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It was five days until Christmas.
“Are you serious? It’s not Christmas without a Christmas tree, Derek. Have you not seen the movie Elf?”
From the blank expression on Derek’s face, it is clear that, in fact, he has not seen Elf. Stiles groans.
It’s the first Christmas that the pack is celebrating together, yet they’ve left all the preparations a little late. Scott and Allison are on the couch snuggling, Erica and Boyd are practising attack techniques, Lydia and Jackson are eating salad on the kitchen bench and Cora’s sitting on the loft’s staircase.
Scott speaks up from the couch. “Derek, have you even had a Christmas before?”
“Not since before the fire. And even then... we weren’t that big on the whole ‘celebrating’ thing.”
Cora scoffs from the staircase. “That’s an understatement,” she states with a smirk. “All we did was light a few candles here and there and mutter ‘Merry Christmas’ to each other.
Stiles’ jaw drops even further. “You’ve got to be kidding me. What are you guys, Claus-trophobic?” He pauses with a smirk, but when no one acknowledges his joke, he continues. “Okay, we are going all-out this year, and I mean all-out. Christmas tree, a feast, lights, presents...” Derek leaves the loft.
Stiles is still creating a mental checklist when Derek returns all but five minutes later hauling in a tree. It’s leaving a trail of dirt and pine needles, and he hoists it up against the wall by the fireplace.
“Okay, Derek, what the hell. You can’t just rip one out of the ground,” Jackson says with a disgusted look on his face.
“I’m pretty sure that’s illegal”, Lydia pipes up in her sing-song ‘I know everything’ tone.
“Uh, it’s a little scrawny,” Stiles observes with a grimace.
Derek finally growls out a response with a menacing glare directed at Stiles. “I like it scrawny”.
A few silent moments pass before Stiles shoots his hands up. “Okay, big guy. You get your twig- I mean, tree. It’s great, really. I’ll go get decorations, or, whatever.”
***
An hour has passed, and everyone is helping out decorating the tree with the makeshift decorations Stiles has scrambled together from his house. A lot of them are either falling apart or were made by Stiles in preschool, but they were decorations nonetheless.
Derek is putting an annoyingly glitter-shedding bauble on the tree when he looks over at Stiles. He’s wrapped gold tinsel around himself and using a pine needle as a microphone singing some Spice Girls song.
Jackson shoots daggers his way. “Stilinski, if you don’t shut up, I swear to God you won’t get to see the light of Christmas Day.”
“Oh, come on! Everyone loves the Spice Girls!” he whines in response. He shuts up anyway. Well, singing that is. “Hey, hey, what would you get if you ate the Christmas decorations?”
Everyone stops what they’re doing and looks at Stiles wearily.
“Tinselitis!” he answers with a grin.
Everyone groans.
***
It was four days until Christmas.
Allison convinces everyone to go Christmas shopping, as they can’t keep borrowing Stiles’ Christmas supplies. The Sheriff would only allow so much.
Erica, Boyd and Cora are in charge of the food, Lydia and Jackson are in charge of more decorations, Scott and Allison are in charge of wrapping supplies, and that left Stiles and Derek.
“Oo, I know what we need!” Stiles squealed as he dragged Derek through the supermarket aisles. Derek rolled his eyes, because he didn’t secretly like the feeling of shopping with Stiles. He didn’t.
Stiles began stuffing candy canes into the already half-filled basket of random festive items. He noticed Derek raising his eyebrows at him. “What? You can never have too many candy canes. Especially in a house full of hungry werewolves.”
They continue walking down the aisles, Stiles leading the way.
“You know, I wish Christmas was like Halloween, where you could dress up. But it’s all just cheesy sweaters and paper crowns.”
Derek stops and picks up a Santa costume, raising his eyebrows in question.
Stiles smirks. “Ooo, kinky”. Derek’s ears go red and he quickly puts the costume back.
