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Anyone that knew Derek Hale knew he hated Christmas. Even people that didn’t know him were aware. He advertised it well. Deleted every “Merry Xmas” text people sent. Made sure to include it on his dating profile for that website Erica forced him to try. He’d even had apparel made. Basically, everyone he’s ever encountered knew he hated Christmas. Except for, apparently, his uncle.
“What the hell is that?” Derek scowled.
“It’s your Christmas present,” Peter said while smiling, which made Derek extremely uncomfortable.
“Yeah… But why is it moving and screaming bloody murder?”
“Well, why don’t you open it and find out.”
Sure, Derek understood Christmas’s appeal. People got to decorate trees, play holiday music, eat gingerbread cookies, not to mention the presents and gift-giving. But as far as holidays went, Derek could never get past the superficial mass consumerism. Even before his family perished in the fire, he could barely tolerate it. He liked it even less now that his family was gone. However, he did still have one family member left to celebrate the holidays with, though he often wished he and Peter weren’t related.
The muffled screams seemed to be getting louder from the large gift box sitting in the middle of his loft. Derek was getting curious. Then again, any decent human being would be concerned about the desperate cries of help coming from the box. He stepped forward to tug at the giant red bow sitting on top, then thought better of it.
“On second thought, I’d rather not.”
“Oh, the suspense is killing me!” Peter huffed and undid the bow himself, pushing the lid down onto the floor.
It was quiet for a moment. Eerily quiet. Just as Derek was leaning over to see what was inside, a figure popped out of the box, lunging straight for Peter.
“I’m claustrophobic, you bastard!” A tied up and scantily clad young man screamed. “Whatever drugs you gave me to knock me out wore off a while ago! I’ve had at least twelve panic attacks since then!”
The shouting was stifled when Peter put a hand over the guy’s mouth and lifted him out from the box. He went kicking and screaming, trying his hardest to fight Peter off. Derek could see that there was rope wrapped around his ankles and wrist. The man bit a chunk out of Peter’s hand hard and shouted, “Untie me, you fiend!”
“Feisty, isn’t he?” Peter grinned.
“W-what is this?” Derek couldn’t even begin to get his mind around this current situation.
“My Christmas gift to you, nephew.”
Peter pushed the guy towards him, and Derek hastened to catch him before he fell face first on the floor.
“I’d like you to meet your soul mate.”
Derek didn’t think it was possible to get more confused, but with every second that passed, he proved himself wrong.
“I know. I impress myself with my own creativeness.” Peter boasted. “A witch owed me a favor, so I had her craft a very special spell to summon your soul mate, and here he is.”
Derek glanced down at the pale and furious man in his arms, who was glaring up at him with murderous eyes, and almost dropped him like he was on fire.
“What. The. Fuck.”
“Well, I figured you were lonely, and after all your failed relationships, I thought I’d bring you the one person you were destined for. Just look at him.” Peter sighed wistfully. “The two of you look splendid together!”
Derek glanced down at the man again and did drop him this time. The man let out a pained yelp when he landed on his tailbone. “Shit,” Derek muttered and bent down to loosen the restraints. He had a massive headache now.
“Tell me this present comes with a gift receipt.”
Peter shook his head.
“You can’t just stuff a person in a box and call it a present! Send him back!”
“I can’t.”
“Why not.”
“Because I’m all out of favors from witches,” Peter replied. “Besides, I don’t think you appreciate the lengths I went to do this for you. It’s not everyone who receives the opportunity to meet their soul mate. Someone who matches them in every way.”
“He doesn’t match me in every way! He’s not even my type! He’s skinny and pale and…” Derek quickly ran his eyes up and down the guy. “Weird looking!”
“Hey!”
“I think he’s rather cute,” Peter contested.
“You’re no looker himself,” the man grumbled. “Half your face is eyebrows.”
Peter smiled brightly. “I see you two are hitting it off already. I’ll see myself out!”
“Peter!” Derek cried, but Peter was long gone, leaving Derek alone to deal with the shitty situation.
This was hands-down the worst Christmas present anyone had ever given him in his life.
*
Derek decided to bring the man to Deaton, hoping the vet might know what to do with him. Since it was Christmas and the Animal Clinic was closed, they ended up having to go to Deaton’s house, which Derek had never gone to before. He didn’t expect for it to be such a cozy little cottage. He’d assumed the dwelling would be as complex as the guy who resided in it. A Rubik’s cube seemed more appropriate.
