments, Derek added, “After you,” and reluctantly stepped back to give Stiles room to walk through the doorway.

Stiles nodded, stepping through the threshold, and led the way out of the police station.

Right.

Pizza.

***

The night had been partially a hilarious disaster and a success at the same time. Stiles tried to teach Derek how to throw the pizza dough and they’d made a mess, but Stiles saved the night by making a pizza for them. He let Derek put the toppings on in the end since Derek lacked the coordination to throw a pizza crust.

It had entertained Stiles more than it should have. He smiled as he sipped his wine. He didn't often indulge in it, but tonight was special. Or, at least, that had been Stiles’ plan.

“So…what did you think?” he asked, setting his glass on the counter and leaning back against it.

“I think your pizza was amazing. Much better than the one I didn't make.” Derek laughed. “Please tell no one.”

“Oh, that’s blackmail material for years to come,” Stiles teased, laughing as Derek walked closer and set his wine glass next to his, causing Derek to lean into Stiles’ space. Stiles reached out to grip Derek’s jacket, letting his fingers run along the zipper, keeping Derek close to him.

Derek didn't speak. If anything, it looked like he was holding his breath as much as Stiles was. This was it. This was the moment. It was either happening now or never again.

Stiles let his hand drop from Derek’s jacket, but only to press against his shirt over his abdomen. His breaths came shallower as his eyes met Derek’s and before Stiles could say anything, Derek was leaning in and closing the space between them.

Stiles melted when Derek’s lips pressed against his, one of Stiles’ hands moving to grip the back of Derek’s neck as Derek’s hands found Stiles’ hips. He moaned as he licked into Derek’s mouth, their tongues tangling together. It made Stiles’ skin burn for more, even as they broke from the kiss to breathe and Stiles leaned his forehead against Derek’s.

“Stiles—”

“Don't—” Stiles said softly. “I know you’ll eventually leave, but you’re here now… so be here with me,” he whispered against Derek’s lips. “Stay with me…”

Derek didn't say anything, kissing Stiles again instead. Stiles closed his eyes and breathed deeply as he wrapped his arms around Derek, lifting himself as he felt Derek’s hands on his ass and then the back of his thighs. He wrapped his legs around Derek, moaning softly against his lips.

“Bedroom is down the hall on the right,” Stiles breathed between kisses.

He kissed Derek’s neck and shoulder as Derek carried him to his bedroom, impressed that Derek managed to open the door without letting go of him too much.

Stiles laughed as they made it to the bed and Derek dumped him into it, pressing him against the mattress as Derek’s lips found Stiles’ again. His hands moved to push Derek’s jacket off, both of them letting it fall somewhere on the floor before Stiles’ hands moved under Derek’s shirt, fingers exploring.

“God, Stiles…I’ve—” Derek started, groaning softly as Stiles nipped his bottom lip. “You’re going to kill me.”

“No dying,” Stiles replied with a grin. “If it was my choice you’d be safe with me forever.”

Stiles’ stomach felt like it was twisted into knots at his confession as Derek’s kisses slowed and he pulled away just enough to meet Sties’ eyes.

“How long is forever?” Derek asked, as if he didn't believe Stiles.

Stiles cupped Derek’s face, smoothing his thumb over Derek’s bearded cheek. “However long you want it to be. I want you, here, with me. I know I should have said something sooner…years ago. I just—”

Derek’s hand moved to rest on Stiles’ against his face. “I know. Me too,” Derek assured him. “But I’ll stay as long as you want me…”

“I never want you to leave,” Stiles confessed, kissing Derek softly. “Please, Derek.”

“Then I won't,” Derek promised.

It had taken them ten years, but Stiles always felt like he was with Derek, searching for constellations in the dark. He’d been waiting, just as long as Derek had, for this moment.

Derek

Mate.

That was the only thought running through Derek's head as he inhaled the most enticing scent. It was woody and fresh, like oakmoss and lavender, reminding him of the preserve. Reminding him of home. Which was how he knew that whoever this scent belonged to was his mate.

Mates weren't exactly rare, but they certainly weren't common either. Supernatural lore spoke of the mate bond as sacred, the joining of two souls destined to complement and complete each other. Derek had always thought it was a myth—an old shifter's tale, but now, as his heart raced and his inner wolf howled in recognition, the truth was undeniable. This deep, inexplicable connection surged through him, drawing him toward the source, like a moth to a flame.

He followed the delicious scent into a coffee shop, the bell tinkling cheerily as he entered. Inside was bustling with people, all of whom were oblivious to the magic that had led Derek here. His gaze frantically swept across the room, searching for the one person among the crowd who would stand out like a beacon to his senses.

Derek frowned as his mate's scent was overpowered by the bitterness of roasted beans and the sweet undertone of pastries. As it was drowned out by the perfumes and after-shaves of the other patrons.

Dammit.

