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Derek’s favorite holiday when he was a kid was Christmas. He loved the colors and the lights and the warm aroma of the food. His family always made a big deal about it, the hustle and bustle around the house always felt chaotic and exciting, somehow right. Most kids with Christmas birthdays hated it, but not Derek. His family never made the day feel any less special for him. His presents didn’t get grouped together. He still got a birthday cake. He got to blow out the candles and make a wish. The only difference was that even his distant relatives would be around during that time and Derek was never one to complain about more time with his pack.
And then he got older. Time with his pack was still cherished and the warmth of the holiday was still there, but it began to lose it’s glimmer in his teenage eyes. He wanted more. He wanted to be loved. He wanted to be wanted. Kate promised him this, told him he was special, told him that she loved him. She was older and pretty and the way she smiled made Derek want so desperately to please her. He was wrong. He would never forget how wrong he was.
Now Christmas felt like smoke burning his nose and eyes. It felt ash that stuck to his skin, smearing out in gray and black streaks when he tried to scrub them off. Even in the burnt out shell of his home, he could still hear the echos of their laughter mixing with their screams. Christmas felt like Laura’s tears, hot against his skin as she cried into his shoulder. Derek had never been able to shake the guilt, the feeling that he had killed his family and taken away not only his happiness, but his sister’s.
But Derek moved on. Somehow he moved on. He had never been very good at healing and even before Laura died, he had always felt alone. His chest always felt hollow, a place carved out that only the love of a pack could fill.
And in a very strange way, it got filled. He got a pack, he got a family, all because two idiot teenagers couldn’t mind their own business. Every day Derek blamed himself for getting them involved, for letting them get put through so much pain. And every day Derek was thankful for them. They saved Derek and made him feel whole again, but Christmas still left a burnt taste in the back of his throat.
That was until Stiles decided to take Derek’s Holiday Happiness into his own hands.
He was standing in Derek’s apartment, door still wide open from where he had barged in. Derek stopped and looked up at him from where he was sitting on the couch, bowl of cereal in one hand, spoon halfway to his mouth in the other. The manic grin on Stiles’ face was enough for Derek to regret giving him a key. But Stiles always gave much more than enough. He was wearing a santa hat that pushed down his brown hair, a wreath around his neck like a collar, and tinsel covering his arms with one box tucked under each.
“No.” Derek said before taking a bite of his cereal. He watched as Stiles’ bright grin fell slighting into shock and offence. If he wasn’t carrying so many things, Derek would have imagined him covering his heart with one hand dramatically.
“I didn’t even say anything yet!” Derek rolled his eyes as Stiles’ stepped further into the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He sat the boxes down on the coffee table in front of Derek. He could hear the jingling and rattling of it’s contents.
Stiles’ had become far more comfortable around Derek over the years and vice versa. He was in college now. His shoulders were broader and he had scars, both emotional and physical that he didn’t like to talk about. Derek could understand that. But no matter what they had been through, how many times they had saved each other, Stiles always found a way to get under Derek’s skin, like he belonged there. There was nothing in this world, or any other, that could wash that mischievous spark out of Stiles’s bright eyes.
“Sooo, I was at the mall earlier.” Stiles began. He waited for Derek to look up at him before he continued. “And there was this holiday store. It had lights and decorations. You know, the whole red and green color scheme practically drenching the place.” He laughed slightly. “It was like Santa threw up in there.”
Derek raised his eyebrows. “Is there a point to this?”
“Yes! Right! Well, I went in and I was looking down the aisles when I found…” He reached over to one of the boxes, opening it up. He rummaged through for only a second before standing up straight again, a ornament dangling gently from his long fingers. “This!” He was smiling widely. The ornament was pretty, it looked like it was made of crystal and was carved into the shape of a howling wolf. It sparkled in the light as it rocked back and forth on the silver string held firmly in Stiles’ grip. Derek watched it and suddenly his chest burned. “Do you like it?” Stiles’ asked, his eyes full of hope.
Derek leaned forward and sat his bowl on the coffee table. He stood up and let his eyes move back and forth between the ornament and Stiles’s face. Derek hesitated. “I don’t do Christmas, Stiles.”
