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It was a rare sighting in Beacon Hills. Snow. Course lots of things were supposedly rare to the town. Things like werewolves, and kanimas, and druids. Naturally, snow was a welcomed occurrence. A nice change of pace from all the usual supernatural mumbo jumbo. Well for Stiles at least…
“Oh my god! It’s so beautiful!”
He couldn’t stop skipping and twirling around. He was sure he was never going to get enough of the stuff. The trees were coated in glistening white gorgeousness. His boots crunched and tramped as he happily hopped and danced around. It was a goddamn winter wonderland! Stiles just had to try out a leap, lifting a leg and jumping as high as he could in the air, then landing perfectly back down on the ground like the graceful gazelle that he was.
“Squee!”
“Would you stop that!”
His next attempt was a pirouette. It didn’t go as well as he would’ve liked and he almost face-planted, but he knew that he’d get the hang of it eventually. He might even invest in a ballet bar. With the fresh snowfall, now was really the perfect time to start practicing for the winter Olympics. And Stiles refused to pay Derek any mind or let him crush his dreams of gold medal glory.
They trudged deeper into the forest and Stiles started singing to spread the joy. He hoped that Derek would join in. Maybe they could even do a few of the musical numbers from Frozen, with Derek being Elsa of course.
“This isn’t a fucking Disney movie, Stiles! Get that twinkle out of your eyes and focus! Real lives could be at stake here!”
Well Damn. So much for that.
“I’m sorry,” Stiles sighed heavily, coming back down to earth, “But when you woke me up this morning and said that we needed to go out into the woods and find the evil Snow Witch that brought this shit here, I thought that was your emotionally stunted way of saying come build a snowman with me.”
The storm last night had set records. Never had they gotten this much snow on the ground. Then again, they lived in California, so snow wasn’t really a thing that happened anyways. Except that none of the other towns nearby had gotten anything. It was like a fluffy little snow cloud had flown right over Beacon Hills and shitted it’s guts out.
Derek was convinced there was something wicked about it. Derek was a very perverted man to insinuate that there was anything wicked about snow. But Stiles indulged him anyway. They’d been together too long for him to expect anything less from Derek than utter paranoia and suspicion. Plus a walk in the snow-covered woods was kind of romantic, even Derek would have to admit that.
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Of course you would hate the snow. Ever predictable Derek is what they call you.”
Derek stopped in his tracks, arching a brow. Stiles knew that the last thing Derek could be called was predictable. But the people didn’t know that, and Derek didn’t get out much to know the public’s perception of him.
“Well, not to your face obviously.”
Finally, he mastered the perfect pirouette, and did a small leap, soaring into Derek’s arms. Derek almost didn’t catch him. Stiles almost died. But they managed to stay upright despite all the stumbling and skidding. Derek hooked an arm under his knees, cradling him. And Stiles rested his head on Derek’s shoulder, soothed by the sweet melodic sounds of harsh profanity.
“Want to know some of your other nicknames?” Stiles asked, biting hard on his lip to hide a flirtatious smile.
“No.”
All this time together and Derek still had no problem shutting him down.
“Oh come on! Some of them are super cute!”
Derek just dropped him on his ass and walked away. Stiles squawked indignantly, sympathizing with the painful ache in his tailbone. He picked himself back up, dusting snow from his pants, and scurried along. He found Derek a few yards away, staring up at some icicles in the trees, searching for any signs of foul play.
“So what’s this witch supposed to look like anyway?” Stiles’ cheeks were flushed and he could see his own breath. “Does she look like a snow angel?”
He flopped into the snow and sprawled out, extending his arms and legs. He dragged them together and apart until a shape was formed and he’d given birth to a work of art. Derek helped him to his feet, and the two of them looked down at his creation, Stiles with a sense of awe and Derek in disgust.
“That is the most pathetic snow angel I have ever seen in my life.”
Pshht. Like he could do any better.
“Don’t listen to him, Castiel.” Stiles spoke to the angel. “He still hasn’t been gripped tight and raised from perdition.”
