For @everchanginginks. I hope you enjoy this gift!
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*****
Just down the hall from the quiet studying of history students in Room 17-B lies classroom 17-A which, contrasting its quieter neighbor, is filled with sugar-fueled enthusiasm as adolescent students gleefully tear into their candy atom diagrams. Only after getting the go ahead from their awesome chemistry teacher wearing a colorful periodic table tie over a blue dress shirt with rolled up sleeves, of course.
Said awesome teacher places the end of a blue raspberry sour punch straw in the corner of his mouth and chews with an unabashed grin. As heâs halfway through the straw the bell rings and he breaks into his parting spiel for his students, the straw sticking from the corner of his mouth like a cowboy.
âOkay class, please make sure to turn your worksheets into the tray on your way out and please take your candy diagrams with you. Youâre not gonna break my heart if you donât eat them, I just donât want next period to deal with this periodâs mess. Tonightâs homework is on the board and on the syllabus, and donât forget to submit your vote for Teacher of the Year during lunch if you have not already. Have a good rest of your day everyone, and as always come to me with any questions...and that means any ."
Scattered responses of âOkayâ and âThanks Mr. Stilinskiâ and âByeâ fill the room as the students start to file out the classroom.
âYouâre about as subtle as a brick to the teeth.â Says a mildly amused female voice from over his shoulder.
Stiles finishes the candy and turns around to look exasperatedly at the strawberry blonde speaker sitting behind his desk, "And youâre underestimating how important this is. My reclaiming of the throne is in danger!"
"Uh huh..." MIT grad and certified genius Lydia Martin nods in mock understanding as she sips from her floral patterned ceramic travel coffee cup.
"Thanks again for agreeing to come in and lecture for my AP Chem students on such short notice by the way.â Stiles scratches at the tousled mess on his head and offers the open package of sour punch straws from his desk, âYou are a literal God send."
She grimaces and waves the proffered sugary confection away, "For someone in the sciences, your improper use of the word 'literal' is rather concerning. Perhaps your throne is in more danger than previously thought."
âDonât say that, youâre gonna jinx it!â He reaches over and raps his knuckles against his wooden desk three times while speaking a mile a minute, âI need to win, I canât have mister âlook at me bringing my history and polisci students on the coolest field trips in the history of this school because I can somehow pull strings to make these trips a reality despite there being like no funding--seriously how does he do it--and my students adore me even though I constantly look like I probably lure people into the woods with my beautiful eyes and murder them in my free timeâ beat me at my own game, again !â
He huffs at the end of his tirade and looks to Lydia for understanding, but she avoids his gaze and poorly suppresses snickers under her breath.
âCâmon itâs not that funny. I know he can âsmolderâ his way into the heart of even the most introverted student,â Stiles gesticulates with each emphasis, âbut I have charm , Iâm approachable , I understand these students. I love my job and I do everything in my ability to give these students every opportunity they deserve . If thatâs not âTeacher of the Yearâ material, then I donât know what is.â
Stiles stops, taps his chin thoughtfully and sighs, âThough I totally understand that the title is purely for bragging rights, and it ultimately comes down to just continuing to be the best teacher I can be. Derek is a great teacher that also deserves the title and I can respect that, but gosh darn does he get my competitive side riled up.â
âUh huhâŠâ Lydia hums and taps her fingers against her cup as she pointedly looks past Stiles, âMr. Stilinski, I do believe thereâs someone that needs your help?â
âOh!â Stiles quickly straightens himself and his tie, and turns around with a wide grin, âWhat can I do for--YOU!â Stiles quickly twists his expression into a frown and throws a finger up accusingly after registering who was darkening his doorway.
Standing in the doorway with a glare that could send a lesser man running for the hills is the previously mentioned competitor and last yearâs winner for âTeacher of the Yearâ, mister âcoolest history teacherâ Derek Hale in all his annoyingly gorgeous, stubbly, glory. He side-eyes Stilesâ organized chaos in the chemistry lab from behind thick framed hipster looking glasses and grimaces, âAm I interrupting something?â
Stiles grits his teeth, he can practically feel the judgement over his classroomâs state radiating off of the (not even tenured!) history teacher and no amount of soft looking cable knit sweaters could lessen that blow. âAs a matter of fact--â
âNo, youâre not interrupting anything at all Derek.â Lydia places a hand on Stilesâ shoulder as she walks past him, âI was just about to go say hi to Kira.â
Derek moves aside to let Lydia pass, she turns to smile at Stiles from the doorway, âIâll come back by 6th period for your second AP Chem class. I think Iâll also grab some lunch from Whole Foods.â
âUh...Bye?â Stiles weakly waves at Lydiaâs parting back. He refocuses his attention on the offending history teacher and crosses his arms across his chest petulantly, âAlrighty, what dâya need Mr. Hale?â
With a roll of his eyes, Derek holds up a handful of papers, steps forward, and emphatically places them in Stiles' inbox, âYour mail. I know your TA usually grabs it for you, but heâs out sick today. And I was already in the mailroom.â
âWhoa, wait wait, how do you know that my TA is out sick today, have you been stalking my classes? Are you trying to find a way to one up me? Steal some of my stellar teaching techniques because you know that youâll lose otherwise?â Stiles narrows his eyes as his lowers voice into a conspiratorial tone while  leaning forward to scrutinize Derekâs expression, âWhatâs your game here Mr. Hale ?â
Derek hazel eyes widen incredulously as he scoffs, âI don't need to stalk your classes, Liam's one of my students too. And please remind me, what did I do to make you so hostile again?â
âPlaying dumb isnât cute. You know full well what you did.â Stiles pokes at Derekâs chest and--oh thatâs a soft sweater--puffs his own out, âBut no matter what, Iâm going to take whatâs rightfully mine .â
His competitorâs face reddens in anger and Stiles feels a thrum of excitement at his ability to break Derekâs usual expression of âsourpuss lumberjack murdererâ. A sly grin works its way across Stilesâ face as he shrugs coyly, âWhat can I say, Iâm a man who knows what he wants.â
Stilesâ wrist is suddenly grabbed by a warm, slightly calloused palm--there may be something to that murderer in the woods theory--and wrenched away from the soft sweater. âAnd what would that be, Stiles?â Derek growls--who the hell growls --while leaning in way too close for comfort.
âWhat would that be? Um...I want to win? Obviously?â Stiles splutters as his face reddens, offended that Derek would suggest that there would be anything else . âIâm gonna own you, Derek. Iâm gonna own you so hard, you wonât know what hit you.â
âHow about you take me to dinner first, before you âownâ me?â Derek says matter-of-factly.
âUh no, how about you take me to dinner to celebrate my overwhelming victory over your grumpy ass? Doesnât that make a little more sense than going to dinner before either of us win?â Stiles rolls his eyes, laughing at Derekâs lack of logic. But his laughter sputters out and he stills once his brain processes what just happened. âWait⊠wait wait⊠was that some sort of sad attempt at asking me out in the most backwards, reverse engineered manner possible?â
Stiles looks Derek in the eyes, who nods patiently, as if Stiles was one of their students that needs tutoring.
