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Derek was tired. Driving home from work on the last Friday before Christmas left him exhausted, mentally drained from dealing with challenging clients and the ever present reminder of the loss of his family. The pack was strong, had been for years, but it didn’t diminish the ache; if anything, Derek felt it more acutely every time Erica tackled one of the pups with glee or Isaac quietly grinned as he helped bake for birthday parties.
Derek knew he should be thankful, and he was; every other day of the year was spent being the best alpha he could be and hoping that he was continuing the Hale legacy. But, Christmas was his time to mourn. Being both his birthday and the season that saw his house burn down with his family inside did not make the holiday a happy one. The omnipresent reminders that began after Thanksgiving if he was lucky made the whole month of December a trying time for him.
The only thing that stopped Derek from plunging face first into his bed after the turkey had been consumed on Thanksgiving Day and not leaving it until Boxing Day was Stiles. Their friendship began rocky; that tended to happen when you threatened someone’s life on multiple occasions with the assistance of a surprisingly sturdy wall. But, in the years that followed, with the pack staying in California for college and coming back to Beacon Hills every weekend to strengthen pack bonds, Derek and Stiles grew close.
It hadn’t been those pack visits that cemented their friendship; that began when Derek started visiting Stiles at Stanford, first as an attempt to check up on his pack at each of their colleges, but later because he genuinely enjoyed Stiles’ company. Derek wasn’t sure when the infatuation started, or when that infatuation turned to love. Between the movie marathons and the nights spent sleeping side by side so that Derek could scent mark Stiles to protect him from wayward werewolves, Derek had fallen head over paws for Stiles Stilinski, and it was panic-inducing.
This panic hadn’t stopped him from asking Stiles if he wanted to move into the renovated Hale house after graduation, when Stiles came back to Beacon Hills to become the official Hale pack emissary and wanting to not live in his teenage bedroom. Stiles had accepted, and they had been living together ever since.
Derek wished, those first nights of them being roommates, that this would lessen the emotions that swirled within him every time Stiles walked by him. If anything, it intensified the problem. Stiles turned out to be the perfect roommate, learning how to clean and cook after years with John taking odd hours as the deputy and later Sheriff of Beacon Hills. Stiles kept the fridge stocked with food for the pack and always made time to spend with Derek every night when he got home, when they would talk about comics or bicker over the sounds of their favorite tv shows in the background. Derek couldn’t get enough; he wanted to spend everyday doing this for the rest of his life.
Sighing, Derek finally turned into the driveway and parked his Camaro, bracing himself for the Christmas explosion inside. Where Derek bristled at the first drop in temperature outside, Stiles reveled in it; nothing could deter him from celebrating his favorite holiday. The pack now celebrated Christmas together, and the sheer number of people who they now counted as family inspired Stiles to fill each day of the Christmas season with cheer. He was his own elf, complete with fuzzy sweaters decorated with deer and peppermint scented candles to compliment their tree.
Derek entered the house, automatically detecting Stiles’ heartbeat in the living room. He shuffled toward the shoe rack, depositing his loafers and hanging his jacket on the hook.
“Derek! Come here and use your wolfy strength to hold me up while I put up this tinsel!” came Stiles’ voice, and Derek chuckled to himself while walking towards the living room. Even if he didn’t like the season, it never stopped Stiles from employing his services in his quest to be the most decorated house in Beacon Hills.
“Did you consider using a ladder,” came Derek’s retort. Stiles did nothing but snort, deciding to ignore the valid point. Regardless, Derek came up behind Stiles and picked him up effortlessly, laughing at the surprised squawk Stiles emitted.
“You could have warned me, asshole.” Stiles huffed, redirecting his attention to the tinsel with glee. Derek eyed his childlike expression and wondered how it was he found him so attractive.
“Where would be the fun in that?” he countered with a slight pinch to Stiles’ sides, and he had to look away from the glare Stiles shot him for it. Stiles had grown more terrifying in fights because of his power, but his glare looked more like a betrayed kitten that a grown man who you should not anger.
“There, done! Now let me down, you cavewolf. We’ve got some planning to do,” and with that, once Stiles had found his feet back on solid ground he marched towards the couch and plopped down, not even checking that Derek would follow.
Unable to resist the call of a comfy couch and a cozy Stiles, Derek walked the short distance to sit beside, calculating how close he could sit without cluing Stiles in. This challenge always presented itself to him after working long days surrounded by strangers; he wanted nothing more than to take Stiles into his arms and scent mark him, inhabit the same space until they became so intertwined that not even his betas could be able to differentiate their scents. He had to stop himself before his thoughts strayed too far; Stiles was not his and resisted any attempts at scent marking in the past, making it clear that he was not interested.
