Merry Christmas, septima-sum!
I tried to fit as much in there as you requested! Deputy Derek, Magic Stiles, The Sheriff finds out - sort of. With a little bit of Christmas and pack feels thrown in there. I hope you enjoy!
Title: A Marshmallow World
This was the most awkward car ride of John Stilinski’s life. And he’d had his share of awkward car rides.
He’d thought nothing could have topped being 16, stuffed into what could barely be called the backseat of Mr. Sanders’ pick up, having been found in Mindy Sanders’ bedroom – where he was not supposed to be - with his hand up her shirt – where it was not supposed to be. She swore her dad always worked late on Wednesdays. She’d been wrong.
Then there was his first year on the force, when he’d responded to a routine drunk and disorderly call, only to find the then Sheriff of Beacon Hills County, standing in the fountain in the mall food court. Sans pants. And crying. He’d been forced to arrest his boss and drive him back to the station while the man cried about finding his wife in bed with another woman. While he was pants less.
Then there had been the terribly awkward silence that stretched on far too long on his first date with Claudia. John had made an off handed comment about how the guy at the movie theater concession stand, Kyle, who had gotten their order wrong three times, was an art major. To which Claudia replied “I was an art major.” That one hadn’t turned out too badly though, after John spent thirty minutes parked in her driveway explaining that he hadn’t meant that in a disparaging way, he’d merely ben trying to tell her that Kyle was working on a very big film project for school and had a lot on his mind and how John had the utmost respect for art majors and artists and art majors and wasn’t implying that as an art major he was incapable of filling a popcorn tub. Thankfully Claudia seemed charmed by his babbling and cut him off with a kiss before he dug himself in any deeper.
But this car ride, this seemed to top them all. John squinted out into the haze of white that he could see through the windshield, regretting ever agreeing to Stiles’ suggestion that he drive Derek home that night.
Not that he remembered actually agreeing so much as being told he was going to take Derek home.
“You’ll be careful?” Derek asked, holding his keys just out of Stiles’ reach.
“Yes,” Stiles rolled his eyes.
“You know all the rules?” Derek asked.
“Oh my God! This was your idea. I’m fine in the Jeep. There’s barely a half an inch of snow on the ground. You’re the one worried.” Stiles pointed out.
“There’s supposed to be eight inches before nightfall and you have too many errands to run. My car is safer.” Derek said, grudgingly dropping the keys into Stiles’ palm. “I get off at 4. That means be here at 4, not 4:30 or 5:15.”
“I won’t be done cooking by 4,” Stiles pointed out. “Scott can come pick you up.”
“On his bike?” Derek asked. “In the snow?”
“Right,” Stiles frowned. “I’m fine in the Jeep.”
“No one is fine in that Jeep,” Derek said. The Sheriff stepped up, ready to stop what could have, and knowing his son, would have, turned into a 2 hour argument about how his Jeep was perfectly safe when Stiles caught sight of him.
“Dad!” Stiles smiled brightly. “Dad will bring you home.”
“I will?” John raised an eyebrow.
“You’ve got the split shift, so you’ll probably head home and catch a few hours of sleep before coming back, Derek’s place is on your way.” Stiles said.
“Not really—“ John tried to protest but Stiles had already grabbed Derek’s keys and turned toward the door, humming what sounded like a Christmas song as he walked out.
The half inch of snow from that morning had turned into about 5 inches by the time Derek’s shift ended. And the gentle snow fall from that morning was now approaching blizzard status. John could barely see two feet in front of him. What should have been a 15 minute drive to the rebuilt Hale house had taken them almost an hour. It didn’t help that Stiles had forgotten the potatoes and a few other things and they’d had to make a last minute stop at the grocery story. Fighting an old lady for the last bag of potatoes on Christmas Eve was not an experience that John ever thought he’d have, and he was pretty sure he never wanted to do again.
But even factoring in the snow and a fight with an octogenarian, there was no reason for the ride to be this awkward. He and Derek had been in the car together many times on duty and it had been fine. Granted, they’d had work to distract them and act as a buffer.
“Did you ever figure out what happened to the transfer papers for Longham?” John asked, latching onto anything work related he could think of to talk about.
“Yes,” Derek said. He sounded almost as relieved as John did at having a topic to talk about. “Johnson put the wrong case number on the attachment.”
“Do I have enough cause to fire that guy yet?” John groaned.