He needed to find them, his other half, before—

A body crashed into him, warm liquid spilling all over his front. It was a stark, unapologetic shock of heat against his skin and a sharp redirection of his focus. Derek gripped the guy's arms, steadying him when he swayed. As they locked eyes, he was met with a pair of startled brown eyes, though brown was too simple an adjective. They were like honey or amber, rich and warm, holding flecks of sunlight captured within their depths.

Derek could get lost in them. This guy was easily the most beautiful person he'd ever seen, from his large doe eyes and cute, upturned nose to his messy chestnut hair that looked like he'd run his hands through it one too many times.

As the guy's apologies stumbled over each other, Derek's gaze was drawn to his mouth, to those perfectly plump, pink lips he suddenly wanted to kiss until they were puffy and raw. A vivid picture of them stretched obscenely around his cock, of them moaning his name, flashed through Derek's mind, causing him to growl in approval. He barely registered the man's continued apologies.

Fuck! Derek had never had such a visceral reaction to a person before. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, trying to regain some semblance of control over his primal instincts. Besides, he was here to find his—

The scent of his mate wrapped around him, even as the man's frantic voice pierced through his haze.

"Again, I'm so, so sorry," the guy stammered, hastily reaching for napkins to dab at the spill. He was drenched in the scent that had lured Derek here, the unmistakable mark of his mate. In that instant, the clamor of the coffee shop faded away, and all Derek could see was the person whose touch set his skin on fire with recognition.

"It's okay, accidents happen," Derek said, his voice calm despite the storm of emotions raging within him. The man looked relieved and gave a sheepish grin, and in that small exchange, the bond pulsed stronger, weaving an invisible thread between them that Derek felt tugging at his core. He wondered if his mate felt it, too. "I'm Derek, by the way."

"I'm Stiles." Stiles's cheeks flushed as their gazes met again, and Derek felt an absurd urge to chase that blush with his lips. To trace the moles on Stiles's cheeks with his tongue and taste the salt of his skin.

Derek knew without a shadow of a doubt that fate had handed him a treasure more precious than anything he had ever hoped to find. The realization hit him with the force of a thunderclap. The mess of the spilled drink was inconsequential, practically forgotten now. Who cared about a soiled shirt when all that mattered was the palpable bond between them, growing stronger with every shared heartbeat? Certainly not Derek now that he knew that the mate bond wasn't just a tale; it was real—and right in front of him, in Stiles's excited smile, in the flush of his cheeks, and most of all, in the vibrant beat of his heart, which seemed to call out to Derek's.

He needed to find a way to bring it up. Sure, the world might have adapted to supernaturals and humans co-existing, but the significance of the mate bond wasn't something most people knew about or even understood. It was intimate and profound, and Derek had to tread carefully so he didn't scare Stiles off.

Stiles looked at him with a quizzical expression, and Derek knew he had to explain. His heart pounded as he took a leap of faith. "Okay, so, this might sound crazy, but there's something I need to talk to you about. Can we sit and talk?"

"Uh…y-yeah, sure. Okay." Stiles nodded, curiosity flickering in his eyes, clearly intrigued by Derek's sincere yet mysterious tone. As they found a secluded corner amidst the busy coffee shop, Derek felt the weight of his revelation pressing down on him.

"Stiles," he began cautiously, his voice a low rumble, "what do you know about the supernatural? About werewolves?"

Stiles's eyes widened perceptibly, a mixture of surprise and intrigue flashing through them.

"I, uh, I know some," he said cautiously, leaning forward. "I have some friends that are supernatural. A couple of werewolves, a banshee… And, of course, I've read things, seen stuff on TV, but...why? Are you saying that...are you...?" His words trailed off as realization dawned on him.

Derek could see the gears turning in Stiles’s mind, so he nodded slowly in confirmation, the gravity of the situation anchoring his words. "Yes, I'm a werewolf. And there's something more. Something that involves you directly." He held Stiles's gaze, unwavering with the intensity of a vow. "We have something called a mate, and you’re mine. You’re my mate," Derek stated plainly, despite the magnitude of the admission.

Stiles's reaction was instantaneous; his breath hitched in his throat, and his pulse quickened—a subconscious response to the claim, to the bond that now tethered them.

"I'm your mate?" Stiles asked, disbelief and awe mingling in his whispered voice.

Derek merely nodded, allowing the weight of the revelation to settle between them. "Have you heard of it? Of mates?"

Stiles's eyes locked onto Derek's, a storm of emotions swirling within them. "Yeah, I've heard of it. Like soulmates, right? One person perfectly made for another. It's just...it's rare, right?" His voice was filled with wonder, tinged with a hint of skepticism. "I mean, I never imagined—" He paused, taking a deep breath as if to ground himself. "But with you, somehow, it makes sense. I can't explain it, but I feel...connected to you and I don't even know you."

