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The weather team had predicted it would be the coldest night of the year. Then again, they said that every few months. The closest Beacon Hills got to a white Christmas was hearing Bing Crosby sing about it every fifth song on the radio. The last Derek had seen a white Christmas was visiting family in Minnesota.
Coldest night of the year my ass. Derek scoffed as he shuffled through the shirts in his closet. I’ll believe it when I see it. It didn’t matter what he wore. Stiles wouldn’t dress up just to see the pack. Regardless of what either of them wore, Erica was sure to show everyone up in the sparkly gown she’d be wearing. Derek wasn’t sure which one she chose, but she sent a dozen photos from the dressing room from every angle imaginable. He grabbed a navy blue shirt and his black jeans and threw them on the bed.
There was already a towel hung in the bathroom on his hook. He squinted at it. It was warm and held a light touch of static. Stiles did laundry that early in the morning? He always did make a big deal out of the holidays. He had the spirit of an eight-year-old, and sometimes the maturity of one. He probably couldn’t contain his excitement and got up, letting Derek sleep in.
He went to the dresser across the room and took out fresh underwear and socks. His eyes darted to the clock on the nightstand as he passed. Stiles must have gotten up at the crack of dawn. Derek hadn’t slept in by that much. It was only eight thirty. He had enough time for a quick shower. The dial was cranked all the way. He let the hot water loosen his shoulders and stood, encased in the steam, for a few minutes longer than necessary.
With the towel around his waist to catch any remaining droplets falling from his hair, he moved into the bedroom. The folded clean clothes waited on the duvet closer to the nightstand. Balancing on the edge of the bedside table, the screen of his phone lit up and was accompanied by a chirp.
He had been bombarded with texts from the pack. Cora, Isaac, Erica, and Boyd had sent him birthday wishes. Scott, Lydia, Allison, and Kira sent casual wishes as well. Even Peter remembered. Malia had sent her text too early and it just read “Ha.” She tried to fix it with an additional “pp” “ybithdat” before getting out “happy birthday.” Derek would thank them after he had some coffee in him. Or Stiles’ hot chocolate, which he made every morning the week leading up to Christmas.
Derek had dressed quickly and left the bedroom. The walls were bare and all that was left of the decorations were the scraps of tape. In the spare room, the homemade decorations were gone. The snowflake shower curtain in the bathroom across the hall had been replaced with the dark green one that had always been there. All the snowflake hand towels were also removed.
He strolled down the stairs and ran his hand down the mahogany banister noticing the plastic garlands weren’t twisted around it. The walls were barren and the creepy elf on the shelf had disappeared from behind the framed photos on the mantle. That in itself was a Christmas miracle. Derek was ready to “accidentally” chuck it in the trash. There was no tree in the corner, no presents anywhere. There wasn’t a trace of red and green in the place.
The clinking of mugs in the kitchen caught his attention. He moved off the last step and meandered toward the light.
“You’re up early,” Derek said cautiously, “maybe you would know. Were we left off Santa’s nice list or did the Grinch hit us up?”
The fridge door opened and closed swiftly. “It’s not Christmas until tomorrow.”
Derek stood in the doorway to the kitchen as Stiles waited by the coffee pot. “I’m pretty sure it’s today.”
“No, it’s not.”
“Last night was Christmas Eve, so if my calculations are correct, today is Christmas.”
Stiles slid one mug closer as he grabbed the handle of the pot. He gave it another moment and glanced over at Derek. “Christmas is tomorrow.” He nodded to the opposite wall. “Check the calendar.”
Above the counter, the National Park calendar showed Christmas had been crossed out at the bottom of the twenty fifth square and scrawled in barely legible letters on the twenty sixth. Derek shook his head and turned around, leaning back on the counter.
“Are you you trying to gaslight me?”
“Not this time.” Stiles turned with a playful smile and full mug ready to hand off. “Happy birthday.”
Derek’s fingers curled around the cup. It would explain the birthday messages. Usually he would get Christmas wishes in conjunction, but they had been left off that morning. It was habit to send Christmas texts and they would had to have been told not to.
It was only in passing Derek had mentioned sharing a birthday with a major holiday was a pain in the ass. His parents did their best to separate them. Some years they would celebrate his birthday in the morning and Christmas in the afternoon. If they had extended family coming over, his birthday was moved to the twenty third. There was a year when Derek’s father had suggested they move Christmas to the twenty sixth. Cora had been so young at the time, she would have been disappointed. Derek decided against his father’s idea and celebrated his birthday later in the day. It was worth it to see his little sister’s eyes light up.
Getting older only meant people forgot his birthday. He would have to see certain family members he wished would have stayed in North Carolina. As a teenager, it was even more hellish than usual. It wasn’t fair. His siblings and parents and aunts and uncles and cousins didn’t have to spend their birthday celebrating anything but. He wanted to listen to the new Offspring album, but he was subjected to another day of nothing but Mariah Carey. As if he didn’t get two months of build up to that.
It was just his luck his birthday fell on a holiday. As the years went on, he felt that fit very well. Of all the unfortunate and downright horrible things to happen, that was the one that kick started it. Made sense.
Derek took a sip of the coffee before smiling and saying, “Thank you.”
“What do you want to do today?” Stiles hopped onto the counter, nearly hitting his head on the cabinet. “We can do whatever.”
