Happy Holidays, Sweetheart | 5,014k
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December 2017 - Holiday Cheers/Holiday Fails
Stiles is absolutely not going to have his first kiss with Peter be under a sprig of mistletoe, surrounded by his pack. Itâs too public for them. Instead he kisses Peter later, when their alone. And many times after that.
Stiles is having fun. Heâs having a great time. Seeing everyone, seeing his pack, feels amazing after the four months heâs been away at college. He didnât get the chance to come home for thanksgiving, not with how busy he was, so seeing everyone now was amazing. What was even more amazing was that Erica and Isaac had talked Derek into decorating the loft.
Everything smelled like pine and peppermint and Stiles hadnât stopped smiling since he arrived. The loft was warm, the central lighting turned off and instead the large christmas tree and strung fairy lights were softly illuminating the space. Candles were lit and only adding to the soft admostopher, Christmas music playing from a channel on TV.
Stiles hadnât felt this happy during the holidays in years.
Which was probably why something had to happen
âIâm not doing it.â Stiles stated, folding his arms over his chest.
He was standing in the middle of the loft, underneath the archway that separated the main room from the kitchen and Peter was standing not a foot beside him. Stiles hadnât been paying attention, too caught up in the conversation he was having with Erica to make sure there was no one else passing by when he was and - well.
Heâs not entirely sure how neither he nor Peter noticed, but they had passed under the archway at the same time and before either of them had time to react Erica was hollering at them, the rest of the pack cheering with enthusiasm. It was the first time a non-couple had gotten caught under the sprig and they were all excited.
Stiles, well Stiles probably would have been excited too. But not him and Peter, not for them. Now, Stiles wasnât oblivious to the relationship they had. They were friends, yes, but they had been dancing on the line of becoming something more since before he went away for college and they had never really - backed away from that line. Sure, they didnât see each other, but it didnât mean they talked any less.
Peter was one of the most important people in his life, easily his best friend. And truly, Sites had long since come to the understanding that they were going to end up together. It was the inevitable end to the game they had been playing and it didnât bother Stiles one bit. Because of that he wasnât going to share their first kiss in front of their entire pack, because of something as silly as mistletoe.
Peter meant too much to him for that.
âIâm not doing this.â Stiles said again, sighing and walking away when the pack doesnât stop their cheering right away.
He just needed to be away for a moment, needed to clear his mind. Of course he had wanted to kiss Peter, god how could he not, but not like that - not with an audience. Their first kiss should be thereâs, he just wished he had gotten a chance to explain any of that to Peter. He had seen the manâs face when he first turned away, had watched as Peterâs whole face fell as Stiles turned away. He would just have to call Peter later, Stiles decided, walking across the parking lot to his jeep.
âStiles!â Peter called and Stiles turned, watching the man jog up to him, âAre - are you okay?â
âYeah - yeah Iâm sorry for walking out on you like that,â Stiles looked down, embarrassed.
âNo, no itâs alright. Iâm sorry if I read into things. I just thought you wouldnât be opposed to the idea of us kissing, but if I go something wrong th-â
âWait, you meant for us to get caught under the mistletoe together?â Peter rubbed at the back of his neck in a uncharismatic show of nerves.
âI - well yes.â the wolf admitted and Stiles smiled slow.
He nodded to himself, taking a slow step forward and cupping Peterâs face in both of his hands. Stiles was taller than him now, and it was so strange to be looking down, even if it were hardly an inch of difference. Still he leaned down, gently pressing their lips together, letting his hands trail backward to tangle into the wolfâs hair, tipping Peterâs head back and sliding their lips together.
He felt Peter smile against his lips and Stiles breathed deep when the man pulled bottom lip between his teeth, biting and tugging before pulling back with a final kiss. Stiles chased, resting their foreheads together and only realizing Peterâs arms were around his waist, hands settled on the small of his back when Peter hugged him a bit tighter.
