Work Text:
Stiles’ hand tightened on the steering wheel as snow continued to fall around him. The cars on the freeway around him were inching by. Snow always puts Stiles on edge. Growing up in southern California, he didn’t see snow often, especially not the sheer amount of snow falling around him. The radio crackled and the news anchor's voice broke through the silence.
“-record-breaking snowfall… 10 inches…”
Stiles shuddered at the thought. 10 inches of snow seemed impossible. He tried to picture that much snow but came up empty-handed. A small sigh escaped his mouth as he cranked up the heat. He glanced down at his clock, at this rate, he’d be lucky to make it to his dad’s house before nightfall. Not that he really wanted to go back to Beacon Hills; he tried to get his dad to drive up to his apartment, but he wanted Stiles to come home for Christmas. And Stiles wasn’t about to disagree with his dad. It’s not like he could exactly explain why he didn’t want to come home either. Sorry, dad, I didn’t come home for Christmas because the ex, who I dumped by the way, still lives in town and I don’t want to run into him, didn’t sound like a reasonable excuse to Stiles. So, yeah, he’s coming home for Christmas this year.
Movement ahead caught Stiles’ eye. A woman was striding down the highway. Her green coat swirled around her as she weaved in and out of the barely moving cars. A gust of wind blew her hood off her head, and for a moment Stiles could’ve sworn her skin was a pale, icy blue. He blinked as she was gone. The trill of his phone made him jump. Stiles answered the phone and clicked the speaker button.
“Hello,” he called in a sing-song voice.
“Hey,” was Scott’s easy reply. “What’s up?”
“Nothing much just stuck in traffic,” Stiles answered.
“Cool, so I heard from a little birdy that my best friend was coming to town and he didn’t tell me.” Scott’s voice was monotone. Ah, shit! Stiles had been too busy panicking to tell Scott he was coming to town.
“Man, I’m sorry. I was busy trying to get ahead for the holidays at work and packing. I was gonna call-” Scott’s laugh cut him off.
“It’s fine. I was calling to see how long you were gonna be in town,” Scott chuckled. “I can think of a few people who might want to see you.” Stiles rolled his eyes and smiled fondly.
“I’ll be in town for about two weeks, give or take.”
“Give or take?” Scott prompted.
“So, I might’ve lied about getting ahead for the holidays at work,” Stiles mumbled, “I, uh, quit my job.”
“What?” Scott yelled. Stiles winced.
“My boss was a grade-A asshole. She kept trying to make me work off the clock.” Stiles laughed a little.
“And?” Scott’s voice was higher than before. Stiles shrugged before realizing Scott couldn’t see him.
“And I told her to fuck off. If she wanted me to work overtime, she would pay me overtime,” Stiles huffed. “She laughed in my face, so I quit.”
“Does your dad know?”
“Nope,” Stiles answered honestly. “I have two weeks to find a new job back in L.A. or I’m screwed.” He frowned for a moment. “I’ve been emailing and calling people, but it looks like I’m out of luck.”
“Why two weeks?” Scott asked.
“Rent is expensive as hell in L.A.” Stiles complained. “I can afford another month, but if I don’t have a job, there’s no reason to pay for rent in a city I won’t be able to live in.” The car was silent for several minutes as Stiles turned on his blinker and took the exit ramp. “Look, I shouldn’t have dumped this all on you. I’m sorry.”
“Stiles, don’t be sorry,” Scott snapped, “This is what friends are for. We’re supposed to talk to each other.” Stiles sighed and shook his head.
“If worst comes to worst, I’ll crash at my dad’s place for a minute and get a job at Publix or something,” Stiles groaned. “Actually, I could probably find a place for rent. Beacon Hills is probably cheaper than L.A.”
“Stiles…”
“Anyway,” Stiles forced cheer into his voice, “I’m pulling into Beacon Hills right now.”
“Hey, you should join us for drinks tonight. Malia opened this bar downtown that has wolfsbane-laced drinks.”
“Scott, that doesn’t sound safe,” Stiles murmured, turning down his childhood street.
“It’s not enough to physically harm us. It just allows the alcohol to affect us,” Scott replied.
“Yeah, sure. What time?”
—
Stiles was currently trying to stay warm in his car. His dad was probably still at the station and Stiles no longer had a key to the house. Normally, he’d be just fine, but it looked like the meteorologists were right about getting 10 inches of snow. He groaned and closed his eyes. He’d just rest for a few seconds.
Soft knocking woke Stiles up. His dad grinned at him from his window. Stiles grinned back and climbed out of the car.
“Hey, Dad!” He gave his dad a side hug and grabbed his suitcase. “Traffic was terrible.”
“I was a little worried,” Noah admitted. “This snow is crazy. I was afraid you’d wreck.” Stiles let out a fake gasp and followed his dad into the house.
“I’m offended that you’d even suggest that,” Stiles huffed and winked. “I have a fantastic record.”
“Only because I got you out of your tickets,” Noah muttered drily. “If you were that good of a driver you’d still have your Jeep.” Ouch, that struck deep. Stiles rolled his eyes and dropped his suitcase next to the stairs. He turned to face his dad. He was frowning at Stiles.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” Stiles snapped. “I’m fine.” His dad held up his hands in mock surrender.
“Look, I know your friends are werewolves but don’t bite my head off.” Noah smiled and patted his shoulder.
“Sorry,” Stiles mumbled, “I’m just a little tired.” He flashed his dad a tired smile. “Scott invited me to hang out with everyone tonight, but I think I’m just gonna stay in.” His dad gave him an incredulous look. “What? Can’t a boy hang out with his old man?” He lightly punched his dad’s shoulder.
“Stiles, you are not using me as an excuse to skip out on your friends because Derek might be there?” His dad gave him a pointed stare. Stiles’ mouth dropped open.