It was difficult to think of anything he wanted. Either he was with too many people or too few. But the last few years where it was just Stiles were perfect.
“I hadn’t really thought about it.”
“That’s alright. We have time. We can just sit around if you want.”
It would be nice to have nothing to do for once.
Derek’s morning consisted of playing a few games of chess. He lost two of the three matches, but he didn’t care. Instead of watching the pieces, his attention wandered to Stiles. The way his eyes darted back and forth between his own pieces and analyzing the placement of Derek’s was entertainment enough. The one game Derek won was an accident. Stiles had been so focused on Derek’s rook he forgot about the bishop.
“That was the dumbest move I could have made,” he muttered as he noticed the open space near the knight.
Derek knocked the piece off the board. Despite the death of his bishop, his queen was angled perfectly to remove the king.
“Checkmate.”
“What?! How the – Oh.” Stiles scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah, I didn’t see that coming.”
For lunch, Stiles had made one of Derek’s favorites. They sat on the couch with the blanket over their laps with a movie in the background. It wasn’t big enough to stretch across both of them, so Stiles wrapped himself around Derek. His head fell on his shoulder like it did most nights. It was a typical sign Stiles would fall asleep, but that would add to the perfection. The movie had another hour and the remote was on Derek’s side of the couch. What could have been better than feeling the weight of his mate?
The afternoon bled into the evening. After dinner, Stiles disappeared upstairs. He came back balancing a couple gifts on a larger box. Each shape was carefully covered in white paper with sparkly lettering reading “Happy Birthday.” The different wrapping paper was a sweet gesture, one that had been overlooked in the past.
“You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Of course I did.” He peered over the top to see the final few steps. “I mean, I didn’t have to, but I did because you deserve – you know what I mean. I wanted to.”
“Not this many, though.”
“Yes, this many. I’d give you the world if I could.”
Derek smiled as he took the medium sized box. His eyes lingered on Stiles. “You already have.” He flipped the box carefully, reaching for the fold of the paper. “Thank you.” The paper slid off revealing the black headphones.
“They’re sound proof. Or as much as possible for werewolves. Erica tried out a different pair and said they worked pretty well. I thought you might want a break from the chaos.”
“That’s very sweet. Thank you.” He leaned over to press a kiss to Stiles’ lips.
Inside the large package was a blanket big enough to cover both of them.
“Thank you. It’s going to be perfect for tonight. Supposedly, it’s going to be the coldest night of the year.”
“Great time to break it in.” He winked. “We could also break in the bed.”
Derek smirked almost playfully. “We’ve had this bed for years.”
“But have we really broken it in?”
Derek set the gifts aside the arm of the sofa. He reached for Stiles’ hands and pulled him roughly to his feet, bringing him close enough to place has hands on his waist. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”
The bed had been broken in. It may have broken. Derek had blindly reached out to the other side of the bed. He felt around tiredly, quickly determining Stiles had gotten up. The smell hit before he could open his eyes. The sweetness of the hot chocolate wafted under the closed door. Derek found himself smiling and pushing himself out of bed. Without eyeing the shower, he moved toward the hallway. His fingers curled around the doorknob and paused. He shook his head lightly.
Once stepping into the hall, his eyes caught the hand drawn decorations Stiles made in third grade plastered on the walls. The snowflake hand towels were back. The festive shower curtain had made its return. The plastic garlands of holly were strung over each doorframe. They were wrapped around the banister. The tree sat in the far corner with the presents on the wrinkled skirt. It was all back. It was like nothing had been moved.
“How do you do this?” Derek murmured.
Stiles slid into view in his reindeer socks. “Hey!”
All the trinkets were back. The unburned candles, the creepy elf on the shelf, and the plastic mistletoe over the door.
“How did you put everything back?”
“As if we put the tree anywhere else. And I took lots of pictures.”
“Did you spend all night doing this?”
“No. I fell asleep around three and then woke up at seven and finished.”
“Why didn’t you ask for my help?”
Stiles scoffed. “I wouldn’t make you stay up redecorating the house on Christmas.”
Derek smirked and moved toward the living room. “Just any other night of the year.”
At noon, the pair of heels outside clicked on the driveway. Derek pushed himself from the couch and opened the door within seconds of hearing the bell. Erica chose the gold goddess dress and wore a smile just as bright. Isaac stood behind her and Boyd with a snowflake patterned scarf around his neck. Cora was hidden by the others in the back.
“Is that Stiles’ famous hot chocolate?” Erica asked.
“Come choose your mug,” Stiles called. “Or, if you want to be fancy, you can drink it from a wine glass.”
Derek and Boyd ended up the only ones with mugs. They took their drinks into the living room where Erica sat in the middle of the couch between Boyd and Isaac. Cora sat in the closest chair to the table. There were enough chairs for Stiles to have his own, but he sat himself down in Derek’s lap. They listened to Erica’s annual telling of how her grandmother accidentally food poisoned her mom one year. The story itself wasn’t amazing, but her expressions and comedic timing that became more dramatic every year made it a favorite tradition.
Derek rested his head on Stiles’ shoulder. “Thank you,” he whispered.
Stiles rested his head on Derek’s. “You’re welcome. Merry Christmas.”
“Merry Christmas.”