***
They’ve returned to the loft, unpacking the monstrous amount of shopping bags on the kitchen bench.
Scott is looking very confused at one of the bags.
“Guys, why is this one empty except, like, two candy canes?”
Stiles’ eyes widen from the other side of the kitchen. “...Oh, I might have... eaten the rest. But there weren’t that many!” He quickly said in defence. Scott just shakes his head with a smile on his face.
By the time they’re done unpacking everything, it’s late, so they all begin settling down. Stiles is shutting the fridge door when he stumbles and hits his head on the corner of the kitchen bench. “Fuck.”
“Woah, Stiles, you okay, buddy?” Scott asks, pausing while pouring some cereal. “How many candy canes did you eat?”
Derek gets up and grabs Stiles’ chin to look at the quickly-forming bruise on his forehead, before jerking his hand away at the touch of Stiles’ skin. It was burning up.
“Shit, Stiles, why are you so hot?”
Stiles slides down the side of the kitchen bench and leans his head back, closing his eyes. “Dude, if you wanted my number, you could’ve just asked.”
Derek sighs. “You know what I mean. You’re burning up. Come on,” he prompts, helping him up from under his arm and leading him to the couch, from where Erica and Boyd quickly hop up.
“Is he alright?” Boyd asks with concerned eyes. Boyd and Stiles have become closer these last couple of weeks; he kind of thinks of Stiles as his little brother.
“Yeah, I think he just has a fever. Cora, could you get ice for his head, and maybe a wet cloth?” Cora is already on it. Derek runs his fingers through Stiles’ hair in an attempt to soothe him, but all he achieves is giving himself goosebumps.
“We’ll get blankets,” Erica states, dragging Boyd with her.
Stiles’ words are sluggish, and he sways dizzily as Scott makes him sit up to drink water. “It’s f-fucking freezing, man. It feels like I’ve got... oh, hey, that reminds me. What do you get w-when you cross a snowman with a werewolf?”
“What, Stiles.” Derek and Scott say in unison with tired looks on their faces.
“F-frostbite.”
Scott groans, but Derek tries to hide his smile. Emphasis on try.
***
It was three days until Christmas.
Derek cautiously watches Stiles walk out of the bedroom the next morning, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the harsh daylight. He starts to ask if he’s feeling better, but Lydia beats him to it from her spot sitting on Jackson’s lap. Though, in a much more ‘Lydia’ manner.
“Feeling better, Stiles? Your hypothalamus should have finished heating your body by now, as a result of whatever virus you caught finally subsiding and your pyrogens settling down.” She spoke as if she were asking the weather.
Stiles just stares at her for a few seconds, confused, before answering. “Uh, yeah, that. Well, I ain’t ever having another candy cane again, that’s for sure.”
Jackson chuckles, before looking embarrassed and pretending to be interested in his shoelace.
Stiles slumps down next to Derek on the couch, to his surprise. “Are we cooking the feast today?”
***
Jackson and Lydia are arguing over whether pudding is even worth it given how long it takes to prepare, and Allison’s trying to get the flour off the tip of Scott’s nose.
“Cora, how much sauce do we put on the ham?” Erica asks, scrutinizing the label on the jar of cranberry sauce. Cora almost answers, before Stiles does instead.
“Five inches,” he says proudly.
“Uh, how much is that?” Erica asks.
“So many,” he replies.
“What?” Now Cora is confused.
“Ten,” he says with a nod.
Cora and Erica both look at him with blank expressions.
“I’m just joking, guys. It’s a Supernatural reference. You know, the show? Well, more like a Misha Collins reference, but...” They’re both still staring at him. Cora’s shaking her head, mouthing What?
“Never mind.” Stiles just sighs, muttering something along the lines of “uneducated assbutts”.
He continues to struggle keeping one of the walls up of his gingerbread house while simultaneously sticking it together with icing. Derek notices and wordlessly lends a hand, holding up one of the walls and accidently brushing Stiles’ own hand as he did so.
