#sterekfests

December 1 - December 7: Winter Adventure December 8 - December 14: Snow Social December 15 - December 21: Winter Bake Off December 22 - December 28: Fireside or Flannel December 29 - January 4: Glitter, Gold, and Champagne

Derek smiled as he studied his family.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He had his wallet in his left side pocket and phone charging in a makeshift holder by the dashboard. Jugs of water on the floor and a paper bag with a few nonperishable staples and an assortment of sandwiches, snacks, and caffeinated beverages in the passenger seat. His pillow, which would be especially necessary when he’d need to sleep at a rest stop or something.

Stiles tapped his fingers on the steering wheel and sang along to the playlist he’d selected to start off his journey. He didn’t even know where he was going yet, just heading south until he had to get gas or piss and then he’d decide. There’d been no time to waste. This need to get away had been building for a while now and when he woke up this afternoon — he couldn’t fall asleep until after dawn — all he knew was that today was the day. It couldn’t wait another week or even until tomorrow or something else would come up to keep him there. He just knew it.

So he’d started the first load of laundry and then speed cleaned and showered in the quickly tepid while it was washing. He went to the store while the second load was going and the first one in the dryer, which had everything he was planning to take. Then he packed his stuff, set the remaining laundry to dry, scrawled a note that was frankly more stream of consciousness than rational explanation, but at least ended with a promise to stay in contact “Love, Stiles,” and then he was off.

Miles ticked up on the odometer and pavement passed beneath Roscoe’s wheels. It was at once exciting and bittersweet. He was done with high school and, more importantly, 18 so it’s not like his dad or anyone else could actually force him back. Not that many of the old crew were even going to be in Beacon Hills for much longer. Those that hadn’t already left like Jackson, Chris, and Isaac did overseas or Lydia getting an early start in Cambridge. 

But unlike her or Scott and the others he wasn’t heading off to college or something like that. He didn’t know what he wanted to do with his life anymore, was still stuck processing or at least dealing with having been possessed. As in he had to deal with it — the memories and nightmares and new little quirks that made him question himself — not that he was handling it in any particularly effective or healthy fashion. 

And so it was like it was expected, or at least assumed, that he would just stay here for all the shit the town and that fucking tree could possibly throw his way. Well, how about no? Again, he’d been possessed! He deserved a goddamn break. Or if not deserved (the little voice in his head had very different ideas about what he deserved) he fucking wanted one. Needed one before he broke anymore.

Stiles only wished he could take his dad with him. And maybe a certain Sourwolf if he was being honest with himself now that it mattered even less than it already did before. Those big, impossible feelings he never wanted to look at long enough to pin down. The pull he liked to pretend was just him being a hormonal bisexual teenager who was warm for the former Alpha’s form. That it didn’t matter because it hadn’t, couldn’t, and wouldn’tmatter.

He thought of guarded green-hazel eyes, a clenched, stubbled jaw, and stubbornly crossed arms as he wailed along with Jim Adkins.

“The things we think might be the same, but I won’t fight for more. It’s just not me to wear it on my sleeve, count on that for sure.” 

Stiles snorted and shook his head. It was all too fitting, whether more for him or Derek or both of them equally he wasn’t sure. There were times, after all, when he’d thought that Derek also…

But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like anything was going to happen. Famous last words.

Seconds later smoke was rising from beneath the hood of the Jeep. Always a wonderful sign. Fuck. No no no, please not now. 

This couldn’t be happening. Just another too vivid daydream, right? Or maybe he’d actually fallen asleep waiting for the laundry and this was simply a nightmare because of his nervousness about the upcoming trip. Haha, very funny brain! 

More smoke billowed out and there were sounds. Oh no. No no no. Fuck!

Stiles pulled off onto the wide shoulder, put the car in park, and snatched the keys from the ignition, hurling them onto the floor. Then he just sat there in silence with his head against the top of the steering wheel. He hadn’t even made it 30 miles and it was already over. There was always something. Some kind of trouble, like clockwork. Like a curse. 

He’d worked over senior year and into the summer, doing odd jobs and seasonal gigs to save up the money that he was now planning to use for gas and cheap motels and food. That he’d already spent part of on getting Roscoe some much needed maintenance and repairs over the last few months. Not enough, apparently. 