âOh my God. Oh my GOD !â Stiles backs away and into his desk, voice rising in panic, âWhat even? Whatâs happening here? Are you trying to throw me off my game? Cause thatâs a dirty tactic, even for you. Because thereâs no way someone like you would legitimately ask out someone like me . That just doesnât make sense. Youâre like a sexy lumberjack murderer historian, and Iâm like a young Bill Nye. I'm in the sciences , and you're in the humanities . Â And you donât even like me. You havenât liked me since your first day!â
âHold on.â Derek holds his palms up defensively, âWhat are you talking about? You were the one glaring at me like there was no tomorrow.â
Stiles inspects Derekâs expression for any sign of deception, seeing none he sighs. âFine, I guess it was just so unimportant to mister bigshot Hale to remember measly Mr. Stilinski. Do you remember moving into your classroom?â
He nods, urging Stiles to continue.
âSo I didnât know that the new teacher was moving in that day , so when I saw a big package outside of your soon to be classroom, I assumed that it was my delivery of graduated cylinders that was dropped off to the wrong room since it was early in the morning and people make mistakes sometimes, yâknow?â Stiles gives Derek no opportunity to say anything and continues at full speed. âI went over and got ready to take the package, only to have you open the door and give me the scariest look in my entire life . Do you remember what you said to me, Derek?â
âYou said,â Stiles changes his voice to imitate Derekâs, ââThat is my private property. If you value your time at this school, you will leave it alone. If I see this behavior again I will bring it up with Principal Yukimuraâ. So, yeah! Something about that kinda exchange can make a guy think you hate them!â
Derek groans and pinches the bridge of his nose, âOh my God...Youâve got to be kidding me.â
âOh, so you do remember? Or did you conveniently forget threatening me?â Stiles grabs another sour punch straw and chews it angrily, âBecause I sure as hell didnât!â
âStilesâŠâ Derek laughs breathily, âI thought you were a student . I wasnât wearing my glasses and it was dark . Oh my god . I thought the first time we met was in the teachers' lounge, and by that point I already unknowingly made a terrible first impression on you. No wonder you looked at me with such hatred. Oh my goodness.â
â...oh.â
âYeah, ohâŠâ
Stiles chews the straw thoughtfully and rocks on the balls of his feet. âSo⊠about that backwards dinner invitationâŠâ
âYeah?â Derek perks up slightly, looking almost adorable , though Stiles would never say that outloud.
âHow about whoever wins âTeacher of the Yearâ gets treated to dinner, hm?â Stiles holds out a hand for a handshake.
With a goofy grin revealing adorable (thereâs that word again!) bunny teeth that brighten up Derekâs entire face, much better than the usual murderous look, he enthusiastically takes Stiles hand and shakes it.
âDeal.â
Epilogue
âI still canât believe it!â
âI know.â Derek hums as he reaches over to refill Stilesâ glass.
âHonestly, who saw this coming?â
âCertainly not me,â Derek swirls some pasta around his fork and fondly watches Stiles throw back the wine as if it was jungle juice rather than a nice glass of Chardonnay.
Stilesâ honey-brown eyes glimmer with the same kind of mischievous enthusiasm that Derek remembered seeing for the first time at the first assembly of the school year. He gave some sort of spiel about the importance of working together and not being afraid to ask for help, which ended with a demonstration of elephant toothpaste. Derek is embarrassed to say how much he grew to admire the gawky chemistry teacher after that assembly.
âI absolutely kicked your ass dude.â Stiles leans across the table to grab the dessert menu. âSince itâs your treat, I think Iâll indulge in some dessert.â He worries his bottom lip, which makes Derek have to cough and turn his attention away.
âDonât call me dude.â Derek weakly responds.
âOoh, this one is topped with bourbon vanilla bean chantilly cream, which is basically bougie whipped cream. How do you feel about bread pudding by the way?â Stiles looks up from the menu through his eyelashes--and there is no way he doesnât know how he looks--and flutters them exaggeratedly. âOr are you too sour over losing to wittle olâ me?â
Derek snorts and reaches over to clasp Stilesâ free hand, âOn the contrary, Iâd be happy to lose to you again.â
Stiles returns the gesture and leans forward, eyes glimmering, his face mere inches away from Derekâs, âPromise?â
Derek is suddenly very glad that they are sitting because he can feel himself go weak in the knees. He nods thoughtfully, âYeah, I promise.â And leans forward to close the gap.
Their first kiss tastes like garlic bread, which is a little unconventional, but Derek wouldnât have it any other way.
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The Hales moved in next door more than a year ago and while Cora and Stiles became fast friends, Stiles has yet to meet his best friend's big brother, Derek, whoâs been attending college in New York. When Derek comes home for the summer he makes less than a stellar impression. And vice versa.
The Hales moved in next door more than a year ago and while Cora and Stiles became fast friends, Stiles has yet to meet his best friend's big brother, Derek, whoâs been attending college in New York. When Derek comes home for the summer he makes less than a stellar impression. And vice versa.
Fazit:
This is such a cute fic. I really loved it. Derek is deaf and Stiles thinks at first he is an asshole but Derek just canât hear him. But step by step they get closer and fall in love. This is a feel good fic! I enjoyed it very much.
Summary: Stiles taps on the icon to open up the chat. He needs to write something. Anything. But what?
What are you wearing? Eh, no.
So, when the fuck were you going to tell me youâre back in BH? A bit too aggressive.
Does this mean that my attraction to you in high school was mutual, but you held back on account of me basically being a child and you are now open to exploring the intense, overwhelming feelings I held for you, which I only realized I had the moment I thought I watched you die? Maybe too honest.
---
Stiles hasn't seen or heard from Derek in ten years. It's a bit of a surprise to find out about Derek's return to Beacon Hills through Tinder.
Notes: Heeeeeeeeeey look, a Tinder fic! This one is just way too good to miss tbh. Itâs one of those that leaves you with butterflies in your belly. -C
Sneak Peek:
Derek looks good. Stiles is just putting it out there. Older, sure, with tiny wrinkles by his eyes and mouth, but Stiles looks older too. He likes to think heâs aged like a fine wine, with the baby fat of his teenage years gone and a new confident spring in his steps. Derek has always looked good, though, even ten years ago. He just looks⊠different now, in this picture. Stiles is pretty sure heâs never seen Derekâs shoulders look so relaxed, or his smile so soft and wide. He looks happy. Stilesâ body aches again, in a way he canât really identify. Longing, maybe, but nothing he has ever felt before.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Teen Wolf (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Characters: Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski, Jordan Parrish, Scott McCall
Summary
Stiles taps on the icon to open up the chat. He needs to write something. Anything. But what?
What are you wearing? Eh, no.
So, when the fuck were you going to tell me youâre back in BH? A bit too aggressive.
Does this mean that my attraction to you in high school was mutual, but you held back on account of me basically being a child and you are now open to exploring the intense, overwhelming feelings I held for you, which I only realized I had the moment I thought I watched you die? Maybe too honest.
---
Stiles hasn't seen or heard from Derek in ten years. It's a bit of a surprise to find out about Derek's return to Beacon Hills through Tinder.
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Hi! I was just wondering something about the group assignment: does the fic have to revolve around the theme or would a fic where for example one of them is a deputy (but it's not the main focus of the story) work?
