As you may have noticed, we did not get around to running a Scerek Week 2018, but fear not. We do have an event planned: Scerek Holiday Special 2018!
Just like the last time we did this, this is a mini 3-day event being held the week before Christmas. So from December 14th-16th 2018, post all your Christmas related fanworks on these days.
Here are themes for each day and they are:
14 December (Friday) - Christmas songs/carols: Turns out Derek’s a lovely singer! Or maybe Scott ropes Derek into caroling with the pack. Or maybe carolers come by the loft and interrupt Scott and Derek’s date night.
15 December (Saturday) - Cookies: Maybe Scott finds out Derek’s great at baking. Or Scott needs help to bake cookies and Derek’s the only one who offers his help.
16 December (Sunday) - Christmas tree: Maybe Derek and Scott go shopping for a tree for the pack. Maybe Scott invites Derek to trim the tree.
This event is just for fun. You do not have to follow the themes if you don’t want to. You can come up with your own if you want. And you’re also not obligated to do all three days either. Everything is up to you. The most important thing is that you enjoy creating fanworks for our two favorite guys and spread a little holiday cheer along the way.
Just remember to tag your posts with #ScerekHoliday so that we can reblog it.
Scotts organises his first Christmas dinner and decides it’s when he’ll tell his mom he's dating Derek. Derek’s just a little bit stressed and wants everything to be perfect.
One day on his way from work Scott walks into a random bakery, drawn in by the amazing smells wafting into the street. Soon it becomes one of his favourite places in the city. And no matter what Stiles says, it’s because of the wonderful and tasty goods and not because of the grumpy baker Derek Hale Scott is attracted to.
i. mariah carey — all i want for christmas is you ii. natalie cole — this will be (an everlasting love) iii. jordin sparks — christmas time to me iv. leona lewis — one more sleep v. wham! — last christmas vi. michael bublé — the christmas song vii. darlene love — christmas (baby please come home) viii. willamette stone — heart like yours ix. ashanti — this christmas x. kari kimmel — christmastime xi. mairi campbell & dave francis — auld lang syne xii. jean beauvoir — merry christmas (to all of the world) xiii. dusty springfield & daryl hall — wherever would i be?
When Christmas finally came around, that was when things started to change. Scott joined the Hale-Stilinskis for their annual Christmas party, which in a nutshell was very much like the previous get-togethers but on steroids. Christmas music was playing in the background, the piney smell of the Christmas tree as it glittered by the window, and just the faint tinge of white frost on the windows. It was truly a perfect Christmas, the kind Scott wasn't used to. He was smiling, laughing, actually talking to people who wanted to talk to him. No arguing except for the playful banter between siblings, no inebriated insults except for drunk Uncle Peter's many quips. For once, Scott was having the Christmas he always wanted.
He blushed madly when Talia got him a gift, a Cashmere sweater. It was expensive and certainly not hand-me-down. And he didn't even bother with saying that he shouldn't just take it because he knew they would refuse to accept any other explanation. By the time things were winding down, everyone was gathered in the living room, a mess of torn Christmas wrapping paper scattered all over the floor, many of the Hale-Stilinski siblings squealing in delight at all of their gifts.
There was a small tap on his shoulder. It was Derek, who jerked his head to follow him as he slowly walked toward the kitchen area. Scott didn't really give it much contemplation before he was up on his feet and following Derek through the kitchen and out the back door.
[Read Full Chapter on AO3]
[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]
Derek’s head was ducked down, shoulders hunched against the biting cold air, as he hurried up the sidewalk to the coffee shop near his office. Bells jingled over his head when he opened the door and an oomph sounded as his chest collided with someone else’s.
“Shit, sorry,” Derek muttered, taking a step back.
“We’ve really gotta stop meeting like this,” the other person said with a chuckle.
Derek looked up to see a somewhat familiar smile and a pair of kind brown eyes. Of course, he thought. He really should have guessed it would be him.
It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Derek to bump into to people, being as he was constantly in a rush with his eyes looking down at his phone most of the time. But he appeared to have an odd habit of bumping into this particular person an inordinate amount.
