#foolishsel

The pack whooped and hollered in their victory as Lydia set out to make up name cards.  

“Everyone fills out a sheet and puts it in this bag, then we all draw a name. Remember it’s a secret.” Lydia glared at Stiles for that last part; he feigned shock. “What?”

Everyone took a piece of paper with a matching red or green pen, Lydia made everything festive, and went to work writing down their likes and dislikes.  Derek hadn’t a clue how to answer half the questions. What was his favorite restaurant? Favorite store? How would he know; not like he had time to stroll the town what with all the creatures that came to Beacon Hills threating to kill them and such.  

He ended up skipping some altogether or answered, ‘I don’t.’ The weirdest question was ‘what is your favorite scent?’ The only thing he could come up with was Stiles. He’d memorized his fresh laundry smell mixed with mint, and that hint of Stiles anxiety-his scent was home.  

Derek finished filling out the form, handing it back to Lydia; he felt sorry for whoever picked his name. They all agreed Lydia would keep hold of the master list as she was the only one who could be trusted not to lose it; they only hoped she wrote their names and not some cryptic code -it happened more often than not.  

Lydia came around with the bag for everyone to draw a name, writing down who each person drew as she went. Stiles seemed happy about his pick. “Oh, this is going to be so easy!” Derek figured he got his best friend Scott whom he’d known practically his whole life. Lucky bastard.

Once it was Derek’s turn, he pulled out the last name hoping for someone easy like Isaac-he could just get him a stupid scarf. He reached his hand in the bag timidly, pulling out the last name, the one he’d hoped to avoid-Stiles. As if it being their first Christmas as a couple wasn’t enough, now Derek had to find him not one, but two amazing gifts. The only thing he’d come up with so far was some string and markers for his ‘who done it board’, though he was afraid Stiles might find a different activity for those items.  

Once all the others had piled out of the loft, Derek and Stiles were left alone at last. Derek lunged for Stiles, but he squirmed out of his grip quickly. Damn wiry thing he was!  

“Oh no you don’t my sexy werewolf! We only have a few days to shop for these gifts and I’m guessing you could use all the time you can get.” Derek flipped him off, moving quicker this time and pinned him to the wall. “How about I give you a gift right now?” Derek raised his brows in challenge, Stiles pecked him on the lips. “Maybe later babe.” Derek let him slide away, for now.  

He moved to the couch and laid back, hoping an idea for Stiles would spring to life. It didn’t, but it’s was the thought that counted-right?

~

Derek spent almost the entirety of the next few day searching high and low for anything he could give Stiles, but always came up empty. What does one buy a neurotic teenager who cares more about people than things?  

Christmas was two days away which meant Christmas eve was tomorrow night, and that was the day they were exchanging Secret Santa gifts.  

The cool air fogged up around the werewolf as he puffed out heavy breaths. He could hear Stile’s heart beating semi rapidly as he approached the door, but not for the reasons he was thinking. Christmas music was blaring when he opened the door and he took in the sight in front of him. Lights were strung up everywhere around the loft: rainbow colored ones, classic gold, snowflakes, and ones that looked like dripping icicles. There was a massive Christmas tree in the middle of the floor, complete with more lights and ornaments that surrounded them. Stiles was pacing around the loft setting up miscellaneous decorations here and there, not noticing that his boyfriend had walked in.  

Derek growled low in his throat, flashing his blue eyes. Stiles turned to see the noise. “Ahhh!”  

He dropped the décor he had in his hands, ornaments clanging to the floor. “Jesus Derek, what did I tell you about sneaking up on me?” Derek flared his blues once more. “Probably the same thing I told you about decorating this place.” Ignoring his broodiness, Stiles strode over to him and Derek wrapped his arms around him from behind, resting his chin on Stiles shoulder.  

“See now my sour-wolf, isn’t it a beauty?” Derek smiled into Stiles neck, trying to see everything through his eyes. He bent to kiss him along his jaw, sending shivers down Stiles arm. Derek whispered low in his ear, “The view’s not so bad I guess.” Stiles practically melted under him. “Ok Christmas later. You, me, bed, NOW!”  