Derek went back to his grumbling and strode off. Stiles groaned, tired now of chasing after him and trying to keep up. Not everyone was strutting around with werewolf superpowers.
“Dude, wait up!”
He was shivering and felt the cold in his bones.
“Humans,” Stiles reminded him. “We get cold.”
Derek slowed and held out his arms. Stiles went into them happily, huddling close. He was already pretty bundled up, but nothing compared to the warmth that was always radiating off Derek. The fit was cozy and snug and Derek’s arms wrapped around him, squeezing him tight. Derek didn’t even complain when Stiles wiped a bit of his nasal drip off on his sleeve. Jack Frost was definitely nipping at his nose. Damn that Snow Witch!
“You shouldn’t even be playing in it,” Derek said, with a disapproving tone. “Could be dangerous.”
Stiles cackled. “What? Is it radioactive?”
Derek shrugged.
“Oh come on!” Stiles cried. They needed to squash this beef before things got volatile. “So it’s a little annoying that you had to spend all morning digging out the Camaro, but look at all this! It’s breathtaking!”
Derek glanced around. He didn’t look even a little bit impressed.
“Alright then, Mister Prissy Cat. What do you think could really be going on here?”
“Donno. But you and I both know what town this is. So there’s gotta be something supernatural about it.”
Sure, this was Beacon Hills. Sure, it was the center for all things supernatural and bizarre. And sure, the likelihoods of Derek being right were extremely high. But it wasn’t like they actually had any theories. It was a little sad that because of all the things they were used to dealing with, that they even had to be wary of this. But, maybe for once, the snow could just be snow. And if it was, then Stiles wanted to enjoy that. Right now, they weren’t getting anywhere playing Scooby-Doo in the woods. Although, Derek’s grumpy ass could use a few Scooby Snacks.
“You might be right,” Stiles said and thought about it. “There’s nothing more magical than the weather. Except that this can’t be supernatural. The weather reports have been predicting this for the past few days. We knew this was coming. That’s not how things usually go down.”
“She could have the weather people working for her too.”
Stiles stared in disbelief, then said slowly, “…So you mean to tell me that the Snow Witch cast a spell on the weather people so that they could finally get their predictions right?”
Derek nodded.
Judge.
Trial.
Jury.
“Oh my god! I have got to meet this mastermind!”
“Would you get serious,” Derek grouched. He was so sexy when he grouched.
“Of course, Grumpy Toes.”
Derek opened his mouth to say something else, then stopped and eyed him curiously.
“It’s another one of your nicknames,” Stiles explained. “So is Cuddleflake.”
He grinned and nuzzled his face deeper into the side of Derek’s neck. With his temperature now restored, Stiles could go back to prancing around again. He pulled away from their embrace and went on to do a few ill-advised cartwheels.
Derek watched, smiling despite himself. “Is this your first time seeing snow not on TV?” he asked. “You’re way too excited.”
“Yes,” Stiles said, kicking some. That time in high school with that illusion and the Nogitsune didn’t count. “Yours?”
Derek shook his head. “It snowed when I lived in New York.”
Stiles gasped. “The Snow Witch went there too?!”
The glare Derek gave him had to have earned Stiles some x-box achievement points. Stiles sent him back one of his shit-eating grins. He loved that he could still get under Derek’s skin. And he hoped Derek never stopped being Derek.
“How about we call it a day, Honey Beard.”
It was getting pretty late and the sky was close to dark.
“I don’t think we’re going to find out the Snow Witch’s master plan for dumping snow on the entire town tonight.”
Derek blinked. “Honey Beard?”
“It’s what you’re known as on the streets.” He waggled his eyebrows. “Want to know what they call you in the sheets?”
“No.”
His face drooped. “Your loss.”
Derek's eyes swept through the trees one last time, but he seemed to agree with Stiles. “Yeah,” he said. “We can head back if you want.”
He didn’t want to. Not really. But it didn’t make sense to stay outside and freeze his buns off if Derek wasn’t even going to play with him. They turned and started towards the edge of the woods. Stiles was determined to skip and sing the entire way. After all, it was his duty to share his talents with the world. Also, it would probably give Derek an aneurysm. And it was his duty to do that too.
