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“Derek look!” Stiles stands by the window, the same spot he’s been occupying for the last thirty minutes.
In the kitchen, Derek puts the lid on the saucepan and turns down the stove to let the soup simmer. “You showed me already.”
“Yeah, but—” Stiles waves his arm excitedly at the window. “It’s snowing!”
The small wispy flakes dance in narrow beam light of the solitary streetlight.
Derek sets the timer and wanders over, wrapping his arms Stiles from behind and hooking his chin over his boyfriend’s shoulder.
“I can’t believe you’ve never seen snow before.”
“I have seen snow before,” Stiles argues. “But not like, proper snow.” He stares outside for another minute. “I’m going to make a snow angel.”
Derek huffs out a small amused breath. “It probably won’t settle.” Stiles slumps against him, his whole posture broadcasting his disappointment. “But maybe tomorrow we could drive up into the mountains a bit. If we leave early enough, we might be able to find some before it melts.”
“Yeah?” Stiles turns and looks up at Derek hopefully.
“Yeah, we’re not in a flurry. We can see it tomorrow.”
“Uh, what was that?” Stiles asks, twisting to look up at Derek. “Was that a snow pun? You’re not allowed to be funnier than me.”
Derek laughs returns to the kitchen to finish dinner. He’s just pulling the bread rolls out of oven when Stiles sighs.
“Oh, I think it stopped.”
Stiles keeps checking at the window until it’s time for bed, but it doesn’t snow again.
*
Derek is usually the first to rise in the morning. He likes to get a run in before breakfast and no amount of bribing has ever convinced Stiles to come with him. This morning is no exception.
He gets changed into his running gear then goes to find his shoes on the porch. He opens the front door and freezes, staring out into the front yard. Then he shuts the door, turns and heads back to the bedroom.
“Stiles.”
The human groans and mashes his face into the pillow. “What?”
“Get up.” Derek shakes Stiles playfully by the shoulder until his boyfriend turns and blinks up at him.
“What is this?” Stiles grumbles. “It’s too early. This is cruel and unreasonable—"
Standing, Derek goes to the window and pulls the curtains open.
“—and oh my god!” Stiles jumps out of bed and rushes to press his face against the glass. “Oh my god.” His breath fogs up the glass with little puffs of condensation. He turns to Derek, grinning. “Snow!”
Derek chuckles and sits on the end of the bed to watch as Stiles scrambles around the room to get dressed. In his rush, Stiles forgoes his gloves and beanie, eager to get outside and frolic in their winter wonderland.
“Come on, lets go.” Stiles drags Derek out towards the front door, pausing only to tug on his shoes.
“Wait.” Derek holds out Stiles’ waterproof jacket. “With great powder comes great responsibility. You’re going to want this, trust me.”
Stiles gapes at him. “What is this? What have you done with my boyfriend?” He hip checks Derek and snatches his jacket.
“I’m just snowing with the flow.”
Laughing at Stiles’ disgruntled face, Derek opens the front door and pushes him outside.
“Oh my god.” Stiles stands on the edge of the porch. “There’s so much of it.” He jumps from the top step into the snow. It’s not deep—just a few inches with the grass poking through in lighter areas.
Stiles kicks his feet through the snow. It’s loose and powdery and it sticks to his shoes as he walks.
Derek watches Stiles run in the snow, waiting for his boyfriend’s back to turn before scooping up a handful of snow.
“Hey Stiles, think fast.”
Stiles turns to look at Derek, only to get pegged in the face with a snowball.
“I came, I thaw, I conquered!”
“You are so dead!” Stiles yells, scooping up a handful and shaping it into a projectile.
They run around the front yard until Stiles calls a time out, tucking his red chapped hands under his armpits to warm them up.
“They’re so cold it hurts,” he complains. “Come warm them.”
“You’re lucky I glove you,” Derek tells him, rubbing Stiles’ hands between his own and ducking away when Stiles tries to retaliate by sticking them under his sweater. “Weren’t you going to make a snow angel?” He asks, using the distraction to escape Stiles’ cold fingers.
“Oh yeah.” Stiles flops down onto his butt and lies down, spreading his arms and legs and sweeping them through the snow. “Help me up.”
Derek grabs Stiles hand to help pull him up.
“I didn’t think it would be this sticky,” Stiles says, trying to wipe the ice from his jeans. “Ugh, it’s soaking through.”
“It’ll do that,” Derek says, grinning. “You ready to head inside?”
Stiles stares longingly at the snow and then down that the growing wet patch on his jeans.
“Yeah. I’m starving. We should have pancakes.” He pulls Derek back to the house. “Mm, yeah, definitely a pancakes morning.”
“With lots of coffee,” Derek agrees. “I’d chill for a cup of coffee.”
“I hate you.”
"Say it ain’t snow."