They chased each other around the loft until they were pinning one another to the bed, kissing each other fervently. Falling asleep with Stiles tucked safely in his arms that night, Derek finally knew what he was going to get him, but he was going to need some help.  

~

Derek was up and out of the cozy-lit loft early the next morning, kissing Stiles on his forehead before heading out. He wanted to crawl back into bed and warm his boyfriend, but it would be selfish of him; he had gifts to get together by tonight.  

On the way to his car, he stopped at Stiles jeep to grab an item he would need for part of the present, then he was on his way.  

He stopped at the store first, knowing none of his pack would be awake this early. The craft store was lined with paper, stickers, paints, and all sorts of things Derek had never envisioned in his lifetime. He stood out like a sore thumb with his brooding looks and leather jacket. One of the workers eventually came to his rescue, helping him gather all of the supplies he would need: paper, glue, stickers, and a large box of sharpie markers. His next stop was Lydia’s house; she would know how to help him start the project and put it all together.  

Once at Lydia’s place, he showed her the materials he’d gotten, laying out his plan for the gift. Lydia was left speechless; she stared at him in awe. Derek rubbed a hand through his hair, “Oh god. This is a stupid idea isn’t it?” Shaking herself out of her trance, Lydia placed a palm on his forearm. “Not at all. He’s going to love it!” She gave him a reassuring smile and he could see the glimmer of moisture in her eyes.  

Lydia helped him set everything up, arranging the pages just so. Once the book was put together, Lydia created her page and sent Derek on his way to his next stop-Scott’s. Derek gave Scott the same spiel and was met with almost the same response as Lydia. Derek glared at him, “What?” Scott looked up at Derek’s glowing eyes, “Whoa, whoa! It’s a good idea…great idea! He’ll love it!” Derek growled slightly at him, but let him finish his part in peace.  

Derek continued to make his way through the rest of his pack, skipping the ones who were out of town for the holidays. By the time he was done, he had a page from everyone: Scott, Lydia, Allison, Malia, and even Isaac-he knew Stiles secretly loved having him around.

Derek finished it off, putting everyone’s pages together, adding his own at the end. Stiles texted to let him know he’d be home in an hour or so, which gave him just enough time to grab the tools he needed to finish the other part of Stiles present. He finished the second gift in no time, leaving him a few extra minutes to change before everyone arrived.

~

The loft was filled once again with his pack, all of them wearing some kind of festive sweater or headband thing, Derek opted for his usual t-shirt and jeans combo, only slightly snarling when Stiles put a jingle bell necklace over his head. “It’s so you can’t sneak up on me anymore my love.” Stiles winked at him and Derek pulled him closer.

The gift exchange was going well and the pack was finally able to relax from the luring creatures of Beacon Hills. Stiles had gotten Scott after all, gifting him with new lacrosse gear and date-night activities for him and Alison. How cute; Derek rolled his eyes.

Isaac handed Derek a small gift box, looking away nervously-the rest of his pack shrugged their shoulders. Derek eyed the box cautiously, opening it slowly to reveal a dark green-scarf? Derek didn’t get the chance to say anything as Stiles was already on a tirade.  

“Oh, I don’t think so Lahey! You’re not going to push your stupid scarf fetish on MY boyfriend. No sir!” Derek let him get it all out, eventually grabbing him by the elbows to pull him back down to the couch. The rest of the pack snickered to themselves, Isaac looked ready to vomit.

Derek bent to Stiles, trying to whisper quiet enough that the others intensified hearing wouldn’t pick it up, but loud enough that Stiles human ears would. “You know, I have a few ideas of what we could do with that scarf.” Stiles gulped loudly, looking around at the others also hoping they hadn’t heard. No one seemed to notice and the gift exchanging continued.

The time had finally come to hand Stiles his gift. Derek picked up the present and gently placed it in Stiles lap. Stiles looked up at him with a wide grin spread across his face. Derek watched Stiles take the top off the box and delicately pull out the book. Stiles began flipping through the pages completely mesmerized. Each of their friends had found their favorite picture of them with Stiles and wrote a little story about their friendship to go with it.  

