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You've occupied the center of my universe

Summary:

A blizzard leaves Stiles and Derek stranded alone together, with no choice but to finally talk.

Notes:

Written for DontCallPanic for the 2025 Sterek Secret Santa. Merry Christmas! Hope you like it!

Work Text:

This is the worst thing that has ever happened to him. No, he's not being dramatic. He'd only planned to stop by, drop off the gift for Laura that Lydia had asked him to, and then get the hell out of there.

It seems the universe had other plans. 

A freak blizzard, leaving zero visibility on the roads, has left him stranded in the last place he wants to be— with Derek Hale, his arch nemesis. Alone. Because, of course, Laura is out of town for the weekend. Just his luck.

Stiles sighs and glares out the window at the thickly falling snow. He should have gotten on the road sooner, but no, he'd just had to get into an argument with Derek and lost track of time, and by the time he'd gone to leave, the snow had already started falling. It was only a few minutes later that the news announced the roads back into town were all closed and likely to remain so over the weekend.

The worst part is, Stiles can’t even remember what they were even arguing about this time. One moment, they were being civil as Stiles handed over the gift and Derek collected the one from Laura, and the next, they were snapping at each other, their voices quickly rising as the argument went on.

“Glaring out the window isn't going to make the roads clear any sooner,” Derek says from somewhere behind him. “Might as well make yourself comfortable.”

Stiles glares over his shoulder at where Derek is lounging on the couch. He looks far too comfortable in his stupid green sweater with the sleeves rolled up and ridiculous glasses perched on his nose. “No, thanks. I'll stay right here.”

Derek raises an eyebrow. “Seriously, Stiles? It'll be hours before the snow stops, and probably hours after that before the roads are clear enough to open back up. You can't stay there the whole time.”

“Watch me,” Stiles mutters. He knows he's being ridiculous, but he just can't give in. Not yet. 

Stiles,” Derek says, drawing his name out in a way that absolutely does not affect him in any way. “Just come sit down. I won't bite. Unless you want me to.”

He winks, and Stiles' heart skips. What the hell? Did Derek Hale just flirt with him? There's no way. They can't stand each other, never could as far as Stiles remembered. 

So, Stiles can't understand why his body's having such a strong reaction to Derek’s comment. It's not as if he wants Derek to bite him, does he?

“Stiles?”

Derek’s frowning at him now, face pinched in concern. Had he said something, and Stiles, so lost in thought, had missed it?

“What?” Stiles asks.

“I asked if you're alright,” Derek says. “You zoned out for a minute there.”

“I'm fine,” Stiles says. As fine as he can be in this situation. “Though I don't see why you care since you hate me.”

Derek tilts his head, studying him. “Is that really what you think? That I hate you?”

Stiles shrugs. “I mean, yeah. That's just how it's always been between us.”

Derek shakes his head. “No, I don't hate you. Stiles. I never have.”

It's Stiles’ turn to frown. “But you're always scowling at me and arguing with me.”

“Because you're so damn stubborn and you usually start those arguments,” Derek says. “Like right now,  when you're stubbornly arguing with me, instead of stepping away from the window.”

Stiles sighs. He hates that Derek has a point. It could be hours before the roads are safe enough for him to drive on. Stubborn as he is, he knows he can’t camp out in front of the window forever. 

“Fine,” Stiles mutters and finally turns away from the window. He plops down on the couch at the opposite end. “But only because it’s getting cold over there.”

“We do have blankets,” Derek says and nods to the blankets lining the back of the couch. “Or I could make hot cocoa.”

“How do I know you won’t poison it?” Stiles asks him.

Derek rolls his eyes. “It would be too much effort to hide the body, and Laura and Lydia would never forgive me.”

Stiles snorts at that. “Yeah, trust me, I wouldn’t want to be on either of their bad side.”

“Oh, I know,” Derek says. “I grew up with Laura, remember?”

He stands from the couch and stretches his arms above his head, groaning as his muscles stretch, revealing a patch of tanned skin that Stiles’ eyes can’t help but drift to. He clears his throat and quickly averts his gaze before Derek can catch him looking.

“I guess some cocoa would be nice,” Stiles says finally. “Since you don’t plan to kill me with it.”

“I would never tarnish my grandmother’s recipe in such a way,” Derek says. 

His grandmother’s recipe? This just keeps getting worse and worse. Not that Stiles has anything against Grandma Hale. He never even met the woman. But Derek being close enough with her to know secret Hale family recipes? It’s really not helping Stiles see Derek as the annoying, brooding asshole he’s always known him as.

“Still,” Stiles says, getting back to his feet. “I’ll need to watch just to make sure you don’t sneak anything in.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “Have you always been so untrusting?”

“When it comes to you, yes,” Stiles says.

“I’ve never understood why,” Derek says, voice going quiet, thoughtful. “From the moment we met, you always seemed to hold some sort of grudge towards me and would do anything you could to push my buttons. But I’ve never been able to understand why.”

Stiles’ mind flashes back to that moment, when he was ten years old and in the woods with Scott after school one day. They’d been wandering around, trying to find different plants to identify for science class, when suddenly Derek was there, glaring at them. He was only four years older than they were, but still had seemed older as he’d yelled at them that they were on private property. 

