Work Text:
✨ mood board by princecharmingwinks ✨
✨ art by tails89 ✨
• • •
Derek is going to kill Laura.
He thought he knew what holiday hell felt like when she'd forced him and Stiles to dress in matching ugly Christmas sweaters and pose for the family greeting card last year. But oh no, this year, she's gone full-tilt Satan's little helper and signed him up to play mall Santa. Three weeks of ten hour shifts, filled with screaming children, overbearing parents, and an endless loop of holiday pop songs that somehow manage to turn every warbling lyric into an 80-syllable word.
He'd say at least he's got Stiles by his side, but Stiles has been so annoyingly upbeat and cheerful about it, literally dragging him out of bed so they can show up an hour early to their shifts and sit by the fountain drinking hot cocoa, that Derek is loathe to consider working alongside his boyfriend a win.
• • •
Stiles is going to bake Laura so many cookies.
The moment he found out she'd volunteered Derek to play Santa at the Beacon Hills mall, he'd enthusiastically skipped (literally skipped) to the sign-up booth and offered to be Head Elf. He honestly couldn't think of anything more fun than dressing up in cute little outfits and making children smile. And though Derek may look grumpy on the outside, Stiles knows that he secretly loves it, heart melting at the way Derek's features soften as he smiles at the kids and listens intently while they tell him all about the good deeds they've done this year.
It's honestly so fucking attractive that Stiles is struggling not to jump his bones every time they're on break. Guess that means he'll have to plan something extra special for when they get back home.
• • •
Derek sinks down onto the living room couch, Santa suit still half on because he's so exhausted he doesn't even have the energy to fully disrobe. He leans his head against the backrest and closes his eyes, breathing out a sigh of relief that he is finally, mercifully, home. He's beyond hungry, but too tired to cook anything, so he flicks through the ever-growing stack of takeout menus he and Stiles have collected over the years, calling out across the apartment to ask whether Stiles is in the mood for pizza or pho.
No response.
Derek checks the clock, frowning in concern. Stiles had said he was going to change and that he'd be right back, but that was over twenty minutes ago. He's about to get up and go check on him, when the all-too-familiar tune of his least favorite Christmas song in the entire world starts playing on the stereo, and out comes Stiles wearing nothing but a jauntily perched Santa hat and a pair of the tiniest shorts Derek has ever seen — bright red satin to match his hat — and when Stiles twirls around to give Derek the full effect, he can make out the words naughty elf emblazoned across his asscheeks.
Derek can do little more than stare open-mouthed as Stiles saunters toward him, sucking on the end of a candy cane in what he probably imagines is a seductive way, shaking his ass in time to the music — which, ugh. (As far as Derek is concerned, if hell had a soundtrack, it'd be an endless loop of Santa Baby…but it's Stiles, so he'll make an exception.) Overall, the effect is actually quite charming, and Derek would be lying if he said it wasn't doing something for him.
And then Stiles starts talking.
"Hey baby," he says with a flirtatious smile and a hearty wink. "Hurry down my chimney tonight."
Derek raises his eyebrows, but distinctly does not laugh, because it's clear that Stiles has worked very hard on this little strip tease, and the last thing Derek wants to do is embarrass him. Out of absolutely nowhere, Stiles produces a string of star-spangled tinsel and throws it around Derek's shoulders, reeling him in.
"I'd sure like to jingle your bells," he says with another theatrical wink.
Derek presses his lips into a tight line to stifle another bout of laughter.
Must not break. Must act like horrible Christmas puns are sexy.
"I must be on the naughty list," Stiles purrs, pretending to drop his Santa hat for the sole excuse of delivering the perfect bend and snap. "Because I saw you checking me twice."
The tiniest snort escapes Derek's lips, but he passes it off as a cough, determined not to ruin this because Stiles is now climbing into his lap, straddling his thighs, and grinding his hips against the steadily-growing bulge in Derek's trousers.
"You wanna lick my stick, Derek?" Stiles teases coquettishly, twirling the tip of the candy cane between his lips. "It's in mint condition."
And just like that, Derek reaches his breaking point. He bursts out laughing, but thankfully, Stiles is right there with him, burying his face into the crook of Derek's neck and shaking with unabashed giggles.
"Dammit," Stiles whines, pulling back so that he's eye-level with Derek. "I came up with a whole list of smutty Christmas puns, and I didn't even get to use half of them."
Derek shakes his head, laughter subsiding into a contented sigh as he strokes his thumb along the curve of Stiles's spine, marveling at the way the lights twinkling on their cozy little evergreen dance in Stiles's eyes, igniting them in a golden glow.
"Merry Christmas, Stiles," he says softly, leaning forward to press a kiss against Stiles's lips, delighting in the happy little hum Stiles makes as he kisses him back.
"Merry Christmas, Sourwolf."
• • •