âAbout time,â the man mumbled and Stiles laughed, pressing another kiss to Peterâs lips.
And later, when they returned to the loft the made sure to kiss under the mistletoe, giving the pack a show until the began to groan in complaint.
âThis is absolutely horrible,â Peter said, not for the first time mind you, and Stiles just hummed in response.
He was still trying to finish up an assignment, typing away furiously and hardly even half listening to his boyfriend complain. Of course he was thankful that Peter was there with him, not only to celebrate the holidays but to celebrate their one year anniversary. But Stiles was busy.
He would never again take a rushed course over the winter holidays. It didnât matter how badly he wanted to graduate early, this was awful. It was more awful because Peter was here with him, laying across his single dorm bed, tight v-neck and tighter jeans and Stiles just wanted to climb into bed with him.
But he had to get this done first. He couldnât fall behind just because Peter was visiting. He hadnât gone home for a reason, and as much as he knew it would have sucked to not see anyone for so long, he needed to stay atop his courses. He had a plan for his education set out and he wanted to accomplish that.
And then Peter had shown up. He had shown up with two large duffle bags and all but forced himself into the room, setting himself against Stilesâ headboard and flicking through his phone. The man had known that Stiles was busy, had actually known that Stiles wasnât planning on coming back to Beacon Hills for the holidays - had known long before Stiles had worked up the nerve to tell anyone else.
So Peter had shown up and had remained quiet for most of the day. Stiles had appreciated that. It had been so long since they got to share space. Stilesâ school wasnât too far and Peter had many a time made the trip up to visit, but weekends here and there just werenât the same as the summer they had spent constantly in each othersâ space.
âIâm almost done,â Stiles said, though he didnât turn around when he heard Peter get off the bed.
It wasnât like there was anywhere the man could go - they were in a dorm, after all. So Stiles ignored the sounds Peter was making and finished up the last few paragraphs of his essay. It was slow going, with how tired he was and how long he had been typing, but he was determined to finish and Peter being there was providing excellent inspiration.
He finally, finally finished what he was writing, quickly skimming through the text to edit. The reason it took him so long in the first place was how carefully he wrote, going in and rewriting and reworking sentences until he was happy. It was a far cry from his high school days when he just wrote and wrote and hardly edited after.
Now he took his time, careful with his wording and planning out ahead of time. It was more efficient - at least for him - and ensured that his work was produced at a far better quality. So the editing he had to do didnât take long. He knew he probably should have held off, waited until the next day when he was more awake but he was tired and his boyfriend was laying in his bed and he just wanted to be done with this assignment.
He closed his laptop with a cheer, smile wide on his face as he spun around in his chair to face - oh. His mouth dropped open at the sight in front of him. Peter was still laying on his bed, though he was now shirtless and in a pair of worn, low hanging sweats. There were pillows - far more than Sitles owned - piled around him and several blankets piled along the end of the bed.
Peter was watching him with a small, soft smile - one Stiles knew only he would ever get to see - and Peter opened his arms and motioned Stiles over. He went, taking a moment to slip off his jeans and flannel, plucking up the shirt Peter had been wearing and slipping it on. Stiles may be taller but Peter was still broader so the shirt fit loose around his neck and shoulders, all but hanging off his shoulder by the ridiculous v. Still, it was soft and smelled like Peter and he reveled in his boyfriend scent being on his skin.
He crawled into the bed, pulling with him the blankets and settled himself with his back to Peterâs chest, wrapping blankets and blankets around them until he was in a comfortable cocoon of warmth. He sighed when Peter pressed a kiss to the back of his head, scooting down a little so he could rest the back of his head in the centre of Peterâs chest, settling between Peterâs spread legs.
âI brought hot chocolate,â Peter said, pressing a thermos into Stilesâ waiting hands.
