HAPPY HOLIDAYS! I hope you enjoy!!! This is literally just total Christmas break/coffeeshop/one-sided enemies to friends/reconnecting fluff.Â
Read on AO3
*****
have yourself a (caffeinated) little christmas
It started with the lids.
âHey! Derek!â Lauraâs voice rang out from the kitchen, followed by the aggressive rustle of cardboard boxes scraping against the wire storage racks.
âYeah?â he called back, eyes still trained on the stack of receipts in front of him. The lunch rush had just cleared out, and he was determined to get everything back in order before the wave of afternoon snackers began.
âAre we out of to-go lids? The 12-ounce ones?â
Derek frowned, thinking for a moment. Before he had a chance to even consider answering, Laura finished her own thought.
âYeah. Okay. Weâre definitely out of lids.â
Shit. They usually worked through those relatively slowly, but if there was one thing the next onslaught of customers would want, it was coffee, especially now that the temperature was finally beginning to drop.
Laura sighed and scrubbed a hand over her face. âCan you run across the street and ask if they have a sleeve they could spare?â
Derekâs stomach flipped. âNo,â he answered automatically, leveling a glare at his sister. He knew he had made a mistake as soon as their eyes met. Derek didnât know why he ever tried to out-intimidate her; he forgot that what might work on Isaac or Erica still wouldnât fly with Laura. Her eyes narrowed, and Derek immediately felt himself shrink back. âPlease?â he added weakly.
Laura sighed and rolled her eyes. âI donât know what your damage is, Derek.â She paused for a moment before narrowing her glare in a downright terrifying big-sister way.
âActually, I take it back. I know exactly what your damage is, and his name isââ
ââFine! Fine. Iâll go,â Derek grumbled, if for no other reason than to get Laura to stop talking.
âHeâs single, by the way,â Laura added with a smirk, sashaying back into the kitchen. How did Laura even know that? Did she and Stiles talk? Did they talk about Derek? And why, for any reason, did she think Derek would care about that completely unsolicited piece of information?
âOoh!â piped in Erica, suddenly intrigued from her silverware-rolling station. âWhatâs his name? Is he an ex? A Tinder fling?â She caught Derekâs eye with a smirk. If only she knew.
Never one to be fazed by sibling drama, Erica merely stuck out her tongue in response to Derekâs answering glare, which felt like it was etched between his eyebrows at that point.
Laura laughed, returning to her methodical cupcake icing. âNah. Just this guy used to know.â
Derek huffed and shrugged on his coat before pushing the back door open. Of course Laura knew just how much Stiles Stilinski made Derekâs blood boil. If she hadnât, she could have easily sent Isaac across the street to Juliaâs, the coffee shop where Stiles worked. Maybe heâs not working today, Derek tried to reason with himself, shuffling through the alley. But you always see his car on the parking lot on Fridays, which, okayâSince when do I pay attention to Stilinskiâs car? Or his schedule? Derek rolled his shoulders as if he could physically shake off his annoyance.
If he was being honest with himself, he already knew the answer: since April of Derekâs senior year of high school, when Stiles finally turned 16 and started driving his rattly old sky-blue death trap of a Jeep to school. It always seemed to fling itself haphazardly into the parking lot moments before the warning bell rang. Laura thought it was hilarious. Derek just thought it was annoying.
He didnât remember exactly when he decided that he and Stiles werenât friends, but at some point, he started attributing it to the time Stiles â a sophomore, Laura! â beat him out for captain of the varsity academic decathlon team. Not that he would ever admit that to anyone, of course. Especially not Erica.
Derek had begrudgingly admired a lot of things about Stiles, like his weirdly uncanny prowess at trivia, or the way he had casually-yet-courageously came out as bisexual in high school, years before Derek himself did. They just⊠werenât friends.  It had nothing to do with the oddly endearing way Stiles flailed through life, possessing a kind of chaotic grace that Derek was always bitter he couldnât master. It definitely didnât have to do with his obnoxious laugh and his ridiculous Bambi eyes or his passionate, all-consuming obsession with Lydia Martin. Definitely not the Lydia thing.
He squared his shoulders, sighed in irritation at his sister one final time, and pushed open the door to Juliaâs. It was fine. He would be perfectly cordial to Stiles, would definitely not think about his annoyingly adorable smile, and that would be that. He was just here for the lids.
âBe right with you,â someone called from the back as the door jangled. As Derek had predicted, it was Stilesâ voice that greeted him. He walked silently to the counter, jamming his hands in his pockets and letting his gaze roam the shop.
Juliaâs was a little smaller than Harvest Moon, the Hale familyâs restaurant, but it was cozy. Overstuffed couches lined the walls, and a fireplace crackled pleasantly in the corner. Soft, jazzy Christmas music wafted through the air, along with the robust, earthy scent of ground coffee beans. It was the exact kind of place Derek would sit down with a heavy new hardback novel, but he rarely set foot in the place.
âAlright, what can Iâ Oh, um, hey!â Stiles said as he emerged from the back, absently wiping his hands down the front of his apron and breaking Derek out of his reverie. He looked genuinely surprised to see Derek, which he supposed was fair â they rarely encountered one another anymore, had hardly spoken in years. âWhat can I do for you, Derek?â
âLaura sent me over,â Derek answered, noting the almost imperceptible way Stilesâ face shifted at his words. âWe ran out of to-go coffee lids, and she was wondering if you had any extras we could use.â He waited a beat. Be polite, Derek, God, he heard his sisterâs voice scold in his head. âAnd. Um. We can order you some more. On our next truck.â
Stiles smiled his mysterious half-smirk, the one that always drove Derek nuts during their verbal sparring matches in high school. âYeah, yeah. No problem. Let me check,â he said, disappearing behind the counter.
Derek heard boxes shifting, a soft thump, and a muffled curse in rapid succession. âAre⊠you okay?â he asked, hesitant.
âYeah! Yeah, totally good,â Stiles answered before letting out a triumphant âa-ha!â
He reemerged, offering a plastic sleeve of lids to Derek. âWill this work?â
Derek nodded and reached across the counter, valiantly ignoring the way their hands absolutely did not brush. He cleared his throat, painfully aware of how awkward he looked. Iâm not making this awkward, he insisted to himself. We just donât have anything in common anymore.
Stiles cracked a smile. âThis doesnât mean youâre threatening our coffee monopoly, does it?â
Derek huffed out a laugh in spite of himself. âDefinitely not. We go through these so slowly that we always forget to reorder this stuff.â Coffee was decidedly not the Hale siblingsâ forte. His few attempts at using their espresso machine had failed miserably, and Derek decided for their customersâ sake to leave the occasional to-go coffee order to Isaac instead. He knew Erica preferred Juliaâs coffee to Harvest Moonâs, and while he made sure to glare at her every time sh
Derek woke up not to the voices quietly arguing about killing and gutting fish (and what the hell those two were even doing in his loft?!) but to the wild heartbeat signaling a deep distress.
With a weary sigh Derek rolled out of his warm, comfortable bed and padded in the direction of the voices.
On his way he glanced at the clock. It was seven in the morning! He was going to rip their throats out. After heâll deal with the crisis.
The two culprits were standing in his bathroom, gesturing now and again at the bathtub. One of them had a knife in hand.
âScott,â Stiles was saying calmly, though his racing heartbeat belayed that notion. âYou are a predator. You canât expect me to believe you canât kill some fish.â
âI canât!â Scott argued back. âIâm practicing to be a veterinarian. Iâm supposed to heal all kinds of animals, not harm them!â
âTell that to all those bunnies you have eaten on the full moons,â Stiles snorted.
âIâŠâ Scott reared back a bit with a hurt expression. Then he remembered he didnât actually ate any rabbits. Ever. âI did not!â he protested hotly. âWhy wonât you do it?â the true Alpha retaliated, pushing the large knife under his best friendâs nose, expecting him to take it.
Stilesâ heartbeat kicked up a notch toeing the edge of a panic attack. Scott didnât seem to notice. Which was stupid of him, considering everything that went down with the Nogitsune. Sure, it was just a fish, but killing was still a very sensitive topic for Stiles.
Derek grabbed the distressed teen by the back of his shirt and pulled him back, almost out of the bathroom. Stiles let out a startled yelp and started cursing at creepy werewolves. Derek ignored him, pushing the teen behind him and keeping him close to his body.
