Work Text:
Derek’s never liked his birthday. Not to be edgy, or because his great-grandma died on it, like Laura’s did on hers, but just because. Every year, something went wrong. He didn’t get the cake he wanted when he was nine, or it fell on a school day when he was 13 and there was no time to go out, and then something came up that weekend so there was no time to do anything, and then it just fell through the cracks.
The year of his birthday when Paige died, he was a wreck. He wasn’t happy, didn’t want to do anything, didn’t want to see anyone, but his family was coming over from New York, and they were going to have this big party, and all he wanted to do was sit in his room and read comic books. But nobody understood that, not even his mom.
“What do you want to do for your birthday, Derek?” Talia asked him 3 weeks before, when they were in the kitchen after Derek came home from school.
Derek chewed into his turkey and cheese, looked at her, and said, “Nothing.”
“Nothing?” she echoed, looking at him strangely. “Why?”
“Because I just don’t..” He shrugs. “There’s no reason. I don’t want to do anything.”
“Okay,” she said, “Nothing. Sure.”
Laura walked in and called him a loser, but whatever. He wanted to be miserable.
And then on his birthday, apparently he was having a party. Suprise. So he stood there, sourfaced, as everyone around him laughed and celebrated his birth, but he didn’t want to be there, he wanted to be in his room watching sad movies. Why should he have to be happy just because it was his birthday?
Looking back on it, he guesses he shouldn’t have been such a brat.
Fast-forward to a couple of years later, and Derek’s opinion on birthdays hasn’t changed. In fact, sometimes, he just forgets the day entirely. One day, when Laura and him were in New York, he didn’t realize it was his birthday until he got home from school and there was a cupcake on the table with a note from Laura.
And then when he came back to Beacon Hills, it wasn’t a matter of not wanting to celebrate it, but a matter of there being no time. The first year he was back and it was his birthday, the whole shit with the nogitsune was going down. And the year after that, a rival pack came. And then the year after that, Peter finally revealed his, “master plan,” and then he finally got killed.
But this is the first year in about 5 when he has a free day. Nothing to do. No spirits to fight, no job to go to, nothing. And it’s.. Disconcerting.
He wakes up early, around 6, and so he decides to go for a run. It’s nice to do something so simple and easy. After, when he gets back home, he takes a shower and jerks off. It feels nice to do normal things.
He makes himself breakfast; chocolate chip pancakes, and drizzles a lot of syrup on them. After he’s done, he washes the plates, then sits on his couch for an hour and mindlessly watches TLC.
“This is so boring,” he mutters to himself. But this was what he wanted; to not have anyone make a big deal out of it. It’s better to not have expectations. But even if he doesn’t like his birthday, he’s lonely. It’s always sad to not wake up to breakfast in bed, or to a gift, but it’s even sadder when he can stew in his misery for the whole day since he has nothing to do.
At around 12, someone knocks on his door, and when he goes to answer it, it’s Stiles, all bright eyes and smiles, holding out a box in his hand like a peace offering.
“Happy birthday, dude,” he says, pushing past him. He goes to Derek’s fridge and grabs a coke.
Derek is looking down at the gift in surprise still when Stiles turns to look at him. “What is this?”
“A birthday present?” Stiles asks, bewildered. “What else would it be?”
“A curse, knowing my luck,” Derek mutters. Stiles snorts.
“Wouldn’t that be fitting,” Stiles says, throwing his head back and drinking. Derek watches his throat bob and looks away. “Open it! It’s not like, anything special, but.” Stiles rubs the back of his neck. His heart is pounding and there’s a bead of sweat at his forehead, so he’s nervous.
Derek places it on the counter and carefully takes the box out of it’s packaging. Stiles laughs.
“Just rip it, man. You’re treating it so delicately.”
Derek rolls his eyes. “I’m not a five-year old, I can calmly open a birthday gift.”
“Where’s the fun in that? You can let loose on your birthday,” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows ridiculously.
Derek ignores him. He’s not sure what’s in the box. It could be something either extremely thoughtful or a gag gift. Probably a collar.
“This better not be a collar.”
“Aw man!” Stiles slaps his knee. “I totally should’ve gotten you that, now that I think about it.” He smirks at him, and Derek would be lying if Stiles smirking isn’t just a little bit hot.
Derek sighs. When he opens the box, he gasps.