“I-I… what are you talking about?” He sputtered. “Derek has nothing to do with this.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Noah sighed. “I wasn’t born yesterday. I’m not going to pretend to understand your aversion to Derek, but don’t be a stranger to your friends.” Stiles grumbled under his breath. “Don’t back-talk me, boy.” Stiles slumped his shoulders, defeated.
“Fine,” he acquiesced.
“And don’t be rude to that boy if you see him,” Noah warned. “I don’t need an angry werewolf on my hands.”
—
Stiles took a deep breath, steeling his nerves. It hadn’t been hard to find Malia’s bar. Downtown wasn’t huge, and the giant wolf sign was even easier to spot. Stiles glanced up at the sign.
“Mountian Ash Bar,” he read under his breath. He let out a small chuckle and pushed open the door. His stomach roiled, and he sent up a quick prayer to whoever was listening. His eyes found his friends pretty easily. Scot had his arm wrapped around Kira at a table on the far side of the building. His head was bent toward her, whispering in her ear. Next to Kira, Lydia was frowning down at her phone. Stiles opened his mouth to call out a greeting but stopped as Malia walked over to the table. She pressed a quick kiss to Lydia’s lips and turned to face the table.
“I so did not see that coming,” he muttered. He approached the table. He felt a mixture of relief and… disappointment at not seeing Derek. “Hey, guys.” Six pairs of eyes locked onto him. He gulped.
“Stiles,” Scott greeted, lifting his beer.
“Hi,” Kira smiled.
“I like your glasses,” Malia said. “Sit.” She pointed at an empty chair. An unopened bottle of beer sat in front of the chair.
“Thanks.” Stiles took a chair facing everyone.
“How’s L.A.?” Lydia asked. “Busy?”
“Oh, yeah,” Stiles answered. “Work has me swamped. It was nice to get away for a while.” He opened the beer and took a drink.
“Your heart rate is increasing,” Malia mused. “You’re lying,” Stiles slumped into the chair and sighed. He should’ve known better than to lie to a bunch of werewolves… and a werecoyote. He sent Scott a silent plea for help.
“Let’s let Stiles get settled in before we grill him,” Kira offered Stiles a small smile. “He just got here. We don’t want to scare him off.”
“Yeah.” Scott agreed.
“For real, who knows when we’ll see him next,” Lydia deadpanned. Stiles groaned and hung his head.
“When did this happen?” Stiles pointed between Lydia and Malia. He figured he’d better steer the conversation away from him for the time being.
“Uhh, two months ago,” Malia answered, plopping down next to Lydia. Stiles nodded.
“Cool.”
“It’s probably weird for you, huh?” Malia guessed, taking a drink from a glass in front of her. “The girl you were in love with for years and your ex dating.”
“Jesus Christ,” Stiles hissed under his breath.
“Malia,” Lydia admonished. “She’s joking.” This was directed toward Stiles. Malia just shrugged.
“I was just stating the obvious,” Malia grumbled. “Fine.” This night could not get worse. Stiles drummed his fingers on the table and sighed.
“Sorry, I’m late.” A voice behind Stiles called. Stiles craned his neck and stared up at Derek. He took a sharp breath. Derek looked good. He was wearing a sweater that fit snugly; it was almost too tight. His arms were well-defined, and the low light of the bar sparkled in his eyes. “The weather is crazy out there. I’ve never seen so much snow.” He smiled around at the table and then locked eyes with Stiles. Indecipherable emotion-was it anger? Sadness?- flittered across Derek’s face before he gave Stiles a small smile. Stiles’ heart flipped in his chest. He returned Derek’s smile.
“Nice glasses.” Derek motioned to Stiles’ face as he took the only empty seat, right next to Stiles.
“Thanks. One too many hits to the head and you sustain brain damage.” Stiles tapped the side of his head to emphasize the point. “You know? A little memory loss and a nice pair of glasses for the trouble.”
“What?” Derek gave Stiles a concerned look.
“Oh, it’s nothing too bad,” Stiles assured him. “I just can’t heal like you guys. So obviously I was going to have a few side effects. I have a little trouble memorizing things and sometimes it takes me a while to remember specific events. It’s a small miracle I even made it here on time. My doctor was super confused when I got my MRI. I was having migraines. Anyway, I told her I was a part of an underground boxing ring before I moved to the city.” Stiles clamped his mouth shut. “I’m rambling.”
“Your heart rate is elevated and you smell…” Malia sniffed the air, “nervous.” Everyone at the table turned to look at Malia. She shrugged.
“I’m gonna get another drink,” Stiles murmured as he stood up. Four shots in, and Stiles felt calm enough to rejoin the table. He swayed slightly as he crossed the bar and took his seat. He focused on the conversation.
“Then Scott stood up on the table and started to sing,” Kira laughed. “Stiles,” she turned to face him. “You remember, right? When you and Scott came to New York?”
“Oh my God,” Stiles giggled. “Yes! He wanted to ‘woo you back.’” Stiles made air quotes. “And for some reason, he thought that involved serenading you at the restaurant you worked at.”
“Hey!” Scott interjected. “You,” he pointed at Stiles, “said to make a grand gesture.”
“Well, it worked, didn’t it?” Stiles asked, taking a sip of the drink he brought back to the table. He pointedly avoided looking over at Derek.
“If you think that’s bad, you should hear how Malia asked me out,” Lydia said. Stiles fell silent content to listen to his friends talk. He missed this a lot more than he thought, even if it was slightly awkward each time Derek accidentally bumped him or brushed against him.
—
Stiles took a deep drag from the cigarette, relishing the way his lungs burned. He shuddered against the cold and huddled closer to the building. Snow continued to fall, at this pace it might pass the predicted 10 inches.
“I didn’t know you smoked,” Derek commented. Stiles’ back stiffened. He let out a slow breath and slowly relaxed.
