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He’d been second guessing himself about this for months now. Not the decision or what he was going to be asking Stiles, but how to ask. He was getting himself all twisted up in knots about it, and he knew well and good he had no reason to worry, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from getting worked up about it. It was going to be the biggest thing he’d ever done, and he wanted it to be perfect. Or close to perfect. He was a realist after all.
Laura, during one of his weaker moments where he’d gone home with her after work and sat moaning on the floor whilst she petted his hair and tried to talk him down, had told him he could probably just ask one night in pizza-stained sweatpants over take-out and movies and Stiles would still be thrilled.
Derek knew she was right. But that didn’t matter. He wanted it to mean something to Stiles. He still knew deep down that he wasn’t good enough for Stiles, but he was getting there. A work in progress, not just for Stiles but for himself too. And this was a big step. Huge. Monumental and life-changing. One he’d never in a million years ever thought was in the cards for him, all things considered.
But he wasn’t scared.
In fact, he’d never been more sure of anything in his life. For all his fear of ever letting himself love, once he’d started he’d never once questioned it. Nor had he questioned Stiles feelings for him either.
Sure they were both better at snarking at each other than actually talking, and yeah Stiles made lame dog jokes and could be impossibly annoying, but it was testament to how far gone on him Derek was that he found those things cute now. They were just another part of Stiles for him to love, even when he was seriously considering the merits of gagging him. (They did actually have a ballgag in a box in their closet that was a gift from Isaac, but it wasn’t something they’d actually used. In that specific circumstance, Derek would never want to shut Stiles up.)
And Stiles still requested high-fives after sex. Even after being denied by Derek every single time for the past three years, he still did it.
Though things hadn’t all been smooth sailing. It probably took Derek well over a year of dating Stiles to tell him he loved him. Actually, it was closer to two. Stiles had a weird relationship with sleep; he’d often struggle to fall asleep at night in bed, but he could also fall asleep almost anywhere throughout the day for a nap, and in some of the most bizarrely contorted positions Derek had ever seen. They actually had a pack WhatsApp group - devised by Cora - that they shared sleeping pictures of Stiles on, much to his chagrin. He’d been so outraged when Derek had first shown him it that he’d actually been silent for a full minute, opening and closing his mouth like a guppy.
Derek took a photo of it and uploaded it to the group and it was now the chat icon.
Stiles had tackled him to the sofa and tickle attacked him for that. It was worth it.
Anyway, Stiles hadn’t been able to sleep one night and so had tried his hand at a heart-healthy cookie recipe, still on his never-ending quest to make his dad eat healthily. With both his ADD and mild-insomnia the outcome was… not great. Strangely textured cookies that managed to be both flavourless and also way too salty. They were solid and then crumbled like grit, and quite possibly defied the rules of physics. Stiles had fallen asleep at the kitchen table surrounded by cookies on improvised cooling racks (his Dad had taken a photo for the group) and woken up confused and dusted with flour, thrown the cookies in a tupperwear box, and delivered them to the Sheriff department with a yawn.
He’d dropped down at Derek’s desk, stolen his coffee mug and drank down half of the luke warm swill with barely even a grimace, and proffered the cookies at Derek. Who had taken a bite - in spite of the concerning savory scent coming from them - and promptly paused with his mouth full as the flavor hit his tongue. Chewed slowly. The cookie turned to a paste that resembled wet cement, but Derek chewed a couple more times and swallowed thickly, trying to school his face at least a little.
“That bad?”
Derek nodded, looking pained. He wasn’t sure he could open his mouth; the cookie paste might have glued it together. Stiles handed him the dregs of the coffee, and Derek took it gratefully.
“I can’t believe you ate that,” Stiles said, snorting and shaking his head fondly. “Dude, you must seriously love me,” he added, failing to even attempt to cover his mouth as he yawned widely.
“I do,” Derek agreed before he’d even realised he was going to say it. Stiles froze mid yawn, face contorting as he closed his mouth with a click of his teeth. He blinked dumbly at Derek. Derek blinked dumbly back. “I, uh. I do love you,” Derek reiterated, the words feeling foreign in his mouth. But not dangerous. They felt right. Strange and unexpected, but right.
“Holy shit,” Stiles breathed, shoving at his already rolled up crumpled red flannel shirtsleeves and glancing around the noisy Sheriff department as though looking for witnesses or possibly a hidden camera. “You love me.”
Derek nodded, sitting forward in his slightly squeaky computer chair; it wasn’t actually his, it was Laura’s. She fidgeted so much that her chairs were always squeaky so then she’d sneak-swap them out with Derek’s or Jordan’s and then deny it furiously. Jordan had once caught her actually in the act and she’d still denied it.