“You had enough cause to fire him six months ago when he accidently erased three months of arrest reports,” Derek laughed. “But we’re still pretty short staffed, with fewer prospects every day. So I don’t know, the devil you know I suppose.”
“True,” John said thoughtfully. He wondered if Derek knew those were basically the exact words that Stiles had used to convince the Sheriff to give Derek a chance when he’d first brought up the idea of him working on the force.
The silence stretched out between the two men again. It was less awkward this time but still not exactly comfortable, so when the turn off for the reserve came into view John let out a relieved breath. He was pretty sure beside him, Derek did the same.
The relief was short lived however when it became clear there was no way John’s cruiser was going to make it all the way down the drive. The snow on the ground was too thick, and though the city did a good job of plowing the streets, this was technically considered a private drive. On top of that, the blizzard had gotten so bad John was pretty sure he wasn’t going to be able to make it back out again.
Derek offered John an apologetic shrug as he used the radio to call into the station. Marsha said the blizzard had gotten so bad that they wouldn’t be able to get a plow out to him for a few hours at least.
“You can wait up at the house.” Derek offered and John agreed because his only alternative was freezing to death in the car.
“Lead the way,” John said because he was pretty sure there was no way he’d be able to find the house on his own in this storm.
Derek grabbed the groceries and led John through the snow to the house. They weren’t that far out, but even still John was soaked to the bone by the time they reached the porch. John stood there, awkwardly as Derek looked from the door to the Sheriff to the bags of groceries in his arms.
“My keys are in my pocket.” Derek said almost apologetically. The Sheriff entertained the idea of pulling them out for less than half a second before deciding to just ring the bell instead.
John and Derek stood there, getting colder by the second, but no one opened the door. John rang the bell again and after a second, he heard the familiar sound of his son’s annoyed voice and the even more familiar sound of his annoyed walk. “Really guys?” he snapped, his footsteps getting closer and closer. “Don’t worry, I’ll get it, it’s not like I’m busy or anything, making dinner for twelve people.”
The door was jerked open and Stiles managed to wipe the glare off of his face instantly, turning it into a blinding smile. “Hi dad, I was starting to get worried.” he said, taking in their wet clothes and stepping out of the way so they could come inside.
“The storm is a little worse than we were expecting,” John said.
“The cruiser got stuck about halfway up the drive,” Derek said stepping out of his boots by the front door as Stiles took the grocery bags from Derek. “They’re sending a plow but it won’t be here for a few hours.”
“That’s ok, you can wait here,” Stiles smiled brightly over at John, his expression almost eager. “We haven’t spent a Christmas Eve together since I was like twelve.”
John opened his mouth to protest but realized he couldn’t, because Stiles was right. But before the moment could get awkward Stiles just pushed through it. “Why don’t you go upstairs and change into some dry clothes.” Stiles offered as he headed toward the kitchen. “Derek can find you something to wear.”
John followed Derek up the stairs and to the room at the end of the hall. Derek moved over to a dresser on the far wall and started digging through the drawers so John took the opportunity to study the room. The room felt like Derek, minimal with a few soft touches here and there. It looked more lived in than he would have imagined. Derek’s desk at the station was always immaculate, a place for everything and everything in it’s place. But here there was a pair of reading glasses and open books littering the table and even the floor beside the bed. Small piles of dirty clothes were scattered around the room and the comforter on the bed was pulled down and wrinkled. John could have sworn that Derek would be a make the bed every day type of guy.
Derek cleared his throat and John tore his gaze away from the messy bed to see the other man holding out a stack of folded clothes. And John had just made it awkward again. John grabbed the clothes and Derek made his way over to the bed, pulling at the comforter and grumbling what sounded like his son’s name in exasperation as he straightened out the sheets.
“Bathroom is down the hall. You can take a hot shower if you want.” Derek offered as he straightened the books on the side table then started working on cleaning up the clothes all over the floor.
John decided a hot shower would be good and spent as much time as he could without it seeming weird, eager to stave off any more awkwardness. When he couldn’t justify the shower any longer he changed into the clothes that Derek lent him and made his way down the stairs.
John hadn’t spent that much time around the pack when there wasn’t a supernatural emergency so he wasn’t sure what to expect. He heard shouting from the living room, the kind that can only truly come from being disappointed in a sports teams, and his shoulders relaxed a bit. So he was stuck in a house full of werewolves, one of whom worked for him. Yeah, it was probably gonna be awkward but at least there would be football, so it wasn’t all bad.
“Could you please just try to behave like civilized humans? My dad is here,” Stiles hissed under his breath as John walked into the room.