Hey there,
This is kind of a case of using your best judgment. The theme doesnât have to be the whole point of the story, but I do think it should have some presence or influence on the plot. Ex: if itâs just mentioned in one line that the characterâs a cop and it never comes up again, that wouldnât really count. If itâs a story about a pack barbecue and Derekâs kind of fixated on how hot Stiles is in his uniform, then that would.
I guess there should be some focus on the theme, and it should influence the story in some way, but it doesnât have to be the whole point or the main plot of it.
Nothing says love like: "What the hell are you doing? Get your paw off my face I'm sleeping." Â I had an idea for a Mage!Stiles AU where he made little figurines that turned into familiars but idk how well that comes across. Please enjoy the domestic bliss instead. <3Â
AN: My very first Sterek fic and my first published proper fanfic in like four years! Very exciting. This is a Sterek Secret Santa 2k18 gift for the incomparable everchanginginks, so I hope I have done everything she could ever want in this.
Within: Fluff, There Was Only One Bed, friends to lovers, and magic!Stiles, which is 4/5 of the prompts I was given! If I had 10k to work with I could have encompassed the fifth of enemies to lovers, but we do what we can. I'm already WELL OVER the 5k limit I am so sorry SSS it just happened like that orz
Read on AO3
******
WÄdrowiec
Hey -SS
Hey -SS
Hey -SS
What -DH
Whatâs your address. The loft. -SS
Why do you need it -DH
Well I canât just ask the postal service âhey what zip code are Derek Haleâs eyebrowsâ -SS
I mean I could but it wouldnât get me anywhere -SS
Why do you need it -DH
Iâm going to be in Michigan for Christmas so I canât be there on the 25th to give you your present so I wanted to send it to you, if you must know -SS
You donât have to get me anything -DH
Well you embarrassed me by getting me a way-too-nice present last year so yeah I actually kind of do. We have spending limits for a reason!!!!!!!!!!!!! -SS
That wasnât a Christmas gift, and your laptop was nearing meltdown. We need you technologically capable to keep the packs safe and up to date. It was a necessity. It just happened to be around Christmas -DH
My Christmas gift was within the spending limits. That was the laptop case. -DH
Why are you going to Michigan? -DH
My momâs family wants to see us again, apparently theyâve gotten over the spat happened between my uncles and my dad and they want us all together -SS
Really I think itâs because they figure itâs my grandfatherâs last Christmas so they want us to pretend that everythingâs fine for his sake -SS
Iâm sorry to hear that -DH
Oh I donât really give a fuck itâs just free food and free gossip about my cousins as far as Iâm concerned -SS
Iâll just be bored to tears because they donât have any fuckin technology. Just a frozen ass lake and a frozen ass town in a frozen ass state. How do they survive in a house with NO WIFI?!??!?!! -SS
Guess youâll just have to die, then -DH
The typing indicator went up for a few seconds before a full half a minuteâs pause, then Derekâs ringtone played as Stiles was now calling him. It was Derekâs preferred method of communication anyway, tone was completely lacking over text and he kind of needed some sort of cue to figure out what people meant.
âThat was a fffucking meme youâre so full of shit when you pretend not to know what Iâm talking about!!!â Stiles was trying to sound some form of mad, but there was way too much of a smile in his voice. âSo full of shit. Fuck you.â Stilesâ verbiage towards Derek had gotten crasser and somehow even more confrontational since heâd gone off to college, but paradoxically more affectionate.
âMhmm.â Derek didnât give him much to go off of, but figured that Stiles had something else to talk about with him rather than just to whine about his alleged meme knowledge. Honestly, heâd just heard Isaac say it once and it garnered a positive reaction from others, so he filed it away for later use.
That wasnât exactly what Stiles was hoping for, but he wasnât going to let something as trivial as Derekâs resistance to banter stop him from talking. âSo what are your plans for Christmas?â He still hadnât gotten that address out of him, but if Derek had plans to be somewhere, he wanted to find out what.
âNothing.â
Stiles stopped in his pace around his room, âWait, nothing? What about Cora ân Erica ân Boyd ân Isaac ân Scott?â he listed off the people Derek was close enough to be around without too much annoyance in either direction.
âCoraâs down in Peru with her old pack, sheâs pretty excited for their plans there, and it didnât come with an invite, I figured Iâd let her be. ItâsâŠâ He trailed off, grateful that Stiles held his tongue so he could find his words. âWeâre siblings, but those six years of thinking the other dead and her pack being hundreds of miles away, weâre just not that close. Iâll call her on Christmas and Iâve sent her a couple things, itâs enough. Boyd and Erica are visiting Boydâs grandmother in South Carolina, since his mom got a nice Christmas bonus in her paycheck.â
âChristmas bonus, huh.â Stilesâ tone was completely not buying the story.
âChristmas bonus.â Derek reaffirmed, not addressing Stilesâ suspicions in the least. Itâs not that he was wrong, but Boyd was the hardest to convince to accept his financial support, so he had to resort to more sneaky measures to help him out. âAnd Scott and Isaac are with Ms. McCall.â
âWhich also didnât come with an invite.â Stiles filled the blank for him. It prickled at him that everyone just forgot Derek, even the ones staying in the area. âHell, man, if I knew you got fucked over like that Iâd have stayed, screw the free food ân everything, but we already said weâd go. I could have made you watch all of the Christmas movies that you missed out on living under a rock. And my famous hot chocolate.â
âYour famous hot chocolate, which is powdered hot chocolate mix made with whole milk, a Lindt truffle at the bottom, and a half a can of whipped cream?â
Stiles glared at the phone like the screen had personally insulted him, his ancestors, and the entirety of the Power Rangers all in one sentence. âWho told you.â
Derek was smiling despite the topic being how alone he was on the holiday. âLydia warned me of the sugarbomb.â
âTraitor.â Stiles had an idea in his head. âHeyâŠ..Iâm gonna be bored as hell over in Michigan, and it wonât be much fun without technology, you wanna come with? You can convince them that I actually have friends and you wonât be listening to the pipes clanging in that loft all by yourself.â
âI couldnât impose on-â
âFuck that, theyâre my family and they barely like me anyway, theyâll love you and that way Iâll at least have someone I can talk to aside from my dad, whoâll probably be bickering with my uncles, and my grandfather, who mostly speaks Polish and is about as social as a wombat.â
Derek squinted at the simile. He had to ask, even if it was stupid. âHow social are wombats, exactly?â
âHell if I know.â
Derek thought for a moment. It wouldnât be the worst thing in the world to at least have somewhere to go instead of staring at empty walls. âCheck with them if theyâre alright with you bringing someone you want to kill half the time, and if they say yes, Iâll pay my way and get a hotel.â
âNo, no no, youâre staying in the house. They have a pretty big house, they got it decades and decades ago and itâs right on the lake, itâs really nice. I havenât been there since I wasâŠâ Stiles counted on his fingers for a few seconds before giving up and ballparking it. ââŠLike twelve but yeah. Iâll tell âem Iâm bringing a friend, Iâm sure theyâll be fine with it. Should be grateful my fine ass will even be showing up at all.â
Derek rolled his eyes only part of the way. âSee what they say, but donât push. I wonât die if Iâm on my own for Christmas.â
âYeah but I might if Iâm bored for too long out there.â
âI guess harassing me is entertainment.â He could concede that as Stilesâ motivation, it was easier than accepting a invitation offered out of guilt to bother his family by intruding on their Christmas
âEver since I trespassed on your property, itâs been my favorite pastime.â
âTalk to you later, Stiles.â Derek wanted the conversation over before Stiles got too wrapped up in the parley and didnât start asking, which was a basic courtesy before bringing someone they didnât even know all the way there to stay in their house and eat their food and intrude on their family Christmas. He didnât have high hopes, but even just the offer was enough to make him feel a little less alone.