âNobody is going to kill anything,â Derek grumbled. âAnd put that knife back, before you hurt someone.â
He felt Stiles relax and lean more into his back.
âWhat are you even doing here?â the older werewolf asked. He blinked at the bathtub filled with water and five fish swimming around. âAnd why there are five carps in my bathroom?â
âDude,â Stiles said, leaning over his shoulder. âTonight is Christmas Eve!â
âSo?â Derek deadpanned.
âSo?â Scott gaped at him.
âSo weâre going to celebrate, of course,â Stiles replied, unfazed by Derekâs attitude.
âAt seven in the morning?â Derek grumbled. Stiles was calming down rapidly, so he prepared to kick them the hell out and go back to sleep.
âYou wolves eat a lot, and the whole pack will be here, so there is a ton of food to prepare,â Stiles explained. âThe faster we start the better.â
Derek froze.
âThe whole pack? Here?â he demanded. Bye bye much desired and needed sleep. âWhy here?!â
Stiles chuckled lightly and jumped a little, wrapping his long limbs around Derekâs body.
Derek snarled.
Scott stepped back.
âYou have a lot of space here,â the teen replied, unconcerned by the fact he was clinging to the werewolf whom was practically spitting in his rage. âPeter and Malia will come soon to help.â
âPeter!â Derek growled through his fangs.
âYeah,â Stiles smiled. âA bit later Lydia, Aiden, Danny, Kira and her parents will bring some decorations.â
âWhat!â
âMy dad, Scottâs mom and Deaton will bring more tables and chairs with them after their shifts. Chris Argent, Isaac and Cora will drive from the airport in the afternoon.â
That stopped Derek in his tracks.
âCora?â he asked, turning his head to look at Stiles.
âYup,â the teen grinned brightly.
âFine!â Derek grumbled. âNow get off me.â
Stiles complied, but not before giving the werewolf a happy nuzzle, making him stiffen in surprise. Then he grabbed Scott and they both went downstairs.
âDude!â Derek heard Scott exclaim.
âI told you itâll be fine,â Stiles said.
âI thought he was going to kill you!â the Alpha cried.
âNah,â Stiles denied. âHe wouldnât.â
Derek sighed, shaking his head and went to get dressed.
True to Stilesâ words soon the rest of the pack showed up.
After too much enthusiastic show of wanting to claw the fish apart, Malia was banned from trying and instead helped Stiles in the kitchen with other things.
Peter turned up his nose and declared, that the smell of fish is too strong for his sensitive nose and he wonât go near them, much less touch them.
Lydia made it clear, that the task of killing and gutting fish is beneath her and declared, that her boyfriend will not lower himself to that level too.
Kiraâs parents busied themselves with decorating the Christmas tree and the loft to avoid the task.
Kira tried, but ultimately failed.
âTheyâre staring at me like that and I just canât do it,â she stated, cooing at the carps.
Danny was Danny, he wouldnât even hurt a fly.
The topic of preparing fish was put aside with the arrival of Cora, Isaac and Chris Argent, only to be renewed when all of the pack was present and Stiles declared the only dish left to prepare was carp.
There was a long debate where everyone protested their part in the fishâs demise.
âAlright, Iâll do it,â Argent finally declared impatiently.
Many hours later, when everything was said and done, the guests gone and everything cleaned up, Derek found Stiles in his bathroom saying goodbye to the carps.
ââŠand bye, Grumpy,â the teen waved slightly. âSee you soon.â
âYou named them?â Derek asked, smirking at Stilesâ surprised flail.
âStop doing that!â Stiles send him a glare.
Which Derek wiped out with pulling him closer and giving him a short gentle peck on the lips.
âThank you for this,â Derek said quietly.
Because of course Stiles was the instigator of the whole thing.
Stilesâ shocked expression melted into soft smile.
âYouâre very much welcome.â
Law of physics
Stiles was so worried, he couldnât even appreciate a ride in the camaro right now. Derek was going well over the limit and Stiles was sorely tempted to tell him to go even faster, but the Alpha was so tense, that the teenager was afraid heâll snap and kill them both. Instead Stiles focused on his phone in case someone tried to contact him again.
Just a few minutes ago he and Derek were at the loft making plans for the next pack training when Stiles got a call from Isaac.
âYou need to,â Isaac wheezed through the phone with an almighty effort, âget to Deaton.â
He didnât say anything more. There were just some more gasps and then the line went dead.
So now they were on their way, incredibly worried and preparing for the worst.
Soon they turned into parking lot of the animal clinic and Stiles jumped out of the car before Derek even stopped the camaro completely.
With the Alpha close on his heels, Stiles hurriedly made his way inside.
In the waiting area sat Chris Argent with an arm in a sling and Isaac with tear stained cheeks. They both looked up in surprise as Stiles and Derek flew into the building in the state of near panic.
âWhat happened?!â Stiles demanded, while Derek growled at the hunter. âWhereâs Scott?â
âOh my God,â Isaac said quietly with wide eyes and started laughing. âYour faces!â
The new arrived duo stared at him in confusion.
âScott is fine,â Argent said helpfully, rubbing his shoulder with a wince.
At this point Isaac was literally rolling on the floor with laughter, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks.
âIsaac, man,â Scott complained, limping from Deatonâs examination room with the vet following him. âFor the last time, itâs not that fu-â he stopped, noticing the Alpha and his best friend. âYou called them?!â he groaned.
âScott,â Stiles said slowly, trying to make sense of the situation. âWhatâs going on?â
âYeah, Scott,â Argent smirked. âWhy donât you tell them whatâs going on?â
âItâs nothing, really,â the teen wolf hedged. âWeâre fine. Nothing to talk about.â
âYou almost broke the manâs arm,â Deaton pointed out. âThatâs not nothing.â
âI didnât mean to!â Scott defended.
âWhat?â Stiles asked at the same time.
âWhat did you do?â Derek demanded with all the Alpha authority.
Scott ducked his head, kicking at the floor with his uninjured foot and mumbled something.
Derek let out a pained groan and facepalmed.
âChrist,â he mumbled into his palm.
âWhat was that?â Stiles wanted to know.
âScott wanted to play Superman,â Isaac chimed in, keeping his laughter in check. âSo he walked up to Mr. Argent, grabbed the barrel of his rifle and tried to bend it down.â
âJesus,â Stiles joined Derek in his âIâm surrounded by idiotsâ play.
âThe barrel went down,â Isaac continued. âMr. Argentâs arm went up and he pulled the trigger in surprise and shot Scott in the foot.â
âIt hurt!â Scott whined.
âGood, you wonât do something so stupid again,â Derek growled and stalked out.
Stiles nodded in agreement, turning to follow the Alpha.
âYou canât believe everything you see on television, Scott,â he threw over his shoulder.
âIâm going too,â Chris Argent got up and looked at Isaac. âCan you drive me home in my car?â
âSure,â the werewolf agreed and followed the hunter out.
âHey, guys, what about me?â asked Scott plaintively, limping slowly to the exit after them. âGuys?!â
Really, Stiles should have known better than to send his daughter off to the mall, right before Christmas, with Scott Enabler Extraordinaire McCall.
So when she entered the house with an open-mouthed, gap-toothed smile a mile wide and a fluffy puppy in her arms, it was Scott who received the brunt of his glare. And Derek Hale, dressed as the mallâs Santa, who had to face the consequences of his puppy-gifting actions.
(AO3 link available Dec 26)
Really, Stiles should have known better than to send his daughter off to the mall, right before Christmas, with Scott Enabler Extraordinaire McCall.
Scott had been his best friend since theyâd bonded over the fascinating taste/texture combination of paste and crayons, and the less-fascinating results of puking up the mixture after an invigorating round on the swings. Theyâd essentially grown up together: brothers in every sense of the word, other than that pesky genetic one.
What most people didnât realize about their friendship, though, was that a good percentage of the incidents that had sent them to the principalâs office - or the Sheriffâs station - throughout their teenage years had, in fact, not always been instigated by Stiles. Granted, the impetus behind Stilesâs ideas usually involved poking at boundaries, defying authority, and knowing full well what the consequences would be if they got caught, while Scottâs heavily optimistic nature meant he simply blundered into situations with the expectation that everything would turn out the way he wanted.
The problem was, they generally got into the same amount of trouble, regardless of whose plan it had been to begin with. And somehow Stiles always ended up with the short end of the stick.