He reached out, fingers tentatively brushing against Derek's, and there was electricity in the contact—a gentle spark acting as a silent acknowledgment of the unseen force pulling them together. The buzz in the air was almost tangible, wrapping around them like a warm embrace. It solidified something deep within Derek, an unspoken understanding that this was the beginning of something monumental.

Stiles let out a shaky breath, his grip on Derek's hand tightening slightly. "So what happens now?"

Derek responded with a reassuring smile, his voice steady and clear. "Now, we get to know each other. To understand the full depth of this bond and build our connection. No rush, no pressure—just us learning about what it means to be mates. If that's something you want, that is."

God, he hoped it was. Now that he knew he had a mate, now that he'd met Stiles, the thought of a future without him seemed unimaginable despite knowing nothing about him. It was as if Stiles had already become an essential part of his life, as if Stiles had filled a gap Derek hadn't even known existed.

He gave Stiles's hand a gentle squeeze, his heart fluttering with the excitement of the journey ahead, filled with endless possibilities. Assuming Stiles agreed, of course. For all Derek knew, Stiles had a full life that didn't include space for werewolf soulmates. He certainly didn't want to think of the possibility that Stiles was dating someone. But the way Stiles looked at him—the warmth in his touch—betrayed interest and, possibly, the beginning of acceptance.

"I want to explore this," Stiles said, a mix of determination and curiosity in his eyes. "I mean, it's not every day you find out you're someone's destined other half."

Derek's heart soared. That was all he could have hoped for.

"Then that's our starting point. No expectations or predictions, just a journey we'll take together," Derek said, the smile in his voice as clear as it was on his face.

Stiles nodded, his expression earnest. "I like the sound of that. A journey with no roadmap, just...discovery." He chuckled, a light veil of nervous excitement in his laughter. "We should start now. This can be our first date. Let me buy you a coffee."

"I feel like I should buy you one since it was my clumsiness that got us talking in the first place," Derek replied with a playful grin.

Stiles laughed, the sound easing the tension between them. "I'm pretty sure I bumped into you, but something tells me if I tried to argue, we'd be here all day debating it. So how 'bout a truce? We both get each other a coffee. Sort of like a symbolic exchange—a fresh start."

Derek agreed, and they rose together, heading to the counter. The barista greeted them with a warm smile, oblivious to the extraordinary connection blossoming between them. And once they had their orders and sat side by side back at their table, the world around them continued its bustle, but for Derek (and Stiles), the chaos fell away. They were in their own little bubble, poised on the brink of discovery, stepping into a future that was uncharted but promising.

---

Stiles

The morning sun cast a soft glow across the room as Stiles blinked awake. He lifted his head from the pillow he'd been drooling on, squinting against the light, but that wasn't what woke him. No, that privilege belonged to Derek—or, rather, to Derek's talented tongue and the strong, slow sweeps over his hole.

"Fuck," Stiles muttered, glancing back at Derek. All he could see was Derek's dark hair, his fingers that were gripping Stiles's ass to hold him open, and the broad expanse of Derek's shoulders as he continued eating Stiles out like a man starved. From the ravenous sounds Derek made, maybe he was.

Stiles's breath hitched, a cocktail of desire and morning haziness fogging his brain. Usually, he woke up to Derek curled around him, using him like a pillow, face buried in the crook of his neck as if the only thing he wanted to inhale while sleeping was Stiles's scent. But today was different; Derek's hunger was palpable, his urgency a tangible force—almost feral in its intensity. Stiles could feel it in the way Derek's hands clenched, holding him steady, and in the relentless push of his mouth. The usual morning quiet was pierced by the slick sounds of Derek's tongue, his moans and groans, and the occasional whimper that slipped from Stiles's lips.

He reached back, fingers tangling in Derek's hair, urging him on without words. The sensation was overwhelming, bordering on too much, yet not quite enough.

"Derek," he gasped, his voice a rough whisper that immediately got swallowed by the soft hums of pleasure Derek emitted. The intensity of Derek's ministrations increased, fingers digging deeper as he pulled Stiles closer to the edge of bliss. With every flick and swirl of his tongue, Derek asserted his intent to worship Stiles with an unspoken promise of relentless pursuit. Stiles's toes curled, his grip tightened, and he arched his back, lost in the sensations that threatened to consume him whole.

Yeah, this was definitely the best way to wake up.

Stiles moaned, long and low, as Derek lifted his hips, his touch more insistent now that Stiles was awake. The heat of Derek's breath and the press of his lips were like a brand, igniting a fire within him. Stiles reluctantly let go of Derek's hair, fumbling for purchase on the sheets, crumpling them in his fist as he arched into the sensation. He could feel every lap, every tease, as if Derek was speaking directly to his nerves, weaving a spell that left Stiles desperate for more.