Stiles looked around the room, moisture flecked in the corners of his eyes. “You guys did this-for me?” “We love you Stiles!” The pack tackle-hugged him, brining Derek down with them. Stiles looked up at Derek knowingly, thanking him in their unspoken language.  

With the gifts all opened, Derek sat back watching his pack pile food on their plates, gathering around the Christmas tree; it was a calming sight to see. They stayed through most of the night, the loft filled with music and banter among them.

Later, after everyone had left, Derek and Stiles were curled up on the couch together listening to the fire crackle while the lights danced on the walls. The clock struck midnight and Stiles jumped out of Derek’s strong arms. “Merry Christmas!!” Stiles looked like a kid on-well Christmas. Derek chuckled softly, “You’re such a dork.” Stiles grinned at him, “Yes, but I’m your dork.” Derek rolled his eyes playfully, standing from the couch. He went to the tree and reached under it until he found the package he was looking for. Derek went back to the couch where Stiles now sat with his book from earlier. It was sprawled across his lap, opened to Derek’s page. The picture was of them back when they were ‘just friends’, not that they every really were. They both had tooth-grinning smiles plastered on their faces; Derek knew it was one of Stiles favorites. The writing under it read: ‘Even when we weren’t together, we were. You’ve always been my best friend Stiles. I couldn’t do any of this without your crazy antics. Love you, D.’

Stiles beamed from beside him, tears in his eyes. Derek brought him closer, placing small kisses on his head. He slid the other present onto Stiles lap. “Open it.” Stiles pulled away slightly so he could look him in the eye. “More?” He held up the photo book, “This wasn’t enough?!” Derek laughed, pushing the present closer to him, “Nope.” Stiles sighed dramatically though Derek could hear his heart beating with excitement.

Stiles first glance at the present was puzzlement until Derek told him to turn it over. It was Stiles bat, his prized weapon of choice. Derek had polished it up and engraved it with Stiles initials and the spiral that matched his tattoo. Underneath those were the words: ‘When I can’t protect you, this will.’

Stiles was fully into his emotions now, burying himself into Derek. When the tears settled, Derek asked him, “So, did I do ok?” Stiles looked him dead in the eye. “Ok? I-I” Derek howled with laughter. “Wait did I actually leave Stiles Stilinski speechless?” He faked shock and Stiles swatted him slightly. They fell into each other’s arms again, Stiles nestled up closely to him.  

“You know, this might be the best Christmas I’ve ever had.” His boyfriend eyed him suspiciously, “You haven’t even opened any presents yet!” Derek kissed him on the forehead, rubbing his hands over Stiles soft skin. “I already have the best one.” Stiles turned around to face him, finding Derek’s lips with ease as they kissed each other tenderly.  

Pulling away slightly, Stiles asked, “You meant the scarf, right?” Both of them burst into laughter.  

*

Stiles drifts at the periphery of consciousness. The lights are too-bright against his closed eyelids and the pain too-sharp in every atom of his being. He drifts until the tell-tale sounds of beeping and squeaky wheels register as hospital. His heartbeat ratchets up and he tries to open his eyes but is blinded by fluorescent lights. A warmth engulfs his hand as it’s squeezed. The grip is strong but soft. Pain bleeds from Stiles’ body and he relaxes against his will. 

“You’re okay,” he hears. 

He knows that voice. 

“Go back to sleep, Stiles.” 

He drifts away, feeling anchored.

*

When Stiles is among the land of the living again, he’s much more lucid. It’s both a blessing and a curse.

He opens his eyes through the pain throbbing in his head and looks around. For a hospital, the room isn’t half bad. It’s a private room, with two comfortable chairs, a sleek-looking TV, and a bedside table upon which sits a huge bouquet of flowers. 

He knows very well he can’t afford this.

Perhaps the most important accessory is the werewolf sitting in the corner reading a dogeared copy of Don Quixote. Derek looks immersed in his book, but the book is upside down. 

Upon closer inspection, Derek looks beard-ier than usual and thoroughly exhausted.

Something tugs in Stiles’ heart. He hopes it’s related to his injury.

“I see--” Stiles coughs, clearing his throat. 

Derek drops his distracted pretense and rushes over to hold a cup of water to Stiles’ lips, while placing a gentle hand at the nape of his neck to guide his swallows. Stiles drinks and tries not to notice the carefulness of Derek’s movements or the intensity of his gaze.