“What else do we need to do? It looks like you transformed the characterization of the holiday into the shape of our house,” Derek teased, hoping that his quick barbs could hide the fond tone beneath them. From the mischievous grin spreading across Stiles face, he was less than successful.
“Please, I know that this holiday could even warm the cockles of your tough, leather wearing heart,” he shot back, turning once more to the mountain of wrapping paper on the coffee table. “All we have left to do is wrap the gifts for the pack and hide them in your room. It might be the only place that would stop them from discovering them before Christmas when they search the house, the vultures.” With that Stiles, strode out of the room, muttering to himself so softly not even Derek could pick up on what he was saying.
Derek chuckled, thinking of the years past where the pack had attempted to track down every gift in the house before they could open them on Christmas Day. For several of those years, Derek and Stiles had turned it into a training exercise, with Stiles using his magic to mask the scent and appearance of the telltale wrapping paper, both agreeing that if the betas were able to find it underneath the magic they deserved to open the gift early. Now, Stiles was preoccupied with the expansion of the Hale pack, and any lighthearted magic would just have to wait.
An idea began to form in Derek’s head, something that had been bothering the last few days. Stiles had been running himself ragged in his attempts to settle any pack disputes and negotiations, barely taking the time to sleep and eat. The only time he wasn’t working on his emissary duties were when he was working on the house, preparing for the holiday. Maybe if Derek made the effort, tried to find genuine Christmas spirit within himself, Stiles could pause and relax. A small part of him hoped that his attempts to make Stiles happy would should him how much Derek loved him, but it wasn’t worth wasting the time thinking about; Derek had accepted years ago that the only thing Stiles would want from him was his friendship.
The sun was starting to set, glinting off of the bay windows in the living room. Derek sighed, standing up and moving towards the kitchen. Soon, Stiles would need to be dragged away from whatever he was working on and Derek might as well have food ready for when it happened.
Derek was nervous. Never mind that he and Stiles had been friends for years, and that even if Stiles spent a large amount of time poking fun at him, he would never genuinely laugh at Derek. The nerves really stemmed from his own feelings, which he was starting to fear were coming closer to the surface with each passing day. Even Scott had begun giving him pointed looks during pack meetings, finally clued in to the pathetic state of Derek’s love for his best friend. He had wanted to do nothing more than to run to his room and hide, but that would have only made the situation more obvious. Now, he stood waiting in the living room, unable to sit still with the anxiety coursing through him. Even though he was a born werewolf, and thus not susceptible to the nervous tics that presented in humans, he felt like he was vibrating out of his skin. To distract himself, he looked at the massive tree he and the pack had gone hunting for in the Preserve.
The tree itself rose to the vaulted ceiling, resembling the trees that had lived in the Hale home before the fire. All of the ornaments from the past had been destroyed in the flames, but in their place hung new ornaments that the pack had brought together. There were expensive crystal orbs, bought by Lydia the year after the house had been rebuilt, when she demanded that they celebrate Christmas at his house. Worn ornaments that Isaac had brought with him from his family’s house, that Derek made sure to handle with care. Isaac may not have many fond memories of his family, but Christmas always reminded him of his mother, and Derek understood the gift these ornaments represented.
There were homemade ornaments that they had all created during one pack night, sitting around the table and hot gluing decorations to an assortment of blank ornaments. Derek had presented them with matching ornaments and stockings the second year of Hale pack Christmas, wolves that matched their coats, archers, banshees, and even a mage covered in runes for Stiles. In return, Stiles had hacked into the local photography business and had found photos of each of the pack from elementary school and made ornaments with their awkward photos. The pack had been less than thrilled, but wouldn’t dare say no when Stiles threatened to not bake any pies for the festivities.
The door opened behind him, signaling the appearance of Stiles, and Derek breathed in his scent as he moved closer. He could tell the moment Stiles saw the fort but his slight intake of breath, and he could do nothing to stop the smile that bloomed on his face. “Did you build a blanket fort? For me? That’s so great, dude!” he exclaimed, moving further into the room to see the giant structure that took up half the space. Derek had even incorporated the tv unit and couch to make it the perfect den, and resolutely refused to acknowledge his wolf thumping his tail at the thought of providing a safe and warm den for Stiles.
“You’ve even got a bat signal!” Stiles crowed, finally chucking off his shoes and working his way into the space. “Well, think of it as your bat cave,” Derek followed, pride blooming in his chest as he saw the bright eyed wonder on Stiles’ face. He turned back to face him, and Derek was struck again by the sheer beauty of Stiles.