“Should we tell the rest of the pack about the Snow Witch, Bicep Nugget?”
Stiles skated ahead on an icy blanket of snow while Derek double-checked each tree for runes. By some miracle, Stiles didn’t bust his ass.
“In case there’s another flurry attack.”
“Stiles,” His name was said with a growl. “You have one last time to call me a stupid nickname before I-”
“What? Before you what?”
He stopped and looked over his shoulder, then froze, his eyes wide. He spun around, backing away in fear of the lethal weapon in Derek’s hand.
“No! No! Don’t you dare!” He shouted. “Don’t you dare throw that snowball, Sourwolf!” He cringed and smacked a hand over his mouth. “Goddammit!
Derek aimed and fired, and Stiles shrieked. Ice, pure ice, shot him in the left shoulder, and he cried out in pain. Derek lodged another one at him and Stiles scrambled and ducked behind a tree.
Snowballs sailed and slammed into the tree trunk. Stiles quickly bent down and got ammo, shooting snowballs off as well. Derek was throwing so much faster than him, and Stiles could only use the tree as a shield for so long. Derek advanced, and Stiles got hit again, this one thrown with so much force, Stiles had to have a bruise. He expected a purple heart for all his valiance and bravery.
Even though he didn’t have a strategic battle plan, Stiles put up a good fight. He landed a few good ones, getting Derek in the face a few times. Except, he’d celebrated a little too long after that and lost his cover. Derek pelted a fist full of snow at him, then started pummeling him relentlessly with snowballs.
“Stop it, Derek! This is so unfair!”
“How?”
“You’re a werewolf! You have evolutionary advantages!”
“Werewolves aren’t polar bears!”
“Their close cousins!”
“Not even!”
Derek flung a curveball, and Stiles totally did that move from The Matrix. He gasped when he saw how big of a snowball Derek was gathering. Then started running in zigzags so he didn’t get hit. He avoided the missile by mere inches, thank god.
Stiles was prepared to run the whole way home if he had to. The Snow Witch had clearly gotten a hold of Derek and now he was possessed. Stiles couldn’t be in love with a demon, so he had to escape. Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that Derek was faster than him and stronger too. Thankfully, Derek reminded him by tackled from behind and sending them tumbling into the ground.
“Ouch!” Stiles cried as Derek climbed on top of him. “Cold! Cold! Cold!”
They wrestled and rolled around. Stiles fought to get the upper hand, and tried to get Derek’s hands off him. But Derek just wrapped his fingers around his wrists and pinned him down.
“Forfeit?” Derek asked.
“No,” Stiles said defiantly. He attempted to knee Derek in the chest but failed miserably. “Yes.”
Derek got off and shook the snow from himself, purposely getting it all over Stiles. He looked so smug. The demonic bastard.
“Asshole.”
“Idiot.”
Stiles still laid on his back, covered in the snow, his teeth chattering. He glared at Derek. “The least you could do is warm me up.”
A furnace fell on top of him, and Stiles let out a muffled grunt. Derek covered every inch of his body with his and smothered him. He was heavy but Stiles didn’t mind. He grinned as Derek took his face in his hands, scrapping his rough cheek against Stiles’. Then thawed when Derek kissed him hotly, enough to melt the snow.
“Yeah,” Stiles moaned, toasty now. Derek worked a hell of a lot better than hot chocolate. “Just like that, Hot Lips.”
That got Derek snarling again, and the next thing Stiles knew he was eating snow.
“Okay! Okay!” He sputtered, shoving Derek off. “I’m sorry!”
Derek grinned, obviously pleased with himself. Stiles sat up and sniffed, his nose dripping, and his fingers and toes painfully numb.
“You know what, I changed my mind. I think I like this snow stuff.” Derek said.
“Yeah, well now I fucking hate it.” Stiles grimaced, completely repulsed.
Who could ever like this cold wet white stuff?
“Come on.” He stood and hauled Derek up by the arm. “You and I are going to find the nasty little bitch that brought this shit here.”