It seemed that their schedules overlapped just perfectly so that Derek arrived at the coffee shop every morning just as the other man was leaving – though thankfully their crossing paths didn’t always result in a head-on collision. Most of the time they’d just pass each other, the other man offering up an adorable smile and a ‘good morning’, usually walking away before Derek was able to untie his tongue and return the greeting.
Derek forced a small laugh and nodded. “Uh, yeah. We sure do.” He gave the man a tight, chagrined smile, rubbing the back of his neck in a nervous gesture. “Sorry. Again.”
“Ah, don’t worry about it,” the other man dismissed. “No spillage so, it’s all cool.” He lifted up his red and white striped paper cup—the name Scott scribbled on it in black marker—to demonstrate that the steaming hot contents were still held securely inside by the black plastic lid fastened on top.
As Scott waved the cup, Derek caught a whiff of peppermint from the candy cane cappuccino. The drink was one of Derek’s favorites—though he was more partial to the pumpkin latte—from the seasonal flavors added to the menu at this time of year. Knowing that the cute stranger he’d had a crush on for months liked the same kind of coffee as he did, made Derek smile for some reason.
Why? Because a similar taste in holiday beverages means you’re soulmates or something? Please. Get a grip, Derek, a voice in his head derided, sounding eerily like his uncle Peter.
Derek’s mouth turned down in a frown as he mentally dropped the straws he’d been grasping at. He cleared his throat. “Well, I, uh guess I should get out of your way,” he mumbled, stepping to the side.
“Oh, right. Yeah, no, I should probably get going.”
Derek might have imagined it, but he thought he saw disappointment briefly flicker in Scott’s eyes.
“See ya around, I guess,” Scott said as he stepped toward the doorway.
“Yeah. See you,” Derek murmured, pressing his body back further to let Scott through while holding open the door for him.
“Caught ya!”
The shout made both men freeze in place. They caught each other’s stunned gazes for a moment before turning their eyes toward the counter.
“Caught you!” The blonde barista repeated, a wide smile spread across her pretty face, her arm extended, finger pointed to something over the men’s heads.
Scott and Derek both looked up and saw the plastic sprig of mistletoe dangling from the bell above the door, right above where they stood.
Dropping his head down, Derek rubbed the back of his neck furiously. Scott let out a small, nervous laugh.
“Well, uh… I guess it is tradition,” Scott said, shrugging bashfully. “I guess we should…” He let his sentence drift off.
“Oh, um, Y-yeah.” Derek stammered, his mouth going dry. He swallowed hard. “Since it’s tradition and all.”
Scott nodded firmly a determined look on his face. “Right. For tradition.”
He propped himself up on his tiptoes and leaned towards Derek. Derek’s eyes went wide as Scott’s pursed lips moved closer. He slammed his eyes shut tight, waiting to feel the soft warmth of the other man’s lips brush against his…cheek.
Oh.
He opened eyes to Scott’s sweet, shy smile, and felt any disappointment about the location of the kiss drift away. His cheeks burned profusely and he just hoped any redness in them could be blamed on the cold. His heart skipped though when he saw a tinge of pink touch Scott’s cheeks as well. Head dipped down with his bottom lip caught between his teeth, Scoot looked up at Derek through thick, dark lashes.
They stared at each other for a moment, Derek’s stomach fluttering wildly like a hummingbird trapped under glass.
“So, would you—”
Derek’s phone buzzed before Scott could finish his question. Derek swore under his breath as he looked down to where it was clutched in his hand, almost like an appendage.
His shoulders slumped as he read the message telling him to get into the office A.S.A.P.
“You have to go?” Scott guessed.
Derek looked up at him with a rueful expression. “Yeah. Work.”
Scott nodded in understanding. “I get it. I should really get going myself. But, er, maybe we could bump into each other again sometime. Say around this time tomorrow?”
Derek smiled. “I’d say the odds of that are pretty good.”
“Cool. See ya, then,” Scott declared, stepping out onto the sidewalk.