âItâs because Scott apologizes,â Stilesâs dad had, a decade earlier, sighed in response to Stilesâs loud protestations about being grounded during Lydiaâs epic eighteenth birthday party, which Scott was still allowed to attend. When Stiles had attempted to launch into another objection - Scott had been the one to suggest dying the pool red before the swim meet, in honor of their school colors - his dad had raised a tired hand. âAnd he helped the janitor scrub it clean. While you sat back and explained, in detail, why it was so funny that it gave Jackson hives. Besides, Scottâs not my kid; you are. And youâre not going to that party.â
Stiles had ruined his own carefully crafted righteous indignation by snickering. They hadnât really meant it as a prank when theyâd started. But, considering Stilesâs glee at the outcome, itâd been difficult to argue they hadnât known Jackson was allergic to food coloring. Anyway, Stiles had pointed out, Jackson was the idiot who dove into the pool early in the morning, without even turning on the lights or bothering to glance at the water. Was it their fault he was that reckless about his own well-being?
Yes, his dad had said, threatening to handcuff him to his desk if he tried to sneak out of the house. Again.
At the time, itâd been hard for Stiles to imagine ever being on the other side of the equation - putting his foot down and sticking to his decision, despite the wobbling lips and tear-filled eyes of a kid who hadnât meant to do anything wrong. The reality was, heâd been damn lucky. To everyoneâs relief, and certainly his own, Claudia had inherited his looks - snub nose, brown eyes, and a smattering of freckles that he appreciated far more than his own moles - but had been graced with a much steadier personality. As âGrandpa Johnâ made sure to mention fairly often, she was far more sedate and well-behaved than her father, even after heâd mostly outgrown his difficult teenage years. Stiles always made an exasperated face in response, but he had to admit it was true. He didnât mind agreeing with his dad that heâd somehow managed to produce the most perfect child in the universe.
So when she entered the house with an open-mouthed, gap-toothed smile a mile wide and a fluffy puppy in her arms, it was Scott who received the brunt of his glare.
Scottâs sunny grin dimmed a bit, and he hung back in the doorway, beginning to look slightly sheepish. Stiles ramped up the fury and disbelief in his eyes, trying to nonverbally express exactly How Uncool this entire situation was, and Scott shrugged apologetically.
âIt was love at first sight,â he explained, as though saying no to Claudiaâs pleadings for a puppy was completely unfathomable. Which was probably fair, but Stiles had been managing it for eight years, and he didnât need his best friend overturning his efforts.
âIâll deal with you later,â Stiles promised, before kneeling down to let Claudia run into his arms, puppy and all. She was chattering with such excitement that it took him some time to pick out the pertinent elements of the story.
âThe mall santa gave you a puppy?â he asked, and Claudia nodded happily.
âIsnât she wonderful?â She hefted the puppy higher in her arms so she could smoosh their cheeks together, two sets of big brown eyes gazing at him in appeal. âSanta said she was his favorite, even. He picked her out for me, âspecially.â Â
âDid he.â Stiles frowned over at Scott, who shrugged again. âAnd why was Santa handing out puppies?â
âFor Santa Paws,â she said, kissing the puppy on its nose and setting it down on the floor. It stood in place for a moment, then shook itself, its ears flopping, and began sniffing around the furniture. Probably looking for a place to pee, Stiles thought darkly, but he let it go for the time being. Their rugs had seen worse.
âWhatâs Santa Paws?â
She scrunched her forehead, thinking about it. âPuppies need homes,â she finally said, halfway under the table in pursuit of the one exploring their living room. âAnd kids need puppies. So Santa matches us up for Christmas. He said it was his job to make sure weâd be happy together.â
âMm, I see. Câmere for a minute, okay Clauds?â
âOh,â she said sadly, picking up on the tone that meant they were about to Have A Serious Conversation. She stroked gently over the puppyâs furry back before dragging her feet over to Stiles. âCanât we keep her, papa? Uncle Scott and Santa both said itâd be okay.â
âI know they did, honey, but it wasnât their decision to make. Both of them should have known better.â
Scott scratched awkwardly at his neck and pretended to examine a spot on the wallpaper.
Claudia sniffled wetly and said in a small voice, âBut I love her.â
Which was exactly why it wasnât okay to send a kid home with a high-maintenance pet without consulting her dad. It was difficult enough being a single parent; now Stiles had to be the villain who snatched his babyâs dream gift out of her arms during Christmas. He hated that heâd been put in this position, but he was doing his best to keep a level head about it. He scrubbed his hands roughly through his hair and breathed deeply.
âOkay, I need to go talk to Santa. Uncle Scott will-â But when he looked up, Scott was already edging out the door.
âGotta go home,â he said. âIâd promised to make dinner tonight, and I still need to grab some groceries.â
âWhich you could have done while you were babysitting my daughter, instead of bringing me a puppy!â Stiles yelled after him as he escaped.
Claudia had gone back to the puppy while his back was turned; she was sitting on the floor, quiet tears streaming down her face, petting it with both hands as it tumbled into her lap on unsteady paws and mouthed at her clothes.
âFucking hell,â Stiles muttered under his breath, then shot a glance at her to make sure she hadnât heard him. His daughter seeing him yelling at Santa would be just the thing to complete this shitfest of a day, but what could he do? He had to take her with him now. And he had to get the puppy back to the mall as quickly as possible, so the worldâs most irresponsible Santa could pawn it off on another unsuspecting family.
What a day this was shaping up to be.
***
They got to the mall as the Santa Paws line was closing up. Stiles hadnât planned that out, but he was relieved; it was certainly better than chewing Santa out in front of a crowd of children. Claudia tearfully pointed at a flash of red velvet disappearing behind a barrier, and pressed one last kiss into the puppyâs fur as she handed it over. âItâs okay, papa,â she said bravely, her voice shaking but her chin held high. âI know youâre only doing what you think is best.â
Stilesâs determination wavered for a moment. ButâŠshots and housebreaking and walks and obedience school and figuring out what to do with the thing while he was at work and Claudia was at schoolâŠit didnât make sense, not at this point in their lives. Heâd explained this to her many times over the years, and sheâd understood, appreciating the stuffed animals heâd given her as stand-ins for the real thing. But when Santa gives you a puppy, of course it trumps everything your dadâs told you.
His resolution settled back into place, firmer than ever.
âHey! Hey you, elf lady!â He leaned over the partition and shifted the puppy to his left hand so he could wave at a blonde elf.
âThatâs Erica,â Claudia said, clinging to his pants leg. âShe was helping Santa earlier. Sheâs nice, I like her.â
Elf Erica clacked over on her color-coordinated stilettos and smiled down at Claudia. âBack already?â she asked. âIâm afraid weâve closed up for the day, but you can see Santa again tomorrow, if you want.â
âWeâre here to return my present,â Claudia explained, her brown eyes huge and sad, and the friendly expression on Ericaâs face disappeared.
âI need to talk to Santa,â Stiles said, trying not to shiver at the venom in Ericaâs expression. âWould it be okay if - you do mind watching her for a few minutes while I do? I promise Iâll be quick. In and out.â
âAnd apparently without a puppy on the way back,â Erica growled, looking at him like he was single-handedly destroying Christmas for everyone. âFine. Heâs just through that curtain, but youâd better make it fast.â
Stiles hurried in the direction Erica had indicated. Behind him, he could hear Erica asking Claudia questions to keep her attention fixed on her, rather than on the fact that Stiles was dumping off an unwanted - even if appealingly warm and fuzzy - gift.
Santa was sitting on a low bench, tugging off his polished boots to reveal woolen socks that looked like theyâd been clumsily hand-knitted. He looked up when Stiles entered, his dark eyebrows lifting in surprise. Stiles shoved the puppy at him and barrelled into an explanation before he had a chance to speak.
âIâm returning this,â he said, and Santa dropped his boot and caught the puppy, which grunted a little at the new pair of hands braced around its fat belly, but otherwise didnât make a sound. If Stiles had been a puppy, heâd have been whimpering and attempting to wiggle free, or biting these people who kept passing him around. He had to admit this one seemed like a pretty good dog, all things considered, but - he shook his head sternly. A good dog for someone else. This dog was not going to become Puppy Stilinski. No matter how much it stared at him, blinking with golden lashes, its soft paws sadly dangling as Santa lifted it into the air.