“It’s a nasty habit. I don’t recommend it.” He dropped the cigarette and watched the glowing red tip snuff itself in the snow. Derek moved to stand beside Stiles.
“How have you been?” His voice was gentle. Stiles knew if he turned to look at him that the corners of Derek’s mouth would be upturned in a small smile. He forced himself to stare across the street.
“I’m fine,” he muttered. “You?”
“Good.” Derek let out a low whistle as the wind whipped around them, sending flurries of snow flying. Stiles pulled the scarf he was wearing tighter around his neck.
“Nice talk,” Stiles whispered. “Can you tell the others I’m gonna head home?”
“You can’t drive home,” Derek said. “You’re in no condition to drive.” Stiles knew Derek was right, he was having a hard time remaining upright, but that didn’t mean he was going to agree.
“I’m perfectly fine,” Stiles argued, turning to face Derek. At least, that’s what he was trying to do. Instead, he stumbled over his feet and crashed into Derek’s chest. Derek’s arms wrapped around him, hugging him into his chest. Stiles closed his eyes and let Derek hold him, and for a moment he was transported in time, back to before he broke Derek’s heart. He reluctantly opened his eyes and found Derek’s staring back at him. He held his breath. Derek leaned closer. Stiles stood on his toes and leaned forward. Derek’s breath ghosted across his face. His mouth watered.
Stiles pushed Derek away and fell to his knees. Vomit spilled out of his mouth, splattering the snow-covered pavement. Stiles took in a lungful of air and puked again. His stomach heaved and the world around him swam. He leaned back on his heels and chuckled to himself. Of course he’d make a fool of himself like this. On the bright side, he didn’t puke on Derek. Oh, Derek. Stiles turned slowly climbed to his feet and turned around. Derek was exiting the bar, a glass of water and towel in hand.
“Sorry,” Stiles giggled. He took the glass of water from Derek and took a sip. He swished it around in his mouth and spat it on the ground. He took the towel from Derek and wiped his face. “Thanks.”
“No problem.” Derek grinned and held out his hand. “Now give me your keys.”
“What?” Stiles balked.
“Give me your keys. Scott’s going to drive your car to your house and Kira will pick him up,” Derek explained.
“Okay,” Stiles mumbled, “so I’m gonna ride with him?”
“No. Scott and Kira want to hang out some more. I’m gonna drive you home.”
“But I don’t wanna ride with you,” Stiles pouted. Derek stepped closer.
“I can hear your heartbeat, Stiles. I know you’re lying.” His voice sent shivers down Stiles’ spine. Wordlessly, he handed his keys to Derek. “Wait here, okay?” Stiles nodded and leaned against the wall. Stiles grumbled under his breath and looked down the street. His eyes landed on a lone figure walking down the center of the street. Snow swirled around them. Stiles stumbled closer, trying to get a better look. The figure turned to stare at Stiles. A green coat and pale skin pricked at Stiles’ memory. It was the woman from the highway. What was she doing?
“Stiles,” Derek yelled, yanking him back. A car flew down past them, its horn blaring. “Watch out. You were almost hit.”
“Did you see her?” Stiles asked, pointing down the street.
“What? No,” Derek snapped. “C’mon.” Stiles let Derek drag him to the car. He clicked on his seat belt and scowled at Derek as he climbed in. He rested his head against the window and let the gentle motion of the car lull him to sleep.
—
Stiles’ legs gave out, sending him tumbling to the ground. His face dug into the ground. Sobs wracked his body. His tears mixed with the dirt, creating mud that clung to his skin. Stiles forced himself to sit up and take a deep breath. He stared blankly at the headstone in front of him.
“Stiles?”
He looked up. Derek was frowning down at him. Stiles surreptitiously wiped his tears. He gave Derek a watery smile.
“Hey,” he croaked out.
“What happened?” Derek knelt next to him. His hand hovered over Stiles’ shoulder. After a moment’s hesitation, he gently squeezed Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles watched as Derek’s eyes slid to the headstone behind him. There was a flicker of recognition as he read the name. “Oh.”
Stiles slowly stood up and sighed. He offered Derek a hand and pulled him to his feet.
“I’m okay,” he whispered. “It’s been 12 years and I haven’t visited her since then.” Stiles closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I just couldn’t come back. I wasn’t ready.”
“I understand,” Derek murmured. He wrapped an arm around Stiles and guided him away from his mother’s headstone. Stiles rested his head on Derek’s chest and let himself be guided out of the cemetery.
—
Stiles cracked his eyes open before immediately snapping them shut. The midmorning light sent shockwaves through his brain. His head pounded and his mouth was dry and cottony. Moving slowly, Stiles pushed himself into a sitting position.
How did he get home? He barely remembered puking everywhere and getting a ride from… Derek. His eyes flew open and he winced, shielding his eyes from the encroaching light. Leave it to Stiles to embarrass himself in front of the one person he didn’t want to see again. He lowered his hand and let his eyes adjust to the light. Two ibuprofen and a bottle of water sat on his nightstand. He popped the pills and greedily drank the water. This was definitely courtesy of Derek. There’s no way Stiles would’ve thought of setting out water in the position he was in last night.
The salty-sweet smell of bacon frying made Stiles’ mouth water. He climbed out of bed, hissing as his bare feet brushed the cold wood floors. He grabbed his phone off the charger, thankful, and a little horrified, that Derek was as thoughtful as he was.
He entered the kitchen to find his dad standing in front of the stove.
“Ah, he lives,” his dad said in a phony British accent. “I was afraid my son might not make it to the morn.” Stiles rolled his eyes and shuffled closer to his dad, sniffing the air.
“Bacon?” He raised an eyebrow. Turning to look at the counter he spotted pancakes.