“Uh, thanks.” Stiles says uncertainly, a flush spreading across his cheeks.
Something about his reaction triggered something in Derek, something like warmth. As if Stiles was the one thing that could defrost the permanent iciness in his chest.
***
It was two days until Christmas.
The pack is still making preparations with food, decorations and presents, and Erica is trying not to laugh while teaching Derek how to knit.
It had started when Stiles called Derek ‘the pack mom’, and said that mothers are supposed to knit their children ugly sweaters on Christmas. To Stiles’ surprise, Derek didn’t come back with some remark confirming he’d never knit if his life depended on it. No, he replied with a simple “I don’t know how.”
Now, Derek is getting increasingly frustrated that the pink wool keeps slipping off the needles.
Stiles’ eyes light up at the scene. “Hey, hey. I gotta good one. What do Christmas trees and bad knitters have in common? They both drop their needles,” he spurts out without waiting for a guess.
Derek points a needle at Stiles. “Watch it. This one’s yours and I could easily ruin it.”
“Looks like you’ve already done that, what with the colour and the lack of skill.”
Derek just sighs and goes back to his ‘masterpiece’.
***
Jackson, Lydia, Derek and Stiles are laying the Christmas lights around the edge of the roof of the loft. Even though it’s probably illegal due to the fact that they don’t own the entire building, they’re hoping the cops have ‘christmas spirit’ and let this one slide.
Derek’s trying to figure out which outlet the lights would plug into when a shriek cuts through the quiet afternoon.
“Stiles, stop!”
Derek’s head whips around the second he sensed Erica’s heart rate spike, just in time to see Stiles’ ankle get caught in the wire of the Christmas lights to send him stumbling towards the edge of the roof. Derek is there in a flash, catching Stiles’ arm just in time before he fell off the edge and pulling him back towards the center of the roof.
They’re both panting, and Jackson and Erica rush over checking if they’re okay when Stiles starts rambling.
“Phew, that was... that was a close one. Thank god for your super-speedy-werewolf-senses, guys. You know, it would have been the perfect moment to yell ‘Save me, Barry!’, but that would be weird because you guys wouldn’t get the Misfits reference.”
“Stilinski, shut up,” Jackson utters, yet he’s secretly relieved the boy is okay.
Derek is just staring at Stiles, still in shock that he could have just lost him. He can’t lose anyone else, let alone Stiles, and he isn’t sure why he feels this way.
Erica is sobbing. “I just... just saw what was happening, with your foot and I knew... I knew you would fall but I froze, I couldn’t move and I could only cry out and hope someone would save you.”
Stiles’ face softens. “Hey, hey, it’s okay. I’m fine, Derek got there in time. Anyway, you’re allowed to be upset, everyone knows women get Santa-mental during Christmas.”
Jackson grunts in annoyance. “Oh my god, Stilinski, what is with the fucking puns! Even you’re not usually this excessive, seriously, dude.”
Stiles’ cheerful expression falters and he hesitates before speaking. “Uh, well, you see my mom... Well she told a lot of puns, especially at Christmas time. It was like she had all the groan-inducing dad-jokes saved up, and my dad and I thought they were hilarious and... and it was like her tradition and I’ve always tried to keep up her tradition, even when she’s not here.” His voice broke at his last words and he shrugged.
“Oh, Stiles, I’m sorry, man.” Jackson says softly. Stiles thinks it’s the first time he hasn’t referred to him as ‘Stilinski’. “I didn’t mean to-“
“Nah, ‘sall good, dude. Oh, hey look, it’s finally starting to snow!” He exclaims as a few specs of snow begin to fall on the roof.
Derek tries not to notice how adorable Stiles looks with snowflakes resting on his eyelashes. He really tries.
***
It was one day until Christmas.
And there was a blizzard. The kind that locks people in their houses for fear of being bombarded with a brick wall of deadly wind and snow.
“Are you kidding me? My Porsche won’t survive this!” Jackson spat out angrily.