*~*
Stiles was still blinking in shock at being awake at the ungodly hour that he was awake at, sitting in San Francisco Airport, when his father put a coffee in his hand. John was making something that was as close to small talk as Derek could get as they waited for the plane at the gate. How the both of them could stand to be so conscious before 7am was beyond him. How dare they. Didnât they know that 5:55 am was a fake time of day and that being awoken at 3 in the morning was tantamount to a Geneva convention violation?!?
âNhghhhgngh.â Stiles mumbled in response, shaking hands lifting the cup to his face and putting all of his faith in muscle memory to navigate the rest of it. It worked well enough, liquid went down the right tube and not down his shirt.
âCâmon, get that down so you can cram Dramamine in your face and when you wake up weâll be in OâHare.â Johnâs tone of voice was surprisingly warm and sincere despite a sentence which could easily be condescending. Maybe it was the whole Christmas spirit getting through to him, or maybe it was that Stiles was way too groggy to backsass him at this hour of the day and he was enjoying it as much as he could.
They got Stiles upright enough to get him on the plane and negotiated seating, Derek wanted on the aisle for easy escape from a compacted tube full of a ton of people and noise and smells and recycled air, which John couldnât fault him for, and given that Stiles was going to be unconscious shortly, it was better he was on the window, so Stiles was next to Derek on the two seat side and John across the aisle from them.
Derek figured Stiles would just curl up on the window and fall asleep and he could read on his tablet in peace, so it was a mild surprise that Stiles, buckled in and half gone already, leaned on his shoulder and nuzzled in, breathing steadied and as comfortable as anything.
John leaned over to check on his son, and though wildly perplexed, he leaned back and decided that as long as Derek wasnât strangling his kid for touching him, it was fine by him.
*~*
The arrival to Gerald Ford Airport in Michigan was, to say the least, a wakeup call for the youngest of the trioâd travelers.
âJesus fucking Christ, oh my god, why is it so cold?â He asked as the pilot announced that the temperature in Grand Rapids was a balmy twenty-five with flurries all day. Barbaric.
âStiles, you know itâs gonna be like, ten degrees and windstorms in Michigan the whole week, right?â Derekâs eyebrow rose at the double hoodies and vest Stiles was sporting, that Stiles had not taken out anything warmer from his luggage. That wouldnât be nearly enough for wind straight from Canadaâs frozen wastelands. Derek had done his research into where heâd be heading before packing his luggage, you know, like an adult.
âThis is what I got!â Stiles shrugged, a California native that did his schooling in D.C. and Virginia, where neither place got REAL snow on the regular.
âWell, as it turns out, I expected as much.â Derek pulled out his carry-on duffle and extracted three coats, one light brown, one navy, and one black. He handed the brown to John in the middle of their row, and the navy across to Stiles. âFigured you guys wouldnât have remembered how cold it gets in real northern places.â He said as he shrugged the black coat on himself, a slave to aesthetics.
âHell, Derek, you didnât have toâŠâ John did have a halfway warm enough coat, it wasnât- oh, it was actually pretty nice. âHow much was this?â Heâd be really weirded out if Derek was dropping stacks on him and his son, he was already confused at the gift of a laptop the previous year, itâs not like he couldnât afford a laptop for his son. He couldnât have afforded the one Derek got him, but he didnât want to be upstaged in taking care of Stiles. The other kids could take advantage of Derekâs money all they wanted, but the Stilinskis had pride. They didnât accept charity from rich boy werewolves.
âNot nearly enough for either of you to worry about it.â Derek said, sliding his sunglasses on and leaning back, not interested in carrying on the conversation any longer.
John, unable to turn down the gift but weirded out by Derek both anticipating this need at all, actually going to the trouble to getting these, and sacrificing space in his carry on to bring them on the plane all for this specific scene along with buying him gifts, pulled it on all the same. What a fucking drama queen. âThanks, Derek.â
Stiles had rolled his eyes at yet another extravagant present from Derek that was way too much to accept but he was trapped by it, since he did desperately need it and couldnât say no. Well, heâd saved Derek from being the saddest bastard in all of California on Christmas, so maybe this was recompense. âItâs not like I canât warm myself up.â He grumbled. Heat spells were elementary on the roster of the things any spark worth his salt would know. And Stiles was the saltiest of all.
âYeah, Stiles, go ahead and slightly set yourself on fire through the whole week.â Derekâs deadpan delivery could easily be mistaken for sincerity, which did well enough to disguise the fact that he was actually really impressed that Stiles had been getting far enough with his magic to do some interesting and sometimes even useful things. âYouâll be our Yule Log. Very seasonal self-immolation.â
John expected Stiles to look pissed at that level of smack-talk, but Stiles looked oddly gratified by the response, like getting Derek to make fun of him was his goal all along.
âSuch a good alpha provider, takes such good care of us. Thaaaank you Dereeeek.â
There might have been just a twitch of a smile at the corner of Derekâs mouth, but it could have just been a trick of the lights as cabin prepared for landing.
*~*
Stiles was giving Derek a rundown of the family members heâd have to keep straight while there, cousins and uncles and aunts and people that were peripheral to the family but close enough to be considered part of the group, the bits and pieces of them that heâd pulled together. He hadnât seen them in a decade, so much of what he knew was informed by Facebook posts and a few Instagram bits that let him know who was who and look at least a little less like he didnât remember jack shit about his cousins. Which he did, just they were also around 8-14 so itâs been a while, alright? Some of âem had gone to college, some of âem got jobs, hell, one of âem was married with a kid. Wild.
âShortlist of the important family to know: Nelia, grandpaâs wife. My grandmother died a few years after my mom, but Neliaâs a pretty nice woman, sheâs got a really thick accent so if you donât understand what sheâs saying you can ask one of us to translate, we all speak Polish to some degree.â
âI donât.â John added, at the driverâs seat of the rented car. Derek would rent a car in town, they figured that arriving together would be easier, and then no one was alone for the ride from the airport to the family house.
âWell, Dad doesnât, but there you go, you and him can be awkward together when we talk shit about you guys, itâll be great.â Stiles was in the passenger seat, texting people at lightning speed about how this was going to be the most hilarious week of his life and it was all because Derek was going to have to be exposed to a TRADITIONAL FAMILY CHRISTMAS.
Did you pack Benadryl? -ER
Why? -SS
For when he breaks out in hives from people expressing genuine emotion around him -ER
âThen thereâs Grandpa, I call him the Polish term for it, Dziadek, youâre probably best off with Mr. Gajos. I think Iâve heard a grand total of ten words out of him my whole life, so you donât have to worry much about him.â
Derekâs eyes were fixed on something in the distance, and casually added, âHeâs who youâre named after, right?â
Stiles went stiff and turned around to look at Derek. âWho told you.â Much less humorous than the previous inquisition about the hot chocolate, he seemed properly displeased about it.