“Yeah. See you, then.” Derek watched as Scott retreated down the sidewalk and disappeared around the corner.
***
Derek didn’t make to the coffee shop that next morning, however, or the one after that. A crisis at work had kept him so busy that he had practically lived at the office for the several days that followed his encounter with Scott. Thankfully, though things began to settle down and for the first time in what felt like forever, Derek had the time to stop for his favorite caffeinated beverage.
“Stop!” A voice demanded as soon as Derek swung open the coffee shop door.
He looked up and saw Scott standing a few steps away with a coffee cup in each hand; one with his own name written on it, the other with Derek’s.
Derek’s brows rose in question.
“Pumpkin latte, right?” Scott asked, stepping forward and holding out a cup to Derek.
“Uh…yeah. H-how did you know?” Derek asked, staring at the cup in confusion.
Scott shrugged, a coy smile tugging up the corners of his lips. “It’s a special gift I have.”
Derek looked at him skeptically and Scott laughed.
“Okay, so I asked Erica what your usual drink order was,” he confessed, gesturing the cup in his hand toward the blonde behind the counter.
It was the same girl as last time and she lifted her hand as Derek looked over at her, fingers wiggling in a wave. “It’s about time you showed up,” she scolded Derek, folding her arms over her chest. “He’s been ordering a coffee for you every day for the last week.”
Derek looked back at Scott, eyes wide. “What?”
The tips of Scott’s ears turned red and his shoulders hunched. “Thanks, Erica,” he groaned.
“Oh my god,” Derek muttered, feeling the blood drain from his face and he scrubbed his hands over it. “We were supposed to meet. Oh my god, I am so sorry. I completely forgot. Things have just been so hectic at work. I am so so sorry.”
Scott lifted his shoulder in a shrug, shaking his head. “Don’t worry about it. It’s not like we had definite plans or anything.”
“God, I feel terrible,” Derek moaned.
“Don’t worry about it,” Scott insisted.
“At least let me reimburse you for all the coffee.” Derek fished his hand into this pocket and pulled out his wallet. “I know they’re not exactly cheap.”
“You really don’t have to do that,” Scott said. “Please put that away.”
Derek sighed. “Are you sure? There’s at least got to be something I can do to make it up to you.”
Scott bit his bottom lip. “Well…maybe you can grab a table with me and we can get to know each other a little while we drink these,” he suggested, gesturing his cup toward the one in Derek’s hand. “That is if you don’t need to rush into work or anything.”
“No. No, I don’t.” Derek smiled. I’ve got some time. And I’d absolutely love to have coffee with you.”
***
“Okay, so next time the coffee is definitely on me,” Derek stated firmly as he and Scott headed for the exit a while later.
“As long as there is a next time, that’s fine with me,” Scott agreed.
“Oh, there will be a next time for sure,” Derek affirmed. “But maybe instead of coffee, I could take you out to dinner?”
Scott smiled. “Sounds good. We should probably make more solid plans this time, though. Maybe exchange phone numbers just in case.”
Derek chuckled. “Yeah. Good idea. How does Saturday night sound? Eight o'clock?”
Scott nodded. “It’s a date.”
“Great. It’s a date,” Derek echoed.
After the pair exchanged information, Derek pushed the door open and held it for Scott. They said their goodbyes and were about to part ways when a voice stopped them.
“Ha! Gotcha again!”
Their eyes turned to counter where Erica nodded pointedly to a spot above them, a triumphant grin on her face as if she had somehow orchestrated the whole thing. Scott and Derek both laughed as they gazed up at the mistletoe.
“So here we are again,” Derek remarked.
“Yep. Here we are,” Scott concurred then lowered his eyes to look at Derek, a question swimming in their warm, brown depths. Derek answered him by stepping forward and wrapping his arm around the shorter man’s waist, pulling him close.
“May I?” he asked.
Scott’s head bobbed up and down quickly. “Yeah, okay,” he said breathlessly.
Derek smiled and swooped down, this time making sure that when they kissed Scott’s lips and his were perfectly aligned.
