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Derek let himself into his apartment, carrying the last of the groceries he would need before all of the stores closed down. He basked in the silence surrounding him, the apartment complex quiet while everyone prepared for Christmas. While he looked forward to going to his parent’s home, set far into the forest and filled with the memories of his childhood, the noise that accompanied the return of the Hale pack was deafening. His sisters would be there, loud and abrasive, asking him personal questions about his life that he didn’t want to answer. His parents would be more subtle, but no less pressing, his mother’s lips curling into a frown when he revealed that he was still single and it didn’t look like that was changing any time soon.
He sighed, making his way to the kitchen to unpack while trying in vain to come up with a solution. His life outside of romantic prospects was fulfilling; he had his close friends to spend time with outside of work, and working as a History professor at UCLA was uplifting and challenging. His research was more fruitful than ever, pleasing the department head who had been pushing him to publish. All in all, he was rounding out the year in a good place.
The only thing that could make Derek’s year better, and solve the crisis that was his being single, would be if his next door neighbor decided to speak to him. They had never interacted beyond nods of acknowledgement, Derek too shy and awe struck by how attractive his neighbor was, and his neighbor presumably too busy to pay attention to him. Derek only knew that his name was Stiles and that he developed video games, but this information paired with the moles that dotted his face were enough to keep Derek up at night.
It has been awhile since he had been in a relationship, and while it wasn’t a pressing need, he felt drawn to Stiles. Something about him felt like he was drawn from light itself, and he wanted nothing more than to sit beside him and just take in everything that made him up. Maybe it was too soon, but rationality couldn’t stop Derek from wanting.
Unloading the last bag, he pushed the thoughts aside in favor of a cup of tea and a good book. After all, wishing and wanting did nothing, even if the holiday season attempted to convince you otherwise. Derek had learned long ago to not in hopes; they only disappointed you.
Time passed, with Derek sitting in his chair, unaware of the growing darkness around him. His reprieve broke when a noise escaped through the wall, steadily building until finally it was inescapable. Startled, it took some time to realize that the roar was a song, and that is was apparently on repeat. Stiles, owner of the prettiest lips Derek had ever seen, was playing All I Want for Christmas Is You.
A voice joined in the mix, first attempting to sing along before giving up all pretenses and yelling the lyrics. It was entertaining, even if it had disturbed Derek’s quiet, and he imagined Stiles dancing around his apartment, bobbing his head to the beat.
“Oh, I just want you for my own. More than you could ever know. Make my wish come, Drew. Debbie, all I want for Christmas is shoes. Shoes, baby!” and suddenly, Derek was much less amused and much more irritated. He was not the most festive when it came to the holiday spirit, but Mariah Carey was a classic and should be treated as such. Before he knew it, he found himself marching out into the hallway and knocking on the door.
The music continued, with no sign that his knocks had been heard. Before he could try again, however, the door flew open, revealing Stiles wearing reindeer antlers and slightly swaying. He appeared out of focus, taking extra seconds to finally notice Derek, and in that time Derek regretted interrupting him instantly. Even sleep deprived and wearing a garish sweater, he couldn’t help but want Stiles and heat pooled in his stomach as Stiles managed to meet his gaze. A faint blush appeared, caressing his moles and doing nothing to help Derek tamp down his attraction.
“Uh dude, sorry. Is it too loud?” Stiles seemed to become more awake suddenly, blinking rapidly before the blush expanded further, drifting below his neckline. Derek wanted to follow it. “Oh. Um, please tell me you couldn’t hear me singing?”
Derek smirked, his grinning widening as Stiles continued to flush. “Look, my best bro was supposed to be here with me but he got a call from his girlfriend so I decided to celebrate Christmas a little early, even though I’ve been up for hours working. Could we just pretend this never happened and go back to waving at each other in the hallway? Okay.” He made to close the door, but seemed to realize too late that Derek was in the doorway, having stepped closer as Stiles rambled.
“I didn’t mind the singing,” he began quietly, having to clear his voice of nerves. “I just minded that you were singing the lyrics wrong. How do you mistake the lyrics?” A glint of humor entered Stiles’ eyes, but before he could respond, he pitched forward, knocking himself off balance.
“Maybe I should’ve gone to sleep sooner,” he muttered, and protective instincts flooded through Derek. Waiting for any signs that he was unwelcome, he moved further into the apartment, gently grabbing Stiles before guiding him into his bedroom. The apartment was an exact mirror of his, making it easy to navigate, and he felt thankful for this while tucking Stiles into his bed. Stiles weakly clung to his wrist, unable to let go as he sleepily opened his eyes. “Thanks dude, I’ll make it up to you.” Derek could do nothing but stare at the affection that colored his tone, shaking the thought to turn off the music and lock the door behind him as he left the apartment.