Derek only mildly smiled and made no other answer. Stiles made an aggravated noise but wasnât going to try and interrogate Derek. He continued his familial explanation but sounded much more irritated at everyone in it. âThen there are my cousins, there are a bunch and some new ones Iâve never met, but you pretty much only have to know Nika, whoâs two years older than me. Sheâs the only one that sort of kept in touch and therefore the only one I care about. The uncles are âŠwell you donât care, and I bet they wonât mess with you much. Now, the whole drama with them, Dad, if you wanna take the lead on explaining why we havenât talked to âem in over a decade.â
John gave Stiles a meaningful glance, but didnât explain it. âWell, after Claudia died, I had a hard time of it for a while. They thought that I should have handled her, and Stiles, differently than I did.â Derek realized the glance was begging Stiles not to ask John to air his most closely guarded shames right in front of Derek, who signed up for a little getaway and not to hear all their most private secrets.
âThey were firm believers that ADHD was cured by beatings and were annoyed that I was a bit of a holy terror.â Stiles translated.
John grimaced a little. âThey wanted to take Stiles in, raise him properly. I admit I wasnât perfect. They werenât right to say it, but I understand why they did.â
Derek could connect the dots laid out before him. They saw John as a useless drunk and Stiles as a neglected brat and thought they could do better. âSo now youâre talking again?â He asked, desperate to save John from further agonies.
âEnough that they didnât threaten to play family politics chess and try to make Stilesâ grandparents chose which children they liked better this year.â
âWe did alright on our own.â Stiles declared with a defiant smile, clearly not about to entertain the notion of understanding their position whatsoever.
It was hard for Derek to wrap his head around a family fracturing so easily like that, Hale lines ran so deep that even someone as gone as Peter could find his way back in Derekâs heart if he worked for it. To cut someone off so cleanly on either side was alien to him. But it wasnât his family, and frankly none of his business anyway.
*~*
They stood outside of a surprisingly expansive house on the edge of Silver Lake on the western side of the Michigan mitten, the gray sky above their heads threatening to dump yet more snow on them as they waited for someone to reach the door. Derek could hear a collection of heartbeats and voices within. Two of them old, one arrhythmic. A couple more adults, a few younger voices, a decent family gathering. There was apple, rum, cinnamon, nutmeg in the air, someone made mulled cider. It was only the 22nd, this was just a small contingent perhaps, or at least not held to the same importance as Christmas Eve.
The door opened, and a short, stout woman with steel curls and a smile that felt like home stood in the doorway to welcome them. âMieczyslaaaw!â She reached forward and pulled him down to kiss both of his cheeks and hug him tightly. She hadnât seen him since they all attended the funeral of their grandmother. As a longtime family friend in the area, it was an easy transition for the family to absorb Nelia in the fold. âOh, my sweet child. Look at you, how youâve grown. My love.â She ushered him inside to embrace John as well, but paused a little in surprise when she saw Derek.
âNelia, this is my friend Derek.â Stiles said, looking almost proud to bring home such a fine friend to his step-grandmother. Almost as if he was proving to everyone that he wasnât a complete social pariah, that he had people who liked him enough to come all the way out to Michigan with him.
Nelia looked surprised at the man before her, but to her credit recovered quickly, holding a hand out for him to shake. âSo nice to meet you, Derek. Please, come in.â For all of Stilesâ warning of an accent, it really wasnât that bad. Clearly not her first language, but perfectly understandable. Though Derek had taught himself Polish when you are very rich you have a fair bit of time on your hands, he knew that he could only tell Stiles that he could speak it once, and he was saving that card for later. Unless Nelia was struggling on something, heâd keep his fluency to himself. She pulled him in with a hand on his shoulder as well, closing the door to the cold.
The house was warm and alive, a strong furnace and people comfortable staying there. Derek was able to pick up on more than the others and could hear a side conversation between two men.
âYour other grandson and John are here.â An adult man, a husky voice, probably a smoker, speaking quietly in a distant room. There were footsteps coming towards the Stilinskis and Derek at the door, but the voice stayed put. Whoever was talking wasnât moving a muscle to meet them.
âGood! Good. I want to see them. Itâs been too long.â The responding voice was hoarse, stilted slightly, and far older. It almost reminded Derek of Vito Corleone, a man assured of his position as patriarch.Who wouldnât have his opinion questioned.
"Itâs a disgrace.â
"I have tolerated the insult of your war against them long enough. Silence.â An authoritative end to a conversation, before a creak of wheels coming toward them.
Stiles was going through family, stiff handshakes with the assorted uncles, trying to communicate through grip and direct eye contact that he knew precisely what they said about him and his dad, and that given the opportunity, heâd fight them. He then had to give hugs of varying sincerity with the cousins. The ones he knew from his childhood he could embrace with genuine emotion, the ones heâd never met was more of an uncomfortable formality, performed for the sake of appearances. Once finished, he saw his grandfather for the first time in years. It was a lance through his heart to see the once tall man reduced to a withered shadow in a wheelchair. âHi Dziadek.â He said, bending down to put an arm around him.
âOh, Mischief.â The older man put shaking hands around Stilesâ face. âYou look so much like Claudia.â
Stiles nodded sadly as his grandfather patted his face and let him return to full height again. Mentions of his mother didnât hurt as much as they used to, but he didnât remember her face as much as the others did, it seemed. When he looked in the mirror, he didnât see a ghost looking out like the others could.
Derek was awkwardly explaining who he was to some people there who also seemed confused, when the cousin he saw Nelia talking to earlier took his arm. âDerek, we were under the impression when Stiles said he was bringing a friend that youâd be a girlfriend.â She finally explained outright.
Derek blinked a few times and was grateful for all the years of keeping a straight face under pressure to now not give any sign of a reaction. He put his thoughts into a response after a momentâs recovery. âThat does explain why Nelia was confused. Iâm just a friend who didnât have plans for Christmas and Stiles offered. If itâs a problem at all I could absolutely stay some-â
âOh, no, staying here is fine.â The girl saved him from talking. âIâm Nika, by the way.â She fixed him with an odd look that heâd seen sometimes in Stiles, a sort of curious, searching look that a raptor might give while wondering if something was prey or a toy. âJust that originally, when you were a girlfriend, youâd have been staying in my room and Stiles was with my brother. But thatâs clearly not going to be a thing. So you and my brother will be switching, so youâre with Stiles and my brotherâs with me. He had to go move his stuff. You and Stiles should come up and see the room, I think we have some things to discuss.â
She was tossing around so many red flags in Derekâs head she could be a one person color guard. He didnât know what the hell she was, but there was something very very very wrong with this whole situation. He might not have an intuitive evil detector like Stilesâ spidey sense, but he had a healthy dose of paranoia, and it was telling him that there was all kinds of trouble about to occur. Maybe she was going to ritually sacrifice them up there. Maybe this was the Polish Get Out. WyjĆÄ. It was a little catchy.