"Derek," he breathed. He pleaded and begged. And it was clear that Derek understood without a single word being spoken. Of course, he would. They'd been together for twenty years now, and Derek knew every silent plea, every desperate clutch of the sheets, every single beat of Stiles's heart. He knew without Stiles having to vocalize what he wanted. What he needed. Their connection was beyond words, a dance of understanding and response honed through countless mornings like this one. Derek's expert touchwas a catalyst, sparking reactions that only grew more intense with each passing second, pushing Stiles closerclosercloser to an edge he was all too willing to tumble over. The room—no longer just a space illuminated by the morning sun—transformed into an altar of pleasure, with Stiles as the offering and Derek, the devout worshiper, paying homage.

Stiles's dick throbbed as soon as he heard the soft snick of the lube cap. He'd laugh at the fact that Derek couldn't bring himself to pull away for even a second, but like Pavlov's dog, Stiles was conditioned to respond to that sound instantly, his heart rate spiking in expectation.

Derek wasted no time, slick fingers joining his mouth in a symphony of sensation that had Stiles writhing, gasping his name like a mantra—DerekDerekDerek.

With painstaking precision, one finger became two, then three as Derek stretched him, stoking the fire he'd started with his tongue.

Some days, Stiles could be patient, loving the way Derek drew out his pleasure, savoring every touch, every kiss, every caress. He knew how much Derek loved doing it—keeping him on edge, burning with lust and anticipation. But today was not one of those days. Today, Stiles was all about the destination, not the journey. He bucked against Derek's fingers, silently pleading for more. He needed Derek's cock. Needed to come on his knot.

When Derek finally complied and pulled his fingers out, Stiles wanted to cry at the emptiness, but he knew it was a prelude to what he craved most. There was a brief pause, a whisper of movement, and then Derek was there—the hard press of him, insistent and promising.

"I've got you," Derek murmured, easing Stiles to his side. His voice was low and steady, a comforting anchor through the waves of anticipation that crashed over Stiles.

Derek's presence enveloped him, strong and sure, and Stiles nearly sobbed with relief as Derek filled him in one smooth thrust. The initial breach was pleasure and pain, a sensation that Stiles craved in the very marrow of his bones. Because this was Derek. His mate. The person who'd always known exactly how to touch him, how to take him to heights of ecstasy. It was everything Stiles desired, so intense and overwhelming, a connection forged in the depths of their twenty-year history.

Stiles glanced over his shoulder, his gaze locking with Derek's, understanding passing between them before Derek began to move. Part of Stiles wanted to shift to his back so he could see Derek's face, to watch his eyes darken with lust and love, but the position they were in allowed Derek to hit the most perfect spot within him. Plus, there was something about the way Derek held him like this, cradled from behind, that felt incredibly intimate and protective. Their rhythm was steady, a crescendo of thrusts that had Stiles gripping the sheets tighter, that had him letting out breathless moans that mingled with Derek's growls of pleasure.

Each thrust was a testament to their years together, a perfect rhythm only they knew. There was no need for words as their bodies spoke volumes. Pleasure built upon pleasure until Stiles was teetering on the precipice, ready to tumble over into the blissful abyss.

Stiles reached back, threading his fingers through Derek's hair. It was grounding, another silent testament to their bond. And then he tugged Derek closer, needing more. To kiss him, to taste him. And the moment their mouths met, it was a clash of teeth and tongue, a desperate, hungry kiss that mirrored the intensity of their movements. It was all-consuming, the taste of Derek's mouth, sweat, and need. A mingled moan vibrated between them as they consumed each other. The kiss left Stiles aching for more, every fiber of his being pulled taut with desire.

The room echoed with the sounds of their passion, the soft slap of skin on skin, the creak of the bed frame, the rustling of the sheets. The moans and groans and panting breaths. Every movement, every connection, was intensified by their bond, pushing Stiles higherhigherhigher, and as soon as Derek wrapped his hand around Stiles’s cock, he shattered.

Stiles called out Derek's name in a visceral crescendo of satisfaction as his orgasm ripped through him. His body trembled, waves and waves of intense pleasure crashing over him—crashing through him when Derek followed him over the edge, letting out a deep, guttural groan that matched Stiles's cries.

As Derek's knot swelled, locking them together, he bit down on Stiles's mating bite, marking him once again, something Stiles would never get enough of. The intensity of the bite sent another wave of ecstasy through Stiles, reaffirming the bond that tethered them together. It turned him into a mewling, quivering mess, his body overwhelmed by the aftershocks of his orgasm—something that never seemed to diminish no matter how many years passed, no matter how many times they did this. And Stiles never wanted that to change.

As their heartbeats slowly synchronized, a harmonious rhythm that felt like coming home, Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles, pulling him closer in a tender embrace of sweat-slicked limbs and shallow breaths.

"Happy anniversary," Derek whispered against Stiles's skin, the words soft but laden with emotion.

Stiles chuckled, his heart swelling with love and contentment.