“How about I put on The Holiday, since you were so forward thinking to include the tv in our fortress, and you make popcorn,” Stiles remarked, scurrying to the tv to do just that. Derek turned back to the kitchen, and only rolled his eyes when Stiles yelled “Add extra butter!” from the living room.
For once since December had begun, Derek found himself in a good mood for the entire day. Last night had been fun, he and Stiles huddled up in the blankets and pillows that enveloped the fort, laughing along with The Holiday. It had been Laura’s favorite movie, and while the memory of watching it with her hurt, he also felt content to share that experience with Stiles. Laura would want him to be happy.
He let himself into the house, and was immediately struck by the sharp scent of cinnamon. Moved by the overpowering sweetness of what must be cookies mixed with the familiar scent of Stiles, he wandered into the kitchen to witness the mess before him. Each of the countertops were preoccupied, filled to the brim with sugar cookies, gingerbread men, snickerdoodles. Only one countertop contained cooking implements, with various mixing bowls shoved to the side as their batch of cookies were finished baking. In the center of it all stood Stiles, holiday apron tied haphazardly behind him as he hummed a song to himself. Flour dotted his nose and he had somehow gotten cookie dough in his hair. He looked delectable.
“What’s all this?” Derek asked in amusement, guffawing when Stiles nearly dropped his latest mixing bowl in his surprise. Even with the power that coursed through him as a mage, he still managed to flail quite a bit when caught off guard, and it never ceased to make him laugh.
“Hey Derek. I didn’t realize you were home! Um, I’m making cookies?” Stiles replied, ending the sentence with what sounded more like a question than a statement. “I see that. What for?” came Derek’s response, unable to understand why anyone would need this many cookies. Even with the voracious appetites of his pack, there was no way they could finish off this many before Christmas came and went.
“Oh! Well, I made some for the pack, but I also make a batch for each of the neighbors near my Dad’s house every year. I’m going to deliver them tomorrow,” Stiles grinned, happiness exuding from him in waves. Without thinking, Derek stepped closer and asked, “Do you want help?”
“You want to help?” Stiles seemed dubious, but following a staring match, he turned back to inspect the mess. Finally looking back, he replied “I’ve finished baking, dude, but if you want to sit and talk to me while I clean up the mess that would be cool. Oh! And I’ve made two batches of your favorite. I made this special tin so you can hide them in your room so the pack won’t get to them.”
Derek could do nothing but look at the cookies, moved at the small gesture. He grabbed the tin and moved to sit on a barstool, watching as Stiles slowly cleaned up after himself. The process left only minutes until they needed to leave to make their weekly dinner with the Sheriff, enough time for Stiles to change out of his clothes. If Derek reenacted the Mr. Napkin Head scene at dinner, it was only to show his appreciation for the cookies and not because he loved the sound of Stiles’ laugh.
“Hey!” Derek shouted into the house the next day, walking down the hall towards the bedrooms where he could hear Stiles’ heartbeat. In his hand he held a bag, marking his recent shopping expedition at the mall. The heater had been acting up, and even with Derek’s knowledge, he had been unable to figure out how to fix it. The house was not close to freezing, even if it was chillier than normal. Stiles had spent the last few days complaining to anyone that would listen (and many who wouldn’t) about his poor, close-to-frostbitten toes, though, so Derek had taken it upon himself to find the fuzziest, warmest socks possible to tide him over until someone could come fix it.
Knocking on the door, he entered when he heard a faint “Come in,” and surveyed the room. Stiles had become tidier as the years went by, organization important when researching the new creature of the week. Even with this organization, the room was still cluttered, echoing the state of Stiles’ mind. Derek had spent hours with Stiles in here, hanging out when Stiles was sick or neither of them wanted to walk all the way to the living room to watch tv. Regardless, each time he entered the room, it felt like something new had found its way in there.
“I got you something,” he huffed out, taking in the blanket wrapped around Stiles’ shoulders and the hair that stood on end. He had obviously been working for hours, and maybe a distraction would do him some good.
“Ooh, a present? Gimme,” and with that, Stiles made grabby hands at him until he moved further into the room. When he got the bag, Stiles pushed aside the wrapping to reveal the socks, and his scent spiked with affection. “You got me socks? With aloe? And they’re fuzzy? Dude!” He stood, barreling into Derek until he had wrapped himself around him in a hug, Derek’s arms snaked around him, and they stood there together, warm in ways they hadn’t been for days.
