If you ask the plethora of underage kids that he has the misfortune of calling a pack, they’ll call it a curse.
Constantly.
As well as whine about it.
For hours.
It begins as soon as it hits December first—the dreary sighing, the whining, pressing themselves against windows and looking longingly into the distance. Of course, not all of them are as whiny as the rest ( Boyd and Lydia are tolerable, while Stiles and Scott make him want to shoot himself in the fucking foot ).
When it does snow, Derek’s not sure if he’s happy, because—
They shut up about needing snow.
Then won’t shut up about the fact it actually did snow.
Which is why he finds himself outside, standing awkwardly in the middle of a group of teenagers that make him think of puppies, like someone just grabbed a pile of them and dropped them into a snow back-- which is also what it looks like, because they are literally rolling over each other, and covered in snow. If it were anyone else, it may have been semi-adorable.
Since it was Derek, it was mildly entertaining at best.
Lydia has Jackson helping her make a snow fort (which turns into her standing there and telling him what to do), Isaac’s in the middle of putting a carrot nose on his snowman, Erica and Boyd are making snow angels ( or at least, Erica is ) and Scott, Stiles and Allison have devolved into an all-out snow related war.
Derek, for his part, continues to stand there awkwardly, in a leather jacket that wouldn’t be suited for the weather if he wasn’t already more or less a walking furnace ( as Stiles has so helpfully called him, though it was directed at Scott ).
“I remember when you and Laura acted like this.”
He hears Peter coming, though the comment makes him wince. It was unexpected, he isn’t use to him speaking of their past ( especially Laura, for obvious reasons ) and the sudden influx of memories makes standing there all the more uncomfortable. It’s suffocating, depressing, and he doesn’t know how to respond so he just—grunts.
After a moment, he glances back. If there was ever anything in Peter’s eyes that said he was thinking the same things he was, or feeling remorse in any way—then it’s gone before he can notice, and he’s turning and walking back into the house before Derek can think of anything to say.
( Like he would anyways )
Then, he hears more than he feels the snowball hit his back.
There’s a moment of silence, as the snow slides off his jacket, and everyone he can see is looking at him as if he’s going to erupt. He turns, and ( of course ) Stiles is standing there, arm in the air, dear caught in the headlights look mixed with oh shit I’m going to die.
Briefly, he wonders if it’s worth getting mad at him for.
Briefly, he wonders if he should just walk back into the house.
What he ends up doing—is tackling Stiles into a snow bank, and then getting caught up in a pack wide snowball fight, which ends with all of them laying on the lawn laughing to themselves.
Derek doesn’t laugh, but he feels like he wants to. If he could, he would—
It’s something he can do now, with this little bit of peace.
( he still shoves snow down Stiles hoodie later in the evening, though )