"Happy anniversary. Couldn't have asked for a better celebration," he replied, voice still hoarse from the intensity of his release. Stiles closed his eyes, bringing one of Derek's hands up and kissing his knuckles. He smiled as he thought back to that day in the coffee shop. "Can you believe it's been twenty years? Do you remember when we met?"

Derek chuckled, running his nose along the curve of Stiles's neck, inhaling the scent of them. Stiles smiled, knowing how much Derek loved it when Stiles smelled like him.

"Of course, I remember," Derek murmured, his voice a low rumble that never failed to send shivers down Stiles's spine. "That was the day you spilled your coffee on me and apologized profusely, but all I could think about was how gorgeous you were and how excited I was to find my mate."

Stiles laughed softly, the sound bubbling up from deep within, filled with years of shared memories and experiences.

"God, I was so embarrassed," he said, a smile playing on his lips at the memory of running into a hard wall of muscle. He'd been in such a hurry because he was late for class—not that any of that mattered after he met Derek. Nothing short of an emergency could have pulled Stiles away from that moment. "And I remember being so utterly mesmerized by your eyes."

Derek's eyes were…indescribable. A kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to hold entire galaxies within them, always filled with warmth and love when they rested on Stiles. The intensity in Derek's gaze had always been a lighthouse in the storm for Stiles, guiding him back to safe harbor. Just like their bond. And now, as they lay intertwined, Stiles felt the strength of it, unbreakable and eternal, and he knew without a doubt that he would choose Derek again in every lifetime they were given. Which made sense, considering they were mates.

Soulmates in the truest sense of the word.

Their bond was a rarity, something that many longed for but few could truly understand. And as they lay there, basking in the glow of their love, Stiles couldn't help but feel grateful. Grateful for the coffee spill that changed his life and for the years of joy and challenges they faced together. Grateful for Derek, who was more than just his mate but his partner in every sense of the word.

"I love you," Stiles turned his head and kissed Derek softly. It was a sentiment echoed back in Derek's heartfelt 'And I love you,' voiced in a tone conveying the depth of his emotions. "Here's to another twenty years."

"Mmm...not long enough." Derek brushed their noses together before whispering, "Here's to forever."

The promise hung in the air, as solid and enduring as the bond they shared. In the quiet afterglow, they lay intertwined, basking in the love that had only deepened with time.

Derek smiled as he studied his family.

Stiles was asleep on the couch with Ava tucked against his chest and of course, she was shifted. Derek knew that she loved being shifted because she had more freedom as a pup than she did as a baby and he’d be sad when she stopped shifting around the age of five. It would feel like an eternity to both of them until she could fully shift again after she was eighteen, but he also knew it would feel like time flew by the time his little girl was on her way to being an adult and starting a life of her own. And maybe one day, her own pack.

Elijah was hanging upside down off the couch, his head resting on Derek’s shoulder as Derek sat on the floor. His little family had tried their best to stay up until the new year, but they’d been fast asleep for about an hour now and there were less than thirty minutes left until midnight.

The night had been eventful with watching their children’s favorite cartoons and letting Elijah drink sparking white grape juice as he pretended he was an adult, but they both knew they only bought it for Stiles since Ava was still nursing. They’d played the Floor is Lava with Stiles being the safety zone and Derek had more than once let Elijah win like he always did.

Not for the first time that night, Derek thought his life was perfect. After everything he’d been through, after all the pain and loss, he couldn't ask for more than what he had right now. Ever since he’d met Stiles and Elijah was born, he thanked whatever powers that be in the universe for letting him have this little slice of happiness. Even more so after Ava had been born, and especially now that Stiles was pregnant again.

They’d both always wanted a big family, each for their own reasons, and Derek felt like he was building a life that he could be proud of. One that he knew his family would have been proud of him for. He had a mate, he could take care of his pack, and they were living a perfectly mundane life filled with so much love and happiness that it sometimes hurt Derek’s chest with how much he felt for Stiles and their children.

After the fire, he never thought he’d be able to feel like this again. He never thought that he would be able to love anyone ever again. He was glad that he was wrong.

Derek raised his hand to gently stroke over Elijah’s hair, which caused Elijah to rumble with that little sound that Derek knew meant he was happy. Stiles always made fun of Derek when Derek made that sound too, telling him that he was teaching their son bad habits. He knew Stiles didn't mean it and they always laughed about it.

He carefully shifted until Elijah was sliding down his shoulder, still fast asleep, until he slid into Derek’s arms. Derek cradled Elijah against his chest. He smiled as Elijah curled against him, purring as best a werewolf could, and stood. He scented Elijah’s hair and walked him to his room, carefully tucking him into bed and brushing his hand over his hair again before he left and did the same for Ava.

