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Stiles heard cursing from the living room area and looked up to see Derek trying to untangle a string of Christmas lights.
"Need help?" he asked innocently as he stirred a pan of hashbrowns.
Derek’s growl in response made him chuckle.
Stiles continued cooking breakfast for them, chopping peppers and tomatoes for omelettes and pushed the lever to put the bread down for toast. He hummed under his breath while Derek continued to mutter.
"Are you sure your dad’s not going to miss any of this stuff?" Derek asked, sounding a bit desperate.
Stiles laughed and shook his head. "Don’t you worry, he guaranteed me he was more than fine with me raiding his stash. I think he might be helping Melissa decorate her tree instead this year."
Stiles heard a few choice curse words and "stupid lights" and repressed his urge to laugh aloud again. He flipped the potatoes again before starting another pan to fry eggs quickly. Within minutes he had two plates heaping with food and he carried them carefully to the couch where he managed to find an end of the coffee table to set everything on. He ducked back for orange juice and condiments, then cleared an edge for himself on the couch before settling in.
"Food’s gonna get cold," he mumbled around a mouthful of toast.
Derek turned around from where he was still fussing with the lights in the corner they were going to put the tree and Stiles felt his mouth go dry.
Derek was wearing a pair of plaid flannel pyjama pants that rode low on his hips, showing off the cut definition of his hip bones. He had a couple strands of white lights hung around his neck, glowing softly against his tanned skin and thick chest hair while he replaced burnt out bulbs. His hair was flat and messy, caused by sleep and Stiles’ fingers running through it the night before.
He looked the perfect image of relaxation and affectionate frustration as he focused so diligently on getting the boxes of Christmas ornaments Stiles brought from his childhood home to the loft sorted. Stiles was worried he’d pushed Derek too hard in insisting on decorating for the holiday, after Derek admitted that he hadn’t celebrated it since the fire. When he and Laura were hunkered down in New York it was never important enough for them to spend time on.
But now Stiles could feel the contentment rolling off Derek, belying his earlier hesitancy. He dropped his toast onto his plate and pushed to stand, crossing the few feet between them. Derek looked up from his task, surprised when Stiles reached out to put his hands on Derek’s shoulders.
"What?" Derek asked warily.
Stiles grinned and shook his head, then ducked in to kiss Derek softly. Behind his closed eyes he could still see the soft glow from the strings of lights around Derek’s neck.
"Food’s getting cold." Stiles repeated when he pulled back. "Come eat."
Derek nodded... and kept the lights on while they ate.