âReturning?â Santa asked, his voice sounding mellower and younger than Stiles had expected. They were probably about the same age - Santa was in his mid-thirties, maybe, judging by the hints of laugh-lines at the corners of his unexpectedly pretty eyes, and by the dark eyebrows that in no way matched his flowing white beard. It made Stiles feel a little better; at least he wouldnât be telling off a senior citizen. This guy could take it.
âReturning,â he confirmed, his jaw tightening in annoyance. âI donât know what kind of scam youâre running here, buddy, but you canât just hand dogs off to children all willy-nilly. Isnât there paperwork or something you should be having their parents sign? In fact,â he said, warming up to the subject, âIâm not even sure what youâre doing here is legal. Do you have the right kind of permit for this?â
âYes,â Santa said, turning the puppy around so he could gaze into its eyes. âI worked it out with the Sheriff. And the parents do sign off on the puppies before they leave; this one went to little Claudia, right? Her dad was completely on board.â
âIâm her dad,â Stiles gritted out.
Santa looked at him, startled. âOh - her other dad, then. Iâm sorry if he didnât check with you first, but we donât ask a lot of questions once an adult agrees to all the adoption conditions. We wouldnât have sent this little lady home with Claudia on her own, of course.â
âShe doesnât have two dads. She has one parent. Itâs me. She also has an Uncle Scott, whose presents this year are being returned as soon as I can unwrap them and make it to the store.â
âOh no,â Santa said, sounding satisfyingly dismayed. Before Stiles could work himself into another rant, though, Santa pushed his fake beard down, letting it drop around his throat so he could nuzzle gently at the puppyâs silky ears. The puppy licked at his nose, and Santa smiled - a bright, absolutely devastating smile that made dimples pop into his cheeks. Bearded cheeks, still, but dark and neatly trimmed, with stunningly beautiful cheekbones that were visible now that the Santa disguise had fallen away. Stiles bit at his lip before he could think too much about his sudden urge to rub his face against that beard.
âWhatâs your name?â Stiles croaked out.
âDerek,â Santa said, tucking the puppy close to his chest with one arm and extending his other hand to shake Stilesâs. âIâm Derek Hale; I run the animal shelter.â
âHale,â Stiles mused. âI know your sister, donât I? Cora.â
Derek nodded. âMy younger sister. She and our older sister Laura run the pet lodge - youâve probably driven past it? They handle doggie daycare and grooming and boarding services. I sometimes help out when theyâre overbooked.â
âYou Hales are some pet lovers, huh?â He could feel his anger seeping away. He absently batted at it in the back of his mind in an attempt to bring it to the forefront again, but under the circumstances, it was hard to maintain his indignation.
âIt runs in the family, I guess.â Derek grinned as the puppy gnawed gently at his chin. âMy priorityâs always been on making sure the unwanted ones are able to find a home. Weâre a no-kill facility, but it gets pretty crowded, and holidays are a good time to bring visibility to the adoptable animals.â
âThatâs smart,â he grudgingly admitted. âI can see why my dad wouldâve supported you on this idea.â
âYour dad?â Derek lifted his eyebrows in question.
âSheriff Stilinski. Iâm Stiles. His no-good son.â
âOh, Iâve heard of you,â Derek said, grinning at him. âHe brings the K-9s in for grooming. He likes hanging around and telling stories when heâs got the time to spare.â
âGreat. Of course he does. Well - donât believe everything he says. He may be a man of the law, but that doesnât exempt him from tall tales. And uh. Exaggerations. Iâve probably only done half of the things he says.â
âYou shouldnât be worried about what he tells people. Heâs proud of you, and it shows,â Derek said. He tugged off the Santa cap and ran his fingers through his dark hair, which had been slightly flattened over the course of the day. The puppy jostled against his chest, and he rubbed his chin against its fuzzy head in mute apology.
Stiles coughed and unsuccessfully tried to tear his eyes away. Santas werenât supposed to be drop-dead gorgeous. It went against the rules of the universe or something. âSo the adoptions - theyâve been going well?â
âYeah, weâve had a good run this week, with older dogs as well as the puppies. This girl was one of the last to go today. Iâm sorry she didnât work out. She was the best puppy in the batch, actually; Iâd been thinking about taking her home myself, so I hadnât made her available until I saw your daughter bonding with her.â
Stiles grimaced. âYouâre making me feel like a serious grinch here.â
âNo, youâre right, I shouldâve handled the screening more carefully. I usually do ask a few more questions, or send them over to my elves for that part, but they were both so enthusiastic and genuine, and I was honestly getting a bit overwhelmed. Itâs been a long day. A long week, really. Sorry, do you mind? Iâm overheating in this getup.â He handed the puppy back to Stiles and unbuttoned his red jacket, peeling away the padding that gave him the jolly, cozy Santa look. He had a lean, toned body, with dark curls of chest hair peeking over the top of the white tank top heâd been wearing under his costume, and Stiles swallowed convulsively.
âI get that,â he said. âItâs been crazy at work for me, too. Probably part of why I got so frustrated when they came home with this thing.â He looked more closely at the dog, which was panting happily, its tail thumping against his arm. It lunged for his face with an eager tongue, and he laughed, charmed despite himself.
âNot a dog hater, then,â Derek said, his eyes twinkling.
âNo, not at all. I was always the one pestering my dad about it when I was a kid.â He scratched behind the puppyâs ears. âI donât know. Maybe I was being rash. Itâs just that dogs are a big responsibility, and I donât have a lot of extra time on my hands right now. Plus, weâd be first time dog owners - thereâs the training and supplies and everything.â
âItâs an investment.â Derek folded his jacket and set his hat on top of it, his eyebrows furrowing in thought as he worked. âNow, Iâm not trying to talk you into anything here. Having a pet isnât something you should take lightly, and rehoming this little lady wouldnât be difficult. But my sisters would give you a friends and family discount on their classes. And I - well, I used to train service dogs, before the shelter took up all of my energy. I wouldnât mind helping out.â
âFor a discount, too?â Stiles asked dubiously.
Derek ducked his head, then looked back up at him with new intensity that made Stiles shiver. âNo charge. Unless - well, I wouldnât say no to dinner. Drinks, maybe?â
The puppy yipped sharply as Stiles accidentally squeezed her. âSorry, sweetie,â he said, stroking her fur, and she gave him a forgiving lick in return. âI, uh - yeah, I. That sounds like a great deal, actually.â
âIf youâre interested,â Derek clarified. âItâs not something I offer to every parent who comes through here. Usually Iâm just handing out puppies, not my number.â
Stiles laughed. âSanta would have a different reputation around here if that was the case.â
âSo itâs a yes?â he asked, looking nervous, like maybe heâd overstepped, or read something into their interaction that hadnât been there on Stilesâs end.
âItâs a definite yes. And in case you canât tell, Iâm interested. Very interested. Kind of appallingly interested, considering youâre still wearing giant red velvet pants, and I wouldnât have ever thought Santa was my type.â
âI was trying to change out of them before you barged in,â Derek said. âSeemed presumptuous to keep going while you were yelling at me about being a morally bankrupt under-the-counter pet dealer.â
âI didnât say that,â Stiles protested. âI mightâve been thinking it, but you stopped me before I got to the good part of my diatribe.â
âIâm good at reading between the lines,â Derek said.
âAre you.â Stiles set the puppy down and summoned his best seductive stalk, pausing just short of Derek to wink elaborately at him. âHow about this line, then, Santa. Dâyou know what I want under my tree this Christmas?â
âI think I can guess,â Derek breathed, surging off the bench to join him. Â
***
âAnd you complain every time you catch me and Boyd making out back here,â an annoyed voice said from behind Stiles some time later. âWait a minute, kiddo, your dadâs kinda busy.â
âPapa!â Claudia shrieked, and Stiles broke away from Derek, wiping his mouth and spinning around, trying to pretend that he hadnât just been kissing Santa Claus, although his still-tingling lips would beg to differ. Sheâd already made a dive at the floor, though, scooping up the puppy, whoâd settled into a cozy nap on top of Derekâs Santa boots.
