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“I see you’ve decorated,” said Stiles, poking the glass ornament hanging on the large evergreen tree. The golden star on the top almost brushing the tall ceiling and a smatter of pine needles lay on the wooden floor below, the fresh scent clear to even Stiles’ human nose.
Derek nodded, looking back down at the book in his hands. He sat reclined in the burgundy chair set next to the couch, a green sweater hanging from his frame, wearing sweatpants and woolly socks on his feet.
“And you look comfy,” Stiles murmured, the corner of Derek’s mouth curving up in response. Taking a seat on the couch, at the corner closest to Derek, Stiles leans over the armrest and curls his legs under himself. “What are you reading?”
Derek tilts the book to show him the cover. “Slaughterhouse-five.” He slides his bookmark in place between the pages and closes it, leaving it on his lap.
Stiles leans forward to glance at the cover again. “You don’t find that ironic.” Derek raises an eyebrow. “I just mean—“
Derek waves away his explanation. “That’s why I’m reading it again.” Stiles nods and then squints at him.
“Again?”
Picking up the book, Derek turns it over to scan through the summary. Flipping it back over to thumb at the worn sides and curled pages. “Laura had to read it for school.” Derek smooths a hand over the front, pressing down a piece of tape holding together a tear. “It was one of the things she had on her, so we ended up taking it to New York with us.”
Stiles bites at his lip, stretching his hand out as Derek passes it over easily. “So, like a new perspective,” he mutters to himself. “You’ve gone through so much and now you’re reflecting.” Derek nods, keen ears catching the low words naturally. “I mean, a new house, a happy pack all in university, your carving business booming. No threats in sight.”
“I’m just glad that part of my life is over”
Stiles glances up, book in hand, and returns Derek’s steady gaze. He takes in the Alpha sitting in front of him, self-assured and thriving, looking cozy in soft light on a winter’s night. He takes in the past five years since they first met out on the preserve, from aggressive and defensive to understanding. It’s been two years since high school graduation, and being home for winter break early from Stanford, Stiles can finally observe the progress that Derek’s made. To be able to stand in the newly finished Hale house and see that Derek is content with himself, to witness him healing, is something Stiles would do anything to protect.
“Me too.”