Written for @imagine-sterek Roaring 20′s Event. Today’s theme was Mischief in the Night.
Cross-posted to AO3: Better Plan
Stiles crawled along the fence, peeking between the slats and ignoring his best friend’s whining behind him. “You’re a grown-ass man!”
“Lies and blasphemy,” he hissed back at him and ducked when a light came on in the house behind the fence. “Dammit.”
“This is ridiculous!” Scott said, standing up and shouting when Stiles grabbed him by the arm and yanked him back down.
“Are you trying to get us caught?”
“Yes!” Scott shouted. “This is ridiculous. It was old the first year.”
“It was not! It wasn’t old then and it’s not old now,” Stiles insisted, pouting when Scott just glared at him, rose to his feet and walked back in the direction of the street two blocks over where they’d parked their cars.
Stiles dropped his face to his hands on the cold ground. Scott had threatened for years to walk away from the tradition, but he couldn’t believe he’d actually done it. “Oh well, his loss,” he muttered, as he grabbed the backpack that Scott had thankfully left behind and shouldered it to continue to make his way towards the gate around the back of the house.
A light went on behind him and he froze. Turning slowly, he let out a sigh of relief when he saw the elderly neighbor woman, Mrs. English standing on the steps leading up to the side of her house, the outside light blinding him for a moment. “Stiles? Is that you?”
“Yes, Mrs. English,” he said, hanging his head and still trying to keep his voice low.
“Is it that time of year again?” she asked, a fond smile blooming across her face when he nodded. “Then by all means….” She stepped back into her house, shutting off all the outdoor lights around her house, throwing him into darkness.
“Always knew she liked me,” he said to himself as he continued to move slowly and cautiously along the fence.
He was at the back corner that after years he’d learned never caught any of the lights from the surrounding houses and the tall tree, despite having lost all of its leaves back in October, cast a giant shadow perfect for hiding in as he prepared to execute his plan. He’d been doing this for enough years that he had no worries about being caught; it’d been a close call the first few years when Derek’s parents still lived in the house but they’d moved to Florida about five years earlier so it was just the man and his husband living there now.
The whole thing started as a desperate need for an awkward, teenaged Stiles to leave a birthday present for the boy he had a crush on in a way that would protect his identity while still satisfying his need to give. He’d been poor back then and had simply left a handful of flowers taken from Mrs. English’s side garden on the back steps with a note.
Every year, the gift got a little bit better and Scott’s teasing had gotten a little bit worse until he’d deserted him while he sat with a backpack containing a crystal bud vase holding a metal rose he’d bought at the Renaissance Festival, along with a note proclaiming his love until the last bud fell off the rose. He watched Derek walk past the window of the living room, his shadow darkening the spot of the deck where he usually put the flowers and he wondered if he was looking for him.
Once Derek had moved on and the light in the backyard shut off, Stiles moved quietly across the yard, his watch buzzing to announce that it was officially midnight. He kept his fingers crossed that the sky remained dark. He reached the first step to the deck and set down the bag, opening it to carefully extract the vase, setting it in the same spot he’d left the flowers all those years ago. He took a step back just as the porch light came on again and Derek stood in the open doorway, arms crossed over his chest.
Fifteen years of doing this without a hitch and he’d finally been caught. He couldn’t believe his luck. He started to run and tripped over the backpack he’d forgotten to pick up and hit the ground in a sprawl. When he looked back up he swore Derek was laughing at him. Scrambling backwards, he managed to accomplish nothing more than getting himself tangled in the backpack and well and truly stuck.
“Fuck,” he muttered and dropped to lay sprawled on the lawn, staring up at the night sky. It was only a few minutes before Derek dropped down next to him, his head resting on one of Stiles’ outstretched arms. “Happy birthday, I guess.”
“I’ve always known it was you,” he said, grinning when Stiles turned his head to glare at him.
“You’re a lying liar that lies!” Stiles said, sitting up, letting Derek’s head drop to the ground with a thud and wince.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a piece of paper that had been worn thin by years of folding and unfolding and handed it over to Stiles who opened it and ran his hand over the note he’d put with the original flowers. “Happy Birthday to the coolest guy I know,” he read, cringing at his own cheesiness. “You can’t tell from that!”
“Flip it over,” Derek said and so Stiles did, his eyes closing around a groan as he realized he’d used a piece of his personalized stationery that his father had given him for Christmas every year as a kid. “Took me awhile to figure out who Mieczyslaw was? Asked Scott if you had a brother.”
“You asked Scott?! He knew you knew?” He started plotting his former best friend’s death.
“Even if you hadn’t given yourself away that first year, I would’ve eventually figured it out,” Derek told him. “When you started getting out of our bed every year just before midnight on Christmas Eve and donning black clothing.”
“You were sleeping!”
“I never sleep when you’re not next to me,” Derek told him, batting his eyes at him and Stiles smacked him on the chest. Derek grabbed his wrist and tugged him down and across his chest. “And now that you know that I know, you can stop getting out of our nice cozy bed and acting like an idiot.”
“At least I’m your idiot,” Stiles admitted, pressing a kiss to his husband’s lips and pouting when he pulled back.
“That you are.” Derek shook his head, smiling fondly and standing, pulling Stiles up to stand with him and leading him inside, leaning down to pick up the gift as he went. Running his fingers over the metal leaves. “I was with you when you bought this. You said it was for Scott’s mom!”
“I lied,” he said, shrugging. “Figured you’d forget about it.”
“I love you,” Derek said, stopping and pulling Stiles into a warm embrace, the two of them breaking apart when they heard a whistle from next door.
“You two stop being the cutest couple on the planet!” Mrs. English called out and waved. “You make me miss my husband.”
“Sorry, ma’am,” they responded in unison.
“Happy birthday, Derek!” she said before closing her door behind her.
“You really thought it was some big secret? With Mrs. English knowing?” He shrugged. “At least it’s over now. No more running around in the night like a child playing spy.”
Stiles' lips twisted into a thoughtful smirk. “Just means I need a better plan.”
Groaning and rolling his eyes, Derek shoved his husband into the house and pulled the door closed behind them. He turned off the light and put the vase on the small table next to the door where he’d set every gift since the first year. Snapping a quick picture he made a note to print it and put it in the album he’d been keeping since high school, maybe one day he’d show it to Stiles.
He watched him go upstairs, shoulders drooped slightly, he felt a bit bad for ruining the yearly surprise, but he wanted to let him know that he knew exactly who his not-so-secret admirer was because he didn’t want him to think he didn’t appreciate the gifts or was happy they were from someone else. He hoped he’d find his better plan and never give up on surprising him because he would always be Derek’s favourite gift.
Listen to PWE Episode 5: The Grab-Bag and the Fear of Privilege by Pencils Without Erasers #np on #SoundCloud
Hey everyone I was on a podcast some months ago with some dope artists.Listen and see why I dont talk to people alot cause awkwerdness! @admiralantagonist @momdadno @leesterarts