The adults had started passing around drinks and returned to their original conversations, and Nika made some excuse about room arrangements and putting luggage up to drag Stiles away from the grandparents glad to be reunited with their prodigal grandson.
Stiles peeled away from them and caught the  Am I Going To Be Flayed Alive look in Derekâs big green stupidly pretty eyes and almost laughed. âRelax, Ice Man, youâre fine.â He clapped him on the shoulder as they went outside to get the suitcases from the car. âItâs Nika. Sheâs my absolute fave cousin, and if something happened to her or she meant any kind of ill will, Iâd know. Trust me. Sheâs fine.â
Nika lead them upstairs to a small room with a full size bed, dark blue walls, no decorations but a nightstand and rug. Hadnât been lived in for months, given the dead air in the room. âSo, Stiles. How about you tell me when your spark woke, and why you brought a werewolf all the way over here.â
Stiles choked on either air or an immediate response, either way he sounded like an ostrich getting throttled. Derek wasnât making out much better mentally, but he only raised his eyebrows.
Nika smiled as she sat on the bed. âCome on, Stiles, whereâd you think you got the gift from? Aunt Claudia never used her talents much, but she was one of us.â She picked up the candle on the nightstand and blew on the wick, a flame lighting to fill the room with some warmth. âIâve never met a werewolf before, but you were sensing shit like Legolas out there, Derek, it wasnât too subtle, and a set of ears and or nose like that, out of Beacon Hills aka Werewolf Wonderland?â
âMore like nightmareland.â Stiles snorted. âSo, holy shit, like five revelations at once and I wanna come back to likeâŠ.all of them, butâŠuhâŠ.how many of âem know, downstairs?!â He asked, shocking Derek by asking an actually relevant, useful question.
âThe three brothers know their mother and their sister were ââââout thereââââ and that youâre insane and Iâm a lost cause. Dziadek knew that Babcia was a superstitious woman and that the wild comes through sometimes. Oh, sorry Derek, Dziadek and Babcia are grandfather and grandmother respectively.â Nika explained. âBabcia did small things, mostly stuff with herbs and intent, like thumping a car engine and telling it to run, or aggressively sweeping bad energy out of the house, or putting bundles above doorways to keep evil intent out. Even the mistletoe around the house was hers.â She set the candle back onto the nightstand, the fire flickering with the movement. âWerewolves are very family oriented, in general, itâs unusual to break away from the family to join another entirely alien one for a holiday like Christmas. Iâm just curious.â
âHeâs way too nice and let his pack totally forget about him.â Stiles wasnât remotely afraid of being as bitter about it as Derek tried to deny that he felt.
Nika digested the statement for a moment and gave them a vague smile. âMaybe not all of them.â She got up and left the room as if that would give her the last word. Clearly, she didnât recall from her childhood who Stiles was, as he followed her as quickly as his gazelle legs could with an indignant âWHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?â
*~*
Stiles had been so wrapped up in realizing that there was a whole family history of witchery that heâd completely missed out on the fact that Derek and him were actually now supposed to share a bed until it was one in the morning and he finally arrived in the room. To find Derek sitting on his suitcase reading. âHey, thought you came up here a while ago.â
âI did, butâŠâ Derek half winced and locked his tablet. âWe only got the one bed, and..â
âBro, you used to live in the burned-out husk of your familyâs old house I am not about to buy that youâre such a snob that you canât share a bed for a few nights.â Stiles yanked his shirt off and tossed it in the vague direction of his suitcase. âItâs just a few nights and I even have sleep pants if you wanna go all no homo on me.â
âWhat? No, n- thatâs not what I mean.â
âThen what do you mean.â The belt careened through the air in an ark as Stiles continued the process.
Derek was going to have to talk quickly if he wanted to get out anything. âI canât sleep next to people.â
âWhat? Why?â Stiles paused, button of his jeans undone.
Derek was looking at a particularly fascinating piece of lint on the ground. âJust never works out right. I didnât want to just disappear on you, so I was waiting for you to get back before I went to find a hotel or crash on the couch.â
âNo, why. I wanna know why.â
Derek contemplated crawling out of the window to escape Stilesâ eyes, which even in the low light of the room burned into his skull. âI just canât, alright?â
âNope. Not alright. Fess up.â
âIâm a sleep cuddler.â Derek said it so quickly and refused to look up no matter what Stiles did.
Stiles was quiet for a few odd moments while he had a face odyssey. âReally?â
âYeah.â Derek could feel the blush on his face and was actively willing it to go away forever. âEver since I was a kid, if thereâs someone next to me I always end up wrapped around âem. Itâs not conscious, it just happens. So.â
âJesus tittyfuckinâ Christ, Derek I thought it was something serious. Iâm not gonna die if you give me a lil hug. Donât be so dramatic.â Stiles finally flung his jeans off and crawled under the covers, the little tone of his phone plugging in to charge playing as he settled in. âGânight, Der.â He mumbled sleepily.
Derek had no choice. If Stiles told anyone about this, theyâd never find his body. Whose body would go missing was up for debate.
*~*
Derek was a filthy liar when he tried to say it didnât work out, and he knew it. He slept better than he had in months that night. When he awoke, Stiles was playing some mobile game, and Derek was spooning him pretty hardcore, legs tangled and an arm over his stomach. He moved away the instant he came to consciousness again. âSorry.â He mumbled, only the ghosts of vowels in the slurred word.
âHell, if it was a problem Iâd have crawled out, but uh, you donât get too much sleep and seeing as you knocked out for a solid nine hours there, I thought it best to let you wake up on your own.â Stiles was all nonchalance, but Derek could hear something like omission from his words. Itâs not that he was wrong, it was just adjacent to the truth.
âWho told you I donât sleep?â
âThe fact that you text me back about Edda translations at three in the morning on Tuesday nights tells me that youâre not sleeping much. Now câmon, we missed the breakfast train but if we make puppy eyes at Nelia enough sheâll probably cave and feed us. Or smack us lightly and call us lazy. One of the two.â
*~*
âStiles, your friend is so handsome, how does he not have a girlfriend?â Nelia asked, perfectly comfortable to talk all kinds of terrible things as Derek was helping fold pierogi with Nika and Stiles. âHeâd make a fine husband. He should find a good wife.â
Stiles gawked for a second, and had no clue how to respond. This would in no way stop him from doing so anyway. âHeâs had a difficult time for a while, heâs helping his family right now, college, supporting them.â Stilesâ Polish was pretty rusty, he hadnât been practicing much in the last several years.
âHe has children?â
âNo. Not exactly. More friends that he kind of brought inside because no one was helping them right.â
âHmm. Nika, heâs handsome, isnât he?â
Nika did not want to get dragged into this conversation. âVery, but it isnât nice to talk about people in front of them.â
Nelia went to check on the uncles as they were all apparently having a slight discussion with John on the front lawn and was fully prepared to drag each of them back in by their ear and give them a firm education on the meaning of Christmas. This of course left the cousins and Derek all alone in the kitchen, the others of the family dispersed for their individual amusements.
âSo, Stiles, are youâŠ..and DerekâŠ.?â
Stiles blinked, sealing the dough around the potato and onion. âAre we whatâ
âBoyfriends.â She said it like it wasnât kind of a bombshell of a word to utter.