“I almost forgot! I got you something too.” Stiles said as they broke apart, turning to his closet to pick up a bag on the floor. He tossed it at Derek’s face, which he caught easily, grinning as Stiles rolled his eyes at the werewolf’s reflexes.
Inside the bag sat a sweater, complete with thumbholes and made from soft material. It was the type of sweater that Derek once had been too afraid to buy for himself, convinced it would make him look vulnerable in a way he couldn’t afford. Now, he took off his leather jacket while maintaining hold of the bag, dropping the jacket onto the bed before taking the sweater out and pulling it on over his head. The fit was perfect, and it felt like being continuously wrapped in a hug. How fitting that it had come from Stiles.
“I knew you were feeling the cold too, even if you weren’t saying anything Sourwolf,” was Stiles explanation, a pleased expression flitting onto his face at the image of Derek in the sweater.
“Thank you,” was Derek’s only response, and as he felt the warmth seep into his core, he thought that maybe December wasn’t a bad month after all.
Renewed by the delight that crossed Stiles’ face with each of his attempts at bringing Christmas cheer into their house, Derek decided that he needed to go bigger. Nothing had come to mind, and he had finally accepted that he had no answer until he stumbled upon Star Wars ornaments at the comic book shop while picking up the latest Spider-Man issue for Stiles.
The ornaments weren’t just the run of the mill kind found at Target; these were limited edition ornaments, still held in their original packaging. The price meant little to him; Derek knew that he would regret leaving these behind if he didn’t buy them.
As part of the surprise, he decided to pick up lunch from Stiles’ favorite deli after paying and leaving the shop, making sure to buy extras. It was the weekend, and the rest of the pack were busy with their own families or Christmas shopping, now that it was so close to the holiday. He knew Stiles would be home; he had already delivered the cookies to every person on his list and had finished wrapping the presents. It was the perfect day for the two of them to marathon the original trilogy, maybe even watching in machete order if Stiles felt up to it. Derek would sit through anything if it would make Stiles happy, and it wasn’t a hardship to watch Star Wars.
Closing the door, Derek made sure that the ornaments were still intact, worried that they had been jostled on the ride home. Trudging through the few inches of snow that coated their lawn, Derek balanced the bags in one hand while searching for his keys, letting himself in.
The house was still dark from when he left earlier, signalling that Stiles had slept in late for once. Good; at least it meant that he had gotten through to Stiles about his need for sleep. As if it could sense Derek’s return, Stiles’ alarm went off in the distance, and a low groan reached Derek’s ears. He waited for the telltale signs of Stiles getting up before calling through the closed door.
“I’ve got lunch from Stella’s if you want food,” and Stiles responded only with a grunt of acceptance. Without his first cup of coffee, Stiles had a difficult time responding to things. It was hopelessly endearing.
The door opened, revealing Stiles in slightly too big sweatpants and what Derek thought was an old shirt of his. He blinked blearily, seeming to finally see Derek in focus before he shifted forward and the two walked into the kitchen. As Stiles prepped his coffee, Derek grabbed plates and unwrapped the sandwiches.
Once Stiles had finally reached a state of full consciousness, Derek handed him his sandwich. “Since the pack are busy, do you want to watch Star Wars?” Derek asked, and Stiles instantly perked up, becoming more alert at the words. “Hell yeah! Original trilogy or are we going full marathon?”
“I was thinking of doing machete order,” Derek responded. Stiles seized his chest in response. “Man after my own heart, dude. Let’s go.”
They munched on their sandwiches as A New Hope began, bickering goodnaturedly as the marathon progressed. At the end of The Emperor Strikes Back, Derek presented the ornaments to Stiles.
“Man, where did you find these? Oh, can I put them on the tree now?”
“Yes Stiles, you can put them on the tree now,” Derek replied, and together they opened the packaging and hung the new ornaments in the center of the tree. Once they finished, they returned to the couch and began the next movie.
“You know,” Stiles interrupted sometime later, after they had finally finished Return of the Jedi. Derek shifted, getting the kinks out of his neck while waiting for Stiles to continue. “I’ve been working on a song for Christmas but I think I’ll just sing it to you instead. It fits you so well, dude.”
Derek didn’t know what to expect, but Stiles still managed to surprise him as he burst into song about an Elf’s Lament, causing Derek to laugh at the hilarious image of elves revolting against the concept of Christmas. He usually hated Christmas songs, but even he had to admit that he loved this one. It was exactly the kind of Christmas spirit he could get behind.