Stiles face fell for a fraction of a second. “I know, but…” He placed the ornament on the table and pulled the wreath over his head and sat it down. “I saw the ornament and I thought of you and then I thought about how you never do anything for Christmas. You’re always alone.” He shrugged. “I mean my Dad has invited you over for Christmas Dinner the last 5 years in a row and every year you make an excuse and he doesn’t push it, because he knows. We both know why and that’s okay.” Stiles shifted on his feet and Derek watched him carefully. “When my Mom died, I wouldn’t celebrate Halloween. It was her favorite holiday. I couldn’t do it for years and then one year, Scott and my Dad decorated the house, put up all my Mom’s decorations. We passed out candy together and then watched scary movies.” Stiles tapped his fingers against his leg and Derek had to fight the urge to reach out and cover them with his own. “All I could think of was my Mom, but it wasn’t bad. It made me miss her, but it also let me remember her when we’re happy and I wouldn’t give that up for anything. You deserve that too.”
Derek didn’t know what to say. His chest felt tight as he watched Stiles. He took a breath. “The ornament is pretty.” Derek whispered.
“You think so?” A smile pulled at the edge of Stiles’ mouth, before setting into a more determined line. “Good. Because it’s going on your tree.”
“What tree?” Derek asked, raising one eyebrow.
“The tree in the Jeep!” He began unpacking the two boxes. “You got get that and some other boxes. I’ll start decorating up here.”
Derek sighed, but none the less went to put his shoes on by the door. “Why do I have to get the tree?”
Stiles smiled. “Because it’s 8 feet tall and you’re a big strong man. It’s your job.”
Derek laughed and turned to face Stiles as he opened the door. “And what does that make you? The little wife?” He teased.
He could hear Stiles’ heartbeat skip from across the room and when he turned around his mouth was hanging open and his cheeks were turning the same shade as the santa hat on his head. “No! That’s not what I meant!”
Derek smiled as he stepped back through the door. “Whatever you say, Honey!” Stiles’ indignant squawk could have been heard behind the thick door, even without werewolf hearing.
By the time Derek made it back up to his apartment with the tree and the rest of the boxes, Stiles was already finishing wrapping bright green garland all the way up the railing of the stairs. He worked carefully, his hands moving with precision and his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth. Derek had to bite back a smile as he watched him.
Stiles looked up when he realized he was there, his eyes lit up and he smiled. “It’s about time! But the tree over by the window.” He pointed one hand and went back to the last bit of his work. By the time he was done, Derek had just finished positioning the tree in a way that he liked. Stiles made his way over, smiling with a brightness Derek wanted to bask in, wanted to keep there. “Perfect.” His eyes fell on Derek when he said the word and held for a moment.
They pulled a couple of the boxes over, pulling out various ornaments. Some looked new, shiny and perfect and others looked older. They looked like they had seen more than one Christmas, like they had soaked in the Holiday Cheer from another family’s tree. Derek was fond of those, but the one’s he liked best, looked like they were handmade. They had too much glitter and were made out of popsicle sticks and pipe cleaners, but they also held parts of his pack. One of them had fingerprints on it, with everyone’s initials written below their own and others had pictures of them, cut out and smiling. Yeah, those were his favorite and he handled them all with extreme care.
They talked while they worked. They talked about Stiles’ school and his future. They talked about the pack and the latest problems they were all getting themselves into. He asked Derek about how things were at the Station, even though he hung out there more often than not. Things in Beacon Hills had settled down considerably. It was safe, comfortable.
By the time the tree was done, they had covered a number of topics and Derek felt like he could continue talking to Stiles forever. The tree looked tacky to say the least. None of the ornaments matched and the lights flashed different colors, but it was the most beautiful tree Derek had ever seen. He hung up the crystal wolf in the center, just near the top, for everyone to see.
They stood there admiring the tree for a moment before Stiles rubbed his hands together. “Now, step two in Derek Hale’s Holiday Happiness.”
Derek shook his head, but smiled anyways. “This’ll be good.”
“You’re damn right it will be!” Stiles stepped around Derek and headed towards the Kitchen. “Follow me.”
The counters were filled with ingredients. There was barely a clean surface in sight. “Stiles what is all this?”
Stiles opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a big silver bowl before turning around and smiling. “Baking! What is Christmas without Christmas cookies?” He sat the bowl down and started throwing things in. He moved with an assurance Derek had to get used to. He wasn’t as frenetic as he was when he was a teenager. He was more controlled. But there was still that energy inside of him, something wholly and truly Stiles. He wasn’t looking at any recipe or instructions, but every action he took was confident.