“I can’t believe we didn’t see the signs. I mean, did no one notice how the birds were acting?” Lydia questioned.
“Perfect. Just perfect.” That was Derek.
“Yeah, s’now joke.” Absolute silence. “Get it? Snow joke? Alright, alright, that was snowverkill.”
Stiles was answered with a cushion shoved in his face.
***
They have the feast and give gifts a day early, because the teens want to celebrate Christmas Day with their families. Derek feels a little sad about this, but Stiles invites him over to have his Christmas day with him and the Sheriff.
“I couldn’t, Stiles. It’s your time with your dad,” Derek had protested.
“I’m not taking no for an answer, Sourwolf. You’re not spending Christmas-freaking-day alone. And besides, you need to eat our food because it’s not healthy for dad to eat that much turkey.”
Now, they’re all sitting by the fire, wearing Derek’s terribly-knitted sweaters, and giving each other their Christmas gifts.
Derek has given all his other gifts except Stiles’. He gets out a lacrosse-stick-shaped gift from behind the couch, wrapped in orange and blue paper.
“Hey, look, it’s the colours of the Mets!” Scott comments eagerly.
Stiles grins in his shockingly pink sweater and takes it from Derek. “Is it a puppy?” He asks mockingly, shaking it. Derek’s grinning but waiting in fear. What if he doesn’t like it?
Stiles keeps talking. “No, no. Let me guess, the Nimbus 2000!” He chuckles. “Oh, my god, that moment was so weird in the movie. It was like they had no fucking idea what Harry’s mail was, even though it was in the shape of-“
“Stiles,” Derek interrupted, anxiously desperate for Stiles’ approval and for him to just open it already.
“Oh, right. I should probably open it.” His eyes flitted to the gift in his lap, and he started gently - and painstakingly slowly - tearing the paper. Everyone was waiting in anticipation.
Jackson couldn’t take it anymore. “Stilinski, for god’s sake, just rip into it.” Jackson reached over and ripped into it himself.
“Hey-“
Stiles’ protests immediately died when he saw it. Surely enough, it was a lacrosse stick, but it was amazing. The shaft was dark wood, with gold embellishments on the pocket and the number ‘24’ carved on the end.
Stiles was just taking it all in silently, and Derek grew worried, feeling the need to justify it. “It-it isn’t just any lacrosse stick, I mean, you can use it instead of your baseball bat as well. The shaft is made of mountain ash, a-and the pocket is woven from mistletoe thread. Allison helped me infuse it with wolfsbane, too. So it’s like an all-in-one werewolf... weapon... thingy.”
Stiles finally looked up into Derek’s eyes, complete shock and admiration in his own. Then he got up, still holding the lacrosse stick, stalked over to where Derek was still standing and gave him the biggest hug he had ever given anyone. Sure, the back of Derek’s head was knocked by the stick and he got a face full of pink wool, but it was the best hug Derek had ever received.
***
Later, they’re sitting by the fire, settling down to watch the movie Elf (Stiles was adamant that it was a ‘must-see Christmas flick’), when Derek turns to Stiles sitting next to him on the couch.
“Um, Stiles, I have a... pun.” Derek struggles to get the word out with a grimace.
“Oh, yeah?”Stiles replies with a smirk.
Derek clears his throat. “Um, what did Adam say the day before Christmas?”
Stiles shakes his head and waits in anticipation.
“It’s Christmas, Eve.”
Stiles stares at him for a few moments, before cracking up laughing. Derek releases the smallest of grins.
Stiles sucks in a breath with tears in his eyes, and tries to get in a sentence between laughs. “That... was... the best... oh, my god... Derek said a pun.” He bursts into laughter again. “I taught you well!”
They watch Elf, and it goes until midnight when Derek looks down at Stiles. He’s fallen asleep and his head is resting on Derek’s shoulder, and Derek feels nothing but absolutely content.
It was Christmas.