“You actually love me,” Stiles said again, scratching his head.
“You know this Stiles,” Derek said gently, taking Stiles’ hand and rubbing small circles on his knuckles with his thumb. “You… you did know didn’t you?”
“Yeah, of course, but I just - you actually said it. You used your words,” Stiles gave him a crooked grin, radiating happiness.
Derek snorted and rolled his eyes. “Yeah I do that occasionally.”
“Very occasionally,” Stiles teased, making little grabby hands until Derek leaned in and let Stiles press noisy kisses against his mouth.
“Eww, no macking on my baby bro in the work place!” Laura called out, walking in through the front doors with Stiles’ dad behind her. It must have started up raining because they were both damp, clutching take-out coffee cups in their hands.
“I wholeheartedly concur,” the Sheriff agreed, zeroing in on the tupperware full of cookies on Derek’s desk. Derek thought about warning them both, he really did, but Laura and the Sheriff both grabbed the cookies before he could speak, shoving one each into their mouths and freezing, just like Derek had.
“Oh my God,” Laura mumbled, mouth full of cookie.
“Derek told me he loved me,” Stiles announced, ignoring the whole cookie debacle going on. He was obviously still basking.
The Sheriff had taken a much smaller bite than Laura so he managed to swallow his mouthful, but he looked at the remnants of the cookie with a betrayed expression on his face. “Kid, these are awful.”
“I don’t care,” Stiles said blithely, grabbing for the cookie and cradling it to his chest. “These cookies got Derek to declare his love for me. With actual words and everything. Derek, these are our relationship cookies.”
Derek and the Sheriff both groaned in unison and Laura choked, spraying cookie on Stiles sleeve.
“You’re ridiculous,” Derek informed him fondly.
“Your relationship is doomed then,” Laura informed them both, around a mouthful of truly atrocious cookie.
Stiles still had the recipe for those cookies tucked inside a copy of Winnie the Pooh that his mom used to read him as a child. He had a lot of little things tucked in there; the plane ticket stubs for Italy, the receipt from the meal they’d shared in Florence, the first note Derek scrawled to him when they’d first moved in together, asking him to pick up eggs… Stiles managed to be perfectly romantic without even trying, and it made Derek want to try even harder to be what Stiles deserved.
So he stressed himself out, discarded so many ideas, and in the end he finally decided on something low key with just him and Stiles. He remembered that during his first Christmas with Stiles, John and Stiles had been both drinking spiced rum eggnog and getting nostalgic, Stiles propped up on Derek’s chest even though Derek wasn’t wholly comfortable with the Sheriff at that point, and they’d talked about a family tradition where Stiles and his mom would make everyone trade one gift on Christmas eve. Something small, but something special. That was the deal. The Sheriff and Stiles hadn’t kept it up when it was just the two of them, but they’d made noises about starting it again now they had more people around at Christmas. An entire pack’s worth of people.
They hadn’t actually done it yet, having forgotten their vaguely formed plan the next morning when they’d both woken up a little hungover, but it did still felt like it might be the perfect plan. This Christmas eve after the pack party and all the celebrations, when everyone was gone and it was just them, Derek was going to ask Stiles to marry him.
~~~~~~
Stiles was bouncing lightly on his toes, nervous as he walked up the pathway to his small two-storey house, marvelling at how the rustic exterior had been transformed with twinkling white lights and little glass crafted snowflakes hanging from the porch overhang. Holly and ivy garlands were draped around the porch railing with lights burrowed amidst the leaves. Poinsettia’s offered splashes of bright colour. It was surprisingly beautiful, and also both extremely magical and classy. Not exactly what he’d expect from Laura or Cora to be honest. They tended to be more throw-everything-Christmas-related-and-colorful-at-it-and-let’s-see-what-sticks type of people.
A lot like Stiles really.
A lot like basically every member of their pack, Lydia notwithstanding. So maybe she was behind the decorations.
He felt almost silly in his jaunty green elf hat with a jingle bell on the end. Not that it stopped him from throwing open the door and announcing: “I brought hats for everyone!,” holding up a bag with multiple green hats and a lone red one. “I’m assuming you get the Santa hat,” he said to Laura.
“You betcha,” Laura grinned, tugging Stiles into the house. “You’re all my little Elfy minions. Hey Der-Bear look. Hats,” Laura said, holding up a green elf hat for Derek. He looked like maybe he was trying to glare the hat into miraculously not existing anymore.
“No.”
“Der, yes.”
“Not happening.”
“Oh it’s so happening,” she laughed, bouncing the hat in her outstretched hand so the bell rang. “C’mon baby bro, for me?” she wheedled.