“It’s turkey bacon and whole wheat pancakes,” his dad pouted. “I’ve been trying to keep up with eating healthier.” Stiles laughed.
“Sure, okay. Want me to make coffee?” Stiles had already taken the coffee filter and coffee out of the cabinet.
“Sure.” His dad shrugged. “It finally stopped snowing, huh.” Stiles shrugged.
“Must’ve happened after I got home.”
“So have fun last night?” His dad gave him a look.
“What?” Stiles paused, glancing at his dad.
“So that wasn’t Derek I saw sneaking out last night.” His dad pulled two plates from the cabinet and put them on the table.
“It wasn’t like that.” Stiles blushed as he poured the coffee. “Derek just drove me home after I had a little too much to drink.” He passed his dad a cup before adding sugar and milk to his own. “Scott drove my car over last-” the buzz of his phone interrupted him. It was a text from Scott. “He put my keys in the mailbox.” He neglected to mention that someone had changed his screen saver to a picture of him slung over Derek’s shoulder. He probably should’ve changed his password.
“Whatever,” his dad mumbled around a mouth full of food. “You’re a grown man, just use protection.” He took a long sip of coffee. “I don’t know if lycanthropy can be transmitted sexually but it’s better to not test it.” Stiles choked on his coffee. Eyes watering he scowled at his dad. His dad shrugged and smiled.
“I… whatever,” Stiles mumbled, looking down at his plate. He hadn’t told anyone what went down between him and Derek, and it was probably safe to assume that Derek hadn’t told anyone either. He had more important things to focus on anyway. At this point, it was hopeless to think he’d get another job in the city. He wasn’t going to renew the lease on his apartment, so he needed a job in Beacon Hills pronto.
“Stiles,” his dad prompted. “I can hear the gears in your head grinding. What’s wrong?” Stiles opened his mouth to reply. “And don’t try to brush me off. I know when you’re lying.” Stiles frowned down at his plate.
“I, uh, don’t have a job anymore,” he mumbled. Heat burned behind his eyes, and he knew that he was seconds away from crying. Laughter startled him. His dad was practically doubled over.
“That’s what’s got you acting like this?” His dad guffawed. “I was afraid you had a secret kid or something.” Stiles glared over at his dad.
“I can’t believe you’re treating it like it’s no big deal,” he shot back, “I can’t afford my apartment and despite trying, I can’t find a job.”
“Just move back in here.” His dad shrugged and drained his coffee. “You can get a job and save up for a new place.”
“That’s humiliating,” Stiles grumbled.
“That’s what family is for,” his dad replied, picking up his plate and mug. “Scott and Kira lived with Melissa for a few months after they got engaged. Parents want to be able to take care of their kids.” His dad walked past him and ruffled his hair. “Hey, can you swing by the store? I have a list on the fridge, but I’ve been too busy to go.” Stiles nodded.
—
He braced his forearms against the handle of the shopping cart. Thankfully, his keys had indeed been in the mailbox, and he was planning to meet with Scott at the clinic tomorrow. Stiles looked down at the list. It was one and a half pages. His dad hadn’t been shopping in forever apparently.
“Spinach,” he muttered under his breath, scanning the produce aisle. He found it and dumped a package into the cart. He hummed along to the song playing over the store’s speakers. Smiling, Stiles turned the corner and slipped. His cart went flying and he tumbled to the ground. His head smacked against the linoleum and the world went dark.
—
Stiles was bent over his desk. His laptop was in several pieces. His phone was propped up, and a video teaching the viewer how to replace the keyboard of their laptop was playing. His hands were cramping, and he felt like he was on the verge of tears. How hard could it be to replace the freaking keyboard? Scowling, he slammed his hand down on the desk and shivered. It was way colder than he remembered. Soft scraping caught Stiles’ attention. He knew that sound anywhere; someone was opening his window. He snatched up a screwdriver. Spinning around, he launched the screwdriver toward the intruder. It sailed through the air and buried itself into Derek’s shoulder.
“What the hell, man?” Stiles snapped, quickly crossing the room. “Don’t sneak up on people!” Derek rolled his eyes and braced himself against the wall.
“You just stabbed me with a screwdriver!” Derek grimaced.
“And I’m sorry for that.” Stiles guided Derek toward his bed. “But you did break into my room.” He gently pushed him onto the bed. Bracing one hand on Derek’s shoulder and grasping the handle of the screwdriver he smiled apologetically. “This is going to hurt.” He yanked on the screwdriver; it slid out with a sickening squelch. “At least you can heal.” Stiles shrugged.
“Always one to look on the bright side,” Derek grumbled, wincing as he sat up.
“You better not get blood on my bed,” Stiles complained. Derek scowled at him and tugged his shirt off. “What are you doing?”
“Looking at the wound,” Derek stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. Stiles crossed his room, leaning against the closet door. A slight breeze from his open window made him shiver. He huffed and shut the window. His eyes landed on Derek’s shoulder. The wound was almost healed, but blood was trickling down his chest.
“Shit! Derek, I’m sorry,” he mumbled. “Let me get something to help.” He went to the bathroom, grabbed a washcloth, and got it wet. He came back in and knelt next to Derek. Placing one hand on Derek’s stomach, he gently pressed the washcloth to Derek’s shoulder and scrubbed away the blood. “I actually stabbed you. I’m such an idiot.” He kept scrubbing at Derek’s shoulder.
“Stiles,” Derek’s hand loosely gripped his wrist. “I’m fine. Look, already healed.” Stiles looked at the spot he had been scrubbing; all traces of blood and any sign of the wound was gone.