âHeyyyy,â Stiles said smoothly. âSorry, I, uh, lost track of time there.â
âItâs okay, Erica wanted to know all sorts of things about you, but we got bored after a while.â Claudia smooched the puppy gently on her sleepy head. âDoes this mean we get to keep her? Since you and Santa Derek made up.â
âUm,â Stiles said. âYou uh - you know Derek? And that heâs not actually Santa?â
âObviously,â she said, rolling her eyes in true Stilinski fashion. âIâm eight years old, papa. Erica told me she and Derek and Isaac and Boyd all work together and get to play with animals all day long. She said I could visit if you say yes.â She gave him a shrewd look. âIf you let me keep the puppy, you can keep Santa for Christmas,â she negotiated, looking far too pleased with herself.
âShe drives a hard bargain,â Derek said. Heâd grabbed a flannel shirt and was in the process of buttoning it over his tank top, hiding his frankly unfair muscles from view. âWhat do you say?â
Stiles pretended to think about it, and Claudia narrowed her eyes at him, trying to read his expression. âYou can keep him past Christmas, even,â she conceded.
âThat sounds like a pretty fair deal to me,â Stiles said. âYou in, Santa Derek?â
âDefinitely,â Derek said, looking as flushed and happy about it as Stiles felt.
âOh lord,â Erica said, pulling her elf ears off and tossing them at Derek. âCora told me this would happen if you two ever met. I canât believe she was right; sheâs going to be unbearable about it.â
Puppy Stilinski agreed with a loud, sleepy yawn, and Claudia hugged her more tightly.
âBest Christmas ever,â she whispered none-too-quietly, her voice filled with delight.
âYeah,â Stiles agreed, giving in to the impulse to take Derekâs hand, which brought those infernally beautiful dimples back out. âYeah, I think you might be right.â
ÌŽ I hope my little ficlet, will fill you with some Christmas cheer!
Ever since the old Hale house was rebuild, Stiles and Derek spend the eve before Christmas eve looking out on the preserve, from the back deck. Derek makes the best chocolate milk for Stiles, with mini marshmallows and coca powder and even sometimes a dollop of whip cream. He prepares the milk so warm, that it keeps Stiles hands warm for the whole evening.
Stiles is snuggled in a mountain of blankets, with the small outdoor heater nearby, and with a Christmas hat so snug pulled on his head, it nearly covers his eyebrows. While the blankets and the steaming chocolate milk keep him warm, he watches how Derek shifts into his wolf form to avoid the cold. And how Derek lets loose and bites at the falling snowflakes. After a while Derek will be panting but to stubborn to admit, that he tired himself out. Stiles snorts at the predictability. He can see one of Dereks ears turn towards the house at the noise.
âJust come over here, big guy. Snuggle up to me and rest.â, Stiles says. Derek gives a playful growl and trots over towards the outdoor couch, Stiles is on. Derek makes a move to jump on the couch and worm his way under the blankets.
âWait! First shake of the snow, I donât want a repeat of last time. I really didnât enjoy the smelting snow, even though we warmed ourselves up afterwards.â Stiles urges. Derek rolls his eyes by moving his whole head back, and trots to the other side of the back deck. He squares his paws and shakes his coat from head to the tip of his tail. When heâs sure he got off most of the snow, he proudly shows his coat to Stiles.
âYeah yeah, now get under hereâ, Stiles sighs, holding up a bunch of the blankets. Derek gets underneath them and behind Stiles before shifting back. Stiles hisses because of the cold skin to skin contact, luckily it only lasts for a few seconds. Next Derek weaves his arms around Stiles middle and places one hand below the hem of Stilesâ shirt. Stiles leans back into Derekâs embrace and heaves a content sigh. Derek nuzzles behind Stiles ear and sent marks the side of his neck.
âI love this.â, Derek whispers. Stiles chuckles, âI do too, you sapâ, he answers, petting the side of Dereks face. Stiles starts scratching Dereks beard, Derek makes a low growling sound, eliciting another chuckle out of Stiles.
They stay outside till itâs dark enough for the light in the snow covered pine tree, to make the tree stand out in the blue shades of the falling night. If theyâre quiet enough a deer might even walk along the edge of the preserve and their garden. Then Stiles holds his breath, and grabs Derekâs arm, as if Derek didnât knew the deer was there, before it walked through the bushes. It are these calm evenings before the Christmas eve, which is with the whole pack, that Derek loves to share with Stiles.
Derek dropped his head onto his kitchen counter where it hit with a thud, his cell phone still pressed to his ear. âOh come on, Erica! You owe me for introducing you and Boyd.â
âSorry, D. Boyd and I are on our way to Chicago. Iâd help if I could. Did you try Isaac?â
He groaned. âYes. Thanks anyway. Have a safe trip.â He sighed as he ended the call. Now, he knew he wasnât the easiest person to get to know, but how the hell did he manage to have so few friends and family that no one was available to help him in his time of need?
His time of need being ten p.m. on Christmas Eve, standing in his kitchen, his motherâs prized cookbook open on the counter. The page had been turned to the beginning of the section of cookie recipes. He should really learn to say no. He wouldnât be in this mess if he could.
Dr. Deaton had approached him on his shift earlier in the day, frantic --which was, in and of itself, something to take note of. Honestly, the man was never rattled--because the bakery theyâd hired to make Christmas treats for the sick kids in the pediatric ward had a gas leak. Their power had been turned off as well as their gas lines. With neither, they couldnât bake.
Why did he come to Derek? Because someone (cough Nurse McCall) reminded the guy that Derek always brought cookies to hospital potlucks. Cookies that she said were absolutely to-die-for. He should have said no, but he didnât.
Never let it be said that Derek Hale didnât have a giant soft spot for children.
The problem was not so much the making of at least twelve dozen cookies as it was the fact he didnât have nearly enough butter...or enough time to have the baked goods ready to drop off by eight a.m. while still getting a decent nightâs sleep. One-by-one, heâd dialed everyone he could think of and been turned down.
He heard his next door neighbor curse at something in his apartment, followed by a slight crash. Hopefully, the guy hadnât hurt himself. Though, if he had and required some help getting to the hospital, Derek would volunteer to help him in a heartbeat, and it would have nothing to do with having a legitimate excuse to bail on baking.
Stiles- âStilesâ, Derek said aloud, his voice soft and fond as he pictured the occupant of 17G dancing around his apartment to the Christmas music quietly carrying through the walls. Heâd be wearing that ridiculous holiday cardigan his grandmother had knit for him, the one with garland around the cuffs and a sloth in a Santa hat on the chest. His eyes would be lit up with the mix of colors reflecting from the lights on the tree as he put the finishing touches on his decorations just so everything could be perfect for when his family came over in the morning.
Theyâd lived next to one another for three years now, and for almost as long, Derek had been fighting his feelings for him. Derek had been around to see not one, not two, but five relationships crumble and fall apart for Stiles. After each break-up, the sound of a tentative knock would come around nine at night, and Derek, the pushover that he was, would open the door every time and keep him company as Stiles, usually closer to drunk than sober at that point, would nurse his broken heart on Derekâs couch. The most recent crushing end to a relationship with a woman Stiles was sure was the one, came just after Halloween. If he were a braver man in the matters of the heart, Derek would have told Stiles by now. Okay, that wasnât true either. He had courage as far as relationships went. The problem?
He was positive by this point that his beautiful neighbor was, unequivocally, completely, one hundred percent hetero. Leave it to Derek, master of relationship disaster, to fall in love with a straight guy. His sister, Laura--rest her soul--would laugh if she could see him now. Laugh, and then pull him to her her chest in a crushing hug as she offered up platitudes that heâd find someone someday who was absolutely perfect for him. The longing made his heart ache in the worst way
âYouâre impossible, Derek,â he said to himself as he flung the cookbook off the counter in a fit of anger before rushing after it to pick it up and inspect if for damage. He lovingly placed it back on the counter. âI wish you were here, Mom. Youâd give me good advice on how to get over him.â
After disappointing people more often than not in his younger and more reckless years (if you were to look up teenage screw-up in a dictionary, there would be a bunny-toothed dorky picture of his sixteen year old self), heâd pulled himself together after three years of wallowing in the guilt of being at least partially responsible for the deaths of his family, and then another six months of mourning his big sister, his best friend. It was shockingly funny--in the sad and pathetic way, not hilarious way--how being totally alone in the world could lend perspective. First undergrad, then nursing school, and now he spent his days helping adorable but sick children feel as good as they can while they battled serious illnesses. It gave him purpose.