âDear god I fucking love you,â Stiles moaned after taking the first sip. He had no idea how much hot chocolate mix Peter must have used, but it tasted like a goddamn chocolate bar, creamy and far too sweet.
âI - really?â Peter was now laying tense behind him, obviously shocked by the casual declaration but Stiles only smiled.
âOf course you dumbass. I was just waiting until I saw you to tell you.â Stiles rolled his eyes, settling himself firmed against Peterâs chest and bringing one of the wolfâs arms around him when Peter still sat frozen.
âOh. Well, I love you too darling.â Peter said, arms tightening and holding Stiles impossibly closer.
Stiles smiled, taking another sip of his ridiculously chocolatey hot chocolate. Sure he wasnât getting to see his pack, or his dad, but he had Peter here wrapped around him and that maybe made up for it.
âYou donât have to go through all this trouble, you know.â Peter says it quietly though Stiles picks it up nonetheless.
He wants to tell Peter that yes, he does. He does have to. Itâs their first Christmas living together and of course he was going to get a get a tree and decorate it and also decorate the whole apartment and bake cookies and - and thereâs a lot he just needed to do. But Stiles isnât really sure how to explain it.
He knows he didnât have to do it all alone, didnât have to wait for the one weekend that he knew Peter was going to be out of town. But - but it felt safer, that way. More comfortable. He just wasnât sure how to phrase that in a way that made any sense to someone else. Decorating was always something he did. Even those first few years after his mom - well, the first few years she wasnât there to do. It was always him who did.
His father could hardly leave the bottle long enough to work and he certainly wasnât going to pull himself out of his drunken stumbling to decorate a tree. So at twelve Stiles bought a fair sized fake tree and set it up with great difficulty, before rifling through the attic and bringing down boxes and boxed and decorations.
And then he had slaved away, had tried his hardest to get the house looking like his mother used to, to make it feel just a little bit like she4 wasnât gone. But - but then his father had came home, and had drank and then, and then -
Well, then Stiles had to redecorate the next night. And the next. But eventually his father stopped tearing everything down in a drunken rage, instead he would curl up into his arm chair, looking smaller than Stiles ever thought he father could look. He never let the man help, though, hadnât trusted him enough after that first week. Actually he had never let anyone help. Because this was his, his and his motherâs and he wasnât going to let anyone ruin that for him.
So he had waited until Peter left before even going shopping. Had spent the whole day at the mall and then the whole night setting everything up. Really, it sort of looked like Christmas had vomited in their apartment but, but Stiles loved it, always had and always would, too. Something about the holiday made him feel closer with his mom. She always got so excited around this time of year, loved the colours and the smells and Stiles learned to love it too.
âI - I had to?â Stiles phrased it like a question and tried to ignore that his voice cracked. There was just too much there for him to explain. Maybe - maybe one day, maybe heâd be able to find the words, be able to explain to Peter what it all meant but right now he felt too bare, to exposed.
âNext year, next year weâll do it together.â Peter said it as a statement, not questioning the length of their relationship nor the fact that Peter was actually going to help. It made Stiles felt more comfortable though, that he wasnât being given the option of the manâs assistance. Stiles knew he would just shrug it off anyway.
âI love you,â Stiles said, leaning into Peterâs hold when was pulled into a hug, resting his head on Peterâs shoulder as he breathed deep. He wasnât close to panic but the memories still stung and he didnât want to ruin their evening.
So he closed his eyes, let himself get lost for a moment in the feel of his boyfriend but he stood and offered Peter a goofy smile.
âI bought so many candy canes!â
âPeter! Peeeeeeter!â Stiles shouted, all but running through their apartment looking for his boyfriend. He was excited, was so excited! Of course, he always has a little extra energy around the holidays. Theyâve always meant so much to him but itâs been even better this year. Peter kept his promise from the year before and had helped Stiles decorate. It was better this year when they didnât need to go out and buy everything anew, instead having the decorations Stiles had bought the previous year and only adding a few things here and there.