Trying to speak again, Stiles smiles up at Derek. “I see you’ve mastered the ability to read upside down.” Derek squints, all confused-wolf, scrunchy-face, before he glances at the book. His ears tinge pink and he murmurs, “Shut up, Stiles.”

*

By the time a harried nurse comes in, Stiles has the full deets: he’s been in and out of consciousness for the better part of a day. His head and tailbone met with an icy road, resulting in a bruised tailbone and concussion. Luckily, some kind folks helped him out of the road so he’d been spared from being hit by a car. 

He still feels like he’s been hit by a car. 

Derek had been listed as Stiles’ emergency contact (only because he lives closest to D.C. these days!) and had immediately come to Stiles’ side. Yes, his dad knows, and had to be convinced not to charge into D.C .with an entire cavalry to right any perceived wrongs.

Stiles is secretly pleased Derek traveled the four hours. 

“Derek here hasn’t left your side,” the nurse coos, and Derek glares at her back. “You’re so lucky to have such an adoring husband.”

It isn’t Stiles’ fault that he’d been drinking apple juice at that point. He sprays the nurse in the face and, god, that’s not the kind of facial he’s interested in giving.

He glances at Derek’s horrified face.

While the nurse scurries toward the Kleenex, Stiles mouths, “Husband?”

*

When the nurse escapes after Stiles apologizes profusely, he points one finger in Derek’s direction.

“Spill.”

Derek sighs and his shoulders slump in defeat.

He’s well-trained. Pun intended.

*

Derek received a phone call from the hospital since Stiles listed Derek as his emergency contact. Which is a thing Derek now knows, and Stiles is trying to forget that they both know. There’s too much knowing. 

The hospital assumed Derek was Stiles’ significant other. In order to stay with Stiles, Derek had played along, telling them that they’re husbands. The idea makes Stiles feel slightly better about listing Derek as his soulmate on the emergency contact forms when he’d registered this past semester. 

What? He’d been drunk at the time.

“Where’s my ring?”

Derek looks up from his book. His hand squeezes Stiles’ again; black tendrils snake up his arms, where he’s draining Stiles’ pain. 

Stiles’ eyelids flutter as he sighs in bliss.

“What.”

“I’d like a ring if we’re married.” Stiles smirks. “And a honeymoon.”

“I need,” Derek says, shooting up from his chair with werewolf speed. He pauses. “Uh, coffee. Yeah. Be right back,” he mutters.

There’s a flush on the back of Derek’s neck as he leaves the room. Stiles, somewhat high from werewolf healing and close proximity to Derek, grins.

*

“Why am I your emergency contact?” Derek asks later. It’s dark out and only a small lamp is lit in the room. It feels safe, with Derek’s hand on his arm. Stiles isn’t sure why it’s there since there’s no pain leaching going on, but Stiles isn’t stupid enough to point it out.

“Why not?” Stiles says flippantly. He shrugs and ponders asking Derek to get him some more apple juice.

“Stiles,” Derek says, intense. His hand is a loose but firm circle around Stiles’ elbow. He squeezes.

Stiles swallows, catches Derek’s gaze. “I trust you,” he says. “I knew I’d want you here if I got hurt. That you’d come for me.”

Derek stares at him for so long, too long. Stiles feels antsy, like he’s said too much or entirely the wrong thing. Why did he think that this was a possibility after all the years of denial and yearning?

Derek’s hand loosens and then his fingers are stroking along Stiles’ bicep. It’s comforting, but it’s charged, and Derek’s intense, gorgeous eyes are dark. Oh.

“I’ll always come for you,” Derek says sincerely.

It’s the most romantic declaration Stiles has ever heard, but also the funniest. 

He laughs so loudly a nurse bursts in to check on them.

*

Stiles leaves the hospital with Derek’s arm around his shoulder. It’s entirely unnecessary as he’s led to Derek’s car since most of the snow has melted.

Derek situates Stiles in his seat, with Stiles facing the outside of the car. Derek kneels, dropping to one knee, and all the air leaves Stiles’ lungs.