“You know how to bake?” Derek asked. There were still things Derek didn’t know about him and he wanted to find it all out.
Stiles looked up for a moment, one eyebrow raised. “A couple of things.” He wiped at his face, leaving behind a light brown smudge of batter that brought out the warm tones of his eyes and freckles that made their way down his neck. He started to stir the bowl. “Christmas cookies are a specialty of mine. My mom taught me when I was a kid. Me and my Dad kept it up after she was gone.”
They stood in silence for a moment. Derek stepped closer to the counter and leaned on it, his elbows supporting his weight. “I made cookies with my Mom, too.” Stiles looked up, his eyes soft and welcoming. “Laura would get mad because Mom would always let me lick the spoon. She said it was my reward for helping and Laura sucked at baking so…” He trailed off with a laugh.
“That sounds nice.” He kept his voice quiet when he said it, his eyes moving away from Derek as he continued with the cookies.
“It was.” Derek smiled to himself. “She was an awful cook. Mom let her make her own dinner once and she burned it so bad even the dog wouldn’t eat it. My Dad was the same, couldn’t cook to save his life.” He laughed. “Laura almost burned down the kitchen more times than I can count.” Derek let his smile fall after he said it and swallowed thickly.
He could tell Stiles knew why he had gone quietl, but the other boy pushed on, his mouth turned up sadly. “I think I would have liked your family.”
Derek watched Stiles, watched the way his eyelashes cast shadows on his pale skin and how his bottom lip stuck out slightly in concentration. “I think they would have liked you too.”
Stiles’ eyes snapped up to his, wide and bright. A smile slowly made it’s way across his face before he ducked his head. They stood in silence for a moment, as Stiles put the cookies in the oven.
Derek stepped closer, close enough that when Stiles turned around he jumped slightly. “Jeez! You’re gonna give me a heart attack one day.” They were barely a foot apart and Derek could almost feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed.
Derek didn’t say anything. He just lifted his hand to cup Stiles’ jaw and used his thumb to rub away the batter still sitting on his cheek. He could hear Stiles breath catch and Derek let his eyes drop down to his open mouth for a moment. Stiles eyes did the same. “You had…” Derek pulled his hand back, trying to slow the beating of his heart. “You had some batter on your cheek.” He cleared his throat and stepped back, trying to fill his nose with something other than the intoxicating scent of the human standing in front of him.
Stiles shook himself. “Yeah.” His voice was rough and Derek forced himself to think about anything other than how nice it sounded. “Yeah.” He ran his hand absentmindedly on his cheek where the batter had been.
Stiles continues baking in silence, Derek watching him, but he could only stay silent for so long. After a few minutes, he started rambling about the history of Christmas and odd traditions that have long since been discarded from everyday practice of the holiday. Derek watches him and listens. That seems to be the only thing anyone is able to do around Stiles. Watch and listen with fascination and awe and sometimes confusion. But oddly enough, Derek felt like Stiles is the only person who has ever listened to him. The boy could talk like no one else, but when Derek said anything, he stopped. His sole focus became Derek and it was such an addictive thing to be.
When the cookies were done Stiles handed Derek the spoon to lick clean. After they cooled, Stiles and Derek sat on the couch, shoulders almost brushing. They watched the lights of the Christmas tree twinkle and blink. Stiles’ Santa hat was now laying on the table with the rest of the decorations and three plates of cookies. Derek picked up one of the cookies shaped like a snowman and took a bite. He couldn’t stop the moan that lifted out of his throat as the sweetness of it fell on his tongue. The cookie was delicious.
Stiles choked on his cookie beside him, his cheeks turning a nice shade of red. He sputtered and coughed. Derek reached over to pat him on the back and stared at him with a worried look. Stiles waved a hand at him and swallowed. “You can’t just do that to a guy.” He muttered.
Derek’s eyebrows pulled together. “Do what?”
Stiles scoffed, his face seemed to not know exactly what expression he wanted to make and his cheeks were still looked warm. “Nothing.” He said, his eyes meeting Derek’s for just a beat too long to be normal.
He jumped up suddenly. “I almost forgot!” He shoved the rest of his cookie into his mouth, making his cheeks puff out comically. He dug through the boxes enthusiastically. He pulled out a small green plant. “Mistletoe!” He yelled around the cookie.