As the song ended, the two gathered up their plates, placed them in the dishwasher, and walked to their separate rooms to sleep.
On Christmas Eve, Stiles and Derek ran around the house, checking last minute arrangements before the pack would arrive. Finally, after every last detail had been checked, they settled at the table, tired but happy.
“Here, I made you this,” Stiles said, gently pushing a mug of hot cocoa at Derek. Tiny wolf marshmallows swam in the liquid, and Derek briefly contemplated asking Stiles how he found them before shaking his head at the thought. Some things were just not worth questioning.
They sat in companionable silence, each lost in their own thoughts. As the time for the pack’s arrival drew closer and closer, Derek stood, nervous again. He quickly went to his room to retrieve his discovery, and brought it back to the table. He just hoped that it would bring back happy memories, rather than sad ones.
Years ago, before the fire and the death of Stiles’ mother, the Hales held a Christmas party at their house and everyone was invited. The entire town would show up, and their would be picture booths and games and food in every corner. The Christmas before Stiles’ mother died, she and Stiles had shown up for the party, one of the last good days before she entered the hospital for good. They had taken countless pictures at the booth, making silly faces and using props. The pictures hadn’t been developed in time for Claudia to see, and in the wake of her death, Derek’s mother had forgotten to give them to the Sheriff.
He had found them while poking through the attic, having been in storage at the time of the fire. Derek had bought a frame and placed each photo into it, creating a collage of their Christmas photo booth. Stiles sat silently as he inspected the photos once Derek had handed it to him, a finger gently touching a photo of he and his mother making antlers with their hands.
Tears shone in his eyes, but a smile still made its way through, and he muttered “Thanks” before moving into the living room to find a spot to hang the frame. They worked side by side, measuring it out so it would be perfectly level, before Derek hammered a nail into place and Stiles hung the frame. Stepping back to inspect their work, Stiles shifted into Derek’s space.
“She was so happy that day,” he whispered, his head falling to Derek’s shoulder as Derek wound an arm around him. “I’m glad you have the photos now,” Derek whispered back, and they stood together until the doorbell rang, and the festivities began.
Christmas was a joyous occasion, boisterous and fun with the presence of the pack and their families. As the day drew to a close, the families left and each pack member went to their respective rooms in the house, content to sleep off the amount of food they had consumed. Only Derek and Stiles remained, intent on picking up some of the mess before going to sleep themselves.
After Stiles had received the pictures, the air between them had been different, and Derek had even caught Stiles looking at him throughout the day. He didn’t know what it meant, but he dreaded that he had finally been too obvious in his love for Stiles, and Stiles was about to reject him, or worse, scream at him in disgust at the idea and say that he was moving out. It hurt worse that Derek could understand that if he did; Stiles deserved someone who could make him happy, and even when Derek made that effort, he was unsure if he was the best person for the job.
“Derek,” he heard behind him, Stiles speaking softly as he edged closer to him. Derek held his breath, waiting to see what would come next. “Things have been confusing the last few days and I figured we could talk?”
“What about?” Derek responded, dismayed at the crack in his voice.The less vulnerability he showed, the better. He was just glad this was happening away from the rest of the pack.
“I thought I understood our friendship dude, and I was fine with it until now. I know the pack likes to tease us about being like an old married couple and it makes you uncomfortable and I get it, but do you have to stand there and be perfect and kind? It’s hard enough being around you on a daily basis, going above that makes it hard for me, man.”
“I-I don’t know. What.” Derek was unable to think, unable to comprehend the words before him. Stiles looked miserable, curling into himself and Derek was so confused. “Do you - do you have feelings for me?” Hope bloomed within him, and he was powerless to stop it as it ran rampant through him. At the hesitant nod from Stiles, every part of him stopped, focused only on the man that stood before him.
Without thinking, he strode forward and gently reached for Stiles, one hand finding his waist while the other intertwined their fingers together. With the next breath, he kissed him. Stiles stood still, not reacting to the kiss before suddenly surging forward and throwing his arms around Derek’s neck, and they stood there, surrounded by wrapped paper and the remnants of dinner while they poured every part of their love and affection into the kiss. Every unspoken word, every moment of pining, every minute spent lusting after the other bled into the kiss, and when they broke apart they stayed wrapped around each other, unwilling to move even a few inches apart.
“I love you,” Derek whispered, his heart soaring at the words and the light that shone in Stiles’ eyes. “I love you,” Stiles breathed into him, and ignoring the remaining mess, they walked together down the hall to Derek’s room, an unspoken agreement that they wouldn’t be disturbed there. The rest could want until later.