“But we’re not humans, we’re wolves,” Erica said, flashing her eyes and snapping her newly elongated teeth at Stiles. It made John take a step back but Stiles didn’t even flinch. He just rolled his eyes as he grabbed up all the empty beer bottles off the coffee table.
“Put those away. You know the whole wolf thing still makes him uncomfortable.” Stiles said.
“His problem, not mine.” Erica said, her teeth seeming to grow even more.
“Please, just do it for me Catwoman.” Stiles asked and Erica groaned as her teeth shrunk back to normal size.
“I’ll stow the teeth and claws for you Batman.” She said and leaned back against Boyd’s chest. “But I’m not pretending to be something I’m not just to make him feel better.”
“Not asking you to,” Stiles said. “Just tone it down a bit.”
John frowned. He was still adjusting to the whole werewolf thing, but he hadn’t meant to make them feel like he had a problem with it. Or them. “Sherriff.” Boyd said, bringing everyone’s attention to the fact that the was standing in the doorway. Boyd’s face indicated that he’d known the Sheriff had been there all along. Which made sense. It probably wasn’t easy to sneak up on a werewolf.
“Dad, sit and watch the game,” Stiles said. “Make yourself at home.”
“Who’s winning?” The Sheriff asked. Boyd looked over at him again as John settled into the chair.
“Dallas,” he grunted.
“Feet off the coffee table,” Stiles said as he passed, tapping Derek’s leg with one of the empty bottles. Derek pulled his feet off the table without taking his eyes from the television. “Also none of you could have opened the door? Don’t tell me you didn’t hear the bell, you probably heard him coming from halfway down the street.
“That was a really important drive. We were on the 5 yard line, 2nd and goal,” Jackson offered and when Stiles didn’t look convinced he elbowed Scott in the ribs.
“Yeah the guys in the blue were totally stopping the guys in the Green from like, doing stuff,” Scott said suddenly.
“Please, if you can say one football term right now I’ll pretend I don’t know you’re in here playing angry birds on your phone.” Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and Scott gaped at him.
“I—that’s—“ Scott looked to Derek and then Boyd, both of whom studiously ignored him and he turned back to Stiles. “Oh, oh!” he sat up straighter. “Hat trick!” he looked so pleased with himself that the Sheriff almost felt sorry for him.
“That’s Hockey!” Came an incredulous voice from the other room. The Sheriff figured it might be Isaac.
“Crap,” Scott stood up and slipped his phone in his pocket before turning to the kitchen.
“Potatoes are on the counter; peel them,” Stiles called after him and the Sheriff looked at him confused.
“The rule is you don’t have to help if you’re watching the game,” Boyd supplied.
“No, the rule is you don’t have to help until the game is over,” Stiles pointed out. “Can I get you a beer dad?”
“Uh yeah sure that would be great,” he half stood up. “But I can help, in the kitchen.”
“It’s fine, I can manage. Relax,” Stilles brushed him off. “I’ll bring you that beer.”
Stiles walked past Derek who reached out and grabbed his hand, giving it a small squeeze and Stiles nodded, his shoulders relaxing slightly, and the Sheriff realized maybe this was just as awkward for Stiles. He started to pull away and Derek tightened his grip on Stiles’ fingers. “I could use a beer.”
“You know where the fridge is,” Stiles said cheekily pulling free from Derek’s grip and walking into the kitchen. A minute later he was back with two beers though, handing one to the Sheriff and one to Derek.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
After an hour of watching the Cowboys trash the 49ers, and two beers later, things were less awkward. He’d found a kindred spirit in Boyd, whose hatred of the Cowboys almost matched John’s, though he was a bit more taciturn about it.
With five minutes left in the game, and the 49er’s so far behind not even a Christmas miracle could help them, Derek started gathering up the empty beer bottles they’d accumulated and headed for the kitchen. John grabbed the few that Derek left behind and followed him to see Stiles was bustling from one spot to the next. There were four pots on the stove and the counter top was covered with vegetables to be chopped and dirty dishes.
“Games over, what can we help with?” Derek asked, dropping the beer bottles into the trash.
“Well the trash needs to be taken out,” Stiles looked pointedly at already full trash can Derek had just dumped the beer bottles into.
“Jackson, trash,” He called over his shoulder and Jackson pulled himself off the couch with a groan.
“Jackson sit,” Stiles called back and Jackson froze halfway between sitting and standing. Torn between obeying his Alpha and obeying Stiles John realized.