But now...he was going to disappoint people once more, and the thought of it made him a little sick to his stomach.
The air in his apartment was suddenly stifling, and he retreated for the solace of his balcony. Leaning on the railing, Derek stared out at the lights of the city trying to figure out if maybe heâd find a store open in the morning.
âEverything okay?â
Startled, Derek looked over to see Stiles standing in a similar position on his own balcony. He was not, in fact, wearing that Christmas sweater, but instead a tight, maroon t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and chest in a way that filled Derek with want. Stop it, Derek. It would never work. Stop torturing yourself.
âNo,â he croaked out, âI volunteered to make cookies for the little bags we give the patients tomorrow.â
âAww. Thatâs...seriously adorable.â
âI said Iâd bake them before even thinking about it.â
âI fail to see the problem.â
Derek gave him a pained chuckle. âI only have one stick of butter.â God, he felt like dying, or at the very least, puking over the railing. âAnd none of my friends are able to come bail me out. I called everyone.â
Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Stiles turn to face him. âNo, you didnât.â
âPretty sure-â
âYou didnât call me, which, frankly, I think I should be insulted about, but as your one true friend apparently, I am not.â
Derek smirked. âWell, thanks for not being offended. I just figured youâd be busy readying your place for the big family gathering tomorrow.â
âAu contraire, my friend. I finished all that yesterday. I also, happened to make my monthly run to Costco earlier in week, and am in possession of twelve pounds of butter.â
Really? Who the hell buys- âTwelve pounds?â
Stiles shrugged. âThe butter they sell by the four pound package was super on sale, and well, you know me.Iâm impulsive. Just ask my dad.â He turned and walked towards the sliding glass door to his apartment. âGo let me in. Iâll be right over.â
***
And that was how Derek found himself standing in the middle of his kitchen less than an hour and six batches of dough later, rolling out dough for gingerbread people. Stiles had insisted that if he was going to help, then Derek had to listen to, without complaint, his choice of Christmas music. There would be no ifs ands or buts about it.
Instead of being annoyed by Stilesâ assertiveness, Derek felt lighter than he had in years as the pair of them stood at the island in his kitchen, each of them in front of a stand mixer--because of course Stiles had his own--preparing Derekâs motherâs award winning gingerbread recipe. Stilesâ hips moved along to the beat while he added ingredients to the bowl. Derek, no matter how hard Stiles had tried, did not join in, but he did sing along softly, which Stiles said counted as a win.
Derek looked over at him. Whenever Stiles pressed one of the cookie cutters into the aromatic, brown dough, Derekâs heart would flutter in his chest at the sight of him, covered in flour, his tongue sticking out a little from the side of his mouth while he concentrated on making perfectly shaped little cookie people.
Derek had told him they didnât need perfection, that the children wouldnât care about that, but Stiles had said, 'Nonsense. Just because theyâre children, doesnât mean they wouldnât appreciate a beautiful cookie.â He suspected there was more to that statement than Stiles let on.
âOh, my god! I love this song! Turn it up!â The broad grin and the way Stiles laughed with his whole body in excitement at Chuck Berry telling that eponymous reindeer to âRun, run, Rudolphâ made Derekâs lips curl into an equally large smile. Stiles held out his hand.
âWhat?â
âCome on, Derek. Donât be a downer. Dance with me. Just one dance.â
Instead of putting on his most obstinate face, he indulged him, and let Stiles pull him into a dance hold. âSorry,â he said when he stepped on Stilesâ foot. âIâm used to leading.â
âItâs okay. I am, too.â
This close, Derek could see the faint smattering of freckles across Stilesâ nose, could lose himself wondering how lashes that long were possible. The warmth of Stiles' hand radiated through the fabric of his shirt. He tried not to think about how they were basically holding hands, albeit sticky and flour covered hands.
Stiles pushed him out and spun him, and Derek was sure he was blushing. âDonât worry about it. I donât care that you canât dance.â
âThanks.â The song ended and though he was enjoying their closeness, he knew there was more work to do.
Before he could open his mouth, Stiles spoke up. âSo, back to work?â
âBack to work.â
It was easy for them to settle back into a steady rhythm, and for all Stiles had complained in the past about his problems focusing, he was a cookie cutting machine. Dozen after dozen of cookies went in the oven and, nine minutes later, they came out. The ones that had cooled, Derek adorned with faces and buttons drawn on with royal icing. Before he knew it, the clock in his living room chimed one in the morning. He was exhausted.
But theyâd managed to make enough cookies for the hospital.
From the mixing bowl, Stiles scooped out the extra dough theyâd made so they could enjoy a cookie and their hard work, holding it above the counter. âHome stretch. Care to do the honors?â
Derek picked up the bowl holding the flour. When he went to dust the countertop, his sleep fuddled brain made him fumble the bowl, and in his attempt to catch it, accidentally threw a handful of flour all over Stiles. âOh my, God. I am so sorry.â
Stiles blinked, and Derek braced himself for a biting remark. What happened next, was like a scene straight out of a romantic comedy. Derek watched, as if everything was unfolding in slow motion, as Stiles reached into the bowl of flour and threw a handful back at Derek with a smirk.
Oh, it was on.
Fistfuls of all-purpose flew back and forth like snow in a snowball fight. The flour fluttered down to the tile around them; it almost looked like it was snowing in Derekâs kitchen. It lent an air of magic to the whole evening.
Finally, the bowl was empty, and they were a mess. When he looked over at Stiles, his nose was dusted in white. Little bits of flour clung to his eyelashes. The maroon of his shirt now looked pink for all the mess covering it.
Derek thought heâd never looked more beautiful.
Just tell him. He could do this.
He reached out to grab a clean kitchen towel from the drawer so he could clean off their faces, but Stilesâ hand caught his wrist. Derek didnât even have a moment to speak before Stiles had drawn him in and pressed their lips together.
He was sure his brain short circuited, and he went still for several seconds. Stiles mistook his stillness and began to pull away, but Derek was not about to ruin this, and instead reached out an arm and snaked it around his waist. He cupped Stilesâ cheek, brushed a thumb under his eye to clean off the flour.
Stilesâ lips, though slightly chapped, felt amazing as they moved against his. Tentative tongues slipped against one another when Derekâs lips parted.
He could hardly breathe, and his brain was still offline, when Stiles broke the kiss. âWow,â Derek whispered, blinking at him owlishly, his head foggy with desire. âHow- what? Youâre- You like women.â Way to go, dumbass.
Stiles caressed his cheek. âI know. I canât explain it either.â He looked away, almost as though he was a bit embarrassed and took a deep breath. When he looked back at Derek, his smile was blinding. âI was firmly in the âI love the ladiesâ camp until you came into my life.â
Derek gave a soft chuckle, then dusted off Stilesâ face the rest of the way with the towel still clutched in his hand.
âThe last time you let me cry over my pathetic attempt at a relationship, I woke up the morning after, sitting there on my bed, hungover as fuck until it hit me and knocked me flat on my ass. I thought about how sometimes there's things you wouldn't think would be a good combination end up turning out to be, like, a perfect combination. Like orange and blue, or...â He tapped on his chin as he struggled for another example, âPeanut butter and chocolate. Or, you know, like two people together - Who nobody ever thought would be together ever, but they are kind of perfect for each other? I wondered why I keep doing this to myself.ââ
This had to be a dream. Heâd slipped on a pile of flour and fallen, knocking himself unconscious. There was no way Stiles was standing here in his kitchen telling Derek everything heâd wanted to hear for years.