After smashing his head into the horn so that it blared obnoxiously a few times he pulled himself upright and scrolled through the contacts on his phone like he had options. Gone, gone, doesn’t have a car, gone, doesn’t have a car, doesn’t even have a license, don’t want to talk to him and have to explain anything right now. 

Stiles sighed. Well, he didn’t want to call his dad at the moment either — with any luck he could at least get home before his failed escape was revealed — so that left only one person. Of course it went straight to voicemail. 

“Hey, Derek. So funny story, I’m about 28 miles from town on the highway heading south and my car broke down. Yes, yes, I know. So, um, if you don’t have anything better to do, you think you could come get me? Let me know either way. Uh, catch you later.”

He wondered how long it would take to walk back to Beacon Hills. 10 hours? What if he just took the backpack, removed some of the books and added a few changes of clothes, some toiletries, and a towel and just kept walking south. Maybe he could hitchhike.

By the time he dug into the secret compartment in the lid of a jar of peanut butter and pulled out the little baggie of weed his hands were shaking. He’d gotten it from an acquaintance of Danny’s — the guy really could hook you up with just about anything —  and still had some left. Enough for now and a few times more.

He retrieved the rest of his supplies and crouched down on the other side of the car, calming as he performed the little ritual of rolling his own joints. Of lighter and flame. Burn, inhale, hold, exhale. Taking the edge off. Lightening him up. What if he just walked into the trees and disappeared. Became one with the forest like whats-her-face in Annihilation who was done with fighting the freaky bullshit and just noped the fuck out. If only.

17 minutes later his phone chimed.

<Sourwolf: Be there in 30.>

Stiles responded with a thumbs up emoji. Alright. Okay. He took a few more hits and snuffed out the end, saving the rest for later.

Derek’s face did all sorts of things when he got there, half of them with his eyebrows alone. How did he ever used to think the man was unreadable? Devoid of emotion except anger?

Obviously, he’d smelled the marijuana, but Derek didn’t say anything. Why wasn’t he saying anything?

“Hey handsome, think you can help a damsel in distress?” Stiles said, fluttering his eyelashes and sticking out a leg like he was pulling up the hem of a skirt before bursting into giggles. Derek shook his head and popped the hood on Roscoe. 

“Since when were you a mechanic, big guy?” He set a hand on a leather-clad shoulder. It’s August you silly goose.

“I know a thing or two.”

“I’m sure you do,” he vamped, leering exaggeratedly and then abruptly pivoting to walk to the back of the Jeep where he set his forehead against the cool glass. What the fuck are you doing?

Burning everything down around him apparently. He started chuckling, a dark, sharp-edged thing, and Derek looked over at him with concern. 

“Stiles?”

“Oh don’t mind me, I’m just falling to pieces.” 

He sat down hard on the ground and cracked right up, laughter turning to sobs as footsteps crunched toward him. 

“I thought I was actually getting out, Der. I tried. I’ve tried so hard, but I can’t. I can’t,” he got out between gasping breaths. 

Derek crouched down beside him and started rubbing his back, tentatively at first and then in long, soothing strokes. His head moved and Stiles could swear he felt a kiss at the top of his head. Or something like that. He found himself practically head-butting Derek in his stupid muscly chest as he leaned into him, hands grasping at his left side and right elbow. Oh, he was going to be so embarrassed about this later. Derek took a deep breath.

“I’ll take you.” 

“What?” Stiles’ head jerked up, tear tracks drying on his face. 

Derek nodded toward the Camaro. 

“Wait, seriously?” 

The werewolf shrugged. 

“Yeah. You’ve got your stuff packed and everything.”

“But what about you? We have to go back, get your things and a tow truck for Roscoe and—“

“No,” Derek cut in. “I can just grab what I need on the way. I’ll have Malia, actually no, Mason, check on the place and I can call now about getting your Jeep towed to your house.” He raised a finger when Stiles opened his mouth. “I’ll give ‘em your dad’s number in case there’s any issues. But no going back there now or something will happen and you’ll never leave. So let’s just go.”

