Work Text:
My life in crayon colours.
Stiles was sprawled on the couch, his sketchpad propped up on his swelled stomach, knees up and feet planted on the soft cushions to be more comfortable. His back was resting on a ton of fluffy, warm, plush pillows, positioned strategically on the large angle sofa, and it was like being in a mixture of a single bed and a very comfy armchair.
Stiles was very grateful to Derek for buying for him such amazing furniture, and he made sure to thank him properly on that very couch when he saw it in their living room for the first time. That explained his swelled belly, too.
So now, he was there, crayon box near him and white sheet of paper in front of his eyes, a hand caressing fondly the side of his swelled stomach, and his mind wandering to the years that had passed, the ones he spent with Derek, first as enemies, then allies, then friends and in the end, finally, lovers. They were mates, that’s why they kept circling around each other, always ending up protecting the other, until they pulled their heads out of their asses and kissed.
Stiles remembered their first kiss, and picking up the red crayon from its box, he started drawing the memories of that kiss, the warm red conveying completely the emotions that filled Stiles when Derek’s lips kissed his, frenetic and worried, after having saved Stiles from a vampire coven that had kidnapped him. Derek just took him to his loft and when inside, he cradled his injured and bloody body into his arms, one of his hands cupping Stiles cheek and kissing him softly.
Stiles didn’t even remember the pain of his injuries, but that probably was because Derek was taking it away, his hands brushing softly Stiles’ torso, wandering around under his ripped t-shirt.
The kiss turned passionate quickly, that’s why Stiles had chosen the red crayon to draw it.
He remembered then how Derek had kept kissing him, placing him on the couch of his old loft, and then had went to retrieve something to clean him up, take care of his injuries and dress him clean.
Stiles was blushing the whole time, trying to tell Derek that now that they were no longer in the vampire’s nest, he could heal himself with his magic, but Derek shushed him kissing him again and kept on his ministrations.
Stiles remembers how Derek tucked him up in his bed, the purple cover of it all around his body, warming him up until Derek slid to bed behind him, wrapping his arms around Stiles and keeping him closer, his forehead resting on Stiles nape. So he picked up the purple crayon, to give to the younger self that he was drawing the colour of his memories.
After that night, even if Derek tried to deny anything and told Stiles that it meant nothing, Stiles knew it wasn’t true, so he kept pestering Derek until one day, tired of waiting, he jumped on the wolf, tied him whit his magic and kissed him hard.
Derek growled low in his throat, kissing back and shifted a bit, fangs popping out against Stiles’ lips, his wolf tired of his human part denying him what he wanted, denying him his mate.
After that, Derek stopped pretending not to be interested and they started dating. The rest of the pack sighed in relief at the news and a few ‘finally’ were muttered. Even his dad seemed relieved, and he chuckles at that.
Stiles watched the crayons in the box, scanning the colours and his memories, when his eyes settle on the yellow one; he takes it out of the box on rolls it between his fingers.
He starts to draw the lines of Derek’s back, their naked bodies joying for the first time, Derek’s warm skin against it riling up his body, his magic reacting to it and bursting out of him as they reached their climax, enlightening their skins and the whole room in the same yellow that he was using now.
After that first time, a lot followed, some more magic than others. And not just because Stiles’ magic seemed to go crazy every time Derek touched him in a certain way.
They were magic for the feelings that they held, like the one on the new couch of their apartment for example.
That probably was one of the most special ones, because, besides the fact that they really enjoyed themselves that time, Stiles discovered a few weeks later that he was pregnant with Derek’s baby.
He was worried when he had to tell Derek, and he was pacing in the living room.
Derek came from behind him and hugged him, asking him what was wrong and resting his hands on Stiles’ hips. Stiles shuddered and breathed shakily.
He grabbed Derek’s hands and moved them gently on his lower abdomen, on the little bump that was there, so small that if he hadn’t knew that was there, he wouldn’t even have noticed it.
Derek stiffened and buried his nose in Stiles’ neck, inhaling deeply, before making a broken noise.
Stiles’ heart thudded harder in his chest at the memory, Derek thanking him brokenly for giving him back a family and holding him tighter, his hands, soft and warm, still on his stomach.
He remember feeling his heart swell at Derek’s words, his body turning slightly backwards, and his hand reaching up to cup Derek’s cheek and kiss him with all the love that was filling him.
He draw that scene with himself with blue and Derek with green.
Derek always told him that he reminded him of the sky at night, with the moon full and round, illuminating everything, protecting him with her light and to Stiles Derek was like the forest, full of the same power that the magic in the nature gave to Stiles’ inner spark.
He smiled looking at the drawings, his chest full of love and his eyes tearing up.
“Damned hormones…” he muttered under his breath, drying a stray tear.
“You can’t blame everything on the hormones,” Derek’s amused voice near his ear startled him a little, but he chuckled turning his face to him to have a kiss, and noticing that Derek’s eyes where gazing at him and his drawings with a hint of wetness and an incredible amount of love.
“Yeah, you might have a point…” he said still smiling, and scooting a little, patting the space next to him so Derek would came to lay there and warm him up.
Derek took off his jacked and his shoes, and then sat down stretching his legs, their sides connected, his arm circling Stiles’ shoulders, and Stiles leaned in the heat and comfort of Derek’s body.
“What were you drawing?” he asked, curious of why Stiles had drawn so much of them.
The smile that Stiles gave him was almost blinding for how much love and happiness was expressing.
“Oh, just some of the best memories of my life in crayon colours.”