âNooo.â Flour and bits of dough scattered as he waved his hands to emphasize how NO that was. Absolutely not. Had she even seen Derek? He was so out of his league it physically and emotionally pained him. â No. Weâre just friends. Truly.â
âOkay, okay, I was just wondering. I wasnât going to tell anyone.â
âIâm not gay.â
âI didnât ask if you were.â
âYou were asking a little bit.â
âBut I wasnât.â
âDerekâs also not gayâ
âI wasnât asking!â
âBut he does have terribleâŠ.choice in women. Every time he gets a girlfriend she tries to kill us.â
That was enough of that. Derek had developed some thick skin about the litany of traumas heâd incurred and would give Stiles a little leave to talk shit about Jennifer, but that was taking it a little more casually than heâd like. âThatâs a little mean, Stiles.â He said in perfect Polish.
Stiles turned so many colors that there was a risk he might burst a blood vessel. He fled before anyone could grab hold of him and make him accountable for his actions. Nika at least muttered an apology before scurrying off.
Derek wondered if his deep-seated need to be dramatic may contrasting with his desire to not be such a colossal dick to people he actually liked.
*~*
Stiles successfully avoided Derek by busying himself with everything possible for the rest of the day, but of course, after the day, must come the night, and thus the sleep. In the same bed. With the guy he brutally insulted and exposed just hours ago. Fuck.
Maybe if Derek was already asleep he could just curl up in the closet and evaporate entirely before anyone noticed he existed. Fuck. Why did this have to happen. Why did he have to open his big stupid mouth and say the stupidest thing that heâd ever uttered in his life.
He didnât see light coming from under the door as he went, but knew that Derek would wake up if the doorknob made even the slightest sound. He rubbed his hands enough to warm the bony fingers and waved his hand slowly around the doorframe, collecting the sound from that space before snatching it all. Just long enough to open it silently.
When he saw Derek sitting up in bed with just the candle on the nightstand and his tablet in hand, Stiles had half a thought to make a run for it. But Derek had already looked up with a raised eyebrow. There was no escaping.
âHowâd you do that that quietly?â Derek asked, not addressing the parade of elephants doing the merengue in the room.
âI, uh, didnât want to wake you up. So I just took the sound away from it.â Stiles answered, stepping inside and looking pointedly away from anywhere near the bed.
Derek locked his tablet and set it aside. âThatâs pretty impressive.â Was all he said in reply, but it was gushing praise given who it was coming from.
Stiles couldnât stand it anymore. âDerek I am so sorry I said that, I never should have even thought it, I just-â his words were running on top of each other and he felt like King Trashbag of the proud nation of Shitfriendia.
âRelax.â
Stiles hated being told to relax by anyone, but he had to be very nice to Derek for the rest of their concurrent lives and there was something so calm about the way Derek said it that made it less insulting. He hazarded a glance up, but Derek wasnât wearing a shirt and even in the low light of the room he could see chest hair and he had to look away immediately or he might die.
âYou have a family member who understands you on a level none of the rest of us do. Sheâs becoming a fast friend and youâre very comfortable with her. It wasnât the nicest thing to say,â and it was pretty damn private, but Derek was trying to make Stiles feel better so he wouldnât bring it up, âbut I know you didnât mean to hurt me by it.â
âIâm sorry.â
âApology accepted.â This was probably the most adult conversation that either of them had ever engaged in, it was frankly shocking. Derek had called Boyd to help process his emotions and figure out what to say in a way that was a little more level headed than he might have done on his own.
Stiles nodded, knowing that Derek wouldnât appreciate further self-flagellation from him and that he just would have to accept being a terrible person for the rest of his life. When he crawled into bed, he lied awake, staring at the wall across from his face and mulled it over and over. He could hear Derekâs breathing settle as he fell asleep, and an hour later a couple wiggles and there was a nose pressing against his neck and a hand over his stomach. Stiles sighed at the warm heat against him, and finally could fall asleep.
*~*
Nelia checked the codfish in the oven, monitoring the temperature carefully. âStill not ready. Mieczyslaw, could you help set the table, please?â She asked, setting some rolled napkins and a handful of forks onto the table.
It was Christmas Eve, and the whole family was sitting down soon for Wigilia, the main feast. Usually eaten before going to Midnight Mass, beginning at around eleven and finishing at midnight proper. Despite its importance, the grandparents had not gone since the grandfather had been confined to his wheelchair and their local church loved its beautiful stone steps so much. As a religious building that was remarkably old, it was exempt from the ADA act requiring public buildings to be wheelchair accessible.
They still held the meal, though Nelia and the older Mieczyslaw went to bed and the others of the family were encouraged to go and say their prayers for them. The young children were kept at home with the grandparents to watch them and make sure no one got out of their bed to try and catch Santa Claus.
Stiles was carrying various accoutrements from the fridge and counters to the table, and counted the place settings. Exactly enough for everyone, though this alerted him. âWait, Nelia, weâre missing one. The spot for the wanderer.â
In many other cultures, an empty place setting at a family meal might be in remembrance of someone who had passed, or who could not be present at the table due to extenuating circumstances. It meant that something was missing, and some wanted to honor that with a missing place for them at the table. However, in Polish tradition at Wigilia, there is an empty place setting for an unexpected guest, or wanderer. A wÄdrowiec.
Nelia gave Stiles a meaningful look, one that he couldnât decipher. He was so used to these kinds of looks being paired with massive eyebrows and kaleidoscope green eyes that trying to do it for other people was more difficult. âThink on it.â She said, slicing challah bread into a basket and wrapping the napkin over it to keep them warm.
Stiles puzzled and puzzled til his puzzler was sore, then it dawned on him. He wondered why it hadnât before. âDerek.â
Nelia chuckled as she started slicing a loaf of challah bread. âSuch a smart boy you are, Mieczyslaw.â Bringing a friend who had nowhere else to go so soon beforehand was certainly an unexpected traveler, though she didnât know that Derek had been a wanderer for much longer than just that winter.
*~*
As John wasnât Catholic, Stiles hadnât even been Confirmed, and Derek didnât want to go without Stiles, they all hung back while the others went off to the Midnight Mass. Since they knew that with kiddos younger than eight, Christmas begins absurdly early for everyone, they went to bed after seeing everyone off for the church about 20 minutes from the house.
Stiles lied awake, waiting for Derek to properly fall asleep so heâd get that heavy warm weight against him, that even though itâd only been a few nights, he found it hard to fall asleep without that. He loved the excuse they both got for it, this unconscious habit, but he hoped, he wished that Derek wasnât regretting that he woke up with an armful of Stiles.
But he didnât. He lay there for a few hours before getting out of bed and leaving the room. Stiles thought he was going to the bathroom or something, but after ten whole awful minutes of not having Derek next to him, he had to investigate. Checking his phone, the screen said 11:57PM. The whole gang of adults would be out at Mass for a while yet, the service had barely just started and apparently the priest loved his speechifying when the whole congregation was actually there for once during the year as his captive audience.
Stiles crept downstairs looking for his friend, finding Derek in the kitchen, watching a mug rotate in the microwave. âCouldnât sleep?â he asked.