“Are you proposing?” Stiles asks in a rush. His tongue darts out, wetting his lips.

Derek cups his cheek and Stiles feels the soft puff of air as Derek chuckles. “It’s a little early for that, don’t you think?” 

The kiss is slow and soft, and Stiles still moans into it. Derek seems just as affected: when Derek pulls back, he’s panting.

“You have a break from school for a few days,” Derek says. “Would you like to go back to the cabin with me?”

Stiles brightens. 

“Can it be our honeymoon?”

Derek shakes his head fondly as he helps Stiles into the car, but doesn’t deny it.

Ha! 

“Then talk to someone. This is killing you,” his dad scrubbed a hand over his tired eyes.

And Stiles would do anything to take that desperate look off of his father’s face. Maybe even take some of his friends’ advice. Even though it wouldn’t change anything. But it was okay, he was dealing.

Contrary to what everyone else seemed to believe, Stiles was fine.

-..-..-..-

“It could be psychosomatic,” Lydia said, almost as soon as she was over the threshold. “You get so worked up before you go to sleep that it triggers the nightmares. Maybe you should try to relax more.”

Stiles rolled his eyes heavenward, praying for strength. “Lyds, I don’t even know what a peaceful night of sleep is like anymore.”

She tapped the rolled up mat under her arm. “That’s way I brought yoga DVDs and face masks.”

Shaking his head, Stiles followed her through the house, watching her dim the lights and set out scented candles. Lavender. Very relaxing.

Two hours later, Stiles was feeling pretty good. His muscles were loose, and his skin felt softer than ever. Even his mind was sluggish, sleep dragging him down easily.

But Alpha Peter greeted him, with his twisted words and creepy smiles. His eyes glowed the same red as the flames that engulfed him, leaving him screaming until Stiles was screaming himself awake.

Lydia just jotted something down in the notebook on his desk and rose to her feet. “Do you want to go back to sleep or should I make another cup of tea?”

The memory of Peter’s touch on his skin made Stiles shudder.

“Tea, please.”

They ended up drinking cocoa on the porch and waiting for the sun to rise.

-..-..-..-

The next day, Kira followed him home after their pack meeting. “I know Lydia tried relaxation techniques, but maybe you need to exhaust yourself.”

It probably said a lot about his mental state, because Stiles was just about ready to try anything. Even if it meant getting his ass kicked by a kitsune.

The second they were inside, Kira threw his gym bag at him and darted up the stairs to change. They spent the day running all over Beacon Hills, then played with a frisbee in the park. By the time the sun set, Stiles could feel the heavy ache in his limbs that meant his body was well and truly exhausted.

Even Kira’s kitsune energy couldn’t compete. Fresh out of the shower, she collapsed into bed without a word. Stiles crawled in next to her and found himself lulled to sleep by her even breathing.

This time the dream was quiet. He was in the ice bath, staring at the ceiling through the water. The cold ate away at his lungs and he could feel himself slowly suffocating.

By the time Kira managed to wake him, Stiles’ pillow was soaked with tears.

“Shhhh,” she coaxed him upright and wrapped her arms around him. “It was just a bad dream. Just a dream. None of it was real.”

It took longer than usual for Stiles to pull himself together. But there was something therapeutic about crying into Kira’s shoulder while she rubbed his back and spoke softly in his ear.

Once he’d caught his breath, Stiles straightened and swiped his arm over his eyes. “Well. I can’t go back to sleep after that. I need coffee- no I need a drink.”

Kira snorted. “Let’s go watch a movie.”

Stiles caught her before she slipped down the stairs.

“Thank you,” he said. “I mean it.”

She smiled at him. Not her usual 100-watt grin, but something softer. “Anytime, Stiles.”

When they curled up on the couch, it felt a lot like family.

-..-..-..-

It took a bit for Stiles to catch on to Scott’s plan. But he knew his best friend well enough to know that at least half of his cheerfulness was forced. There was no way he would be this chipper so soon after Allison died.

After you killed her, the voice that sounded like the Nogitsune whispered in his mind.

But the Nogitsune was gone, and everyone kept telling him it wasn’t his fault. So, Stiles was going to do his best to gorge himself on junk food and play videogames until he couldn’t keep his eyes open.