Stiles clambered up from the ground feeling strangely light and warm. Hopeful. And still kinda high he supposed. While Derek made that call he rearranged some of his stuff and then took all of it out it of Roscoe, putting the duffle bag in the now open trunk of the Camaro — it was so getting a name on this road trip — and throwing his backpack, pillow, and snacks in the back seat. 

“Shotgun!” he yelled, completely unnecessarily before getting in up front. Derek squinted at him and shook his head, getting behind the wheel. 

The sun had just gone down, but it wasn’t dark yet and he caught his beaming reflection in the side mirror. Stiles hooked up his phone to the stereo. 

The chorus of “Work” came blaring back to life just as Derek put the pedal to the metal and peeled out of there (after carefully checking the mirrors and blind spots of course,) tires kicking up dirt and gravel. “You wanna take a ride? Get out of this place while we still have time.”

The Camaro even fishtailed some pulling back onto the pavement and Stiles smirked, pretty sure that display of Fast & Furious-ness was for his benefit. He grabbed the Oh Shit handle and whooped. Now he was off! They. The both of them.

“So where are we going?” he asked a few minutes later when his heart rate had returned to what passed as normal for him. 

“Wherever you want,” Derek replied, a bit too conspicuously. 

Wherever. Where. Ever. 

Stiles’ left leg began bouncing up and down and he turned away to gaze out the window, eyes unfocusing so that the trees blurred into one continuous spiny ripple. He was hearing what he hearing, right? I mean, he was pretty sure. 

But if there was a 10% or even 3% chance that Derek would turn this car around or like, jump out the window of a moving vehicle in horror at his feelings and desires he didn’t want to risk it. No matter how much he wanted…whatever. Because if this trip ended before it even began Stiles didn’t know what he would do. How he would survive or if he—

A large hand clamped down to still his jittering. Warm and squeezing just above his knee. The inner side of his thigh. Without looking — he couldn’t okay, not until he knew he wasn’t wrong —  he “casually” put his left hand, palm up, a bit higher up on his leg. Derek laid his own on top of it, thicker fingers twining with his. Holy shit. Okay. 

Stiles turned slowly then, hardly daring to breathe, and met glowing blue eyes. Suddenly, it felt like something in his chest, in his soul, rearranged. Stabilized. A pack bond snapping properly into place. He rubbed over his sternum with his right hand as Derek inhaled sharply and then wrenched his attention back on the road since he was driving and all. 

Whoa.  

There’d been lots of upheaval over the last few years. Being Scott’s, Being both of theirs. Derek giving up his Alpha spark for Cora and leaving, the Nogitsune, things being all fucked up and not feeling like he belonged to anyone at all. Derek coming back, but them both out of sorts and dealing with their own shit amidst everything and him being confused and isolated and not really open for connection. Had to close the door. 

Their bond hadn’t broken, but it hadn’t been right either. And now…

Already he was feeling more settled. Stronger. Content even after they claimed or re-claimed each other as pack or whatever exactly that was. Stiles cleared his throat. 

“How about Reno?”

Derek rolled his eyes, but then broke into a grin. 

“Sure.”

Several more moments passed with his brain trying to regain functionality and Derek looking at him pointedly.

“What?”

“You’re the navigator.”

Stiles flailed and nearly dropped his phone.

“Oh, right.”

He pulled up the routes and selected one for directions. That done, he started looking up stuff about the city. Places they might want to eat or walk around.

About halfway there his dad called and he took a deep breath before answering. They talked for a while, Derek hearing everything of course, but Stiles had shaken his head no when he mimed pulling over. It’s not like the werewolf wouldn’t hear just as much anyway unless he ran off a good ways and that would just be silly. 

Stiles wasn’t sure which of them was more surprised at the clear relief in his father’s voice when he learned that Derek was now going with him. 

“You two stay out of trouble, alright? Derek…”

“I’ll look out for him, sir,” he responded loudly.

“Good man.” 

Stiles watched Derek duck his head a bit, bunny teeth peeking out as he smiled. God, he was adorable when he let himself feel things.

