#tobythewise

He contemplated switching to another table until he turned back to the notebooks he splayed over the entirety of the four-person table and grimaced at the amount of things he would have to pick up and reposition to be able to work efficiently.

Silently defiant, he clicked 'resume' on his time management app, ready to get lost in annotating the assigned readings. As soon as the app gave the telltale ping, his neighbor also grunted in pain. With pursed lips, he looked over at the person now sitting upright and furiously tapping their phone screen. The coffee they evidently bought from the cafeteria judging by the cup it was in—that Raphael just now noticed because it—was dangerously close to tipping over and spilling to the floor and both their shoes.

Raphael waited a while for the person to notice before deciding to reach over and push it to the middle himself. He was startled when his neighbor sent a glance then suddenly shrugged their headphones off and unplugged it while lowering the volume. He felt like that was a sign for him to wait, though he wondered what he was even waiting for. He watched as they softly cheered themself for getting past a faster melody only to gasp as they failed to press a tile.

"That always happens! I swear, they add shit that aren't even actual parts of the song! And don't even get me started on the fact that there's no pause button for this game." The person twisted on their seat to properly face Raphael. "Thanks, by the way."

Deaton attributed it to the bond they had forged during their first few years fighting together, that was somehow solidified by Stiles’ Spark and Derek’s own Alpha powers. They functioned best around each other and occasionally picked up on the other’s feelings in times of great stress. That particular aspect used to come in handy nearly once a week, but now the last big bad the pack dealt with was sometime in the early summer. The bond still allowed Derek to call Stiles and remind him to sleep when he was worrying about deadlines, but school stress was so much better than constant life-or-death situations.

Stiles stirred beside him, one eye opening blearily, then the other.

“You’re awake,” he said, as if Derek were the one who had just woken up.

“When did you get in?” Derek asked. According to the last time they’d spoken, Stiles planned to finish administering finals and then leave the day after the semester ended. He was currently enrolled in a prestigious master’s program that was actually a front for emissary training, but still offered TA positions to off-set the costs of attendance.

Stiles hummed sleepily, rubbing his face against Derek’s chest. “A couple hours ago. Drove home right after the last exam.”

No matter how often it happened, Stiles calling the pack house ‘home’ made Derek feel warm all over.

“You didn’t have to rush. We’re not going anywhere.”

“But I missed you,” Stiles said, turning his head to press a kiss the underside of Derek’s jaw. “Only have one more year of this and then we can wake up together every morning.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “I wake up at six.”

“I was trying to be romantic,” Stiles kicked at Derek’s shins with his cold feet. “And you like to have a lie-in as much as I do.”

“Only when you’re here with me,” Derek said, honestly.

“And the romance is back.” Stiles pushed himself up for a real kiss, taking the time to reacquaint himself with Derek.

They kissed until Stiles’ arms got tired and he collapsed back onto Derek’s chest.

“I love you,” Derek said, softly. “And I’m glad you’re home.”

“I love you too.” Stiles kissed his jaw one last time before pushing him away, rearranging their limbs to his satisfaction. “Wake me up when the pack gets here.”

Derek huffed a laugh but stayed where he was moved, with his arms wrapped around Stiles and Stiles draped over him like a heavy blanket. He pulled the duvet snug and let himself drift for a while, content to listen to Stiles’ steady heartbeat.

***

Derek must have dozed off, because the next thing he knew, he was jolting awake to the sound of arguing.

“I told you, you’re supposed to let the water boil first,” Isaac’s voice drifted up the stairs.

Erica scoffed. “That makes it too hot for white tea.”

“Can you honestly tell the difference?” Boyd asked, sounding skeptical.

“Yes!” Isaac and Erica responded in unison.

Then the scuffling noises started, along with Scott’s laughter.

“Let me up.” Derek gently rolled Stiles onto the mattress, untangling himself from clingy limbs. “I need to go restore order before –”

There was the sound of ceramic shattering.

“– they break something,” Derek finished, resigned.

That was enough to wake Stiles. “Make sure to sweep, there are human feet in the house,” he said, voice still sleep-rough.

“Stiles!” Erica yelled, making Derek wince. “You weren’t supposed to be back until late!”

“And miss pack breakfast?” Stiles wriggled out from under the covers. He tugged on the long-sleeved shirt Derek had left on the floor the night before and bounced out of the room.

Derek took a moment to gather himself. Stiles was home, the pack was downstairs, and Derek couldn’t ask for a more perfect morning. This amount of happiness still made him nervous.

“Oh shit, missed a piece.” Scott said, followed by the scent of blood.

Derek sighed and grabbed Stiles’ abandoned t-shirt, pulling it on as he headed down the stairs. In the kitchen, Stiles was perched on the counter while Scott swept the floor again. He leered a bit at Derek in his shirt, before hopping down to help Erica with the eggs. Isaac was making coffee, while Boyd and Scott took turns flipping pancakes.

After feeling a warm sense of accomplishment at how well everyone was working together, Derek started setting out the plates and silverware. Pack breakfast had become a tradition after high school, where once a week everyone would try to touch base and spend some time together. Six years later, it was still going strong.

“This is the new coffee Jackson sent,” Isaac said, handing Derek a mug.

Derek took it gratefully and sat at his usual seat by the window, soaking in the feeling of pack. Stiles sat beside him, shamelessly stealing bacon off of his plate while he recounted a TA finals horror story that involved a stack of essays, an improbable amount of mud, and an unfortunately timed bus.

After the dishes were washed and put away, everyone bundled up. Stiles liked to joke about the ‘wolves needing time to commune with nature, but the reality was that keeping the pack confined to the house usually ended in property damage. Derek gave up on keeping track of how many times he’d replaced the lamp next to the sofa.

They’d barely made it off the porch before Erica shouted, “snowball fight!” and threw the first snowball, sending Isaac staggering off into a snow drift. Scott leapt to his pack-mate’s defense and tackled Erica to the ground, only to be pelted by a series of snowballs from Boyd.

Derek set off on his usual path through the woods, listening to the chaos unfold around him. It was nice to see the pack having fun, rather than fighting for their lives. Hopefully, things in Beacon Hills had settled now that there was an established pack and a soon-to-be unbeatable Alpha and Emissary pair, and they could forget the way it was in the beginning. Although not all of the memories were of pain and suffering.

There was a hum of energy accompanied by the sharp smell of ozone, and Derek found himself buried under a small mountain of snow shaken loose from the trees above.

“I feel like using your Spark powers should get you disqualified,” Derek grumbled, brushing snow from his hair and letting his melancholy thoughts dissipate.

Stiles grinned at him, rosy cheeked with snowflakes caught in his eyelashes. “All’s fair in love and snowball fights, Alpha.”

He looked so smug and beautiful; Derek had to kiss him. And maybe shove a handful of snow down the back of his coat.

Stiles squawked and ducked away, sending out another blast of energy that shook the remaining snow from the surrounding trees. Given the yelling coming from the other pack members, no one avoided the sudden snow shower.

“Is that any way to treat your future emissary?” Stiles teased, already scooping up a snowball in each hand.