I really need to stop waiting until the last minute to finish these.
This is for the Scerek Holiday Special! Saturday’s theme is Mistletoe, and this is a... well, a vague attempt.
Title: That’s not how you use mistletoe
Word Count: 1,513 words
It’s a week before Christmas, and Scott McCall is having an asthma attack.
An asthma attack. Of all things. He would laugh if it didn’t feel like his lungs were trying to squeeze themselves up through his throat. One of the only good things about becoming a werewolf had been that this wouldn’t happen anymore. And yet here Scott is, having a goddamned asthma attack.
As of this morning the most Scott had been concerned with was whether or not hiding fake mistletoe around Derek’s loft would be a step over the romantic line into cheesy and lame. It’s their first Christmas together and Scott wants it to be perfect and free of supernatural crisis.
But instead they get sirens. Not cute Disney-esque sirens. No, instead they get “we’re going to nest in Beacon Lake and sing to lure men out into the Preserve where they’ll die from exposure” sirens.
He lets out a wet cough, the taste of something foul on his lips. Scott reaches blindly up to wipe his mouth, trying to concentrate on his breathing.
His hand comes away smeared with black.
Great.
“Scott?” Deaton’s voice flickers into his awareness. “Alright, Scott, I want you to try and take deep breaths. I know that’s difficult right now, but this will help get the mistletoe out of your lungs. Don’t try to swallow any of the discharge. Spit it into this pan.” A mask is carefully fitted over his face, but Deaton is kind enough to let him work through another bout of coughing before he fastens it on securely. Almost immediately Scott can taste the chemical mist flowing through it. It’s almost exactly like the nebulizers he’d be fitted with at the hospital when he had particularly bad asthma attacks as a kid.
Even as a werewolf, apparently, the more things change the more they stay the same.
Whatever Deaton has loaded into the nebulizer starts going to work within seconds, at least letting him focus on something other than how it feels like he’s drowning on dry land. Stiles is the only other member of the Pack in Deaton’s exam room with him. A few others he can hear in the waiting room - Mason, Liam, and Lydia’s voices filter through the walls. The rest, he assumes, are still clearing out the siren den.
“Yeah, yeah, he’ll be okay. He’s an idiot, but he’ll be okay,” Stiles is saying. Scott squints at him, chest bubbling around another brewing cough. His best friend is on the phone, he realizes. On the phone with--
The voice on the other end registers far later than it should. Scott’s eyes go wide, and his emphatic “NO” gets lost as his lungs spasm. He ends up curing into a fetal position and cough until his feels like it’s on fire. Something foul fills his mouth, making him fight not to choke.
Stiles is at his side in seconds, pinning his phone between his cheek and his shoulder. A bowl is shoved under Scott’s nose, Stiles’ other hand tugging the mask away from his face. “Spit,” he orders.
Scott does, and watches as a truly disgusting gob of black phlegm goes splattering into the dish.
Ugh.
Stiles holds the bowl there until the coughing subsides again. “He’s giving me the ‘please don’t tell my boyfriend I did something stupid’ look.”
Scott glares mutinously at him. He is not.
His best friend grins at him. “Too late,” he tells Scott gleefully, before focusing back on the phone. “Uh-huh. Yeah, man, he’s fine as long as he takes his medicine like a good boy. ...Uh-huh. Yeah, sure, whatever. See ya.” He hangs up, tossing the phone gently onto the exam table so he can get Scott’s mask back into place. “Well, Scotty boy, your wolfy knight in shining armor will be here any second to scold and cuddle you or whatever it is he does. Probably both.”
Scott lets out a raspy huff at him. It takes a few tries before he can pant the words: “You… suck.”
“Love you too, Scott. Now rest up, okay?”
Stiles retreats to the door, but doesn’t leave entirely - presumably so someone can still keep an eye on Scott. Which is fine, really. Scott tries to relax and breathe as deep as his struggling lungs will let him. The attack has all but exhausted him anyway, so it’s easy to drift a little in the dim light and the relative quiet.