Stiles took a deep breath. âIâm three hours away from my family and almost all of my friends, and there you are. Youâve become my home away from home, my safe place...I guess what Iâm trying to say is, I love you, and if I didnât read this wrong, I think you might feel the same way about me. Youâre the first guy Iâve kissed. Iâve never dated one, never been with one. But it canât be that different. And you know what? I donât really care if it is. After my string of failures, maybe what I need is âdifferentâ. I just know that I want to be with you.â
His heart pounded in his chest. He still couldnât breath, and he couldnât really think straight, but, in all honesty, he didnât really need to. âI do. I feel the same, and I want that too, so much.â
Stiles kissed the tip of his nose. âGreat. Thatâs really fantastic, wonderful, amazing- all the synonyms for awesome you can think of.â His flustered giggle was, quite possibly, one of the best sounds Derek had ever heard. âAnyway, I hope you have an ugly Christmas sweater, because itâs Stilinski Christmas tradition.â
âI donât under-â
Stiles pressed a finger to his lips. âOh no, you donât. Donât think Iâm not aware you have nowhere to go tomorrow. After all, you should spend Christmas with the ones you love, and that wouldnât be complete if youâre not there.â
âI donât have a sweater.â
Stiles just shrugged. âYou know what? Fuck the sweater.â He wrapped his arms around Derekâs waist, staring at him in earnest. âSay youâll come. Theyâll love you. You and my dadâll-â
This time, it was Derekâs turn to silence him. âHow about you stop talking and kiss me again?â
âThat sounds like a fantastic plan.â
As they stood there kissing in his kitchen, surrounded by cookies and covered in flour, Frank Sinatra sang his wish for a merry little Christmas. Yeah, Derek thought, for the first time in years, his heart would be light.
Derek had decided that this year, for his birthday/Christmas gift he was getting a pup. He started to read articles online about which type of dog was better for him, research about things he should get rid of that could be poisonous to his future pup and stuff like that and then he had started visiting shelters. He had thought about buying one from a pet store or from a breeder, but ultimately he had chosen the shelter because he believed in second chances, like he believed he was gifted so many years ago. It had been a terrible day, they had lost almost everything, but luckily they had all been saved from the fire by some powerful druid and despite the fact they had all been able to smell the magic theyâre not able to find the druid so they never got the chance to say thanks. So⊠yeah, second chances.
Derek came for the first time to this shelter three months ago, to know their policy about adoptions and meet some potential pups, and then he met Stiles. Stiles was gorgeous. Adorable, docile and sooo out of his league that it wasnât even funny. But despite all of that he was polite and always talked with Derek about everything. Derek was crushing on him hard.
Derek had barely passed the door to the pups dorms when he was assaulted by Stiles scent and he smelt⊠sad. Weird.
âHi, Derek!â well⊠he didnât look sad.
âH-Hello, Stiles! How are you?â
âIâm okay, thank you. So⊠Today is the day! Are you excited?â Today was the day that Derek had designated as the CD, as in Choose Day.
âYeah⊠I am. But⊠I know today is CD, but I really donât know if Iâm gonna be able to pick only one, you know?â Stilesâ smell got even sadder and Derek wanted to ask, he was getting worried, but he didnât have the right and it was impolite.
âI do. I canât help you with that, sorry. Maybe you should call Laura. If you want my opinion, she should be here, making the decision with you, after all she will be living with the pup too.â Suddenly Stiles slapped his mouth shut. âDerek⊠Iâm sorry. It was rude of me. Iâm sorry. Damn⊠Iâm so stupid. Iâm sure that if sheâs not here is because she had other things to do. More important things. Crap! Iâm stop talking now.â Derek was⊠speechless. Why did himâŠ?
âWhy do you think Laura is gonna be living with the pup?â Stilesâ face was the same color of his favorite hoodie.
âI mean⊠Sheâs your girlfriend.â Stilesâ scent spiked again with that sad smell and Derek was really confused right now.
âHmmm⊠no, sheâs not. Sheâs my sister. My oldest sister.â
âOh⊠Oh!â they looked at each other for a long time. Derek noticed how Stiles relaxed and although he didnât smell like happiness he didnât smell sad anymore and Derek was happy for that. âSo⊠the pups! Letâs go see them.â He turned around and disappeared towards the dorms.
They spent almost two hours with the dogs, talking about the dogs and petting the dogs.
âI canât anymore!â Derek almost shouted.
âSorry⊠What?â
âI canât sit here anymore trying to choose between them. Please, tell me I donât have to.â
âWell⊠If you have the space for both of them, the time and the love that they will need⊠no, you do not have to choose.â Derek got distracted then, thinking about his life.
âIâm a writer so in the future time can be a problem but I can also pay some of my nieces or nephews to take them out. Love? Love is one thing that will never be missing in their lives again.â He looked to both pups. âAnd space? Sure. I do have space. My backyard is a preserve, so⊠yeah. Iâve space for the four of us.â Derek freezed. What did he said?! He was focused on the pups and hoped that Stiles didnât noticed the slip of the tongue.
âWell⊠letâs take care of the paperwork then. We usually donât proceed this way, but⊠Iâll let you take them home today, if you want that.â
âOf course I do.â He smiled. âBut, youâre not gonna get in trouble because of that?â
âNah!â Stiles scoffed. âI run this place. And my father is the sheriff, so⊠itâs cool. Letâs get you ready. Weâll come by in a while to pick them up.â They went to Stilesâ office and Derek filled the paperwork needed and paid for the adoption. Half an hour later they were ready to go and as promised Stiles walked Derek back to pick up his 3 month old pitbull who Derek had fed with a bottle once or twice and his 9 months old grand danois who had been abandoned when he was 5 just because âhe became too bigâ. They were leaving the shelter when Stiles asked.
âCan I⊠Can I say goodbye?â
âSure.â Stiles knelt and started to pet them while he was murmuring something that Derek couldnât understand and then Derek felt⊠magic!
âYou⊠It was you! You saved us!â he hissed. Stiles looked shaken and then he narrowed his eyes murmured again in that foreign language.
âWerewolf. I donât know what you are talking about.â
âFire. Eight years ago in the preserve. The house of the mayor. Sheâs my mom.â
âOh⊠â Stiles smiled. âIt was when I became aware of what I could do. Iâm happy I was able to help.â
âI wanted to thank you for a while, so⊠thank you. Thank you so much for doing what I couldnât. You saved my family.â
âI donât want your gratitude. And donât get me wrong. Iâm not saying that to be rude or disrespectful. Iâm just saying that you are welcome and I didnât do anything special. Someone else in my place shouldâve done the same. I just happened to be in the right place at the right time with⊠hmmm⊠resources to help.â
âStill⊠if you ever need anything⊠tell me. Iâll do anything for you.â
âYou are already doing. Youâre giving an opportunity to this two. Love them, Derek and consider us even.â Stiles knelt again beside them petted them and stood up. âBye guys. Iâm gonna miss you.â He turned around and started to walk away when Derek made the decision to take a risk.
âWait. You donât have⊠You donât have to miss them. You can be a part of their life. Be their godfather. Or⊠go out with me. If you donât want anything else, we could be friends.â He was starting to hate himself for what he had said or how he had said it when Stiles broke his internal rant.
âI⊠would like that. To be your friend, for now. And their godfather. What are you gonna name them?â Derek smiled a big toothy smile.
âI thought of keeping their names. I think Lucifer and Sparky are perfect like that and besides they already respond to them.â
âOh⊠good. Because I named them.â He smiled and Derek could literally feel magic in the air.
âTheyâre perfect, just like you.â
âJeez⊠get out of here, before I grab you and lock you here with me forever.â Stiles threatened still smiling.
âOkay. Iâll go, but first⊠say yes.â Derek asked.
âTo what?â
âTo forever. But Iâll be happy if you star to say yes to coffee with me and the pups tomorrow at 3 in the park by the river.â
I hope you enjoy this little drabble :) Merry Christmas
âDaddy!â Claudia called from the ice rink, waving to Derek in the bleachers. She was smiling, even as she started to waver on her skates.
âCareful, munchkin,â Stiles stated as he held her hand tighter to balance her. He was skating backwards, smiling some when he looked over at Derek.
âWhy doesnât daddy skate with us?â Claudia asked as she looked down at her skates, watching the blades easily cut through the iceâs surface.
âDaddy doesnât do well on ice,â Stiles explained. âHeâs better on solid ground.â
âHeâd be good with skates,â Claudia attempted to defend Derek.
âNope,â Stiles replied with a smirk. âHe looks like Bambi,â he announced as they passed by the rinkâs edge, gliding by Derek.
âI heard that,â Derek grumbled as he turned his attention towards their son sitting in his lap.
Samuel was only a year old, and the Sheriff had warned Stiles not to take him on the ice on threat of parent endangermentâthe Sheriff had become more protective of Claudia and Sammy than anyone. While Claudia had displayed early signs of werewolf traits, Sammy had yet to show anyâif he was to be a werewolf at all. Stiles was concerned, convinced that he somehow messed up Sammyâs life by being human. Derek told Stiles that was a ridiculous assumption, and if Sammy wasnât a werewolf, there was nothing wrong with that.
