“I don’t get why you insist on doing this,” Derek grumbles as he tugs his scarf tighter around his neck.
Stiles turns to looks over his shoulder at Derek, grinning. “Because it’s tradition. Thanks,” he adds, taking the hot chocolate Derek passes him.
“We only did this for the first-time last year,” Derek remind Stiles, leaning on the cement wall of his loft balcony beside Stiles, pressing up to offer his body warmth. Stiles is wearing so many layers he may not even be able to feel it, but it makes Derek feel better to be doing it, so he stays close.
“Well I guess I’m starting the tradition then.” Stiles takes a sip from his drink and sighs out. Derek copies, thankful for the bit of heat, though the cold air has already leeched some of that from his mug.
“Next time you want to start a tradition for us, can we talk about it first?” Derek asks.
Stiles gives him a look and a cocked head. “That is not in the spirit of traditions, Der.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “I don’t think getting hypothermia is in the spirit of traditions either. Certainly not Christmas ones.”
“I don’t know about that,” Stiles says. “White Christmas, Winter Wonderland. There’s plenty of Christmas traditions involving the cold.”
Derek hums, drinking more hot chocolate. Warm chocolate by now. He finishes his mug then places it on the wall so he can step up behind Stiles and press them together. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend and presses his face to Stiles’ neck. Or tries to. He’s wearing a very thick scarf that Derek manhandled him into earlier. Derek nuzzles in but can’t seem to find Stiles’ skin.
Stiles sighs out and leans back against Derek. “You really are worried about me getting cold, aren’t you.”
“Yes,” Derek speaks into Stiles’ scarf.
Stiles laughs under his breath. “I’m fine, you big worrywart.”
Derek squeezes him for the comment.
“Careful,” Stiles warns. “Don’t want to spill this on you.”
“Doesn’t matter,” Derek lifts his face and looks at Stiles’ hot chocolate. “It’s probably cold by now anyway.”
Stiles takes a sip then hums. “It is cool,” he agrees. “Still. It’d be sticky or something. Don’t want that to be part of the tradition.”
“No, we don’t.” Derek kisses Stiles on the cheek and takes his now empty mug from him, resting it with his own on the wall. He turns Stiles around in his arms so he can kiss him, tracing his tongue over Stiles’ lips and tasting chocolate on him.
“This can be part of the tradition,” Stiles says as Derek kisses along his cheekbone and up to his temple.
“What else?” Derek whispers in Stiles’ ear.
“This,” Stiles says, threading his fingers in Derek’s hair and massaging his scalp.
“And this?” Derek asks, working his hands beneath Stiles’ shirt.
Stiles sucks in a breath and jerks away. “Your fingers are cold!”
“So not that then?” Derek checks.
“Not that,” Stiles seconds. “But we could do this instead.” He grabs Derek’s hand and entwines their fingers.
Derek looks—his bare fingers and Stiles’ gloved ones alternating. He smiles.
5 years later
“Come on, Stiles. It’s nearly midnight,” Derek shouts from the balcony.
“Hold your horses, I’m just getting the marshmallows,” comes the reply.
Derek laughs and turns to face the door and wait for Stiles to come out. He does so carrying two mugs of hot chocolate and with his scarf trailing dangerously close to his feet.
“Careful,” Derek warns, collecting the fallen end of the scarf and re-looping it around Stiles’ neck.
“Thanks, Der. Here, drink before it gets cold.”
Derek takes the offered mug with a grateful nod and a quick kiss to Stiles’ red cheek. They stand side-by-side and drink their hot chocolates in silence, staring at the lights of Beacon Hills as is tradition.
Derek finishes his first, also tradition, and wraps his arms around his husband while Stiles spends an inordinate amount of time scooping out the gooey marshmallows from the bottom of his mug with a spoon. He offers some to Derek, who leans over Stiles’ shoulder to clean the spoon.
“I can’t believe this is the last time doing this,” Stiles sighs out, putting his empty mug beside Derek’s on the wall.
“I know,” Derek says, linking his fingers with Stiles’ over Stiles’ chest. “End of an era.” Stiles had said something similar earlier in the week.
Stiles hums and turns his head to kiss Derek sweetly (in both senses of the word). It is sad, Derek can smell it in the air, but he and Stiles have something better to look forward to with their new house. Backyard, a pool, nice neighbours, and a nursery for their soon-to-be-adopted child.
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Is it one wish/option per person? Or can we request/make 1-2 options e.g. submit a form for a fanmix and a graphic etc???
I hope you don’t mind me answering this publicly, but I feel it’s something that others might be wondering as well.
You can send in one of every single form if you’d like! Even one of a roleplay drabble and one of a normal drabble. :) Just make certain that you’ll have enough time to make all of the gifts.