“Sorry,” he mumbled. “It’s just after the nogitsune I’m afraid of hurting the people I care about.” Derek’s other hand squeezed Stiles’ thigh. His hand was warm against Stiles’ bare skin. It suddenly occurred to Stiles that he had only been wearing a t-shirt and a pair of boxers when Derek broke into his room. He looked into Derek’s eyes. His voice caught in his throat and all thoughts left his mind. Derek’s darted out to lick his lips, and Stiles tracked the movement.
“Stiles?” Derek whispered. A sea of unasked questions swam in Derek’s eyes. Stiles nodded and leaned forward. His lips barely brushed Derek’s. They were warm and soft. His eyes fluttered closed. Stiles tilted his head, deepening the kiss. Derek’s hands moved to Stiles’ waist. His tongue swiped against Stiles’ bottom lip. Stiles readily parted his lips, moaning as Derek’s tongue explored the inside of his mouth.
Derek picked Stiles up and dropped him into his lap. He groaned and Stiles greedily gobbled up the sound. Derek’s hands migrated from Stiles’ hips to his ass. Derek gave it a gentle squeeze. Stiles broke the kiss with a gasp, leaning his forehead against Derek’s. Eyes still closed, he took a deep breath. When he finally opened his eyes, Derek was staring up at him with concern in his eyes.
“I’m sorry. I took it too far, didn’t I?” Derek bit his bottom lip.
“No, you didn’t do anything wrong,” Stiles reassured. “I’m just a little overwhelmed. This is the first time I’ve kissed another man…” Stiles trailed off, seeing a look of sadness in Derek’s eyes. “I really liked it. I really like you. I just need some time to think about it.” Stiles smiled at Derek.
“Okay,” Derek gave Stiles a small smile. He slid out from underneath Stiles. “I’ll give you some time to think about this.” Derek climbed off Stiles’ bed.
“You don’t have to leave.” Stiles looked down at his bed. “I mean… you could stay here tonight.” He forced himself to look up at Derek. “You could sleep in my bed.” He climbed off and pulled back his comforter as if to show how serious he was.
“If you want me to,” Derek’s voice was even as he spoke.
“Yes!” Stiles said a little too quickly. He blushed and looked away. “I want you to.” The bed dipped as Derek sat down on it.
“Okay.” He laid down on Stiles’ bed, arms glued to his side and head facing the ceiling. Stiles crawled into bed, mirroring Derek. He counted the cracks in his ceiling and sighed.
“I can’t sleep like this.” Stiles rolled onto his side, curling into Derek’s side. He threw one arm over Derek’s stomach. “Is this okay?” Derek nodded, shifting so that he could pull Stiles closer to him. He pressed a quick kiss to Stiles’ forehead.
—
The world slowly came back to Stiles. The floor was cool against his skin, and his head throbbed. Wincing, he sat up. He blinked rapidly trying to clear away the blurriness. Stiles’ hands flew to his face.
“Shit,” he hissed. “My glasses.” He felt around him on the ground, all too aware of the gathering crowd. Shame coursed through him, staining his cheeks red.
“Let me help,” someone said. Stiles felt a hand wrap around his arm and haul him to his feet. “Here.” The stranger pressed Stiles’ glasses into his hands.
“Thanks.” Stiles slipped his glasses on and gave the stranger a thankful smile. Derek was smiling down at him. His heart plummeted to the bottom of his stomach.
“Oh, Derek.” Stiles took a step back and shook his head, wincing when a sharp pain shot through his head.
“Are you okay?” Derek closed the gap between them and gently took Stiles’ face into his hands. He gently tilted Stiles’ head and inspected his head. “This is gonna swell.” Stiles could feel Derek’s hands tense up.
“Don’t take my pain,” he mumbled, grabbing Derek’s wrist.
“Why?” Derek looked anxiously down at Stiles. Stiles shook his head and pulled Derek’s hands away from his face. He grabbed his cart and made his way to the checkout.
Stiles hurriedly stacked groceries in the trunk, not caring if anything got damaged. He just wanted to get away from the grocery store, and Derek, as fast as he could. The throbbing in his head subsided a little, at least he could walk without getting nauseous. Snowflakes poured from the sky and Stiles scowled. He was seriously sick of the snow. He slammed the trunk and bumped into Derek. He let out a scream and clamped his hand over his mouth.
“You scared the shit out of me,” he huffed.
“Stiles, is everything okay?” Derek asked, stepping into his path.
“Yes. Everything is just great. Peachy keen.” He swerved around Derek and headed for the cart corral. Derek grabbed the edge of the cart, stopping Stiles in his track.
“You’re lying,” he growled. He gave Stiles a pleading look. “Did I do something wrong?” Stiles forced himself to look away from Derek. He watched the cars inching down the street. He blinked against the onslaught of snow.
“No, Derek. I did something wrong.” Stiles still refused to look at him. “I was so confused and I let…” He trailed off, focusing on the woman in the green coat waltzing down the center of the street. “Oh my God.” Derek turned to look at what Stiles was staring at.
“Hey, watch out!” Derek screamed. A car barreled toward the woman, tires spinning uselessly. She turned to face the car. The car spun and Stiles closed his eyes as it arced toward the woman. When he didn’t hear a crash, he opened his eyes. The car had stopped moving and the woman was nowhere to be seen.
“Where did she go?” Stiles whispered.
“She disappeared.” Derek’s mouth was a firm line as he looked at Stiles. “Literally. She was here one moment and gone the next, almost like”
“Magic,” Stiles finished.
—
Stiles cuddled a kitten to his chest. It purred and he grinned.
“But seriously, she just disappeared.” Stiles looked over at Scott who was currently inspecting a dog's paw.
“You know,” Scott murmured, using a pair of tweezers to pull a splinter out of the paw. “Someone else told me a remarkably similar story.”
“Oh,” Stiles feigned nonchalance. He pressed a small kiss to the kitten’s head. The kitten mewled and snuggled even closer to Stiles.