“I’ll take out the trash,” Isaac offered from the island where he was chopping onions and Stiles shook his head.
“Derek will take out the trash,” Stiles said matter of factly, staring Derek down.
“Fine,” Derek relented, breaking Stiles’ gaze as he grabbed the trash bag and walked out the back door.
“You want me to get the leaves for the dining room table out of the attic?” Boyd asked from the doorway.
“And the extra chairs please,” Stiles nodded then turned around. “This is why Boyd’s my favorite by the way – volunteering to help. Take note.”
The Sheriff saw Boyd blush a bit as he walked away and realized how important that comment really was for the kid. “Please, everyone knows Isaac is your favorite,” Scott said dumping the potato peelings in the fresh trash bag.
“Isaac is mine,” Stiles said correcting him. “But Boyd is my favorite.”
Isaac preened at that, tilting his head back to smile at Stiles and he slid his fingers in Isaac’s hair. The Sheriff had no idea what that meant, that Isaac was his. It sounded so possessive, almost animal. He watched as Stiles’s hand moved from Isaac’s hair to his throat where Stiles squeezed lightly and that’s when the Sheriff realized what it was. It was wolf. When had his son become more wolf than human?
The moment passed and no one else in the room seemed to realize what a big deal it was, possibly because to them it wasn’t a big deal because it just was.
“Is all of this for tonight?” John asked looking around at all the food.
“No,” Stiles shook his head. “There’s pizza in the warming drawer for tonight. This is all for tomorrow.” Stiles grabbed the bowl of peeled potatoes from Scott and passed them off to Isaac to chop, taking the onions from him in exchange.
“Then why are you cooking now?” John moved out of the way as Erica walked into the room and around him to grab the boxes out of the drawer under the stove.
“The first year we did this, I spent all of Christmas Day slaving away in the kitchen and missed out on everything. So I try to prep as much as I can the night before.” Stiles shrugged.
“The first year?” John asked confused.
“Yeah, it was what four years ago? Five? We did it at the loft so Derek was still living there.” Stiles tried to remember.
“And you guys do this every year?” John asked suddenly wondering how his son could have been doing this for years and he didn’t know about it. Then again his son was running around with werewolves for a year and half before John found out about that.
“Well yeah. None of us really had any of our own Christmas traditions so when things started to settle down, we sort of…made our own.” Stiles shrugged, his voice suddenly hesitant.
Claudia had loved the holidays, making a huge deal about it. The tree, the decorations, the huge Christmas dinner. After Claudia died John didn’t want to face the holiday so he volunteered for the Christmas split shift because it was just too hard without her. After a few years the pain had dulled but he just never got out of the habit. He told himself it was so the guys with families could have the time off, but really it was because he just wasn’t sure how to even do Christmas without Claudia.
Stiles had never indicated he had a problem with them not celebrating the holidays, but the way he was embracing them here, with the pack without John, made John feel like Christmas was just one more thing he needed to add to the list of “Things He Handled Wrong After Claudia’s Death”.
“I just…I don’t understand,” Sheriff said. “Don’t you all have families to be with on Christmas?” The room went eerily silent at that. All of the background noise of chopping and cooking stopped almost comically.
“This is our family,” Isaac said confused.
“Melissa usually works the morning shift, but she always makes it to dinner. Lydia’s in Vale with her mom this year but usually she’s here and Jackson’s parent’s won’t even notice if he’s not there. Boyd’s grandma hasn’t really done Christmas for a few years and Erica’s mom is just happy she’s got friends so she doesn’t mind. Even Deaton comes by for a little while.” Stiles explained. “But Isaac’s right, this is our family.”
Erica dropped a plate of pizza loudly in front of him on the island and offered him an unimpressed look before walking back into the living room.
“Scott, why don’t you go clean up the mess you made in the library.” Stiles said attempting to break the tension. “And don’t think I don’t know that all the crap on the floor in Isaac’s room is yours.”
“It could be Isaac’s crap,” Scott protested.
“Please if Isaac ever left a sock out it would be the sign of the coming apocalypse.” Stiles rolled his eyes. “Look, you crashed on the couch so much we bought you a bed. Then you started staying over more and leaving your stuff all around the house so we bought you a dresser. If you don’t clean up your room, we’ll take both of them away.” Scott rolled his eyes but walked out of the kitchen without protest. “Isaac, can you go down to the basement and grab the boxes by the washer and dryer marked ‘china’?”