He’d startled Scott so bad that he’d tripped as they ran out of the woods, dropping his inhaler somewhere along the way, and had an asthma attack. 

“He could have died,” Stiles says. “We didn’t know we were on your property, and you were a giant asshole to us for no reason.”

“I don’t…” Derek frowns, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Stiles. I don’t remember that. It— it was a difficult time, back then. “With Kate and…” He sighs. “It’s no excuse. I shouldn’t have treated you like that, and I’m sorry.”

Stiles studies him for a moment. He looks sincere in his apology, regretful even. “Apology accepted,” Stiles says. “And for the record, I’m sorry, too.”

“For what?” Derek asks him.

“I know I haven’t been the easiest person to get along with,” Stiles says. “Starting fights for no reason and giving you a hard time. I just always thought you hated me, and that kind of rubbed me the wrong way. So I always lashed out first. Which isn’t an excuse, but for what it’s worth, I’m sorry, too.”

Derek smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, and Stiles’ heart flips again. Fuck. “I guess we could have saved ourselves a few arguments if we had just talked, huh?”

“Guess so,” Stiles says. “But we got here eventually.”

Where here is, Stiles isn’t really sure. There’s something tentative in the way they move around each other now. Derek grabs the ingredients for the cocoa out of the cabinets and talks to Stiles as he makes it. He talks about his grandmother, and how she always used to make hot cocoa for him, Laura, and Cora when they would come visit. But for Derek, she always added a secret ingredient. “You’re not allergic to cinnamon, are you?” Derek asks him.

Stiles shakes his head. “No.”

“Good,” Derek says before he goes back to stirring the pot.

Stiles closes his eyes and inhales deeply. The rich scent of chocolate fills his nostrils, along with the faint hint of cinnamon. It smells divine. And suddenly closer than it was. His eyes open to find Derek standing in front of him, cupping a mug between his hands. He holds it out to Stiles. “For you.”

Stiles takes it with a hesitant smile and raises the mug to his nose, inhaling again. “It smells amazing.”

“It tastes even better,” Derek tells him.

Stiles takes a hesitant sip, careful not to burn his tongue, and groans. “God, this is amazing. I wouldn’t care if you had slipped something in here. This would be an excellent way to go out.”

Derek shakes his head, his lips quirking up in a smile. “I’m not poisoning you, Stiles. I actually like having you around.”

Stiles smiles and steps closer, still holding the mug between his hands. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yes,” Derek says. He takes a sip of his cocoa, his eyes not leaving Stiles. “I’m glad you're here, Stiles.”

For the first time, Stiles is starting to feel the same way. So, he smiles and takes a sip of his cocoa, letting the warmth pass through him before he speaks. “So I am.”

Another kind of warmth spreads over him as Derek steps closer, stopping just out of reach. “I’m actually glad it’s you I’m snowed in with.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you wanted this to happen,” Stiles teases, his smile hiding behind his mug.

“Maybe I did,” Derek says.

Stiles downs the rest of his cocoa and puts the mug aside as he steps closer to Derek, into his space. “Carefully, Derek. Or I might think you caused a blizzard just to trap me here.”

“I don’t control the weather, Stiles,” Derek says. “The blizzard was just a happy accident.”

“Hmm, how can we be sure about that?” Stiles asks him.

“Because it stopped snowing,” Derek says. “If I really were controlling the weather to try and keep you here, I would have made it snow longer.”

“Fair enough,” Stiles says. “But the roads still aren’t clear.”

“It could take a while,” Derek says. “Maybe all weekend.”

Stiles eyes flick down to Derek’s lips, tracking the movement as he licks them. “I guess we’ll just have to find a way to pass the time.”

Derek’s hands find Stiles’ hips, his fingers bruising across the skin at his hip where his shirt has ridden up. “Any suggestions?”

“I might have one or two,” Stiles says. He leans in, brushing his nose along Derek’s. “If you’re interested.”

“I am,” Derek rushes out. “I am very interested.”

“I haven’t even told you what they are yet,” Stiles says. “They could be dangerous.”

“It’ll be worth it,” Derek says. “Stiles, I’ve been wanting this for so long.”

That gives Stiles pause. How long has Derek been thinking about this? About him? About them? “How long?” Stiles can’t help but ask.

“Years,” Derek says. “Even when I thought you hated me, I couldn’t help but want you.”

“Me too,” Stiles admits. Because it’s the truth. It’s something he’s also been warring with for years, this growing attraction between them that now has the chance to blossom into something more. 

He doesn’t get a chance to say anything else, because the next moment, Derek’s lips are on his. It’s soft at first, a little hesitant as they both test the waters. Then one of Derek’s hands shifts to his back as he pulls him in closer and deepens the kiss, and Stiles’ brain goes offline for a moment. 

He can’t believe he spent years thinking Derek hated him and resenting him for something that happened when they were kids. But now, here they are. 

As the snow starts to melt outside, neither notices. They’re both so wrapped up in each other that nothing else matters.