“Yeah… it’s funny how you never mentioned Derek in your story,” Scott smirked. “And he never mentioned you.” He placed the dog in a kennel and leaned against the counter. “What’s going on between you two?” Stiles kept petting the kitten.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Stiles shrugged.
“You’re lying,” Scott said matter-of-factly.
“Who’s kitten is this?” Stiles chose to ignore Scott’s question.
“Her owner will be here soon,” Scott mumbled. “But what’s going on between you and Derek.” Stiles sighed and lowered himself to the ground. He rubbed the kitten’s stomach and frowned.
“It’s kinda my fault,” he groaned. The kitten attacked his hand. “Derek and I were, uh, kinda a thing for a while.”
“What?” Scott burst out. “When?”
“Before you and Kira got back together. I took a semester off from college, remember?” Scott nodded. “I mean… we dated for a while. Then I dumped him without an explanation and moved to L.A.”
“And?” Scott prompted.
“And what?”
“How did that work out for you?” Scott looked down at Stiles. Stiles shrugged.
“Is this really what we’re gonna talk about when there’s potentially a magical being in town?” Stiles glared up at Scott.
“Did she hurt anyone?” Scott asked, kneeling in front of a crate.
“No, but I don’t think we can trust her,” Stiles sulked.
“You don’t trust anyone.” Scott reached into the crate. “Here, boy. Come here.” Stiles watched in amusement as Scott grew more and more frustrated.
“Just use your alpha mojo,” Stiles suggested.
“It doesn’t always work,” Scott grumbled. “Some dogs get violent, and Jesse here,” Scott nodded at the crate, “is one of those dogs.” Stiles stood up and deposited the kitten in the basket he had found it in.
“Here, let me try.” Stiles knelt next to the crate. Scott backed off and gestured for him to try. Stiles scooted around to the front of the crate. “Hey,” he whispered. “It’s okay. I know it's scary and bright in here, but you’re safe.” He looked at the little dog curled up in the corner of the crate. He gently reached his hand into the crate, letting it hover near the dog. “Scott doesn’t want to hurt you. He just wants to make sure you won’t get sick.” Jesse sniffed the air and took a few cautious steps toward Stiles. “That’s right.” Jesse crept out of the crate and into Stiles’ lap. “Who’s a good boy?” He placed a gentle kiss on the dog’s forehead as Scott gave it a shot.
“Wow, that was the easiest rabies vaccine I’ve given all day,” Scott marveled. “You know, I have an open position for an assistant.”
“I don’t want a pity job,” Stiles muttered, gently petting Jesse.
“No, I’m serious. Liam is quitting in two weeks and I’ll need an assistant.” Scott pulled the gloves off his hand. “It’ll be mostly filing paperwork and stuff.” He gave Stiles a hesitant smile. “I mean, this is the last day the clinic is open before Christmas, but after we reopen there’s a job for you.”
Stiles stared down at his lap. Jesse licked his face and let out a small woof. Stiles chuckled and wiped his face. He put Jesse in his crate and locked the door.
“Yeah. I’ll take the job, thanks,” he finally replied, turning around to pull Scott into a hug. “Thanks, man.”
“No problem,” Scott replied. “That’s what friends are for.” Stiles pulled away. Scott turned away and bent over in front of an open laptop.
“Hey, someone is here to pick the kitten up. Can you bring her up front?”
“What are you talking about? The bell didn’t-” Stiles was cut off as the bell to the door rang. “Stupid wolf super senses.” He picked the kitten up and waltzed through the doorway. “Is someone here to pick up their wittle kitty?” Stiles sang. He kissed the kitten’s head and looked up at Derek.
“Oh.” Derek frowned over at Stiles. “Are you sure you don’t have brain damage?”
“Ha. Ha.” Stiles scowled. “What are you doing here?” Derek pointed at the kitten.
“I’m here to pick Diana up.” Derek smiled down at the kitten and scooped her out of Stiles’ hands. “Were you a good girl?” He cooed. Diana mewled and Derek cuddled her up to his face. “I missed my kitty.” Stiles’ heart clenched. God, he was adorable.
“I didn’t peg you for a cat person,” Stiles said.
“I’m usually not,” Derek replied, “But I found her outside my building and I just fell in love.” He kissed her nose. “I mean, she’s adorable.”
“She is,” Stiles mumbled. He closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. He needed to get a grip. It didn’t matter if the sight of Derek cuddling with a kitten made him weak in the knees, he made the choice to leave Derek. Derek deserved someone who wouldn’t leave when it got hard.
“Stiles?”
“I’m sorry,” he laughed. “I think I’m just tired.” He shook his head. “She’s a sweet kitten. I’m glad she’s in good hands.” He brushed passed Derek and pushed open the door. The freezing air squeezed his chest as he tried to take a deep breath.
—
Stiles grimaced at the tree in front of him. Its scraggly branches scrapped at the sky. Needles that would usually be green were a sad shade of brown. He sighed as he put another ornament on the tree. He reached into the box and pulled out another ornament. He gazed down at it with a soft smile on his face. His face was grimaced back up at him, forever frozen on a snowflake. Malia had made this for him when they were still dating. He rolled his eyes and hung it on the tree. At least he could have a normal relationship with one of his exes.
“You look like you just bit into a lemon.” Stiles looked up at his dad. He was hanging a garland on the mantle. “It’s not a good look for you.” Stiles flipped his dad off, and then quickly lowered his hand.
“Sorry about that,” he muttered, turning back to the tree. His dad chuckled and hopped off the ladder he had been standing on.
“I’ll allow it because something is bothering you.” His dad walked over to the tree and began adding ornaments. “Something you apparently can’t even talk to your dad about.” He let out an exaggerated sigh.
“Da-ad,” Stiles groaned. Noah threw his hands up in surrender. Stiles hung his head. “Did you ever hurt a person you care about?”