They had everything set up in the first weekend of November, and now mid-December Stiles was once again excited. He had spent the day shopping with Lydia, a welcome escape from work. He was getting more and more stressed by self imposed due dates. He had work projects and personal projects but did not have the time to get it all done. It was leaving him cranky and irritable and when Peter suggested he take a break, he had.
Catching up with Lydia would always be something that made him happy. Of course he had loved the girl once, and he still did, if only in a far different way. She was his best friend, had been for years and would be for years come. Seeing her had helped to get him out of the mental block he had been in and he had a few ideas for the projects he was currently working on.
Though, that wasnât why he was excited. Rather -
âI got us matching Christmas sweaters!â Stiles exclaimed, rushing into the apartment in a whirlwind of limbs. He plopped bags on the kitchen island before rifling through looking for - ah!
He pulled the two sweaters out, smiling at them before turning to show Peter, watching the man with wide excited eyes. He couldnât wait to wear them, to take pictures in them! They were going to make the best Christmas cards ever!
âDarling, I love you but those are hideous,â Peter said after a long moment. He scrunched his nose and curled back his lip in an obvious show of disgust and Stiles laughed loud.
âI know! Arenât they amazing!â Stiles cheered, darting forward to kiss his boyfriendâs cheek before he pulled off the hoodie he was currently wearing, shoving the new sweater over his head and modeling it for Peter.
âOh, you meant for them to be awful?â Peter asked and he sounded just as confused as he looked, head titled to the side and both of his brows furrowed in question
âDude, duh! Weâre going to take awesome pictures and send them to everyone!â Stiles informed him, nodding decisively. It was going to be amazing.
âAnd why are we going to do this, exactly?â Peter asked, though he had finally made his way to the shopping bags, pulling out his matching sweater and staring at it with a sneer.
âBabe, itâs like, a thing. Ugly Christmas sweaters? We gotta do it!â
âAs long as I get to take you out of it afterwards, darling boy.â Peter leered and Stiles laughed, throwing arms around Peterâs neck and dragging him closer for a slow, long kiss.
âYou can always undress me, Peter.â
Stiles was tired and cold. Mostly just cold. It was nearly Christmas Eve, late into December and there was a thin dusting of snow everywhere. The weather was dropping and didnât seem like it was going to be stopping anytime soon. The walk home had been far too long and Stiles had to wonder why he didnât just drive.
It had been nice that morning, the sun high and the sky and Stiles had forgone his heavier coat. Now, with the sun long set and the light artificial, he was far too cold. He just wanted to wrap himself up in his bed and pull Peter ontop of himself so he could properly soak up his boyfriendâs warmth.
Instead he walked into the apartment to the smell of chicken, warm and spicy and he smiled to himself. Learning how good of a cook Peter was had definitely been a highlight of the early days of their relationship. The man knew what he was doing in the kitchen, was excellent at putting food together in a way Stiles just could never manage. It wasnât that he was a bad good cook, he could cook basics well - had to for a time - but anything complicated and he was lost.
He took off his winter wear, leaving his boots on the plastic mat to dry and hanging his coat, cupping his hands over his mouth and blowing out hot air - trying to warm his fingers and his nose. He found Peter easily, the man was humming to the radio and piling food onto plates. He made a beeline to his boyfriend, shoving his nose into Peterâs neck and tucking his hands under the manâs shirt, wedging them between his armpits.
Stiles sighed, the wolfâs supernatural warmth seeping through his body all but immediately.
âCold out there?â Peter asked and he continued to move his arms, though Stiles didnât mind. He was warm now and thatâs all that mattered to him at the moment. Peter chuckled when all he did  was whine in response, still cold.
âAlright, I need to move sweetheart,â Peter said softly and Stiles opened his eyes at last, looking down at the nicely laid out plates in Peterâs hands.
