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"Why is it raining?" Stiles whined, draping himself over the back of the couch in their rented cabin. "This was supposed to be a secluded romantic getaway with lots of outdoor sex, and instead we've been trapped inside for three whole days."
On the couch, Derek just flipped to the next page of his book and gave no indication that he'd even heard Stiles.
Well, he couldn't have that. Stiles flopped himself a little closer to Derek and repeated, "Three days, Derek. Daaaaays."
Derek snorted. "I heard you the first time."
"Are you ignoring me?" Stiles pouted, hoping it would make Derek look at him. "Has the magic already gone out of our relationship? You're more interested in books than in me, now?"
Without raising his eyes from his book, Derek reached back with one hand and ruffled Stiles's hair. "I blew you in the shower this morning. I think the magic is safe."
"Mmmm." Stiles turned his face to nose at Derek's ear. "But what have you done for me lately?"
In a flash, Stiles found himself yanked over the back of the couch and pressed back-first into the cushions. Derek loomed over him, eyes flashing blue and fangs poking out of his smirk, his hands pinning Stiles's wrists to the couch.
Of course, Stiles's dick took note of the flashing eyes and the fangs and immediately went Playtime!
"You," Derek lowered his head to run his nose along Stiles's cheek, "are infuriating."
Stiles rocked his hips up into Derek's and grinned. "Yeah, but you love me anyway."
Derek growled and nipped at his neck. "Fine, if you're going to be so annoying, I won't show you your present."
Stiles perked up instantly. "Present? You got me a present? What did you get me?"
"Ah, ah, ah. You didn't say the magic word."
Stiles wiggled in an effort to get out of Derek's grip; of course, it was useless. "Derek. Come on." He batted his eyelashes and then tried to make the biggest puppy dog eyes he could. "Please?"
"One day those aren't going to work on me," Derek muttered.
Stiles widened his eyes some more. "But they do now."
Derek sat up and patted Stiles's side. "Come on, get up."
"Up?" Stiles scrambled to his feet. "Where are we going? The bedroom?"
Derek grinned and started walking out of the living room. "Nope."
Stiles bounded after him. "Kitchen?"
"Nope."
"Then where, Derek?"
***
Outside. "Where" was outside, because Stiles's boyfriend was out of his damn mind.
Ahead of him, Derek was striding down the winding (and muddy) path that led away from the cabin and into the woods. While the trees provided some cover from the rain, their leaves also meant the water had time to collect and plummet in giant, freezing droplets right on to Stiles's neck.
"Where are we going?" Stiles stepped right into a particularly squelchy puddle and made a face at his foot. "Derek, why is my present outside? In the rain? Don't you love me?"
"Quit bitching and hurry up," Derek called over his shoulder, and picked up the pace.
"This is torture!" Stiles shouted, running after him. "I'm going to remember this for your birthday present!"
In front of him, Derek took a sharp right and disappeared into the trees.
"Hey, wait!" Stiles skidded to a stop and narrowly avoided faceplanting in the mud, and stalked after Derek. "Don't think you can get away from me that easily, you—"
The trees opened into a small clearing, and at the center was a circular, glass-enclosed gazebo made of white wood, with white Christmas lights strung up over the beams inside. Raindrops collected on the glass, fracturing the light into hundreds of sparkling points.
Derek stood next to the door, a small smile on his face. He grabbed the knob and swung it open. "After you."
Stiles hurried inside, partly out of excitement and partly to get out of the cold rain. The gazebo wasn't warm, exactly, but inside it blocked the wind and the rain, and the only indication that there was a storm was the steady pattering of rain against the glass.
Two fluffy towels sat just to his left, along with a cooler and a small shelf with clothes folded on top of it and champagne glasses stored underneath. And in the center of the gazebo, right under the highest point of the roof, was a huge mattress covered in quilts.
Stiles could only gape. "Holy shit, Derek."
Behind him, the door swung shut, and then Derek was standing next to him. "My dad built this place when he and my mom got married," he said quietly. "They came out here on full moons before they had kids, and then twice a year, they'd bring the whole family out here for a week. But this?" Derek nodded, as if to indicate the whole of the gazebo. "This place was always theirs."
Contrary to popular belief, Stiles knew when to be quiet, especially around Derek. And right now was an excellent time to be quiet.
He reached over and threaded his fingers through Derek's, saw the way Derek seemed to be staring at nothing in the middle of the gazebo, his pale eyes glittering with unshed tears.
Derek cleared his throat. "When I was sixteen and Laura was eighteen, Dad took us aside and said that, when or if we each got married, we could bring our spouses here. A whole week, by ourselves, free honeymoon. He said this was a sacred, special place that made the bond between lovers stronger than ever. Of course, at sixteen, I thought he was full of it, and also no one actually wants to hear their dad say the word 'lover.' But..."
He trailed off, and Stiles hugged him, hard, not even caring that he was squeezing more water out of Derek's clothes and into the puddle near their feet. "I get it," Stiles whispered.
Derek wrapped his arms around him and nuzzled Stiles's hair. "Yeah, I do too, now. Thanks for following me down here."
"Aw, boo, you know I'd follow you anywhere."
He felt Derek scoff. "Bitching the entire time."
"Hey now." Stiles poked him. "That bitching is part of my Stilinski charm."
"Keep telling yourself that," Derek said.
Stiles rubbed his cheek against Derek's beard. "Thanks for my present. I love it."
"Oh, this isn't the present."
Stiles pulled back, confused. "It's not? There's something else? What—"
He took one look at the small velvet box suddenly in Derek's hand, and his mouth, heart, and brain all skidded to a stop. All he could do was gape. They'd...they'd talked about this, but he hadn't...had never expected...
Derek flipped it open, revealing a thick silver band with a triskele engraved on it. "Stiles, I love you, and all I want is to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry—"
Stiles threw his arms around Derek's neck and kissed him as hard as he could, swallowing the rest of the sentence. "Yes," he said, as soon as he had to break away for breath. "Yeah, I'm going to marry the shit out of you."
"Mm," Derek kissed him again, "how romantic."
Stiles punched him in the shoulder. "Oh my God, shut up, you're totally romantic enough for the both of us. This is amazing. I can't even..." He trailed off and took a deep breath, because this part was serious. "Thank you for bringing me here. I know—"
Derek silenced him with another kiss. "Yeah," he said softly. "I know."
They stood there for a moment, not kissing, just resting their foreheads together and breathing the same air. Stiles felt like he could've stood here forever, just holding Derek in this perfect bubble.
Of course, then a chill ran through him, reminding him that both he and Derek were soaked. "Okay." Stiles pulled back. "What say we undress, dry off, and have some extremely celebratory sex on that lovely mattress, o fiancé of mine?"
Derek chuckled and kissed him gently, slowly, and achingly perfect. "I say yes."