“All the time,” his dad replied quickly. They hung ornaments in silence.
“I mean… like really hurt someone.” Stiles dropped the glass bulb and flinched as it shattered.
“What’s this about?” His dad followed him as he grabbed the broom.
“Hypothetically,” Stiles started, “if someone really liked a person. Like romantically.” He glanced at his dad before sweeping up the glass. “And this person hurt the person they cared about. Like, moved away without telling them. And didn’t speak to them for years.” Stiles dumped the glass in the trash.
“Stiles, enough with the cryptic bullshit,” his dad rolled his eyes.
“Fine. Derek and I dated when I took that semester off from college.” He looked at his dad, who just motioned for him to continue. “He was the first guy I had ever been with… and I was scared. I mean, I kinda always knew I liked guys, but it was easier to just date girls.” Stiles closed his eyes. “I really lov-liked Derek, but it was a lot really quickly. So, when I went back to school, I stopped talking to him, and then I moved to L.A. and never saw him again.” Stiles opened his eyes. His dad was looking at him with pity in his eyes.
“Stiles, you just ignored the poor kid?” His dad shook his head. Stiles shrugged.
“I didn’t know what to say, and now that I’m back in town, I keep running into him.” He took off his glasses and placed them on the table. “It’s almost like he’s acting like nothing happened.”
“Maybe he’s forgiven you,” his dad offered. “Maybe he wants a do over.”
“I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Stiles snapped. “He should hate me.”
“I think you’re angry at yourself.” His dad squeezed his shoulder. “You’re punishing yourself because you feel bad for what you did to Derek. You want him to hate you when it seems like he already forgave you. You should talk to him.” Stiles scowled, he knew his dad was right, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.
“I hate it when you’re right,” he grumbled at his dad’s back. His dad chuckled and kept walking down the hall. Stiles stretched his neck and closed his eyes. His dad’s words echoed around his mind.
The ringing of the doorbell interrupted his thoughts.
“I got it,” he yelled, sulking to the door. He pulled it open to reveal Malia, Kira, and Lydia. “Uh, hey?”
“Sorry,” Kira mouthed, giving him an apologetic smile.
“Stiles, did you break Derek’s heart?” Malia asked. “And don’t lie. Scott told Kira and I heard him.” Stiles was pretty sure his jaw was in the floor. He was going to murder Scott.
“More importantly, when did you break his heart?” Lydia asked.
“Wow!” Stiles took a step back as the women crowded into his house. “Sure, come on in.”
“In case you haven’t noticed, the weather seems to think we’re in Alaska, so yes, we’re coming in.” Lydia stripped off her coat and gave an exaggerated shiver. “I hate the cold.”
“Seriously, what do you guys want?” Stiles turned to glare at his friends.
“You need to fix Derek.” Malia draped herself across the couch. “He always gets depressed at Christmas, and Lydia thinks its your fault. He doesn’t even decorate anymore.” Malia sat up and cocked her head. “Actually, I don’t know if he ever decorated, but if he was going to, you ruined that.”
“Guys,” Kira warned, “we said we’d hear Stiles’ side of the story.” She gave Stiles an encouraging smile, and the worst part was he couldn’t return it because Lydia and Malia were right. He opened his mouth and the story came pouring out.
—
Stiles braced himself against the harsh wind as it howled around him. He shoved his hat further down on his head. The box in his arms grew heavy as he trudged through the snow, letting the moonlight guide him. After he told Kira, Lydia, and Malia how he dumped Derek, they insisted that he apologize to Derek. He told them that he planned on it, but he needed time to work it out. He’d spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to apologize. After not being able to sleep, he decided the best course of action was to just show up and tell Derek how he felt. So, he got up, got dressed, and left for Derek’s. Unfortunately, he left his phone at the house, and two blocks away from Derek’s loft, his car stalled. He figured he could just walk the rest of the way, but then the snow started up again.
Eyes almost frozen shut, Stiles hoped he could make it the rest of the way to Derek’s. Finally, the building loomed in front of him. He stumbled into it, glad for the respite from the cold. He struggled up the stairs and banged on the door. Several seconds later, a very cranky Derek threw the door open.
“What?” he snapped. His eyes landed on Stiles’ shivering form. “Stiles? What the hell?” Stiles could barely feel as Derek grabbed his upper arm and dragged him inside. Stiles wanted to open his mouth, to tell Derek he had been stupid when he left without saying goodbye. That he was an idiot for leaving Derek in the first place. He wanted to beg for a chance of forgiveness. Instead, he just let out a low moan.
“Jesus,” Derek muttered. “What were you doing outside?” Stiles shrugged, unable to do anything else. He could feel his hands being pried away from the box. Derek frowned and began stripping away his outer layers. “We gotta warm you up, but I need to get this snow off of you, okay?” Stiles nodded. He was so tired, and Derek was being so sweet. His eyelids felt so heavy, they were slipping closed. He jolted as Derek wrapped a blanket around him.
“Derek,” he mumbled.
“Shh.” Derek picked him up. The world swayed around him as Derek carried him through the loft. He was placed on something soft. Derek’s arms disappeared from around him and he whined.
“erek,” Stiles forced out.
“I’m here,” Derek whispered. He wrapped his arms around Stiles and pulled him close. “Let’s get you warmed up.” Stiles was vaguely aware as Derek pulled a blanket over them, content to drift off in Derek’s arms.
Stiles struggled to sit up. Something was constricting his chest and he could barely breathe.
“Help,” he croaked out. Suddenly the pressure was gone. Stiles took a deep breath and sat up. Derek’s face floated into his field of vision, and everything came rushing back.
“You’re awake,” Derek whispered. “Good.” He punched Stiles in the shoulder. Hard.
“What the hell man?” Stiles whined, struggling out of the cocoon of blankets. “That hurt.”
