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It’s cold and still, unlike any other Christmas morning Derek had ever experienced before. Even as a child Christmas mornings had been hectic, starting before the sun rose, screaming and laughing with his sister and cousins as they descended upon the family room where the presents would dominate even the large, nine foot living tree. Then there was the fire, and Christmas had ended for him and Laura.
But Stiles had been determined this year. Beacon Hills had settled into the reemergence of supernatural presence, and the pack was secure. It had taken years to accomplish, but their territory is on the way to being held firmly just as it had been in the days of his parents. And for the first time since returning to his childhood home, Christmas was not being overshadowed by some new supernatural thing trying to encroach on their territory and endanger their town. So Stiles had declared this a violence free Christmas.
Stiles… Derek smiled softly out into the dimly lit winter morning, breath fogging in the air. Stiles was Derek’s savior, a fact he knew all too well. When the Alphas had descended on them, if Stiles hadn’t been there, they never would have come out of it alive and stronger for it. It was Stiles, not the Alphas, that brought them together as a pack. And it was Stiles that forced him into realizing himself as the Alpha he had wanted to be.
Looking back now, Derek didn’t know why it had taken him so long to realize what he knew now. It had been so obvious how Stiles completed every aspect of his life.
The smell of coffee alerted him to the additional presence before the door opened behind him.
“You know, out of all the mornings to wake up alone, I really wasn’t expecting this morning to be one of them.” Derek made a grunting noise in response as Stiles came up next to him. “Don’t be such a sourwolf.”
Derek huffed out a laugh, it had been a while since he’d heard that particular nickname. Reaching out, he drew Stiles into his arms, enveloping the robe and slipper clad man in his warmth needlessly. Two years ago, on Christmas day, Derek had been forced to choose between losing Stiles or saving him by giving him the bite.
They both looked out onto the snow covered lawn, Derek’s chin resting on the shoulder of his mate, arms wrapped around his waist.
“A penny for your thoughts?” Of course, Stiles could never stay quiet for long. Frankly, he was amazed the man wasn’t fidgeting already.
“Just thinking about things,” he said, for once not being vague on purpose. “When I was a kid, before I first changed, I always asked my parents what falling snow sounded like since their hearing was better than mine.”
“What did they say?”
“They said that it sounds different to everyone. That I had to wait and see what I would hear when I got older.”
They were quiet for a moment, standing there, listening, and letting the sounds of the preserve and the house wash over them. It was calming, and soon Derek found that his eyes were closed and his head resting against Stiles.
“So… what do you hear?” The question was asked in a low whisper, as if the man in his arms did not wish to disturb the quiet, but was too curious to not ask his question.
“One rapid heartbeat standing in my arms, a house full of slow and steady beats, mixed with snores and soft breathing. To me, it sounds of Pack and Family.”
Derek’s head came up and eyes opened as Stiles shifted in his arms, cradling his half drank mug of coffee in his hands. They looked at each other for a long moment, Derek wondering what exactly was going on in that head filled to the brim with all kinds of thoughts and information.
“Marry me.”
Derek stilled, blinking slowly. “What?”
“Marry me. We’ve been dancing around each other for, like, ever, and we’ve been together for three years now. And it’s not like we live in a state where we can’t. So, Derek Hale, marry me already.”
Looking at Stiles… he never saw the man before him so steady and sure. There was no fear of rejection in those brown eyes staring back at him. Really, that was a given. Just like when Stiles had been dying in his arms, there was no real question as to what he would do. Wolves, and werewolves, mate for life. And Stiles? Stiles was his mate.
Derek reached out and cupped his face as he kissed the man he loved, careful of the hot mug of coffee now stuck between them. He grinned as the kiss broke. “You do realize Lydia will take over the planning, right?”
“Over my dead body,” Stiles scoffed, looking at Derek as if he was being ridiculous. “I will be the biggest groomzilla ever to walk the Earth. Just you watch.”
Derek’s grin grew, and then he was chuckling as he went to kiss his mate and fiancé once more. “Yes, I will marry you. Now let’s go inside, everyone is waking finally.”
“About time, damn sleepyheads. We got presents to open!”