Once the kids were in bed, he returned to the living room and smiled down at Stiles, who was still sleeping. Derek sat on the edge of the couch next to him, glancing at the muted television that had Times Square in New York on, waiting for the ball to drop. They still had some time and he thought about not waking Stiles, but then he felt Stiles’ hand on his thigh.

Derek’s gaze returned to his sleepy mate, finding Stiles blinking up at him and yawning.

“Kids in bed?” Stiles asked, voice groggy. He stretched and then slid his hand to hold Derek’s, relaxing back against the couch.

“I just put them to sleep… the three of you have been asleep for a little while. I didn't want to wake you.” Derek laced his fingers with Stiles’, bringing his hand up to place a kiss on the backside.

“Did we miss the ball drop?” Stiles asked, glancing at the TV which would answer his question, but Derek knew that he’d wait for his response all the same.

“Not yet, but it’s soon. Did you want to skip it and go to bed?” Derek glanced at the TV and they still had at least five minutes until the countdown started.

“No, we’ve made it this far. Or, well, you did. But I’m up now.” Stiles chuckled and sighed, then sat up on the couch, crossing his legs under him.

“It was a valiant effort,” Derek replied with a grin, reaching out for Stiles and dragging him into his lap. Stiles moved easily enough, draping his legs over Derek’s as he settled and wrapped his arms around his neck.

“Maybe next year the kids will make it to midnight… or maybe at least I will.” Stiles laughed softly, nuzzling against Derek’s neck as Derek’s hand slid onto Stiles’ belly. He wasn't showing yet, but Derek knew they were both imagining that Stiles was already growing a tiny pooch, despite them both knowing it was more likely a food baby at this point in Stiles’ pregnancy.

“I think we both might miss midnight next year with four children underfoot.” Derek’s other hand smoothed up Stiles’ back as Stiles scented him, glad that it comforted Stiles, especially since he knew it would help him the further along his pregnancy went.

“You’ve got a point,” Stiles replied and smirked as he drew back. “But I’m sure we will still all try.”

They looked at the TV when the countdown started and Derek thought about how different the following New Year's Eve would be. If they got the twins they both wanted, they’d have four kids, and if they still had only one, they’d both be happy with their little pack of three children.

“So, Derek Hale,” Stiles started, his fingers playing at the base of Derek’s skull, teasing the hair there. It sent a shiver down Derek’s spine and his smile was soft, his eyes full of love as he held Stiles. “I think you owe me a New Year’s kiss.”

Derek’s hand moved from Stiles’ back, trailing up until he wrapped his hand around the back of Stiles’ neck and gripped firmly as the seconds ran down on the television. He drew Stiles into a kiss as the horn sounded, pouring everything he felt into it. The kiss was passionate, yet gentle and he grinned as he scented Stiles’ arousal.

Stiles was flushed and laughing softly when the kiss broke. “I think I’m awake now,” he teased. “And you need to take me to bed and breed me while we can,” he whispered, fingers dancing across the mark on Derek’s neck that marked Derek as Stiles’.

“Your wish is my command,” Derek replied, his arms moving to cradle Stiles and he stood, sending Stiles into a fit of quiet giggles. Derek loved it when Stiles was happy and he knew that he’d spend the rest of his days making sure they were always like this.

Stiles sighed for what had to be the millionth time in a handful of seconds. If he'd known being the newest deputy for the Beacon County Sheriff's Department meant he was relegated to the shitty shifts, he might have reconsidered joining. Shouldn't being the sheriff's son have some perks? Like, at the very least, not working on New Year's Eve when he could be spending the evening with Derek, cuddled up on the couch under the soft throw blanket they kept there, waiting for the ball to drop.

Instead, he was stuck in his cruiser, nursing a lukewarm cup of coffee and scanning the quiet streets, half hoping for some misdemeanor to break up the monotony. Not that he wanted anyone to get hurt or anything, but a little bit of action wouldn't be unwelcome.

Stiles wondered what Derek was doing. He'd tried to convince him to go to Lydia's for her annual New Year's Eve party, but Derek had given him a look of such deep skepticism that Stiles had dropped the subject almost immediately. Probably for the best, Derek and social gatherings didn't exactly mix like gin and tonic. He'd probably be at the loft, brooding over a book or working out, the usual fare for a quiet evening in Hale territory.

The clock on the cruiser's dashboard blinked 11:48 PM. Mocking him. Twelve more minutes until the new year, and there Stiles was, about as far from confetti and countdowns as he could get. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel with a resigned huff, feeling every bit a petulant child rather than a deputy of the law. Maybe if he closed his eyes, he could pretend he was anywhere but here.

A sudden chirp from the radio broke his reverie; a call was coming in. With a jolt, he was all business, reaching for the handset.

"Deputy Stilinski here," he answered, his previous thoughts vanishing instantly as dispatch requested him back to the station. An unexpected surge of adrenaline pulsed through him as he responded with a quick "10-4 en route."