Derek glanced up. Heâd heard Stiles coming down, but he didnât really see the need to react beforehand. Itâs not like his mom had caught him with his hand in the cookie jar or anything. âKind of. And I wanted to set out some of the things I got for the kids who donât have as much money as the others. Went out when you were trying to avoid me with their parents to make sure none of the kids felt left out.â
âSantaâs Lil Helper, huh?â
Derek pondered it. âA little. And itâs a Hale tradition. Or more, itâs a Derek Hale tradition, since Iâm pretty much the one who spearheaded it.â
âWhat did your family used to do for Christmas?â They were speaking in hushed tones so as not to wake anyone up, but in the warm light of the kitchen Christmas lights, and the soft look of Derek in a beat-up tee and plaid sweatpants, he felt sentimental enough to ask.
âChristmas was always a little funny in the Hale house.â Derek admitted, stopping the microwave a moment before the chime would go off. âWe didnât do Santa Claus.â
âDid you do Santa Claws?â Stiles mimed some claws and fangs, knowing heâd earn an eyeroll at best.
Derek did not disappoint. âNo, just a couple presents from Mom and Dad, and aunts and uncles would be later. They didnât want us getting spoiled or thinking Santa loved us more because he gave us all kinds of stuff. But we didnât open anything until at least noon.â
âParents liked their sleep?â Stiles definitely remembered a firm ALL PRESENTS WILL BE REPLACED WITH CHORES AND BRUSSELS SPROUTS IF THIS DOOR IS OPENED BEFORE 8:00 AM rule on Christmas morning. Of course, Stiles was jumping on his bed with excitement at five in the morning, anyway.
Derek shook his head, and his phone started vibrating in his pocket. Stiles squinted, who would be calling Derek at midnight? Moreover, why was Derek actually taking the call??
He stepped outside onto the porch, little snow drifts from their actual white Christmas shuffling aside for him with his mug. Stiles saw the bag of Lindt truffles and a little chocolate powder dust on the counter- that sonuvabitch made HIS secret recipe. Wait. WHAT.
Derek stepped back in a few minutes later with half a smile on his face.
âWho was that?â Stiles had to ask.
âCora.â
âWhatâd she want?â
Derek looked mildly embarrassed. âAs of,â he looked at his watch, which read 12:08AM ââŠfive minutes ago, Iâm thirty years old.â
Stilesâ jaw dropped just a bit as his mind whirled. âItâs your birthday!?â he hissed, needing to aggressively shout but not able to wake the kids.
Derek almost winced. âYeah.â
âWellâŠ.happy birthday!â Shit. Shit shit shit. HEâD KNOWN DEREK FOR EIGHT YEARS AND HE NEVER KNEW THIS WAS HIS BIRTHDAY. Stiles had to go find his King Trashbag of Shitfriendia crown again and sit on his dumpster pile.
âI donât like people knowing. Itâs an awkward day to have a birthday.â Derek sipped his cocoa, clearly uncomfortable.
Stiles didnât know how to deal with this. âSoâŠis that why you guys didnât do Christmas until the afternoon?â He felt like he was playing minesweeper, except he didnât get to see the warning numbers.
âYeah.â He looked down into the mug, it was easier to talk about things if he didnât have to watch the face journey of sympathy on peopleâs faces when he talked about his family. But he missed them on his birthday especially, and he wanted to talk about it. And out of anyone, he wanted to talk to Stiles about it. He knew, at least to some degree, the feeling of empty spaces in your memories. âMy mom used to wake me up at 12:03 to tell me happy birthday and bring me in the kitchen. Sheâd have a present on there that was a birthday present only. From her. She was the alpha, so it wasâŠpretty much impossible to actually ever get her alone. Always busy with the whole pack, worrying about everyone else, worrying aboutâŠâ He trailed off. Christmas was always such a hectic time for everyone, so much noise and stress and busy rushing everywhere. âSo it was nice, to have that little moment with just her.â
Silence fell between them for a few moments. Stiles didnât know what to do with himself. Then he realized; his present to Derek was bizarrely perfect. âHold on. Hold right here.â He stole up to his room and came back down with a wrapped present, the tape shoddily put on. He thrust the box out to Derek, looking way too happy with himself. âHappy birthday, big guy.â
Derek looked between Stiles and the box a few times, but took it and quietly unstuck the tape to slide the box out and open it. âYou fucking dick.â He laughed as he pulled out a sweater that said âBIRTHDAY BOYâ on it, with a hideous looking Jesus. A true ugly Christmas sweater, with a bday twist.
Stiles was grinning like a loon as Derek pulled the sweater on over his tee, that amused glint in Derekâs eyes where Stilesâ idiot sense of humor hit him perfectly. He picked up his mug again, and felt that itâd turned cold. âCan I get a warm-up?â
Stiles could have just poked the mug in Derekâs hands, or even just pointed at it. But Stiles wrapped his hands around it, his hands glowing a little as the liquid heated within, and Derekâs cold hand too.
Derekâs eyebrow quirked slightly. âThanks.â He took a sip. âCan yâdo whipped cream too?â
Stiles stifled a snorted laugh poorly, but didnât step back away.
Derek set the mug back onto the table and looked at Stiles for another quiet moment, this one much less tense. Without looking up, he broke the silence with âI swear to God if thereâs mistletoe up there right n-mmf!â
Stiles had closed the gap to kiss him, his hands holding Derekâs face as he nearly crushed their noses together. They eventually managed to tilt their heads properly so it was less of a frantic smush and more of a proper kiss.
When they finally broke so Stiles could breathe, Derek had a smile on his face, one that didnât leave in half a second. âSo, is there any?â
Stiles was able to stifle that stupid laugh better. âCâmon, lets get those presents out there for them. Theyâll be back eventually.â
They put some Christmas movies on the TV as they sorted the presents into neat piles for each family so everyone could sit with their group. They were on the couch, writing out the tags on each one, making sure that the way all the Santas were written exactly the same and all of the names were spelled exactly correct. Stealing kisses every once in a while devolved slowly over the course of one of the Rankin and Bass animated movies to Stiles pressing Derek into the couch, making out like a couple of teenagers with the Christmas spirit in them.
John was trudging downstairs to see if Santa had left any of those shortbread cookies, but heard something odd from the family room. He was about to investigate, but heard something that sounded very distinctly like a Stiles happy noise, and decided to have a coughing fit and remind those two that they were not only not alone in this abode, but that the assorted parents and cousins would be returning soon and unless Stiles wanted to come out to the family in the most aggressive way possible, they better take it upstairs.
Derek managed to blush harder than Stiles did, but both had received the message, and put away the tags and pens before retreating to their room sheepishly. But they knew that John had probably seen this coming, and wasnât going to judge them for it.
When they crawled into bed, Stiles didnât have to wait to feel that arm around him, the press of heat against him, safe and warm. Derek kissed the back of his neck, and he could feel the smile against his skin.
Derek heard the family come back from the Midnight Mass downstairs, doing their best to tiptoe through and not wake up anyone.
âAh ah ah! Mistletoe!â one of the aunts cooed, before a smack of a kiss.
âWho puts mistletoe in the middle of the kitchen.â Grumbled someone who was not getting themselves a Christmas kiss, bah humbug and all that.
The last voice was Nika. âBabcia always said thereâs magic in a kitchen.â