He gets lost in focusing on his breathing, so it seems like no time at all before the service bell at the clinic’s door rings. There are low voices in the waiting room, and gentle footsteps, and then Stiles says: “He’s all yours.”
The exam room door shuts.
Scott’s eyes flutter open as footsteps approach, and finds Derek standing in front of him. Scott smiles. “Hi,” he mumbles through the mask. But Derek has that frown on his face, the one that’s simultaneously disgruntled and worried and just a little bit tortured - like he’s subtly trying to make sure Scott is still there. He sighs, and it gets caught on a small hiccuping cough. “I’m in trouble, huh?”
Derek holds his glare for another half a second, before he takes a long breath and lowers himself into the seat next to Scott. “Big trouble,” he agrees. But Derek still lets Scott rest his head on his shoulder, so maybe not too much trouble. The older man tucks an arm around Scott’s back, pulling him closer, and turning his face into Scott’s hair.
“You okay?” Derek asks him softly.
Scott shrugs one shoulder and tries very hard not to make his breathing sound labored. “Not too bad. I’ve had worse asthma attacks.”
He doesn’t so much see his boyfriend’s disapproving scowl as he does feel it. “What in the hell made you think it was a good idea to run towards that siren before Lydia threw the mistletoe?”
Oh boy. Scott really wishes he could go back to this morning, when they were curled in Derek’s bed and it was soft and warm and siren-free and Scott could breathe properly. “Uh,” he croaks, “She wasn’t going to slow down? She was charging us.”
“The mistletoe would have slowed her down, Scott.”
“But not--” His lungs spasm, threatening another fit, and he ruthlessly suppresses it. Now is not the time. “Not before she would’ve gotten hold of one of us!” he argues. His voice wheezes around the words. “I’m the Alpha, I’m supposed to protect--”
And that’s the moment he breaks off into another bout of coughing. Damnit.
Derek holds him through it, even holding up the bowl without flinching while his lungs spew up noxious black discharge. There’s comforting kisses being pressed into his hair; a hand rubbing his back as he shakes.
Best boyfriend.
“As someone who used to pull that ‘I’m the Alpha’ thing,” Derek says when Scott goes quiet again, slumping into his chest, “that’s complete bullshit.”
“Derek…” Scott whines.
“No. You’re the Alpha and the strongest, but you’re also the one of us who’s most vulnerable to airborne toxins. Especially when you run straight into a fight when Lydia throws a mistletoe smoke bomb.”
Scott barely stops himself from squirming under that gently scolding tone. “If you were there, you would’ve done the same thing,” he grumbles. He peers up at his boyfriend, utterly unsurprised when Derek actually looks ready to argue with him. “You so would. And then you’d be sitting here gagging on this--” he moves the mask out of the way, and spits a tiny bit of phlegm into the pan, “--shit.
But Derek doesn’t seem to be too impressed by his reasoning. He leans back so Scott can see him better. So Scott doesn’t miss the sad eyes that Derek is currently giving him. Shit. “I just want you to be safe,” his boyfriend says.
“Don’t guilt trip me,” Scott pleads, putting an extra pathetic whine in his voice. It’s not hard to do when it’s muffled by the mask and wheezy. “You can’t guilt trip me when I’m injured.”
“Watch me, Scott.”
He’s infuriating. And Scott loves him.
“You’re mean,” Scott groans with absolutely no heat. “I was going to spare you my lame attempt at Christmas romance, but not when you’re being mean.”
“Oh…? And what horrible fate were you saving me from, huh?”
“I was gonna hang mistletoe up in your apartment and make you kiss me under it.”
“Make me, huh.” A small smile tugs at Derek’s lips. Something in Scott’s chest, that isn’t the lingering effect of mistletoe, loosens.
“Yeah. I thought it might be too cheesy, so I wasn’t going to go through with it. But now? I’m going to hang it up right over the bed. 100% the lamest attempt at Christmas romance you’ve ever seen.”
Derek hums, and leans in. A kiss, sweet and warm, is pressed to his forehead. “If you promise not to inhale it, I’ll kiss you under the mistletoe as many times as you want.”
