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Stiles was half-asleep as he climbed into Derek’s Toyota. It was way too early in the morning after way too long a month at school. Finals had been overwhelming and he was pretty sure he’d failed at least two of them. He’d spent too many nights curled up in his bed around the stuffed wolf Erica had bought him as a gag gift, his tears hiding in the black fur and the velvety soft ears keeping all of his secrets.
Now the school year was over, he’d sent a majority of his stuff home the previous weekend with his dad and Scott, and now Derek had surprised him by showing up to drive him home. He was happy to see him, leaned over the center console to press a kiss to his cheek before slumping into the passenger seat. “Dad working?”
“Something like that,” Derek responded, frowning at him as he reached into the backseat and pulled out Stiles’ favorite plush blanket that usually made its home on the back of Derek’s couch in the loft.
“Thanks,” Stiles mumbled, already drifting into sleep as he snuggled into the blanket and leaned his head against the window.
He startled awake when the car turned onto a gravel road, the ride less smooth than even in the worst of the preserve, and Stiles looked around in confusion, his eyes falling on the clock to see he’d only been asleep for a little over an hour. Trees surrounded the narrow road they were headed down and Stiles turned to see Derek with his eyes locked on the road, a small smirk on his lips.
“Where are we going?” Stiles asked, smacking his lips and rubbing his hands over his face.
Derek didn’t say anything, just reached into the backseat, and moved his arm around. Peeking into the back, Stiles spotted a cooler and a picnic basket. He was about to ask when Derek pulled out a bottle of water and handed it to him. Instead of speaking, he drank from the bottle and stared out the windows as they went deeper into the forest.
He finished the water bottle and turned around to put it back into the cooler before lifting up the top of the picnic basket, jerking his hand back when Derek pinched him gently on the bicep. “No peeking. We’re almost there.”
“Where? The scene of my murder?” Stiles asked, yawning and stretching, feeling his joints popping and letting out a moan of relief.
“Of course,” Derek responded, tone dry as he turned on his turn signal and left the road they’d been driving on to take an even narrower, but less rough road.
Snorting, Stiles returned to watching the scenery around them, catching glimpses of water through the trees and even some houses so his dread feeling of isolation lightened slightly. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Derek, he trusted him with his life as proven on more than one occasion, he just didn’t trust his ability to plan surprises. This was shaping up to be some kind of surprise and Stiles was a little too tired to deal with something like a fifteen-mile hike in the woods or an iron man competition.
He started to say something when Derek turned again and the trees opened up a little in front of them to reveal a tiny building. “A cabin in the woods? You really are trying to kill me.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Derek said on an exasperated sigh. “I prefer to think of it as a cottage in the forest. ‘Cabin in the woods’ makes it sound like a horror movie.”
“An awesome horror movie, thank you very much,” Stiles said, suddenly glad he brought his laptop and hoping the cabin...correction, cottage...had electricity especially since he couldn’t see any outdoor lights.
He continued toward the building, letting Derek unload the car since he’d end up carrying most of it anyway. He stepped up onto the porch, reaching out a hand to send the porch swing in motion with a small creaking sound. He smiled as he pictured Derek sitting on it with a small block of wood and a knife, whittling something while Stiles sat next to him, pushing the swing with his foot and looking out over the trees, trying to find the sunset.
Arms wrapped around his waist from behind, bringing him back from the dream world he was building inside his head. Smiling, he leaned his head back to press a kiss to the side of Derek’s face. “This is a nice place. Where did you find it?”
“It belongs to my family,” Derek said, smiling and squeezing his waist tighter. Stiles laid his hands over Derek’s wrists, rubbing his thumbs gently over his pulse points. “We found the deed in the vault. I had to pay some missing back taxes and spend most weekends working on bringing it back from near collapse, but I’m pretty happy with how it turned out.”
Stiles turned in his arms. “You rebuilt this place? By yourself?” He shouldn’t be as surprised as he was; Derek always liked working with his hands.
“I had to have something to keep me busy while you were off at school being super-student man,” Derek mumbled against his lips and the kiss was obliterated by Stiles’ burst of laughter.
“No one would ever believe me if I told them you said the words ‘super-student man,’” he said, still laughing. Pressing a quick kiss to Derek’s lips, he turned towards the door, finding it open.
“I took everything inside while you were daydreaming,” Derek explained, scooping Stiles up off his feet and carrying him inside, kicking the door shut behind them with his foot.
“I’m not your blushing bride that you need to carry over the threshold,” Stiles teased, but he wrapped his arms tightly around Derek’s neck and snuggled in closer.