Derek didn’t budge an inch. The rest of the pack were diving into the bag with glee, stuffing elf hats on their heads like the overgrown children they were.
“Dereeeek,” Stiles whined, pushing his bottom lip out in a pout. He stood shoulder to shoulder with Laura, both of them blinking at him with their big brown eyes. “It’s Christmas,” he added sadly, like Derek was crushing all of his Christmas spirit with his refusal.
Derek huffed out an aggrieved sigh, grabbed the hat and nearly crushed it in his fist. He scowled at Stiles, likely blaming him for all the bad things ever in the world, and shoved the hat on his head. Derek’s eyebrows were dark slashes standing prominent just beneath the fluffy white fur trim and the hat made his little ears stick out. It was probably the most adorable thing Stiles had ever seen in his entire life. He literally couldn’t contain the little squeaking sound he made.
Cora’s peals of laughter as she paused in the doorway were clear and chiming, overlaying the sound of Derek’s unhappy growling. “Oh my God,” she gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. “Derek! You should always be wearing an elf hat. Laura can we make that a pack rule?”
“I hate you all,” Derek said haughtily, folding his arms over his chest. No man should be able to look that menacing with sticky-out ears and and an elf hat on his head. Or that hot.
Stiles was so gone on him it was ridiculous.
Laura and Cora of course both donned their hats happily, delighting in making jingling sounds everywhere they went, and even Lydia deigned to wear one. It looked particularly good with her long red hair and her little green silk dress. And whilst the rest of the pack sounded like a herd of cows with bell collars on, Derek managed to be silent as he made his way over to Stiles. Christmas was Laura’s favourite holiday, and even though he grumbled and rolled his eyes, it was obvious Derek loved this holiday too, loved watching his sisters be happy, and wouldn’t deny them anything. As exemplified by this entire Christmas eve gathering.
Throw Stiles into the mix and Derek was helpless.
Stiles smiled at Derek as he approached and slung his arms around his neck, leaning back a little so he could fully appreciate Derek in the elf hat, utterly charmed by how cute it was. “Hi Elfy-wolf,” Stiles greeted, bringing up a hand to poke at the jingle bell on Derek’s hat.
“You’re a menace,” Derek replied, batting Stiles’ hand away.
“But you love me,” Stiles hummed, pressing a chaste kiss to Derek’s cheek. They’d obviously foregone mistletoe as a decoration, but that didn’t mean Stiles wasn’t going to kiss Derek at every possible opportunity.
Derek grumbled and stole a proper kiss from Stiles, soft and sweet. “I look ridiculous,” he complained, managing to gesture up towards the hat by raising his considerable eyebrows. By this point, Stiles was fluent in Derek’s eyebrows. Derek may be the whiz with languages, but Stiles understood the language of Derek’s eyebrows like no other, and he was very proud of that accomplishment.
“Just a little bit,” Stiles agreed, smirking.
He was soon whisked away by Scott, who had - under Lydia’s tutelage - made eggnog flavoured jello shots, and also spiced cider vodka jello shots. Half of which were spiked with a diluted wolfs-bane solution that let the wolfies all get nice and drunk, and half of which were just regular old alcohol for the humans.
Stiles promptly decided eggnog jello shots were delicious and got it in his head that he needed to try making other eggnog appropriate desserts like creme brûlée and panna cotta before he remembered that he was a terrible cook. Case in point: The Relationship Cookies.
Still, he couldn’t get too drunk tonight, so he contented himself with just having two of the yummy jello shots and then drank the non-alcoholic punch Melissa had brought over with her, munching on the array of snack foods and nibbles that had overtaken every inch of his kitchen, trying to keep his nerves at bay by acting like everything was normal and festive.
Derek, meanwhile, was hovering in the front room like a creeper, holding a mug full of the punch but Stiles had warmed it for him in the microwave because Derek had a thing for hot drinks. He didn’t understand why anyone drank anything cold in the winter months. Said it was unnatural. Stiles, of course, indulged him.
The pack was raucous as ever, and it actually helped settle Stiles’ nerves too. He’d done a pretty good job of ignoring them all evening, but now Scott kept trying to catch his eye and Lydia was giving him pointed looks and Stiles realised he probably should make a move soon before everyone descended into drunken debauchery.
Though their pack’s version of drunken debauchery was actually just their usual behaviour, only slightly louder.
Still, Stiles’ palms were starting to sweat so he popped some ice in his punch - Derek’s winter beverage rule be damned - and padded into the front room, trusting Scott and Lydia to gather everyone up. Which they did. Promptly, because no-one would defy Lydia. So damn promptly that Stiles definitely didn’t have any time to second guess himself or hide in the upstairs bathroom for the next few hours.