The man’s eyes were wide and shiny when he caught his first glimpse of the Christmas decorations Deaton had up. Derek rolled his eyes. For two people that were destined to be together, they couldn’t be more different. Most people’s soul mates probably didn’t drive them absolutely insane. He had to stop himself from wanting to strangle the man and felt like a blood vessel was about to burst every time he talked.
His “supposed soul mate” was an absolute sarcastic little shit and the talking—God, the talking—never stopped. Neither did the fidgeting, or the touching of every goddamn thing in Derek’s loft, or the pressing of every single button in his car. It’d only been a few hours, but Derek was going bonkers. There were some things Derek couldn’t help but like about him, though. He had a nice smell to him; Derek had to admit. He also had nice lips and big brown eyes, and cute moles dotting his cheek. But that was it! He was counting on Deaton to find a way to help Derek get rid of him.
“Derek,” Deaton greeted politely when the door opened. He was wearing one of those ugly Christmas sweaters that had jingle bells on it. “What can I do for you on this wonderful Christmas day?”
Derek pointed at the man. “I’ve got a new pet that needs vaccinations.”
Deaton let them into his house. The inside was as cozy as outside. There were decorative pillows. He didn’t think Deaton was the kind of guy to have decorative pillows, but he guessed that was part of Deaton’s charm. He should never assume.
“I need your help,” Derek said, hoping to bypass the small talk before Deaton offered them tea and crumpets. “Peter decided to get me a gift this year. He had some witch do a spell to bring my soul mate to me. Only, this guy can’t be my soul mate. I need him gone! Please!Before I shoot myself!”
If there was one thing Derek liked about Deaton was that he never asked questions. No matter how bizarre or twisted the situation, it didn’t ruffle his feathers. It was like he’d seen every weird supernatural situation under the sun and saw nothing as implausible.
He watched Deaton poke and prod the man, doing a thorough examination of him. Derek adverted his eyes when Deaton had him take off his shirt, not interested in the least in checking out that pale skinny body. He looked back up when it was safe and the examination was over, waiting on Deaton to deliver the verdict.
“Seems human.” Deaton shrugged. “Doesn’t look to be much supernatural about him, although I can’t be sure.” His attention turned to the man again. “What’s your name, son?”
The man opened his mouth to say, confident at first, then frowned. “I- I don’t know.”
“Do you know how old you are?”
“No. Don’t know that either.”
Derek picked up on the anxiety, catching the scent of it in the air as the man started to fidget and bounce his knee.
Deaton nodded. “I figured as much. The witch must’ve added something to take his memories when she summoned him. If he doesn’t know who he is or where he’s from, he’ll be reluctant to leave your side.”
Derek put a hand on the man’s knee to stop the bouncing. It was getting on his nerves. He cleared his throat. “So, was what Peter said about him being my soul mate true? Do soul mates exist?”
“Of course,” Deaton replied. “Everyone has a soul mate, and there are tons of spells to help people find theirs. Although, this one seems particularly intricate. Summoning spells take more work, and they’re not meant to last for long.”
“Then why doesn’t it…” Derek frowned. “Why doesn’t it feel right?”
“Love never happens at first sight,” Deaton explained. “It takes time. Your souls have been connected since the beginning of time. It predates the earth. All your past lives, all your future ones, you’re destined for this. It won’t always work out, but the universe doesn’t make mistakes.”
Derek let that sink in. Figures the universe would punish him with an obnoxious soul mate. As if he hasn’t been punished enough in his life. The man started to bite his nails, and Derek scowled, smacking his hand, not quite believing Deaton when he said the universe never made mistakes.
*
Deaton said he’d have to do more research, but felt positive that the spell would wear off on its own. The man must have a family that was missing him, and the sooner the spell got reversed, the better. Which meant Derek was stuck with him until then.
After three days, three of the worst days of his life, Derek started to understand what it was like to be in hell. There was no avoiding the man. Everywhere Derek went, he followed, whining about being bored. They also had to share a bed because the couch allegedly had a spring sticking out and Derek’s bed was comfier. The man kicked. He also hogged the covers and drooled. Derek had to wrap his arms around him like a straight jacket and hold him to get some sleep.
He so didn’t want the guy meeting his pack. But after a few days of being MIA, his betas came to the loft looking for him.
“So, let me get this straight. This guy is your soul mate?”
“Yes.” Derek scowled as Isaac tried and failed to hide his laughter.
The man was sitting on the couch, fidgeting and looking uncomfortable as Erica, Isaac, and Boyd stared at him in wonder.
“He’s nothing like what I imagined for you,” Boyd mumbled. “But I guess that means no more online dating sites.”
Erica bent down, inches from the man’s face, and waved. “Hi, Derek’s soul mate!”