He put the car in gear and maneuvered the cruiser through downtown, hoping it wasn't anything serious. Not when he had plans to call Derek at midnight to wish him a happy new year, to hear his voice, and maybe imagine that he was right there beside him. Briefly, Stiles wondered if he could sneak away after this call to steal a moment with Derek, to ring in the new year together, even if it was after the rest of the world celebrated.

Stiles arrived at the station in record time, but nothing seemed amiss. No other deputies were rushing about, and even the dispatcher, Marley, had a relaxed air as Stiles approached. Confused, he tilted his head and asked, "What's the situation?"

"No situation. Just head into the bullpen." Marley smiled in a way that made Stiles instantly suspicious. 

He raised an eyebrow, about to inquire further when he was cut off by music blasting from the other room—*NSYNC, if he wasn't mistaken—and when he walked through the door, he stopped dead in his tracks at the scene before him.

Instead of the chaos he expected, he found the bullpen transformed into a mini celebratory zone, complete with streamers, balloons, and twinkling fairy lights strung across the room.

Stiles grinned so hard he thought his face might split in two as he glanced at the very last person he expected to see tonight.

Derek.

"What is this?" Stiles asked, even though it was obvious Derek had set this up for him. His heart swelled at the thought that Derek had gone to all this trouble just to give him a New Year's surprise. Derek’s gruff exterior, the one he presented to the rest of the world, was nowhere to be seen. Instead, there was a softness in his eyes, a tenderness that was reserved for Stiles alone—something that always left Stiles feeling like the luckiest guy alive.

Derek looked as content as Stiles had ever seen him. A smile tugged at his lips as he simply said, "Surprise."

"I'll say." Stiles stepped closer, noticing there was even a bottle of sparkling grape juice on his desk, along with two plastic flutes. "You did all this for me?"

"Yeah," Derek replied, his voice carrying a warmth that settled deep in Stiles's chest. "It's our first New Year's together in an official capacity. I wanted to spend it with you, even if you're on duty."

The lump in Stiles's throat was unexpected, and he swallowed hard, feeling an overwhelming rush of affection. "I don't know what to say."

"Don't say anything. Just...come here," Derek gestured him over, and Stiles didn't need to be told twice. He crossed the room in a few strides and wrapped Derek in an all-consuming hug that was met with equal fervor. And though it didn’t fit the beat at all, they swayed to the music—a private dance in their makeshift party.

When they finally broke apart, the clock on the wall drew Stiles's attention, showing it was only moments to midnight.

"Happy New Year," he said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to Derek's lips, tinged with the promise of the year to come. Derek reciprocated the kiss, deepening it just as the sound of cheers and fireworks from the outside world filtered in. But they were in their own little bubble, the celebration outside dimming in comparison to this moment. As the kiss ended, Stiles couldn't help but laugh. "Best start to a year. Ever."

Derek's answering chuckle rumbled against Stiles's chest, a sound so deep and genuine it made everything else insignificant.

"Happy New Year, Stiles," Derek murmured, his eyes shining with mirth and something softer, something that said this was just the beginning.

As the last remnants of the 'Happy New Year' chants echoed outside, Stiles and Derek shared another kiss. One that drowned out the world, ringing in a new year in the best way possible.

Stiles stood in the doorway, watching Derek clean up the mess from dinner. He noticed the way Derek's hands moved with efficient grace, wiping down the countertops and stacking the dishes neatly in the dishwasher. It was a simple task, yet there was something soothing about watching him work, finding a rhythm in the mundane. It was domestic, comforting, and a side of Derek that Stiles hadn't known he'd find so enthralling. Something about his big, bad alpha of a husband doing household chores just didn't fit the stereotype, and that contradiction only made Derek more appealing to Stiles. The room was filled with the clinking of dishes and the soft hum of the dishwasher as it started its cycle.

There was an intimacy in these quiet moments, a shared life that extended beyond the chaos of their daily lives with three rambunctious children. Werewolf children, no less.

"I can feel you staring at me," Derek said without turning around, a small smile playing on his lips. "Is there something you need, or are you just enjoying the view?"

Stiles chuckled, pushing off the doorframe to walk over and wrap his arms around Derek from behind. He rested his chin on Derek's shoulder, soaking in their closeness as he murmured,  "Can't it be both?" 

Derek let out a soft sigh as he leaned back into the embrace. "With you, it's always both." The warmth in his voice was enough to spark a flutter in Stiles's chest. "Is everything okay?"

"Do you think they'll actually stay up all night?" Stiles asked, his fingers playing with the hem of Derek's shirt.

The kids were building a fort in the living room, hopped up on sugar and excitement for counting down to the New Year. The sound of their laughter fluttered in from the other room like music, a symphony of high-pitched giggles and the occasional dramatic roar.