Stiles hummed but moved back, making a questioning noise when Peter walked into their little dining room. Stiles followed and - his breath caught and he raised a hand to cover his mouth. The room looked lovely, table cloth laid out, candles light and glasses already filled with wine. There was a pie on the table already, a bunch of roses in the vase standing proud.
âI canât believe you did all this, for me?â Stiles says, looking at the dining room with wide eyes.
âOf course sweetheart, did you forgot it was our anniversary?â Peter asked and fuck, because Stiles did. His eyes widened when he realized he hadnât even gotten Peter flowers.
âI am a terrible boyfriend,â he muttered, walking forward and pulling Peter into a long kiss, âIâm so sorry.â
âIt is quite alright love,â Peter assured him, pulling out a chair for Stiels before sitting himself.
Peter looked nervous during diner and that - well that just made Stiles nervous. Peter had always been a confident man, secure in himself and the things he wanted, never one to shy from going after he wanted. More than that he knew he was attractive and wasnât ashamed of it. Peter was secure in himself, had always been.
So this, this was strange. He had no idea what was making his boyfriend avoid eye contact but it made something heavy settle in Stilesâ stomach. He wasnât insecure enough to think that Peter was breaking up with him - not after so long together and no seeing how much work Peter had gone through to put their dinner together.
But Stiles was nervous all the less. Well, he had been, until Peter stood, clearing his throat loudly. He seemed to nod to himself, standing still for a moment before he rounded the table to stand next to Stiles, taking a deep breath before lowering himself onto one knee. He stared up at Stiles, face open and vulnerable.
âI love you,â Peter began and Stiles was already nodding, eyes burning with wetness even as Peter pulled the little black box from his back pocket, âI love you. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you. I havenât been able to imagine my life without you in for a long time, and i never want to have to imagine it. So, MieczysĆaw Stilinski, will you marry me?â
âGod, yes, yes of course!â Stiles voice cracked and he let out a laugh that was far more of a sob when Peter slipped the ring onto his finger. He slid out of his chair, pulling Peter close and holding him tight.
âI love you, I love you.â He repeated again and again into the manâs skin, Peter holding him just as tight.
The clearing of the preserve was gorgeous. It was on the colder side but there had yet to be any snow. Stiles felt fine in his suit and at least he cold explain away his crying as his eyes being cold. There were rows and rows of wooden chairs, decorated with soft white flowers and fairy lights were hung around the clearing. Hanging lanterns helped to brighten the space and there was soft music being played.
His dad was right there, his Babcia and a few other far off families members sitting in the front row. Scott and Lydia were lined up behind him, Derek and Cora and Malia behind Peter. The rest of their pack - Â and even if they lived hours away and only saw them on holidays they were still pack - were sat in the front row as well, other members of the town, old and new friends alike, sat in the rows and rows behind.
Everything was gorgeous. Peter was gorgeous. The man stood in front of him, hands wrapped together and he was smiling, the soft smile he only ever shared when they were alone, when it was just the two of them. Stiles could hardly pay attention to anything else and he felt liem his heart was going to keep growing until it could no longer fit inside his chest.
He smiled wide, staring up at Peter and god, once again struck by how much he loved the man in front of him. It would never stop surprising him that Peter loved him just as much back and when Stiles made his vows he made sure to vow to himself to never forget, never take for granted.
âI do,â Stiles said and he couldnât pretend that his tears were anything other than the joy he was feeling, his heart soaring high in his chest.
âI do,â Peter leaned in, slotting their lips together and Stiles - Stiles had never been happier.
âOkay, so Iâm thinking we can put the tree I tha-at corner?â Stiles said, stretching out the âaâ. He wasnât entirely sure what would look best, after all decorating had always been Peterâs thing. Well, it was Peterâs thing until it came to Christmas, then it was all Stiles.
âIf you want to, dear.â Peter said, long since learning his lessons about interfering with decorating.