“Uh, guys. Hey. Hey!” Stiles called, finally whistling loudly. Everyone in the room looked at him, varying degrees of interest on their faces. “Good pack. Well done. All of you sit,” he added, grinning at them. Begrudgingly they all found places to plonk themselves; floors, arms of chairs, nestled closely so 5 of them fit on the 3 seater sofa… “No, not you,” Stiles reached for Derek’s arm when he went to go sit on the arm of the sofa. Stiles drew him over to stand in front of the tree instead. The lights were low in the room now, and the tree was like a beacon of soft glowing light, and Stiles might be biased but he happened to think Derek looked particularly beautiful in the lighting, all glittering green eyes and shadows in the sculpted hollows of his cheeks, soft in his maroon sweater that happened to also be Stiles’ favourite.
Then again, he always thought Derek looked beautiful. Even in the elf hat. Speaking of…
“No, we can’t do this in these,” Stiles decided, taking off both their hats and fidgeting with them in his hands. Scott eventually reached over and took them from him, silencing the nervous jingling.
“Stiles?” Derek eventually asked, looking confused. And slightly wary, which was entirely the wrong expression for him to be wearing right now.
Stiles glanced at his dad, who smiled at him encouragingly, giving him a little nod. He had Melissa on one side of him and Jordan on the other. Laura was in Jordan’s lap, watching with interest, and Stiles wondered if he maybe should have asked for her permission to do this then dismissed the idea quickly. “Okay, so. Der… I know we don’t do big gestures. It’s not really our thing, I know, but. God, Derek, I love you so damn much. I never imagined that I could love anyone like I love you. I remember being a kid and seeing how my parents looked at each other, and I never thought I’d get that, but then I got you and…” Stiles stuttered to a stop, biting his lip. He’d had this whole speech prepared, but it’d flown out the window the second he stuck his hand in his pocket and closed his fingers around the slim box he had in there. “Derek, I just - I don’t want to imagine ever not being with you.” He pulled the box out of his pocket and turned it over slowly in his hands, fingers tracing the edges and corners. It was a small black leather box with a Triskelion embossed on the lid. The Hale pack sign.
Laura made a squeaking sound when she clocked it, and covered her mouth with her palm, her eyes darting to Derek. Stiles looked at him, but Derek’s eyes were rapt on the box, an intense frown on his face. Once again, not the expression Stiles had thought - hoped - he’d be wearing. “Derek?” Stiles asked, voice suddenly fragile. He wondered if he’d gotten this horribly wrong. If he’d gotten the whole thing horribly wrong.
Derek’s eyes snapped up to Stiles’ face and widened. He shook his head, eyes wide and shining myriad colors in the twinkling lights of the tree, but they were happy. Bright and brimming with something that looked a lot like love, all for Stiles. He looked happy even as a rueful smile crossed his lips. Stiles’ heart unclenched and he genuinely thought his knees might give out; for a second there, he’d be so overwhelmingly terrified, and now seeing the smile that was blossoming into a full on grin on Derek’s face made him realise that even when it wasn’t perfect, he never got it wrong when it came to Derek. Because Derek really did love him.
~~~~~~
Derek didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He was grinning at Stiles, who looked first scared and then bemused as he held the box in his hand tightly. “Derek?” he asked, his voice steadier now. Derek wanted to wrap him up in a crushing hug, so he did. He pulled Stiles into his arms and it felt so right when Stiles pressed his face against the side of Derek’s neck as he always did, his nose rubbing against Derek’s skin.
“Are you proposing to me Stiles?” Derek asked, voice teetering on incredulous. Stiles pulled back, easing up on the death grip he had on Derek and looked up at him.
“I, uh. Yeah? I mean yeah. Yes. I am,” Stiles nodded decisively. Derek heard Lydia snorting quietly in the corner, and the Sheriff chuckling under his breath.
“Just… give me a minute?” Derek asked, letting go and crouching down, picking a small gift bag that had been tucked carefully among the piles of presents. He stood up and brushed his thumb along the soft ribbon handle, taking a deep breath. “My first ever Christmas with you and your dad, you guys were talking about old family traditions. About how you and your Mom used to share one gift on Christmas eve, and it had to be something meaningful. I was thinking… hoping, that we could bring that tradition back. Make it a part of our Christmas, if that’s something you’d want?”
Stiles nodded dumbly, confusion written all over his face. Derek heard the Sheriff straighten, sitting upright and leaning forward a little. He got it. Even if his son hadn’t figured it out yet, the Sheriff had.
