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Stiles was halfway through the last season of Parks and Recreation when someone yanked his earbud out of his ear.
He flailed and nearly tumbled out of his desk chair. “What the f—Derek?”
Derek stood two feet away from him, the bedroom window wide open as he had apparently reverted to his creeper tendencies since Stiles had been at college.
Then Stiles saw the CD Derek gripped. Oh. Shit.
He tried for nonchalant. “So, uh, hey? How’re you doing? Good to see you again.”
Derek held up the CD. “You made this for me.”
Stiles scratched the back of his head. “Yes. I did.”
“You made me a mixtape.”
“Well, technically, it’s a mix CD, and that’s mostly because—” At the look on Derek’s face, Stiles cut himself off and cleared his throat. “Okay, yes. I made you a mixtape.”
Derek stared at the CD, his jaw working. “‘O Holy Night’ was my mother’s favorite song.”
Stiles remembered. It had been his mother’s favorite, too, a fact they had commiserated about during the holidays last year. “Yeah.”
“'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas’ was Laura’s favorite. And this one…my dad loved the Nutcracker.”
Stiles remembered that, too. He remembered everything Derek had told him, and it suddenly occurred to him that even without the last song on the CD, Derek would’ve guessed his intentions. Derek would’ve known just from “O Holy Night.”
He cleared his throat and really hoped Derek wasn’t listening to his heart ricocheting out of his chest. “Yeah. Um, most of them are just songs I thought you would get a kick out of, or would like, but…”
“But some you put on here for my family.” Derek was still clutching the CD like he was afraid it would disappear if he didn’t keep a death grip on it.
Stiles sighed. “Yeah.”
“And the last one…”
Stiles turned back to his computer, hoisting his shoulders like a wall. He could handle a lot of things, but he couldn’t handle looking at Derek if this was a rejection. This had been a stupid idea. Stiles should’ve kept quiet, instead of pouring himself into a playlist like this.
Derek grabbed his arm and hauled him out of his desk chair. “Stiles.”
There was something in his voice that made Stiles actually look at him again. Derek’s eyes were wide open, vulnerable in a way Stiles didn’t think he’d ever seen.
“All I want for Christmas is you, too,” Derek said.
Stiles’s breath caught in his chest. Oh. “Oh.”
“Oh,” Derek repeated, a stupid smile on his face.
“I’d kind of like to kiss you,” Stiles blurted out. “If that's—”
Derek kissed him then, rendering the rest of the sentence moot.
Never mind. The playlist had clearly been the best idea ever.