“What were you thinking? I thought you were dead. You were paler than usual and freezing cold.” Derek scowled at him and Stiles ducked his head.
“I started to drive over here, but then my car died and I didn’t have a phone. It was closer to finish walking here than to walk home.”
“Huh,” Derek muttered. “What’s in the box?” He nodded to the box Stiles had somehow managed to lug through a snow storm.
“Decorations. Malia said you didn’t decorate for Christmas.” Derek frowned. Stiles rolled his eyes. “How long was I asleep?”
“Two hours,” Derek huffed, “why were you even coming here?” Stiles frowned down at his lap. This was his time to shine. It was now or never. He opened his mouth to speak: all hell broke loose.
The window shattered inward, raining glass down on Stiles and Derek. Stiles threw himself forward, rolling off the bed and landing on his knees. Wind tore through the open space, pushing Stiles’ hair back. Snow drifted into the apartment.
“What the-” Derek whipped around. Standing in front of the window was the woman. Her hair was swept back. What Stiles had thought to be a green coat was a cloak. Her skin was an icy blue. Up close, Stiles could see delicate snowflakes dotting her skin.
“Werewolf,” she snarled. She glanced at Stiles. “Human.” Stiles stood up and raised his hand.
“Excuse me,” Stiles said. “Who are you?” The woman ignored his question and advanced on Derek. Derek growled and bared his fangs.
“I must admit, when the nemeton called to me, I assumed there would be protectors.” She raised a delicate hand above her head. Ice began to gather and swirl around it. “But this is a little pathetic.” She pointed her hand at Derek. Ice arced from her hand and into his chest. He went flying, slamming into the far wall.
“Elsa,” Stiles snapped. “What the fuck?” The woman giggled and turned to face Stiles.
“You’re not too far off,” she mused. “But I prefer winter witch.” A gust of wind sent Stiles tumbling to the ground. He knocked over his box, spilling its contents everywhere.
Derek snarled and lept onto the witch. He sunk his claws into her stomach and ripped them out. At least, he attempted to do that. Ice began spreading from her abdomen up Derek’s arms.
“If I had known you were this weak, I wouldn’t have bothered attacking you first.” She smiled coldly at Derek. “I wanted to dispose of you before you discovered my presence. I should’ve saved myself the trouble.” Both of Derek’s arms were completely covered in ice, and it was rapidly spreading.
Stiles pushed himself up. His hands brushed against something, glancing down, his eyes landed on mistletoe. He glanced back up at the witch and down at the mistletoe. He quietly grabbed the mistletoe and a shard of glass. Quietly, he crept around the witch.
Her back towards him, Stiles lunged forward. He slammed into her, slamming her into the ground. Derek went down with them. He dropped the mistletoe on her back. He raised the shard of glass above his head and drove the mistletoe into her back. Almost immediately, the wind and snow died down.
Derek roared, pulling Stiles away from the witch. The witch writhed on the ground, scrabbling for the piece of glass that pinned the mistletoe to her body.
“Do you think Eichen House has room for another inmate?” Stiles asked, frowning down at the witch.
—
It had been surprisingly easy to deal with the winter witch. Deacon had been able to get her into Eichen House with no problem. Scott had apologized to Stiles for brushing him off. The weather had also cleared up pretty quickly after the witch was neutralized, and for that, Stiles was extremely grateful. The snow was beautiful, but almost dying was not worth it.
He hadn’t had a chance to talk to Derek. Melissa and his dad had forced him to stay in the hospital for observation. Between the possible hypothermia and the deep cuts from using the glass as a weapon, Stiles was lucky they didn’t make him stay longer. He called and texted several times but Derek never answered, which hurt but he probably deserved it.
He heard the sound of his window sliding open. He sprang up from his bed and grabbed the first thing he could get his hands on, a desk lamp, and raised it above his head.
“Woah! It’s me,” Derek yelled, waving his arms. Stiles lowered the lamp and laughed.
“You’re lucky it wasn’t a screwdriver this time.” Stiles smiled and sat on the edge of the bed. Derek hesitantly sat next to him.
“Hey,” Derek whispered.
“Hi.” Stiles bit his lip and looked away.
“How are you?” Derek asked.
“Fine.” Stiles flipped his hands over to show Derek his palms. “Just a few more scars.” He brought his hands to his lap. “I thought you might be ignoring me,” Stiles said, “I mean I deserve it, but when you didn’t answer my calls or my texts…” He trailed off.
“I’ve been busy.” Derek’s hands gripped his knees. Stiles stood up and began pacing.
“I’m sorry,” he burst out. “I just left you without saying anything. It was a real asshole move.” Stiles looked down at his palms. “I was scared, to be honest. Everything happened so quickly. I really liked you, like a lot, but I saw so scared. What if I woke up one day and realized I didn’t like guys? Or like… what if I was holding you back? You’re a werewolf and I’m an idiot who is totally babbling right now.” Stiles resumed pacing. “But I didn’t think about how much it would hurt you. I didn’t think about how much I would miss you. I thought about you every day.” Stiles wasn’t aware that Derek had moved to stand in front of him. “I-” He stopped talking when Derek reached out and grabbed his arm.
“Stiles, shut up,” Derek commanded. Stiles clamped his mouth shut. Derek pulled Stiles back to the bed. “I forgive you.”
“I don’t deserve forgiveness,” Stiles argued as Derek made him sit down.
“You marched through the snow and braved hypothermia.” Derek laced their hands together and knelt in front of Stiles. “I’m not going to pretend like it didn’t hurt me. It did, but that doesn’t matter now.” He cupped Stiles’ face. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” Stiles nodded.
Derek’s lips moved against Stiles’ making Stiles shudder. He could feel Derek smirking, but he didn’t care. He was right where he wanted to be.