“Hi,” the man croaked back, eyes flying over to Derek, looking like a trapped rabbit.
Erica grabbed him, squeezing him to her bosom. “Oh! He’s the cutest! I love him already!”
“Let him go, Erica,” Derek ordered, worried she might suffocate him with her boobs. “Don’t get too attached. We’re returning him as soon as Deaton finds a way.”
Erica pouted. “Why?”
“Yeah, why?” Isaac jumped in. “This is hilarious.”
Derek glared.
“What do we call him anyway?” Boyd asked.
“Yeah, we can’t keep referring to him as Derek’s soul mate.” Erica was now pinching the man’s cheeks.
“He doesn’t need a name.” Derek sighed. “Calling him anything would be getting attached.”
“I think we should name him Batman,” Erica said.
“He’ll need clothes too,” Isaac pointed out. “I’ve got a bunch of scarves he can borrow.”
“He has to be feed and given water, too,” Boyd said. “He’s kind of skinny.”
“Are you even listening to yourselves!” Derek cried. “He isn’t a pet!”
“You’re right, he’s isn’t.” Erica let go of the man. “So snookums, what do you want to be called?”
“Well…” Cue the awkward fidgeting. “I don’t know. I guess I have a lot of style…so maybe Stiles?”
The betas cackled and laughed their heads off, making the man blush.
“Oh, you can’t be serious.” Erica wiped tears from her eyes. “That isn’t a name.”
“Well, it’s what I want to be called by you lot. So get used to it.”
“Fine.” Derek rolled his eyes. But oddly enough, he kind of liked the name and thought it suited him. Well, that is until…
“Derek and Stiles sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G”
He longed for the day his betas would become mature adults.
*
Course, New Years Eve in Beacon Hills could never be a normal one. He and his betas just had to be ambushed on a run by a swarm of evil pixies. His ears were still ringing from the high-pitched evil pixie screeching, and he knew they weren’t done with them. He and his pack were never that lucky. He stomped back to the loft, leaving a voicemail for Deaton when he didn’t answer the phone. It was imperative they solved the evil pixie problem as soon as possible.
He was too pissed to care about New Years Eve, but that didn’t stop Stiles from caring and forcing them to watch the ball dropping on TV later that night. Derek wasn’t optimistic about the New Year. 2015 had been turbulent, and he didn’t expect 2016 to be any different. But something different happened this year when the ball dropped. There were only seconds left to midnight, the countdown showed. The people in Time Square chanting, and the confetti guns ready to pop off. And when the clock struck midnight, he found himself being kissed.
He vaguely heard the cheering coming from the TV through clogged ears. But he was more focused on Stiles’ mouth, too thrown off guard to kiss back.
Stiles pulled away and beamed. “Happy New Year!”
Derek furrowed his brows, touching his own lips to be sure that what happened was real. “What the hell was that?”
“Donno.” Stiles shrugged. “All those people were kissing on TV, and they’re probably not even soul mates. Plus, it’s a nice story to tell our grandchildren, you know? Our first kiss being at midnight on New Years Eve.”
“Grandchildren?!”
“Yup,” Stiles said as if it was the most natural thing in the world. Derek must be going insane.
A week after New Years, the pixie problem still hadn’t been solved. Derek stomped into the loft, muttering to himself about pixies for the umpteenth time. Stiles was on his computer, surrounded by books, but Derek didn’t acknowledge him or ask what he was doing. He wanted to take a shower to wash off the gross pixie dust.
Stiles knew about werewolves. Derek saw no point in keeping it from him. That would’ve taken too much effort. When Derek had told him, there had been dog jokes, because this was Stiles, but there wasn’t much else. He wasn’t frightened to see Derek transform in front of him and hadn’t run for the hills like he’d expected. He also didn’t seem worried when Derek told him about the existence of other supernatural creatures.
“Fairies,” Stiles said as Derek kicked off his shoes and pulled off his dust-covered shirt.
“What?”
“Their fairies.”
Derek’s head tilted to the side, still not getting it. “What are you talking about?”
“I got tired of hearing you complaining, so I did some research, and this is what I dug up.” Stiles waved a book at him. “They’re not pixies, they’re fairies.”
Derek sat down and stared dumbly at the page, which sure enough gave them the instructions to exterminate the evil pixie/fairies. “How did you know how to do this?”
“Donno,” Stiles said. “It kind of came naturally.”
*
The more time passed, the more Derek understood how they could be soul mates. Stiles was good at keeping him level-headed and calm in tense situations. While Derek discovered he could ease Stiles’ restlessness through touch. The pack liked him too, enjoying having him around.