Derek leaned back on instinct. “Stiles! What the hell?” He sat his napkin and cookie on the couch. “Are you trying to kill all of your friends?”
Stiles rolled his eyes. “Calm down, Sourwolf.” He lifted it up and shook it. “It’s fake.”
Derek huffed and stood up. “We are not putting that thing up.”
“Oh, yes were are.” Stiles smiled with a challenging look in his eyes.
Derek stepped forward and reached for the Mistletoe, but Stiles pulled his hand back. “Stiles, no.”
“Derek, yes.” He said in a mocking tone. “It’s a Christmas tradition!”
Derek reached for it again, but Stiles lifted his hand up, using his body as a barrier, a smile on his face. He had grown since he was a teenager. His shoulders were broader and he was now almost an inch taller than Derek, so his arms were just a tad bit longer than Derek’s. Derek stretched to reach it, his chest brushing lightly with Stiles’ making him freeze. They both stopped. Their eyes met for a moment, their breath mixing together in between them. Stiles’ eyes moved up to look at the Mistletoe now hanging above them from his fingers. Derek’s eyes followed for a moment before they both came down again.
For the second time that night, Derek found his gaze drifting to Stiles’ soft looking mouth. His heart sped up in his chest and he could hear Stiles’ do the same. He lifted his hand slowly to Stiles’ face and held it there. He shrugged and pulled Stiles forward slightly. He moved easily in his hand. “It is a Christmas tradition.” He said quickly and Stiles nodded. They both leaned in, their lips brushing together gently. Derek closed his eyes. He could feel Stiles’ arm drop and fall onto his shoulders, the other fisting into the front of Derek’s shirt and pulling him closer. Derek wrapped his free arm around Stiles waist and tilted his head to get better access to the sweet, aching feeling of Stiles tongue pushing through his lips. Stiles sighed against his mouth, causing Derek to pull hold him impossibly tighter.
The door of Derek’s apartment flew open and the boys jumped apart, both looking equally surprised and dazed. Derek should have heard someone coming, but was too distracted by the way Stiles felt against him.
The Pack streamed through the door, seemingly unaware of the state Derek and Stiles had been caught in. Scott came in first, a cake box in his hands and smile on his face. Behind him, Erica, Boyd, and Isaac were carrying balloons of different colors and bags and boxes that had ‘Happy Birthday’ written on them in bright colors and big letters. Derek stared as they all piled in, waving brightly at him and sitting their things down. Lydia, Allison, and Jackson held, what looked like decorations, in store bags. The Sheriff and Melissa Mccall came in last, holding containers of food, that made Derek’s mouth water from all the way from the other side of the room.
Derek’s eyes shifted to Stiles who was looking at him sheepishly and rubbing the back of his neck with one hand. “Happy Birthday?” Derek’s mouth hung open as he looked at him
“Hey, Stiles!” The Sheriff clapped his hand on his son’s shoulder, making him jump. “Why don’t you tell everyone where to put the stuff.” Stiles nodded and disappeared, his head ducked low.
Derek watched him go and then looked back at Sheriff. “Happy Birthday, son.” Derek’s chest felt tight at the term of endearment.
Derek nodded politely. “Thank you, Sheriff.”
He smiled gently. “I’ve told you, call me John.” Derek nodded and smiled slightly. “But if you’re going to be dating my son, and I hope that you will, call me Mr. Stilinski. At least until after you’ve been dating for a little while.” He winked. “Gotta keep up appearances. Can’t have the Station thinking I favor you.” Derek’s eyes widened and tried to protest, but the Sheriff held up a hand. “I’m not blind son. I like you, Derek. You’re family to us. Just don’t hurt him.”
Derek could only nod. He looked up at where Stiles was pointing out places to put gifts. He looked beautiful. He smiled slightly to himself. “I don’t deserve him.” He said without really thinking about it and the Sheriff frowned. “He found out when my birthday was and set up a party. He decorated my apartment for Christmas and made cookies.” He took a breath. “He let me remember my family in the best ways. I don’t deserve him.”
“I’m his father. I don’t think anyone will ever deserve him.” Derek nodded. “But if I had to pick someone that deserved him the most, it would be you.” He tried to take a breath. “Plus, Stiles has already chose you and I have a feeling he’s going to keep on choosing you. We both know how determined he is.” Derek felt himself smile as the Sheriff laughed.
“I choose him too.” Derek said.