Derek chuckled, turning around to face him, a skeptical arch to his brow before brushing his lips against Stiles's temple. "Honestly, I'll give them until ten before they all crash, just like Christmas. There's only so much energy humanly possible, even with sugar as fuel."

Though ever since winter break started, the kids had proven themselves to be full of surprises, giving Stiles and Derek a run for their money with their seemingly boundless stamina.

"Well, they do have the advantage of being werewolves," Stiles pointed out, dancing his fingers across Derek's chest. "And you and I both know that means a whole different level of energy."

Derek laughed again, the sound warm and deep, echoing the love and joy that filled their home. "True. And I suppose they also have determination on their side."

Stiles chuckled, recalling all the hushed whispers and giggling conspiracies that had filled the house as the kids' plans to stay up late took shape. "Yeah, there's that."

"Still," Derek said, "I think our bets are safe. In the end, they're kids, and kids need sleep, werewolf or not."

And Stiles knew that after all the excitement wore off and the sugar rush faded, they'd succumb to sleep, tangled in a mess of blankets and pillows within their homemade fortress, dreaming of their next adventure.

Derek rubbed the small of Stiles's back, smiling softly at him—the kind of smile that made Stiles's heart flip in his chest. "We should get the camera ready, too. This will be one for the memory books."

"Definitely." Stiles grinned, imagining the sea of cushions and sheets taking over the living room. "It'll be the Great New Year's Eve Stand-off of 2023. I'll have to make sure the batteries are fully charged because I'm betting the aftermath will be even more entertaining than the build-up. They already have a pillow fort set up, too. So even if they don't stay up, I think they're planning to stage a sleep-in protest or something."

Derek's laughter rumbled through Stiles's body, a sound he found himself wanting to capture and keep for the quiet moments when the house would eventually be empty, and the chaos of pitter-pattering little werewolf feet had grown into the steady, calm strides of teenagers.

"Oh yeah? Pillows, blankets, the whole nine yards?" Derek asked, amusement lighting his eyes—probably picturing their children fortifying their New Year's Eve stronghold.

"It's pretty impressive, actually." Stiles's eyes lit up with a fondness that only their children's antics could invoke. "I can't wait to see who'll be the last one standing—or, well, awake." He glanced at the clock, noting the hands steadily creeping towards that hopeful midnight hour. "I'm putting my money on Caleb. He's got that stubborn streak."

Derek chuckled, nodding in agreement. "You might be right. But I wouldn't count Eli out. He snuck in a couple of naps today. The kid's got strategy on his side. And he stayed up the longest on Christmas Eve."

They shared a look, an unspoken agreement that they were in for quite the show. It was a fleeting moment of calm before the storm of laughter and playful shrieks returned, signaling that the kids were nowhere near ready to call it a night.

"They're going to see the ball drop if it's the last thing they do," Derek said with a grin. "Might as well make the most of it, help them build some memories."

Stiles nodded, his gaze softening at the thought of their children determined to usher in the new year with their eyes open and hearts full of joy.

"Yeah, these are the moments they'll remember." For Stiles and Derek, too, and Stiles wouldn't trade it for anything. "Maybe it'll be a new tradition—may the strongest eyelid win."

Derek laughed again, the sound warm and genuine. "I like that. Let's make it happen. But first, we have to survive the sugar high."

The two of them wandered back to the living room, ready to join the fray, to supervise, and to be present for every moment of joy the night would bring. After all, these were the moments that made everything worth it.

As the ball dropped, Stiles glanced down at the kids. They'd been asleep before the countdown had even started, their great stand-off ending anticlimactically in snores and quiet breaths about an hour ago. Each little werewolf curled up under a fortress of pillows, their faces peaceful in slumber—though, surprisingly, Clara had been the last holdout.

Stiles turned to Derek with a grin. "Looks like we were both wrong."

Derek shook his head, smiling as he reached for the camera on the side table, capturing the last few seconds of the old year with a click. With the kids sleeping, the silence of their home, save for the occasional pop and crackle of the fireplace, was a stark contrast to the boisterous noise from earlier in the evening.

"It's perfect," Stiles whispered, leaning into Derek. He smiled as the dim light of the television playing the New Year's Eve festivities cast a soft glow over them.

Derek placed the camera down, pulling Stiles closer to his side.

"Yeah, it is," he agreed, his voice barely above a whisper so he didn't disturb the tranquil scene before them.

The clock struck midnight, and as the world outside erupted in cheers and fireworks, Stiles's world was right here, within the walls of their home—in the quiet heartbeat of their family.

Derek tipped his chin up for a gentle kiss, a silent celebration of another year together. It was a simple, quiet moment that held the weight of all their shared years and love.

Stiles wrapped his arms around Derek, returning the kiss with equal tenderness. As they pulled apart, Stiles whispered against Derek's lips, "Happy New Year, Derek."

Derek's response was a soft smile and a tighter embrace. "Happy New Year, Stiles."