He woke up screaming. Allison’s lifeless eyes were boring into his mind. “Wake up, wake up, wake up,” he could hear himself saying, sounding far away.

“It’s okay, Stiles. It’s okay, buddy.”

Scott had him pinned to the carpet, a firm grip on each wrist beside his head. Even Stiles’ human senses picked up on the metallic scent of blood. It had been a while since he’d clawed himself to the point of breaking skin.

So much for progress.

“That’s it. That’s it, just relax,” Scott crooned, and he looked wrecked,

Stiles felt like the guilt was going to drown him. “Sorry,” he whispered, voice raw.

“None of this is your fault.” Scott sounded so sure of his own words that Stiles couldn’t help but believe them.

After a moment, Scott released his hands and rolled off of him. Stiles lay panting, wondering if it was even worth trying to go back to sleep.

Seeming to read his mind, Scott hauled him to his feet. “Let’s get you to the shower, you’re covered in sweat.”

-..-..-..-

Stiles was four hours into a Wikipedia spiral when his window was shoved open.

“What, the-” he spun around, expecting to see six feet of broody werewolf crawling into his room.

Instead, Cora Hale dusted off her jeans and nodded at him. “Stilinski.”

That definitely wasn’t the Hale he was hoping to see.

“Is Derek okay?” He hadn’t heard from him in a while, and his last few texts hadn’t gone through. But he’d thought that’d meant Derek was out of range. Shit. What if-

“Breathe,” Cora commanded, dragging him out of his computer chair and herding him toward the bed. “My brother is fine. He’s with a pack up in Oregon right now, making some kind of peace treaty.”

“But why-?” Stiles let her manhandle him under the covers.

She rolled her eyes. “You’re pack too, idiot. Lydia said you weren’t sleeping.”

“How do I know I’m not actually dreaming right now?” Stiles frowned at where she was situating herself at his desk. “You’re acting really strange. Even for you.”

“Try to get some rest.” She spun away from him, then fussed with her phone.

Stiles was awake two hours later, with the image of Derek strung up and bleeding burned into his mind’s eye. Cora held him as he caught his breath, shuddering.

When he drifted off again, Cora was on the phone.

“He hasn’t slept in two weeks,” she murmured. “It’s worse than I thought.”

Stiles lost the thread of the conversation as unconsciousness claimed him.

-..-..-..-

For the first time in a long time, Stiles woke up feeling rested.

He blinked at the sunlight streaming through the window, then looked toward the door. His dad was standing in the doorway, smiling.

“How’re you feeling, son?” he whispered.

Stiles was suddenly aware of the weight at his back, anchoring him. He shifted until he saw a familiar face, brows pinching into a frown as Stiles moved.

“He showed up yesterday morning,” his dad said, “You were both out like a light.”

Derek snuffled, dragging Stiles back toward his chest.

“We’re making pancakes. Don’t take too long,” Cora shouted from downstairs.

The Sheriff rolled his eyes. “I’ll see you in a bit.” He eased the door closed behind him and clomped down the stairs.

Once he was down and trying to convince Cora to put chocolate chips in the batter, by the sounds of it, Stiles rolled to face his bedmate. Or maybe more like bed-thief.

“Hey, big guy.”

Derek twitched and tried to drag the covers over his head. Stiles couldn’t help but laugh. A morning person, Derek was not.

He watched as one green eye blinked open, then the other. Derek looked disgruntled in a soft, rumpled way that made Stiles want to kiss him. But he settled for smoothing down Derek’s impressive bedhead.

“I really missed you,” he said, the admission easy in their warm, sun drenched cocoon.

The smile he received in return was like the sun coming up. “Missed you too.”

They probably would’ve stayed curled up together for the rest of the day, if Cora hadn’t come bursting in.

“Good morning! Pancakes are ready!” She glared at Derek. “And no hanky-panky where I can hear it!”

Stiles mouthed hanky-panky while Derek laughed beside him.

“Come on, let’s get the grumpy-wolf his coffee.” Stiles held out a hand to help Derek out of bed.

Derek didn’t let go until they were seated at the table, surrounded by family.