Besides, Sammy gave Derek an excuse to not attempt going on the ice. Derek refused to go on the ice since his last run in with the rinkâthe Sourwolf-On-Ice Incident, as Stiles likes to call it. It ended with Derek practically wolfed out from embarrassment. It was worth it all that night when Stiles showered him in attention, fond words and gentle kisses healing Derekâs ego.
âIâm not bad on ice,â Derek argued, announcing it more in general than to anyone as he observed the way Sammy shoved his chubby hand into his mouth.
Sammy looked a lot like Stilesâespecially when making gurgling and cooing noises whenever he didnât have a pacifier or baby bottle in his mouth. His eyes were big and round and stared at Derek as if he was the most intriguing thing heâs ever seen. His moles were speckled across his cheeks, cascading down his neck. His eyes were the starburst of Hale greenâsomething accredited to Cora for taking on surrogacy for them.
Sammy made a loud noise as he wildly gestured towards the ground of growing people, causing Derek to turn and look. There was a small vendor selling hot chocolate where Sammy was pointing and making up gibberish at.
âI think you wouldnât sleep for a year if you had one, buddy,â Derek calmly commented. He couldnât help but smile when Sammy made what sounded like a disgruntled noise of disagreementâStiles called it Sammyâs velociraptor call. âYou canât be up all night tonight. Santa will be scared away.â
Sammy gave Derek an incredulous look, his eyebrows scrunching together in what looked to be judgment.
âWow,â Derek whispered to himself. âI guess we Hales do have judgmental eyebrows,â he commented. He never saw what Stiles meant about his eyebrows having a personality of their own until he saw some of the facial expressions Claudia and Sammy could make. âEyebrow gameâ is what Stiles had called it, and apparently âthe game is strong with our children.â
âI love Dad Derek,â Ericaâs voice announced as she plopped down next to Derek. âYouâre seriously more mellow. I like it,â she smirked as she wiggled her fingers at Sammy, making him grasp at her brightly painted, Christmas-themed nails.
âFunny,â Derek stated. âYouâre late,â he offered instead.
âIâm pregnant, Iâm allowed to be late,â Erica answered.
âWhereâs Boyd?â Derek asked, noticing that he wasnât joining them. He caught sight of Isaac and Scott moving out onto the ice, followed by Scott immediately face planting to which an amused and slightly worried Isaac helped him up.
âMy hubby is being a dear and getting me hot chocolate,â Erica beamed as she made grabby hands for Sammy. âYou could go stand in line for Stiles and Claudia. Iâm convinced those little animals are going to tear the line apart if they run out.â
A faint smile pulled at his lips as he offered Sammy up to Erica, moving to stand. âI thought you were supposed to like children now that you have your own on the way.â
âOh, I love Sammy and Claudia, and I absolutely am perfectly 100% loving my own child,â Erica started as she situated Sammy to sit in her lap, avoiding her protruding stomach. âBut other peopleâs kids are a completely different story.â
Derek nodded, having to agree with her. He loved kidsâwhen they werenât being nightmares. Claudia and Sammy had their moments, but Stiles and Derek had a system that worked. They were able to maintain any tantrums or nightmare scenarios that arose from either child. It didnât mean that Derek could handle just how rambunctious some peopleâs children get in public.
Derek kept his thoughts to himself as he avoided more than one kid running around aimlessly without a parent in sight. He waved to Boyd when he got in line, already a considerable amount of people separating them. He smiled when the baby clinging to its motherâs shoulders in front of him made a goofy smile at him. Derek could handle babies.
Derek was yanked from his thoughts when two arms wrapped around his waist, a familiar chin resting against his shoulder as cold lips pressed a kiss against the skin just behind his ear.
âCold?â Derek asked without turning to see that it was Stiles.
âItâs freezing out there,â Stiles answered. âClaudia wanted to show Uncle Scott how to skate like Auntie Lydia,â he explained. âAnd then Scott proceeded to fall on his butt, dragging Isaac with him.â
Derek snorted, being able to picture it even though he missed seeing it. âI figured Iâd get in line for you.â
Stiles hummed in approval as he snuck his hands into Derekâs jacket. âMy hero,â he mumbled.
âStiles,â Derek partially complained when his icy fingertips caressed his bare stomach, Stilesâ fingers having wiggled their way through his jacket and under his shirt.
âIâm cold,â Stiles whined. âAnd as my husband, you have to keep me warm.â
âI donât remember that in my vows,â Derek deadpanned.
âThey were in mine and I know you remember,â Stiles answered. âBesides, tonightâs going to knock your socks off when the kiddos go to bed.â
âWeâre in a line filled with children, Stiles,â Derek cautiously warned him, not wanting any of the parents to suddenly cause a scene. The world was better than it had been a few years ago, but there were still close minded peopleâpeople who have threatened both Stiles and Derek before for being together in public. Derek never paid them any attentionâuntil they directed their venom at Stiles; he especially became more protective after Claudia was born.
âYouâre my husband, itâs the eve of your birthday and Christmas, I am allowed to be sickeningly adorable with you if I want to be,â Stiles answered, placing another kiss to Derekâs skin. He slipped his hands out from under Derekâs clothes, wrapping an arm around Derekâs waist as he moved to stand by him. He smiled when Derek wrapped his arm around Stilesâ shoulders, a complete and perfect fit togetherâStiles prided himself in being able to fit perfectly under Derekâs arm.
Derek felt a small tumbling in his stomach when he thought about how he could have possibly gotten used to this feeling of joy and happiness. Everything seemed so bleak and pointless since the fire. Everything in his ashen and greyed world illuminated the minute he met Stiles, and it didnât stop there. Stiles and their children brightened his life everyday, but he still couldnât get used to it. It felt impossible, but at the same time, frightened him to think about living without it all.
âIf you get Claudia a hot chocolate at this time of night, sheâll never go to bed,â Derek commented.
Stilesâ body almost went rigid with realization. âOh my God, youâre right. Forget it, get out of line. She can have one tomorrow,â he started as he began to pull Derek out of line.
Derek couldnât suppress the laugh that bubbled up when Stiles yanked on his jacket.
âI have plansâadult, birthday plans. Kiddos need to be sleeping. All night,â Stiles stated.
Stiles always made Derekâs birthday special. Never making him suffer the dreaded single present for one occasion. He made it about Derek, every single year. It got harder when their kids came along, but Stiles made it work. Christmas Eve night was always reserved for them. After their family outing and putting the kids to sleep, Stiles would drag Derek back to the bedroom and they would spent the time together, just the two of them. They were never exhausted on Christmas day, always smiling and cheerful for when the kids would come barreling into their room yelling about SantaâClaudia did most of the barreling, Sammy cried.
âI love you,â Derek fondly answered, placing a kiss on Stilesâ forehead.
Stiles leaned into it, smiling to himself. âI love you, too.â
Sterek storyset AU:Â Derek Hale, a best-selling novelist who is currently stuck trying to finish his next book, decides to seclude himself in his familyâs lake lodge for a few weeks in the hopes of overcoming his writer's block. To clear his head, he often explores the forest and banks of the lake, in his wolf form.Â
It is on one of those walks that he stumbles upon lifeguard Stiles Stilinski, and he immediately becomes enamoured with the young man, whose seemingly boundless energy and lust for life quickly become a source of inspiration for the struggling writer. However, Derek doesn't dare to approach Stiles as a human, thinking Stiles would never want to be friends - or more - with someone like Derek. One day that all changes.Â
Because his familyâs lodge doesn't have any electricity, Derek has to resort to writing his novel on an old-fashioned typewriter, and often chooses to work outdoors, where he can covertly watch Stiles from a distance. Hit with a sudden wave of inspiration, Derek forgets to put his written pages underneath a paperweight as he works. All of his pages are blown sky-high in a sudden gust of wind, landing close to the bored lifeguard, who immediately jumps into action, trying to save as much of Derek's story as he can.
Blushing madly, Derek asks Stiles if he'd like to join him for dinner that night, as a thank you for coming to his (story's) rescue. To Derek's utter surprise, Stiles wholeheartedly says yes.
When Derek's novel finally gets published, it is lovingly dedicated to his boyfriend, Stiles.
Merry Christmas, alphahel!
I really hope this is to your liking :) Zalig Kerstfeest!