“No, but I want to,” Derek told him, rubbing his scruff against the top of Stiles’ head as he crossed the room and gently set him on the couch in front of a large fireplace. He pressed a kiss to Stiles’ forehead before kneeling to take his boots off and set them out of the way. He pulled a handmade blanket from the back of the couch and wrapped it around him, grinning down before crossing to the fireplace.
Stiles stared at Derek’s back as he rearranged the chunks of wood in the firebox opening, his movements careful and he wondered how difficult it was for Derek considering his family’s demise. “You don’t have-”
“I know I don’t, but I want to,” Derek told him, his voice tense but his shoulder relaxed once the fire was going and he was able to pull the screen closed, allowing the heat to escape but containing the sparks that popped off the wood.
He stood and rubbed his hands on his jeans, turning to smile at Stiles before walking behind the couch. Turning, Stiles watched him over the back as he moved across the room to the kitchen area. Opening the cabinets, he pulled out a pot and some glass jars before opening the refrigerator. Stiles couldn’t see inside of it, but he assumed it was full of food when Derek pulled out a gallon jug of milk and returned to the stove.
As he put the pot on the stove, he reached over and turned on a radio installed underneath the hanging cabinets, the music playing softly. Stiles grinned when Derek started singing along under his breath. Leaning his chin on the back of the couch, he sighed as the warmth from the fireplace filled the room and a delicious aroma reached him from where Derek was standing.
He opened his mouth to fill the quiet room with conversation but a yawn escaped him and he rubbed his face into the back of the couch and tried to fight off the exhaustion that washed over him from the combination of school stress, hiking, and fresh air. His eyelids grew heavier as his entire world became a warm cocoon, the sound of the radio and Derek’s singing became muffled until he felt himself drifting off.
He woke up to the couch shifting and the smell of chocolate filling his nose. Yawning again, he smacked his lips and made grabby hands without opening his eyes, relieved when a mug was placed into his hands and Derek wrapped his own around them so that Stiles didn’t spill in his half-asleep state. Moving his face closer, he inhaled deeply and let out a sigh at the subtle hints of cinnamon and cayenne. Derek made the best hot chocolate and he told him as much before he managed to take a sip despite Derek’s hands still around the cup getting in the way a little bit.
“This place seems a bit small for your family,” Stiles commented as he turned his head, able to take in a majority of the structure without too much stretching. “How did you all fit in here?”
Once Derek had started therapy, Stiles had found he enjoyed talking about his family and they would spend hours out in the Preserve walking hand-in-hand while Derek told stories of growing up in a werewolf pack and the adventures and trouble they all got into. Stiles loved listening to Derek talk even if it made him feel even lonelier growing up as an only child. If they ever found a way to have kids together, he wanted an entire pack of them. As he studied Derek’s profile, the glow of the fire reflected in the irises, he kept that thought to himself not sure how Derek would feel about having kids.
“I asked Peter,” Derek said finally. “When we found the deed, I didn’t remember this place. He didn’t either, at first, until we came to check it out. This was a cabin my father had bought for my mother shortly after they’d gotten married; it was their special place. They came here to celebrate anniversaries or just to get away for a little while.”
Stiles pulled on memories of images that they’d found in the vault and on sketches that Derek had worked on, shyly showing Stiles and grinning at the praise heaped upon him, to imagine his parents sitting in the same spot they were, curled together on the couch cocooned in blankets and sipping hot chocolate together. “They must’ve been so happy here,” he sighed and Derek nodded.
“When I first came here, I found small things that belonged to them. Small items that they must’ve forgotten the last time they were here. There were love notes from my father to my mother, he was quite the writer; I didn’t imagine him as a romantic but he was.”
“Like father, like son,” Stiles teased, thinking about the shoebox full of letters Derek had written him while he was away at school, each one a missive of love no matter how brief.
Derek ran his fingers over the blanket wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders. “I think my mom or my grandmother made this blanket. It still smelled like them both and my dad when I got here, underneath the mildew. I’m just glad I could get it clean, even if the smell is lost.”
“I can’t believe you worked on this all by yourself with all those memories flying around. It had to have been so hard on you,” Stiles whispered.
Derek set his mug down on the coffee table and curled even closer to Stiles, pulling him into his chest and resting his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. “I almost gave up a dozen times, overwhelmed by the emotions. I found a polaroid of my parents, one that they probably never wanted anyone else to see, and I had to shift and run. I ran for three days before I could bring myself to come back and bury the photo under the floorboards in the bedroom.”