Except on movie nights.
Though Stiles had little memory of who he was, he seemed to have seen every movie that ever existed and wasn’t above spoiling it for everyone. This time, it was a horror movie that he was ruining. Derek didn’t care much, but even he got annoyed when Stiles kept telling them when the monsters would pop out.
“Derek, for the love of god, put a sock in your mate!”
It would be rude to put an actual sock in Stiles’ mouth, so Derek used his tongue instead. He kissed Stiles until they both forgot about the movie, preferring this recreational activity instead.
“Or that,” Isaac chuckled. “That works.”
Though they were on better terms, Stiles still grated his every nerve. He was stubborn and loved the sound of his own voice. He never listened, not even when it mattered. Like that time he decided it was a good idea to clock a rogue omega over the head with a baseball bat. Understandably, Derek was furious. Even though it worked in getting the situation controlled, he couldn’t see why Stiles, a human, thought it was a good idea to get in the midst of the fighting.
“Please stop being mad at me,” Stiles whined later when they were in bed.
“No.”
“Please!”
“No!”
Stiles climbed on top of him and got super obnoxious. “Pretty pretty pretty pretty please!”
Derek sighed, closing his eyes and pinching the bridge of his nose. “You scared me,” he said. “It’s been a long time since I’ve ever been that scared.
“Why?” Stiles snorted. “Three weeks ago, you wanted me gone. I’m just a nuisance that you have to put up with until you find a way to get rid of me. And I was trying to help your pack.”
Derek frowned. “Do you really think that?”
“No.” Stiles squirmed and looked away. “At least, I hope not.” He sighed. “I couldn’t stand there and do nothing. I couldn’t watch you get hurt for the same reason you wouldn’t want to see me hurt. So stop being mad at me. Please!”
“Okay,” Derek said wrapping his arms around Stiles’ waist and breathing in his scent. Nothing had ever felt so right.
*
Which was why it all had to come to a devastating end. Derek woke up one morning to find Stiles gone. There was no trace of him anywhere. He searched. He and the betas scoured the town, trying to get a whiff of his scent. A scent Derek knew so well now. But the spell had worn off like Deaton said it would. It’d taken some time, but Derek now got what he wanted. To once again be rid of Stiles.
It made sense that this would happen. That he’d let himself get close to have it go to shit. He’d never been able to hold onto anything good in his life. Why would this be any different?
Maybe it’s because it was his soul mate he lost this time. Maybe because he’d only just realized how Stiles filled the cracks in his life. How they matched by being so perfectly imperfect. He didn’t think he’d ever find someone like him again. But he’d done this to himself. He’d gotten too close. This was his fault.
He refused to use magic to find Stiles again. Stiles deserved to live a Derek-free life. He was where he belonged now. But he still had to ask Peter why he’d done it. Why he’d gifted Derek another heartbreak? Peter apologized, but Derek wouldn’t accept it. There was no wrapping a pretty red bow around this one.
Resigned, he packed everything that reminded him of Stiles in a box and gave it away. It irritated him how the pack pitied him. How they walked round him on eggshells and made sure not to mention Stiles’ name. He couldn’t take it. He felt like he would’ve been better off never discovering he had a soul mate.
He went to Deaton and asked if there was a way to fix this. If there was a way he could erase his memories of Stiles so he could go back to blissful ignorance. The pack was against it, telling Derek mushy stuff like “it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all.”
Truth was, he wasn’t even if sure if he’d been in love with Stiles. Like Deaton said, there was no such thing as love at first site. But Stiles had meant something to him. He’d left an impression. Derek couldn’t feel the same afterwards.
So, he had Deaton make the potion. Deaton warned him that there was no reversing this, and he had to be sure. But Derek thought it was better than laying awake thinking about how empty the space was next to him. This was what he wanted, the memories gone. He downed the potion in one gulp.
*
Derek’s hate for his betas had reached new heights. He regretted turning those little bastards every day. Tonight was no exception. He didn’t understand it. Usually, they left him alone on Christmas Eve to ruminate in his despise for the holiday. But they’d been weirdly clingy lately.
Probably because they didn’t get to see him as much now that they were at college. But their school wasn’t so far that Derek couldn’t see them on weekends. They’d dragged him to one of their college parties, because they didn’t want him brooding on this oh so holy night. They’d groomed him, picked out his clothes, and stressed the importance of him looking nice for the party. Derek knew something was up. There had to be malicious intent.
