So I still have a couple videos I need to upload from the Supernatural convention in Dallas, but since I'm on TinyChat with askalegacy at the moment, have this one and come to know the beauty of The Christmas Cottage.

that too, maybe he stopped at the beauty salon while falling

(cass i am looking at you)

"Dude it’s not hard. Just shove it in. Put all those wolfy muscles to use for once and just make it fit." He looked over, sighed, and then turned Derek’s suitcase over to spill the contents on the bed. “Stiles." The word was gritted out like it physically pained Derek to talk and Stiles grinned at the nostalgia. “Whatever, no, that was never going to work. You have to roll it. I told you that." Beside him Derek sighed, an overly dramatic affair that was the reason Stiles kept trying to get him to try out at the local theater. One day. One day. “My jeans will get wrinkled." Stiles couldn’t help it, he laughed. Derek’s eyebrows crawled lower, settling in their furrowed grooves. “Hey now, none of that. You’re getting married tomorrow and I’ve heard the other groom is a total catch. Also? There’s this magical thing at hotels called irons, and don’t tell me you wouldn’t use them anyways. Besides, I know we’re off to Paris but do you honestly believe we’re even going to leave out room? You might as well just pack one outfit for the way home and we’ll be set." He leaned over, pecking Derek on the lips and before he could go back to packing Derek was hooking his hands into the waistband of his pants and dragging him back in for another kiss. “We could just drive to a couple of towns over and skip the plane altogether." There was a pathetically hopeful note to his voice, and Stiles almost caved. Almost. “Nuh uh. I’m joining the mile high club if it kills you. But just to prove my generosity we can skip the perfume factory tour." “How kind of you." Derek’s deadpan was distracting, so Stiles nipped at his jaw. Fair was fair. “Mmhm. You know if you would just get your stuff packed we’d have time for at least blowjobs before the girls pick you up or your half of the bachelor party. Gotta make sure your claws are properly manicured for the wedding and all." He let out a (manly) squeak as Derek lifted him up, legs wrapping his waist on instinct. “Yeah your right, packing later. Good idea. Great idea. I’m marrying a genius tomorrow. He’s got a Ph.D in sex." “Stiles." “Yeah baby?" “I’m not supposed to regret this before the ceremony." “I could have sang it." A look of pure terror crossed Derek’s face, which wasn’t entirely deserved in Stiles opinion. “Thank you," Derek whispered. By the time they were finished Stiles’ mostly finished bag was on the floor, clothes a shirt had somehow ended up on the fan, and Derek’s jeans were wrinkled beyond recognition. Totally worth it.