âWeâre going to need more stuff.â Stiles sighed, looking around their living room. It was far larger than their apartment and there was more room. He was actually pretty sure that the tree was going to be too small for the space.
As much as Stiles didnât want to, he was fairly certain a shopping trip would be involved. Yes, that would do it. He looked around their home, their home and couldnât help but smile. They had come so far, fuck were married and had a goddamn house that sometimes Stiles felt like he was dreaming.
He wasnât, since Peter was wrapping himself around his back and holding him close, softly humming into his ear, âWe can get whatever you like. You know I donât mind letting you take over for the holidays.â
âI know,â Stiles said, chewing on his bottom lip. âI just want it to be perfect.â
âIt always is,â Peter reassured and Stiles sighed at the damp kiss pressed to his neck, resting a little more of his weight against Peter as he continued to make a list in his head.
They were going to need a lot of stuff.
âStiles, donât think I canât see what youâre doing.â Peter scolds, scolds, as if Stiles is some sort of trouble making child and doesnât even turn around.
Stiles pops the large dollop of dough into his mouth anyway.
âYou know, when I asked you for help this was really not what I meant.â Peter says, continuing to hand mix a second bowl of cookie dough - probably because Stiles stole the first one and began cooing over it while cradling it to is chest. It was very good cookie dough, after all.
âI mean, weâve been together for seven years, babe. Iâd have thought youâd know what you were getting yourself into at this point,â Stiles mumbles, trying his best to look innocent as he continued to scoop out cookie dough.
âHonestly, darling, itâs never too late to hope for change.â
âHey!â Stiles complains, frowning at the man in front of him. Peter still hasnât turned around, is just calmly mixing together cookie dough, âI donât even see why we have to bake it anyway.â
âAnd I donât see why it is such a big deal that we are?â Stiles grumbles something unpleasant about Peter at that. Itâs not that heâs actually annoyed, at least not after having this argument for years. The heat had left their words long ago and now it was more a familiar teasing.
âStiles, we are adults. You, are an adult. Donât you think itâs time to stop eating the dough and actually baking the cookies?â
âI really donât see how eating cookie dough has anything to do with with my level of adult-y-ness, but okay.â Stiles grumbles, hoping off the island and moving towards the stove - shoving an extra large bite of dough into his mouth first - and beginning to plop balls onto the covered pan. He thinks for a moment that he should maybe wash his hands first - but, heâs most likely going to be eating all of them plus, germs would probably die in the oven, right? Stiles shrugs, probably right, and continues to create little cookie balls.
âThank you darling,â Peter says, voice faux-sweet and he plasters himself to Stilesâ back, settling the second bowl of cookie dough next to the first on the counter, âIs this really so hard?â
âYes. It is incredibly taxing. It is so much work. I regret every decision Iâve made in my life to get to this point.â Stiles sighs dramatically, swooning against Peterâs chest and raising a hand to fan his forehead.
âEvery decision?â Peter asks, the metal of his ring cool where his hands have slipped up Stilesâ shirt, laying wide palms over the slight pudge of his belly. He leans back into it - like he always does - soaking up the heat that Peter offers, and he smiles softly as Peter begins to kiss up the side of his neck.
âNot everything,â he says softly, continuing with his task. Heâs never really gotten over the easy intimacy they share. For so long, he never thought he would  have a relationship like the ones his parents had. It was just something he had thought for himself, that he would get to have that sort of devotion with someone else.
But he did, he had Peter, his husband and he smiled down as he slipping his shirt up, tangling their left hands together and staring at the rings nestled nicely against one another. It still surprised him, sometimes. Theyâd been married for two years and Stiles still got surprised, a happy grin taking over his face when he thought about Peter, or when he mentioned him, or introduced him.
âHappy Holidays sweetheart,â Peter says into his skin, and Stiles leans back further, resting more of his weight against Peter.
He plops another bite of dough into his mouth, laughing loud when Peter nips at his skin.