The Sheriff clapped him on the shoulder. “I know.” He moved back to the group.
------
The party was nice. It felt warm and right, like pack, like family. Derek didn’t remember the last time he felt this good, the last time he laughed this much. Through the whole night, Stiles’ and Derek’s eyes kept finding each other, no matter where they were. They would end up beside each other after a while, getting pulled towards each other like gravity. It made Derek’s chest feel warm and his fingers twitch.
It was late now. The Sheriff and Melissa had gone home and the Pack was sleeping in various places around the apartment, spread out on the couches, floor, and the bed of spare room. Derek stepped into the kitchen. Stiles was standing there, the only one still awake, always the one still there with Derek.
“Hey.” He said as he took a bite of a cupcake. He licked the icing off his lips and Derek tracked the movement.
“Hey.” Derek moved closer.
“Did you have fun?” There was a hopeful look in Stiles’ sleepy eyes.
Derek moved closer still and bumped their shoulders together. He turned his head to look at him. “It was amazing. Thank you.”
Stiles smiled, but didn’t look at him. “It was nothing.”
“No, it wasn’t nothing.” Derek lifted his hand to Stiles chin and turned his head to look at him. “Thank you. Not just for this.” He took a breath, inhaling all that Stiles was, warm, bright, and vibrating with an energy that Derek was so constantly losing himself in. “Thank you, for everything.”
Stiles blinked and tried to breathe. “You’re welcome.”
Derek let his hand fall and stepped back. “You should get some sleep.”
Stiles let out a laugh. “I think every piece of furniture is covered already.” He shoved the rest of his cupcake in his mouth, some frosting spilling out.
“You could come sleep in my bed.” Derek said as he took another step backwards. Stiles sputtered slightly. “With me.” Derek smiled as Stiles coughed and swallowed thickly. He stared at Derek, making him fidget slightly. He shrugged. “If you want.”
“Yes!” Stiles almost shouted and tripped over his feet to get closer to Derek. “Yes, uh, yeah yeah. Yes.”
Derek smiled wider and nodded. “Alright, come on.”
They made their way up the stairs quietly, so they wouldn’t wake the pack. When they finally stepped into Derek’s bedroom and the door shut behind them, Stiles stopped. He looked around the room.
“Are you okay?” Derek asked, beginning to get nervous. “You don’t have to sleep in here if you don’t-”
“No!” Stiles said. “It’s not that. I just…” He wrung his hands together. “It’s strange being in your room. You don’t let anyone up here.”
“A bad strange?”
“No, a good strange. A really good strange.” Stiles laughed. “It’s almost like I’m special.”
Derek’s head turned to Stiles’ his eyebrows pulled down. “Stiles, you are special.”
Stiles let out a breathy laugh before throwing himself at Derek. Their lips collided together forcefully. Derek immediately opened his mouth for him, letting him have access. He would offer up anything Stiles wanted. Derek held onto him tightly, revelling in the warmth of him, in the smooth drag of his lips and his hands. Derek let out a low growl when Stiles nipped lightly at his wet bottom lip. They broke apart for a moment, trying to breath. Derek felt dizzy from it all.
“I’m in love with you.” The words were out of Derek’s mouth before he could stop them. Stiles pulled his head back slightly, but didn’t detach himself from Derek’s grip and didn’t lessen his own. Derek didn’t move.
“Are you serious?” Stiles asked, his voice full of disbelief. When Derek nodded, he laughed. Not a cruel laugh, but a joyful laugh, a laugh that sounded like he wouldn’t have been able to keep it down even if he tried. Stiles lifted his hand and gently ran his fingers through Derek’s hair. Derek felt himself lean into. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since I was sixteen.”
No feeling in the world could measure up to what Derek was feeling in that moment. His chest was light and for the first time in years, he felt completely and utterly whole. He leaned forward and captured Stiles lips in his once again. He stepped back, never taking his lips from Stiles’, until his knees hit the edge of the bed, and together, they fell. Stiles weight on top of him was warm and comforting.
They gasped into each other’s mouths when Stiles’ shifted against him, their bodies brushing together. Derek rolled them over trapping Stiles underneath him. Stiles’ knees fell open, making room for Derek. Derek pulled back and kissed his way down Stiles neck, tracking the freckles as he went. Stiles arched into him and moaned. “Best. Christmas. Ever.”
Derek smiled against his skin. He couldn’t agree more.