“Okay kiddo,” his dad said, addressing him again. “Well, I hope you get what you need out there. I’ll just be here enjoying the peace and quiet and bacon burgers every day—“

“Daaad,” he groaned as his father laughed. 

“Just kidding, son. I miss you already.”

“I miss you too, Dad”

“Alright, Love you, have fun.”

“I love you t—”

“But not too much fun.” 

Stiles rolled his eyes.  

“Bye!” he yelled, hanging up. 

They stopped at a drive-thru for some hot food on the outskirts of Reno. Burgers and sodas with curly fries, of course. It was around midnight when Derek pulled off at the next turnout, overlooking the city. They ate half-sitting, half-leaning against the warm hood of the Camaro. 

Stiles was going to propose going down there and gawking at the late night antics for a bit (unfortunately, unlike some places in California he was too young to play a few slot machines here and see if his luck really was turning around.) Then finding somewhere to sleep. A motel room. With Derek.

There was a flash of heat in his belly and it became a bit of a struggle to swallow his current bite of potato-y goodness. He managed not to choke as he blushed at where his imagination was heading and felt very accomplished.

Derek looked over at him, nostrils flaring, and reached out to wipe ketchup from the corner of his mouth with a thumb. Not quite daring enough to take it into his mouth, Stiles leaned into his palm and those searching eyes first softened and then focused intently. In the blink of an eye Derek’s face was much closer, but not quite touching his. Warm puffs of breath tickled his skin. 

He closed the gap and then they were kissing. Slow and tentative at first, gentle and tasting, and then something deeper. Hungrier. Derek was the first to pull back, grinning and leaving him breathless, but craving more. If it was left up to him he probably would've kept going until they both passed out. Or just him, who was he kidding. Damn werewolf constitution.

They turned back to the shining oasis in the darkness, flashing lights and neon signs, and he sidled up to Derek, who then put an arm around his shoulder. Slotting into place like puzzle pieces. A satellite passed by overhead, but he wished on it like a shooting star anyway. Please let this be real. 

Stiles snuggled even more into Derek’s side and breathed him in, calmed by his warmth and  woodsy scent as if he were a wolf himself. He closed his eyes to the sound and vibration of pleased rumbling, comfortable and pondering the possibilities opening up before them. 

The crunch of balled up wrappers and other garbage being placed in the bag that their food came in had him jolting awake. He must’ve dozed off for a while. God knows he needed it. 

Derek smiled at him, one of those special fond ones that Stiles had collected like rare treasures and placed inside his stupid little heart before forcing himself to think of other things. He didn’t have to do that anymore though, he could hold onto them and inspect them all he wanted. Do his best to get more of them.

“You ready?” Derek asked, holding out his free hand. Stiles took it and was pulled upright, where he stole a kiss.

“Yeah, let’s go.” 

Thanks for reading!

Previous (unrelated) fics for the Mead Moons event/series:

Second Chance Strays

Thunder

June 8 - June 14: Scavenger Hunting or Geocatching

June 15 - June 21: A day at the Fair or Zoo

June 22 - June 28: Summer Camp or Volunteering

June 29 - July 5: Music Festival or Fireworks

July 6 - July 12: Glow in the Park or Neon Night

July 13 - July 19: Magic Garden or Stargazing

July 20 - July 26: Craft Class with Your Mate or Farmers Market

July 27 - August 2: Island Luau or Sunset Karaoke  

August 3 - August 9: Drive in Movie or Hosting an Outdoor Movie Night

August 10 - August 16: Dancing Under the Stars or Being Caught in the Rain

September 7 - September 13: Hayride September 14 - September 20: Apple Picking September 21 - September 27: Tailgating September 28 - October 4: Cabin October 5 - October 11: Halloween Party

alternatively, you can use any of these alt themes to switch out with the ones above if you so choose:

corn maze, road trip, Oktoberfest, hiking, decorating

September 1 - September 7: Hayride September 8 - September 14: Apple Picking September 15 - September 21: Tailgating September 22 - September 28: Cabin September 29 - October 5: Halloween Party

alternatively, you can use any of these alt themes to switch out with the ones above if you so choose:

corn maze, road trip, Oktoberfest, hiking, decorating