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Sunlight streamed through the trees and warmed his face in the winter air. Snow dripped off the branches as it melted, and the icicles that hung down off the trees sparkled, making the forest feel enchanted. He half-expected woodland animals to wander out from the surrounding trees and start singing.
On his next step, his leg got stuck, and he face-planted in the deep snow. Not for the first time during their hike. Derek turned around with an amused smile but didn’t say anything as he offered a hand to help Stiles up.
“I hate you and your stupid werewolf gracefulness,” Stiles said, scooping the snow out of his collar.
“That’s a lie,” Derek said.
Stiles pressed his lips together with equal amounts of fondness and frustration. It was a lie. Stiles loved Derek, had for a long time, but they were only a month into their relationship, and Stiles wasn’t going to mess it up by doing something idiotic like professing his love for Derek. Even if he wanted to. Really, really wanted to.
“You know, when you suggested a romantic weekend getaway, this was not the kind of physical exertion I was expecting to be partaking in,” Stiles said, slipping on an icy tree root but catching himself before he fell again.
Derek stopped walking and turned around. “Are you not enjoying yourself? We can head back to the cabin.”
They were hiking to a secret spot about a mile from the old Hale cabin that Derek said was worth the effort to get to, even in the knee-deep snow.
“No, no, it’s fine.” Stiles stopped once he was close enough to wrap his arms around Derek’s waist. Being able to casually touch Derek whenever he felt like it was a thing he was still getting used to. “I just hate the snow.”
“I’m starting to realize that.” Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles and fell backwards into the snow drift.
Stiles yelped as he landed on Derek. “If you wanted me on top of you, we could’ve just stayed in the warm cabin.” He ducked down and pressed a frozen kiss to Derek’s lips. “Hm. Warm me up.”
“I’ll do that when we get back to the cabin."
Stiles wiggled his eyebrows. “Promise?”
“Promise.”
They stood back up, and Derek brushed the snow from his hair. He looked happier than the night before when they’d first arrived. There had been a heaviness in his shoulders and a sadness in his eyes that he normally didn’t show other people. They’d spent the night curled up on the couch in front of the flickering fire, their wool-socked feet playing a languid game of footsies on the coffee table while Derek told Stiles stories about being at his family’s cabin.
Earlier that morning, Stiles had woken up to an empty bed and found Derek in a full shift down by the lake. They had walked back together, and there was a question that Stiles couldn’t get out of his mind, he was almost afraid of the answer.
“Derek?” he said as they continued on their path toward the surprise spot. “When was the last time you were here?”
Derek didn’t look at him as he answered. “Thanksgiving before the fire.”
“So, this is the first time since...”
“They died, yes.”
“Why now?”
There was a pause, Derek stared straight ahead into the depths of the snow-covered forest, before he looked at Stiles and gave him a sad smile. “I thought it would be easier to come back if I wasn’t alone.”
“And is it? Easier?”
“Yes.”
"You could have told me."
“It doesn’t make a difference either way, whether you knew or not.”
Stiles shrugged. “But you don’t have to do it all strong and silent either.”
“Well, now you know.”
Stiles wondered why Derek bothered keeping the cabin he hadn’t visited in twelve years. After he let the city take over the Hale property in Beacon Hills, Stiles had assumed he wasn’t the sentimental type.
“Your family already lived in the middle of the forest, why would they buy this place too?”
“My grandparents owned the cabin long before my parents did, and it was a good place to get away from our life in Beacon Hills, without internet or cell reception.”
“Ah, so it was the place they dragged you and your sisters for family time?”
Derek laughed. “They didn’t have to drag us anywhere, we loved it here, it was the one place we didn’t have to hide who we were, we could just be us.”
Maybe it was sentimentality that kept Derek from selling the cabin, or maybe he just wanted to hold on to the one place in the world where he was safe.
“I wish I could have met them,” Stiles said quietly.
“They would’ve liked you."
They came over a ridge, and Stiles stopped in his tracks. The trees broke away leaving a clearing around a giant redwood, the size of it dwarfed all the others in the forest.
Stiles looked over at Derek, who wasn’t focused on the tree, instead he stared at Stiles with a look that made Stiles squirm.
“What?” Stiles said. A blush ran hot down into his neck.
“Nothing.” Derek shook his head, he gestured toward the tree. “This is what I wanted to show you.” Derek started down the sloping hill.
Stiles stumbled after him, slipping on the snow of the steep hill and almost winding up on his ass. Again.
Derek led him over to the tree. “What do you think? Worth the effort?”
“Definitely,” Stiles said, and he wasn’t just talking about the hike. Gaining Derek’s trust and earning his friendship, working toward a relationship, all of it had been worth the effort because he would never know anyone as special and important as Derek. He was sure of that.
Together, they stood at the base of the redwood that had been there for hundreds of years, and would still be standing for hundreds of years after Stiles and Derek were gone. He tilted his head back to look at the snowy branches stretching out into the bright blue sky.
“Makes me feel insignificant,” Stiles said.
“It’s nice sometimes. Being insignificant, being reminded that you're just a flicker in the existence of the universe,” Derek said.
Stiles reached out and laced their fingers together without looking away from the sky. “You couldn’t be insignificant if you tried.”
“I love you.”
Stiles whipped around to look at Derek. “You—you love me,” Stiles said. His voice definitely did not squeak. “You just told me you loved me.”
Derek’s lips twitched with a smile. “Did you hit your head on our way here?”
There had been one constant in their relationship—Stiles made all the first moves.
He was the one that showed up the first time to hang out at Derek’s new apartment with take-out and a bad horror movie. Eight months after they became close friends, when they were hiding in the dark room from a group of hunters, it was Stiles who confessed his feelings. And afterwards, at the vet clinic when Deaton patched Derek up from the rare wolfsbane bullet, Stiles had hit him on the shoulder for being reckless and then pulled him in by the front of his shirt to finally kiss him. A week later, in the early morning before dawn while lying in bed together, Stiles finally approached the topic of what they were, and they decided on boyfriends.
He figured he’d be the one to confess his love first, with Derek being the one to freak out for weeks before he said it back, or maybe, they wouldn’t even get to that point before Derek ran for the hills.
But there they were, a mile away from Derek’s family cabin, with Derek standing in front of him looking more relaxed than he ever had, and a soft smile on his face while telling Stiles that he loved him.
“I love you too,” Stiles said. He pulled Derek in by his winter jacket and kissed him until his own lips warmed up. “I’ve been wanting to tell you that for a long time,” Stiles said breathlessly, pressing their foreheads together.
“Me too,” Derek admitted.
They looked back up at the massive tree, and Stiles didn’t feel insignificant anymore. He felt like he was exactly where he was supposed to be, with the person he was supposed to be with.
“Want to head back?” Derek said. “I’ll make you hot chocolate.”
“With booze and mini-marshmallows?”
“Yes, with booze and mini-marshmallows,” Derek said with a fond eye-roll.
“Maybe in a few minutes.” Stiles tugged him closer. “I’m starting to like the snow.”