He woke up to find that it had snowed during the night, making Beacon Hills appear like a winter wonderland. He shuffled to the fridge to grab his milk while his tea brewed, contentment filling him, when a knock sounded from the door. Face scrunched in confusion, he quickly poured in his milk and grabbed his mug before making his way to the door and opening it. There stood Stiles, awake and looking cozy with his colorful scarf and fuzzy beanie. A bright smile lit up his face when he took in the sight of Derek in his thumbhole sweater, sipping his tea.
“Hey! Thanks for last night, I was dead tired. So, I promised you I would make it up to you and here I am! You’re coming with me to play in the snow.” Derek must have looked as skeptical as he felt, because the smile dimmed on Stiles’ face and he began to look uncertain. He couldn’t stand it, particularly being the one to make Stiles frown, and he quickly nodded Yes, and invited Stiles in so he could go change.
He dressed in record time, and he and Stiles made their way to the ground floor in companionable silence, only exchanging glances to signal which way they would go once they were outside. By mutual agreement they headed towards the trees, and dropping down onto the ground Stiles began to make a snow angel. Derek watched from the side, partly because the ground was cold and not even the promise of snow angels could convince him to risk snow seeping in, and partly to watch the snow flurries dance across Stiles’ nose. He laughed in delight, tongue sticking out slightly to catch them with his tongue, and every movement seemed to occur to test Derek’s will. If he had thought he was attracted to Stiles before now, it was nothing to seeing Stiles playing in the snow. The pure joy lit up Derek’s insides and he wanted to spend everyday making him look that happy.
Distracted, he didn’t see Stiles slyly rising from the ground and the snowball hit him square in the side of the head, cold clinging to his ear and beard. He huffed, shivering slightly while taking in the impish grin that slid across Stiles’ face. It was war.
Snowballs flew through the air, each missing their target almost as many times as they hit them. It became a dance, with Stiles stepping forward and Derek leaning back, reversing their course to try and find an in. A particularly well aimed snowball hit Derek square in the chest, and Stiles answering cackle sounded closer than ever.
“I came out to attack and honestly, I’m having such a good time right now,” Stiles yelled to him, throwing snowball after snowball at his head and deftly dodging Derek’s attempts. The smack talk was awful, with Stiles alternating between movie references and holiday puns. At one point he screamed, “Maybe Jack Frost isn’t nipping at your nose, but I can do that instead,” and took aim for Derek’s face. Fighting a blush, Derek only replied with an eloquent “Shut up” and threw another snowball.
They circled inward, drawing closer and closer until finally they were inches away. Stiles’ eyes widened, surprised by the sudden proximity, and the distraction caused him to lose his grip on the snow in his hands.
“I think we should call a truce,” Derek suggested, hoping that his words would be enough to convince Stiles not to dump snow on to him. While the fight had been fun and worth every inch of Derek that was currently freezing, he didn’t want to find snow in more places and Stiles seemed the type to fight dirty.
Swallowing, Stiles looked him up and down before nodding, standing straighter but not adding any space between them. A calculating look appeared, Stiles accessing Derek before leaving suddenly. “You know,” he began, and Derek didn’t dare think where this could be going. Stiles looked downright predatory, leaning closer to Derek until there was scant room between them. “We could always seal the truce with a kiss.”
Words failed him, and he could only helplessly nod before Stiles eagerly kissed him, a cool press of lips that set off fireworks in Derek’s nervous system. Without thinking, he brought Stiles closer to him and his answering groan showed how much Stiles appreciated the gesture. He didn’t know how long they stood there, pressed against each other and breaking off only to press endearments into each other’s necks, their cheeks. The moment felt intimate, but it fit them. He knew that this was a start for them, and he could envision years of this scene playing out before him. He couldn’t wait.
Cold enveloped him, joining the preexisting dampness to make him jump back and look around wildly for the source. When nothing appeared, he turned back to Stiles only to see him doubled over, laughing so hard he seemed momentarily unable to breathe. Catching sight of Derek’s glare, Stiles’ laughter was renewed, and he only stopped to catch Derek’s hand when he tried to quickly retreat.
“Sorry, sorry. I loved the kissing, don’t get me wrong, but I couldn’t resist. Let me make it up to you?” and he seemed so sincere that Derek complied, entangling their gloved hands together as they headed back towards their building. They climbed the steps, and with each passing flight awkwardness descended upon them. When they reached their doors, Derek looked back at Stiles and made a decision. Even if it felt like he was rushing, revealing too much of himself and his hopefulness at once, he felt incapable of letting Stiles out of his sight.
“You coming?” and with that, he motioned inside his apartment, promising something more. Stiles’ face softened, uncertainty floating away before a mischievous smirk made itself known. “I hope I will be soon,” and he sauntered into Derek’s apartment, firmly settling himself into his life and his heart.
On Christmas Day, he endured the squeals of delight from his sisters and his mother as he told them about Stiles. It was okay, though, because their excitement had distracted them from noticing his phone underneath the table, and Derek’s continual conversation with Stiles. After all, none of them needed to know about how good Stiles looked covered in a blush and not much else, or that apparently he had been referring to Derek as “Sexy Eyebrows” before they talked. That was for Derek, and Derek alone.