“I- what- how did you get this?” Derek croaks, picking up a photo of his family. There’s Laura, and Cora, his Dad, his Mom, Peter, his wife, Emily, their new baby, his grandma, everyone. There’s more at the bottom, and he begins to sift through the rest. Pictures of Laura and him, snapping their teeth at each other, his mom and Dad holding hands next to the tree, the picture a nurse took when Cora was born.
Stiles rubs the back of his neck. “I - I uh, found them at the station. They found a box of photos that didn’t burn in the,” he gestures with his hands, “ya know, and they were gonna give it to you and Laura before you bolted, but it was too late, and then it just sitting there in the evidence room. I found it when I was helping,” his heart stutters over the word and Derek smirks, “Dad with a few cases - okay asshole.” He rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling.
“I don’t think you were helping your dad,” Derek says, placing the box on the counter. He’ll look at them more later, but now, just. It’s a lot. He takes a deep breath and walks over to get a glass of water.
“Dude, are you okay? I didn’t mean to like, upset you, I just thought that you’d-”
Derek cuts him off. “I’m fine, it’s just a lot, you know?” He turns to face him. “Thank you. It means a lot.”
Stiles lips quirk. “It’s not even a gift, I just - I wasn’t really sure what to get you. There’s something else in the box, too, at the bottom. Not much.” He goes over to the box and pulls out something covered in wrapping paper. He hands it to Derek, and their fingers brush. He carefully takes it out of the paper, and when he holds it up, it’s a necklace of his tattoo.
“Wow,” Derek says. It’s not even the gift, even though that’s nice. it’s just the fact that Stiles thought to get him something.
“I saw it at that pawnshop in the town over when I was looking for some books,” Stiles says. “I thought you’d like it. It’s real silver, the guy said, but fuck if I know if he was lying or not.”
“It’s real silver,” Derek says. He puts it down and then he thinks, fuck it, and walks over to Stiles and stops if front of him, but then he’s shy again, and he doesn’t know if Stiles is just being nice, or if it means something, but then Stiles must know what he’s thinking, because he leans forward and then they’re kissing.
Stiles comes a little closer until they’re pressed chest to chest, and then he rubs his fingers over Derek’s hips, and he can feel how warm his fingers are through the cloth of his henly, and it feels good to kiss someone again. Stiles’ mouth is warm, and he’s licking into Derek’s mouth slowly, like they have all the time in the world.
When they pull away, Derek’s not out of breath, but he feels like he’s been punched in the gut. Stiles’ hands had come up to cup his jaw, and they’re rubbing against his stubble. Stiles’ eyes are bright and his cheeks are flushed red, and he looks amazing here, in Derek’s kitchen.
“If I had known getting you gifts would have gotten this to happen, I would have done it a long time ago,” he mutters, pressing his lips against Derek’s again, who can’t help but smile.
“This is the first gift I’ve gotten in a long time, actually,” Derek can’t help but tell him. He wants Stiles to know everything about him.
Stiles pulls back, surprised. “Seriously?! Well, you should have told everyone when your birthday is!”
“I don’t,” Derek shrugs, “I don’t really like it.”
“What, your birthday? Why?”
“It’s just, nothing ever went right, and then it was just annoying to do stuff, and then I just never felt like it, and I hate how everyone wants you to do something on it, like you have to. I don’t like to have expectations for it.”
“So you’ve never celebrated it?” Stiles looks so sad, and it makes Derek laugh.
“I have, of course, when I was younger, and then when the fire happened, my birthday was actually the next month, but me and Laura didn’t wanna do anything, so we just watched movies on Netflix and ate cupcakes she bought from a supermarket.”
“You hate birthdays,” Stiles says. “That’s so weird. I love my birthday, man. I look forward to it every year.” He frowns, and Derek can’t help it, he leans in and kisses him again, soft and slow. Stiles licks his lips when Derek pulls back. “It’s fitting, though, The only thing that would make this better is if you were a Christmas baby.”
Derek swats at him and Stiles tries to pull away in protest. “I’m just kidding!” He smirks. “So, good to know. I’ll never plan a huge extravagant party for you. We can just sit at home and.. Do nothing.” He shakes his head. “Man, that’s weird. Well then, come on, we have to celebrate your birthday.” He drags Derek to his couch and hands him the remote. “Pick a show, and let’s start it.”
And that’s how they celebrate his birthday, by watching season one of House of Lies. It’s kind of perfect.