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Derek shot up in bed, shifted, when he heard Stiles’ heart start beating erratically. He’d woken a few minutes earlier when the other boy had gotten out of bed and padded into the kitchen, turning on the coffee maker. Eyes searching the open plan loft, he found Stiles bouncing on his toes in front of the large windows. His heart was going crazy as he pressed his fingers to the glass. Approaching swiftly, he glanced over his shoulder out the window for any sign of threat on the streets below, difficult when Stiles’ breath kept fogging up the glass.
“Stiles, what’s wrong?” Derek asked when he couldn’t see anything other than regular foot traffic for that time of the morning.
“Wrong?” Stiles asked, turning wide eyes to Derek. “Nothing’s wrong! There’s snow!”
“You’ve seen snow before,” Derek countered, wondering at the extremity of Stiles’ excitement. They had only been in New York for a few months, Derek following Stiles there to attend Columbia, and Derek wouldn’t have to stay back in California, missing his mate.
“A flurry! A dusting! Not this deep!” Stiles was pressing his forehead against the glass now and looking down at the street and the people walking through the snow, a broad smile on his face.
“It’s only a couple of inches,” Derek explained, but Stiles’ excitement was contagious, and he was starting to see it through his eyes.
“There’s enough to play in!” Stiles dashed away from the window, tripping over his own feet. He tore open the closet and began digging through it. Items of clothing flew over his shoulders, and Derek caught them easily, ready to put them back when Stiles eventually gave up on looking for the winter clothing. “Where is it?” Stiles demanded a few minutes later.
Putting everything back into the closet, Derek walked towards the area they’d blocked off for storage. He’d moved the clothing they’d bought for the unfamiliar colder months closest to the front; he’d been able to smell the snow in the air for a few days by that point. As he lifted the box and carried it over to the coffee table, he nearly tripped over Stiles, who was trying to open the box as he walked.
Even with his supernatural reflexes, he dropped the box onto the coffee table and worried when it creaked ominously under the sudden weight. Stiles tore into the box, pulling out the parka that he’d chosen with great pride and couldn’t wait to wear. Pulling it on, he grinned as Derek sighed and pointed down at his pajama pants. Sheepishly, Stiles ran towards the dresser to pull out clothes. Derek followed at a more leisurely pace.
A half an hour later, they were entering Central Park. Stiles had been picking up bits of snow as they’d walked, trying to pack it into snowballs, but it was still too soft, and he’d frowned when they fell apart. It didn’t stop him from trying, and by the time they’d gotten to the park, he’d figured out how to use his spark just enough to warm the snow between his hands so it would pack together. It didn’t take long for Derek to feel it explode on his back and soaking through the hoodie he was wearing, having forgone a parka since he ran so much hotter than Stiles.
Turning to see Stiles grinning at him, Derek let out a small growl and flashed his eyes. He wanted to laugh at the squeak that Stiles let out before turning around and attempting to run away from Derek. He didn’t get very far before he lost his footing and ended up sprawled face-first on the ground. Smiling, Derek stalked closer and picked up a handful of snow to rub into the back of Stiles’ head, making sure to get most of it on his hat.
When he was satisfied, Derek ran away, hearing Stiles’ laughter behind him as he made his way down the paths, ducking around people. Some people laughed and cheered on their chase while others grumbled about ‘immature assholes.’ Derek took it all in stride as he found the spot he had been looking for, taking off into a relatively tree-heavy area of the park. As expected, Stiles followed him and jumped on his back as soon as Derek slowed down.
“Not as much snow in here,” he said, pouting out his lower lip. Smiling, Derek reached into his hoodie pocket and pulled out a collar and leash. “Really?” Stiles asked, eyes lighting up as he slipped off to stand next to Derek, gathering his clothes as he stripped down to nothing.
Derek hated the collar, but he knew that Stiles loved racing around with him in his wolf form, so he’d gotten it and the leash as a surprise. He’d also worked with a friend of Deaton who arranged for a dog license for Derek’s wolf. His hackles raised at the thought, but the smile on Stiles’ face as he attached the collar to Derek’s shifted form before burying his face between his ears and pressing a kiss to the soft fur made it all worthwhile.
They raced out of the trees and into the park. Stiles had a tight grip on the leash with one hand and Derek’s clothing bundled up under his other arm. He managed to keep up with Derek pretty well, and soon they were in a part of the park where dogs could be off their leashes. Stiles released Derek and laughed as he leaped and buried his nose in the snow.
They spent the next half an hour chasing each other and wrestling in the snow. Stiles made a snow angel, and Derek tried to copy him and wound up making a mess. Soon, Derek heard Stiles’ teeth chattering and noticed his lips were turning a bit blue. Nudging him with his nose, he took the leash in his mouth and dropped it at Stiles’ feet.
“Time to go?” Derek jerked his head in a nod, and although Stiles frowned, he attached the leash. “Want to change first?” Derek looked at the wet bundle of clothing in Stiles’ arms and started walking in the direction of their flat.
Derek tried to keep the pace quick, but Stiles was slowing down the colder he got, so they were moving at a snail’s pace by the time they reached the flat. Derek shifted back as soon as they were closed inside and shoved Stiles towards the bedroom. Changing into warm pajamas, he settled Stiles on the couch wrapped in a couple of their thickest blankets while he headed into the kitchen to make hot chocolate.
Carrying two mugs and a tray of cookies, he found Stiles sitting with the blankets around his lap. He had his hands held out in front of him, staring down at them. Coming around the back of the couch, Derek smiled at the small snowflake floating between his hands. Once he’d set down his burden, he reached out and touched the snowflake, a chill running through him.
“Hold your hand out,” Stiles said, and Derek did, laughing as Stiles transferred the flake over to his palms. It started to fade, and Derek hurriedly passed it back, smiling when it grew larger and broke into smaller snowflakes that started whirling around between Stiles’ hands like a snowstorm. “Snow is my new favorite thing,” he told Derek. “I love it.”
“Even more than me?” Derek asked, pretending to pout as the blizzard disappeared, and Stiles made grabby hands for the mugs.
“I’ll never love anything more than you,” Stiles said, leaning into Derek’s side. “But snow is a close second.”