“I’d picked this one, to give to you later on tonight after everything,” Derek said, holding it out for Stiles. “Looks like my plans got moved up though. Shall we swap?” he asked, smiling a little. Stiles held out his box, and took the gift bag carefully, licking his lips. Derek watched as Stiles looked inside the bag, pulled out a small gift wrapped package. “Go ahead,” he urged, holding the leather box in his own hands like it was something precious. It was something precious. His fingers traced the triskelion and it made his chest ache with a pang of sadness but he could feel the happiness radiating from Laura, Cora, and the rest of his pack. He still had family.
Stiles, in typical Stiles fashion, tore through the wrapping paper and let it drop right on the floor, his eyes wide and questioning as he looked at the small grey velvet box. “Der?”
“Yeah Stiles?”
“Did we just…?”
“Simultaneously propose?” Derek grinned.
“Oh my God,” Stiles grinned right back.
“Except neither of you dorks has, you know, actually proposed yet?” Cora called from her perch on the arm of the sofa next to Laura and Jordan. Derek turned to glare her her, saw the sheen of tears in both his sister’s eyes. In fact, most of the room was looking a little misty at this point. Apart from Peter of course, but even he looked fondly amused by the whole spectacle.
“We were getting to that bit Cora, jeez,” Stiles rolled his eyes, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop grinning.
“Stiles Stilinski,” Derek said, stepping closer and wrapping his free hand around Stiles’ hip. “Will you marry me?”
Stiles pressed his lips together and nodded, fingers curling in the hem of Derek’s sweater. “Yes. Oh my God, all the yeses,” he laughed, curling his arm around Derek’s neck to tug him in for a kiss. He paused before they made contact though and shushed the burgeoning shouts of happiness from the pack. “No, no, wait, shush. My turn. Derek Samuel Hale. Der-Bear. My Sourwolf. Will you marry me?”
Derek huffed and kissed Stiles, even though it was mostly teeth because they were both smiling so wide. “Yes you idiot.”
“But I’m your favourite?” Stiles asked.
Derek knew his reply by heart, “Yeah Stiles. Of the many idiots I know, you are my favorite.”
~~~~~~
Stiles wiggled around on the bed until he was pressed against the warm line of Derek’s chest, ignoring the fact they were both overheated and sweaty and covered in various sticky substances that they should probably shower off soon. “We’re so good at that,” Stiles hummed, satisfied to his very core. “Our first foray into the world of enganged-people-sex, and we totally nailed it.”
“Mmhmm,” Derek agreed sleepily, already nuzzling against the back of Stiles’ neck, exactly how he always did before he fell asleep.
“Hey Derek?”
“Mm?”
“You know how we’re engaged now?”
“Yeah?”
“And we just had awesome sex?”
“Yes?” Derek replied, sounding warier now.
Stiles rolled around so he was facing Derek, and nipped lightly at his chin. “High five?” He held up his left hand, newly adorned with a simple platinum engagement ring with an engraving on the inside. He wiggled his fingers and gave Derek a hopeful smile.
Derek huffed, dropping his head to kiss Stiles softly on the mouth, barely pulling away before he gave him a high five, their rings clinking together. Derek’s was platinum too, a sturdy metal without the unpleasant associations of silver, and it had a Triskelion carved into the metal. He he felt Derek smile against his mouth at the sound, and he was helpless to do anything but smile back, so sickeningly love-drunk. Probably a little sex-drunk too, lets be honest.
“Hey Der?” Stiles mumbled sleepily when they were all tucked up again and his cold feet were pressed against Derek’s warm ones. Derek made a little sound of acknowledgement, kissing Stiles’ nape whilst Stiles linked their hands in front of his chest. “What does the engraving say?”
“Jesteś moim domem,” Derek replied, the words rolling off of his tongue with ease.
“What does it mean?”
“It’s Polish,” Derek explained, breath ticking the fine hairs at the base of Stiles’ skull. Stiles smiled, because he’d figured as much but it still made his chest throb to hear it confirmed. His mom used to talk Polish to him when he was a kid, but he couldn’t ever quite get the hang of the language, and he loved that Derek had known to use his mom’s language for this.
“What does it mean Der?” Stiles prompted, trying to wiggle back even closer to Derek. It was impossible, they were completely plastered together, but he still tried. Every night, without fail, he tried to get closer. And every night, without fail, Derek held him a little tighter.
“It means ‘You Are My Home’,” Derek whispered.
“I’m your home?” Stiles asked, slightly breathlessly.
“You’re my favourite idiot,” Derek said lightly. “And you’re my everything.”