Stiles touched the tip of Derek’s ears, feeling the heat radiating from the tips and imagining the look of shock on his face when he’d stumbled upon the photo. They had a few of their own that would probably rival that of his parents but they didn’t talk about those and he’d never bring this one up ever again. “Those were the days when we all thought you were dead.” Stiles bit back the accusation in his tone, remembering the fight they’d had when Derek had been out of contact for three days. His phone had died and Stiles couldn’t even track him; he’d been crazy with worry and spent two hours yelling at Derek when he’d finally called him to let him know he was okay.
“Yeah. I am still sorry for that,” Derek muttered, brushing his lips over Stiles’ temple.
“Now, that you told me what happened, I suppose I can forgive you. That and the tracker I implanted in you give me peace of mind,” he said in a teasing tone but he could tell from Derek’s suspicious look he didn’t know whether he was in fact teasing. Stiles would never tell him either way, but there was definitely no way he was losing track of Derek again.
He leaned into Derek and listened as he recounted all of the work that had gone into rebuilding the cabin, into making it a home. They discussed different protection wards that Stiles could put on it. As the night wore on, the sun setting and leaving the cabin in darkness aside from the embers in the fireplace, Stiles started yawning, his eyes drifting shut, the stress of school and the warmth of the blankets and Derek beside him, combining into the perfect sleep inducer.
He blinked awake as the world shifted beneath him and he found himself being carried, still wrapped in the blanket, through the entryway and to the bedroom. He snuggled into Derek’s chest as he took in the room, painted in a soft blue that Stiles remembered from a Skype call with Derek. His smile was small and he buried it in the blanket as he giggled at the furniture that had been in another Skype call.
“You told me you were helping Cora decorate her apartment,” he said and Derek pressed a kiss to the top of his head. “You didn’t have to include me in the decor decisions for this place.”
“I know I didn't have to,” he said, laying Stiles on top of the bed and turning to grab his duffle bag to place beside him. “I wanted to.”
They readied for bed in silence, which mostly consisted of Stiles stripping down to his boxers and burying himself under the covers, drifting to sleep before Derek even came back from the bathroom in his own boxers. He grumbled when Derek fussed at him to brush his teeth but climbed out of bed and performed his nightly ablutions. His fingers paused over the StormTrooper toothbrush in the holder next to the boring blue one. His eyes fell on the Star Wars shower curtain and he took a deep breath, a sense of calm washing over him.
He looked at himself in the mirror, noticing the tightness around his eyes and the tension in his shoulders was fading; he knew by the time they left the cabin and headed back to Beacon Hills, both would be entirely gone. Drying off his hands and face with the black and yellow hand towel, he headed back into the bedroom. He stilled in the doorway, watching Derek as he lounged on the bed, glasses on and book open in his lap.
The bed was piled with multiple blankets and pillows, including Stiles’ own which was set on the right side of the bed. Climbing slowly onto the bed until he was straddling Derek’s lap, he tugged the book out of his hands and leaned to set it on the nightstand before taking Derek’s face in his hands and pressing their foreheads together.
“This place was your parents’,” he said, his voice soft and Derek nodded.
“And now it’s ours,” Derek returned, his lips curving into a smile that was just for Stiles, soft and fond and mischievous.
“You don’t have to share what was theirs with me,” Stiles choked out around the lump in his throat.
“Don’t you get it, yet?” Derek asked, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and pulling him close, burying his face in his neck and scenting him thoroughly. “I know I don't have to do any of the things I do for or with you. I want to.”
Stiles used his hands to pull Derek’s head back so he could press their lips together, smiling when Derek pulled the blankets up and over their heads, creating a small cozy cave just for the two of them. A tiny den inside of the den he’d built just for the two of them.
“This has been the best surprise,” he said, sighing into Derek’s lips.
“There’s one more,” Derek responded, one of his hands disappearing to fiddle underneath his pillow and reappearing with a small silver ring.
Stiles gaped. “Are you asking me to marry you?”
Derek nodded. “You don’t have to,” he said as Stiles continued to stare, his breath caught in his chest.
When he still didn’t respond, Derek shifted and started to put the ring on the nightstand, stopping when Stiles dove for it and pulled Derek’s hand to his chest with a choked off squeak. “Are you crazy? I know I don’t have to.” He gave Derek a wink as he looked up at him, eyes hopeful. “I want to,” he said, sliding the ring onto his finger before pressing his lips to his fiancé’s for the first time.