Erica toted him around the party, introducing him to people even though she knew he was terrible with names and was going to forget them in two seconds. There was one name that stood out to him, though. Maybe because it was so peculiar. He couldn’t say he’d ever met a Stiles before. On top of having a strange name, Stiles was a strange guy. Derek couldn’t stop himself from glancing over at him the whole night, staring a little too long and embarrassing himself when he got caught.
The eggnog he’d been drinking was starting to mess with his bladder. He removed himself from Erica’s clutches and headed towards the bathroom where he knew he could avoid awkward social engagement, but almost got knocked on his ass by some drunk idiot stumbling on the way there.
Derek scowled, ready to intimidate the living daylight out of the idiot that had bumped into him. Then he saw who it was, and his scowling stopped.
“Oh my god, I am so sorry!” Stiles almost knocked him over with his spastic flailing.
“It’s okay,” Derek said, taking a step back so he could avoid any more collisions.
“No, it’s not. I’m super clumsy and need to do better about watching where I’m going.” He bit his bottom lip. “You should know you’re not my first victim. I do this far too often. If you need, there’s a support group out there for those who have survived an encounter with me.”
Derek chuckled. “Seriously, I’m fine.”
“Well, okay.” Stiles sighed. “I’m glad.”
Derek almost forgot about his bladder, and what the eggnog had done to it. He started to walk towards the bathroom again when Stiles caught his arm.
“Hey, do I know you from somewhere?”
Derek frowned, shaking his head. “I don’t think so.”
“I could’ve sworn I’ve seen you before,” Stiles said. “And no, this isn’t like some lame pick up line. You seem familiar.” He stepped closer and Derek swallowed, worried Stiles’ limbs might attack him again. “Then again, there’s no way I could forget those eyes.”
His face heated up. He hadn’t expected someone like Stiles to be so bold.
“Aw, you’re shy!” Stiles gushed.
“I’m not shy.”
“Grumpy then?”
Derek harrumphed.
“It’s okay. I like grumpy. I deal with it fairly well.”
Derek wondered if this guy was drunk or crazy.
“Oops. Getting ahead of myself, aren’t I?” He smirked. “I do that a lot. It’s just—I can tell I’m not the only one interest here, and I kind of feel like we’re destined to be.”
Derek snorted. As far as lame pick up lines went, that was definitely the worst. But for some reason, it worked when Stiles said it. “What makes you think that?”
“Just a feeling,” Stiles said. “Plus, look up.”
He did, seeing the mistletoe above them and grimaced. While he hated mistletoe because of the holiday, being a werewolf gave him another reason to hate it.
“Figures you wouldn’t be a big fan of Christmas,” Stiles chuckled. “C’mon! It’ll be fun! We can tell our future grandkids about how our first kiss was under the mistletoe.”
Derek choked on air, sputtering. “Grandkids?!”
“Yup,” Stiles said simply. “That’s where I see this going.”
He gripped the back of Derek’s neck and kissed him. It’d been a long time since Derek had kissed anyone, but this felt electric. It felt right. Stiles pulled away, panting and licking his lips.
“Yeah,” Derek croaked, referring to their conversation from before. “I guess I can see it going that way, too.”
*
After that, Derek couldn’t hate Christmas with as much vehemence anymore. It was now his and Stiles’ anniversary. They fit together better than expected. Stiles had entered his life and changed everything.
He hadn’t run in the other direction when Derek told him he was a werewolf. Mainly because his best friend, Scott, was one also. A true alpha whose pack Stiles considered himself the emissary of. Derek’s betas loved him too, which was important to him. They’d taken to him immediately. They hadn’t even teased Derek about it, which Derek thought was nice. They must be maturing. Nah. That’d never happen.
It was Christmas again, which meant their one-year anniversary. He woke up that morning to scratching and whimpering sounds coming from his front door.
“I thought I gave you a key,” He called as he got out of bed.
“I don’t know why you did,” Stiles whined from the other side of the door. “It’s a huge responsibility, and I’m not good with responsibility.”
Derek rolled his eyes and opened the door, almost falling over when Stiles launched himself onto him, wrapping his legs around his waist. Derek managed not to fall, adjusting to Stiles’ weight.
Stiles was peppering kisses all over his face, and Derek grimaced. “Merry Christmas!”
“Merry Christmas” Derek grumbled back. “What’s that ridiculous thing on your head?”
“A bow.” Stiles grinned, showing it off. “You’ve been a very good boy this year, so Santa brought you me as your present.“
“Did he?” Derek raised a brow.
“Yup.”
Derek couldn’t help but smile at that, thinking if that were true, then Stiles was hands-down the best present he’d ever gotten.