“Sure,” Isaac nodded and walked out of the room.
“Sit down, eat.” Stiles motioned to the pizza and John sat down at the Island and picked up a piece of pizza.
“I didn’t mean to…offend anyone,” John said dropping the pizza back down on his plate.
“You didn’t,” Stiles said. “You just don’t understand.”
And he didn’t. He didn’t understand any of this. He was trying though. When Derek joined the force they’d delved into old cold cases together looking for Supernatural answers. And he was more prone to entertain the idea of magic and monsters when a case looked to be heading that way. But he had to admit that he’d been trying to contain the supernatural to the bad things. To the bodies and the crime scenes and ignore its presence in his everyday life. And the every day life of his son.
Stiles had tried to explain pack to him before and John hadn’t been able to truly grasp the concept then. It was Stiles’ senior year and things had finally managed to settle down. They’d silenced the Nemeton, stabilized the territory and things had been quiet. Stiles had even started looking at colleges. It took a while but eventually the Sheriff figured out that Stiles wasn’t looking at any college that was more than a three hours drive from Beacon Hills.
They’d gotten into a huge fight. John had been looking at college as a way to get Stiles out of the town, away from all the supernatural stuff. Stiles had tried to explain that there was no getting away for him. He’d talked about the pack like he didn’t have a choice in it and John hadn’t liked that. Hadn’t understood.
Then Stiles had gotten a full ride to Berkley and even though it was only two and a half hours away, it was Berkley and a full ride and John really couldn’t find any fault with that. So Stiles went off to college and they never really talked about it again. When he came home on breaks and the occasional weekend he spent time with the pack, but he spent just as much time with John so he never had a reason to question it.
When Derek rebuilt the Hale House, the library on the first floor became their base of operations for all things Supernatural. Occasionally Stiles would refer to it as “his room”. Grabbing a book from “his room” or “his room” being the best place to channel magical energies – something else which John knew he was keeping himself deliberately ignorant about. And he knew Isaac, Erica, and Boyd moved in but when Stiles got back from Berkley he rented an apartment down town.
But being here with the pack, there were things that the Sheriff was suddenly finding it hard to not notice anymore. Like how Stiles was around them. How they were around him. Like the fact that werewolves wouldn’t need reading glasses. That the books on Derek’s bedside table were not the classic novels that John occasionally caught Derek reading on his breaks at the station but more like the older tombs from Stiles’ library. How the clothes scattered across Derek’s bedroom floor contained more plaid than John had ever seen Derek wear. The way he’d said “we” when talking to Scott. “we bought you a bed”, “we bought you a dresser”, “we’ll take both of them away”.
“You live here,” the Sheriff said slowly.
Stiles turned around and took a deep breath before letting out a chuckle. “Yeah,” he said and wiped his hands on the apron. “I knew you’d figure it out.”
“They didn’t give me the badge because I like shiny things,” John reminded Stiles and he sat down at the island grabbing a slice of pizza off Johns plate and taking a bite.
“I wanted to tell you but there never seemed to be a good time,” Stiles said. “I wasn’t hiding it from you, I just…I wasn’t sure how you’d react.”
“How long?”
“When my lease ran out, I just didn’t renew it.” Stiles shrugged.
“When your lease—“ The Sheriff frowned. “That was over six months ago.”
“I’m not sure if I’m comforted or creeped out that you know that.” Stiles said but he was smiling.
“So you’ve been living here for over six months,” John said slowly. “How long have you and Derek been…” John trailed off, unsure how to ask the question. He didn’t want to say dating because if they were living together it was more seriously than that.
Stiles looked confused until he caught on to what John was trying not to say. “No, dad, it’s not…Derek and I we aren’t together.”
John frowned. “But you sleep in his bed.”
Stiles’ eyes widened at that but he just shook his head softly. “I can’t sleep in my room cause it’s not good to sleep where you cast – there’s too much magical energy, it’s not very relaxing. I crash on Scott’s bed sometimes cause since Kira came back they’ve gotten more serious and he stays at her place most of the time, but Isaac snores. Loud. And since Kira’s spending the holidays with her parents Scott’s been here every night. No one but Lydia is allowed in Jackson’s room. The guest room backs up to Erica and Boyd’s room and honestly no one should be subjected to that. Derek got tired of me complaining about my back after I slept on the couch so he lets me crash in his room. That’s it.”
John wanted to call bullshit on that. Derek’s room had looked much more live in by Stiles than just crashing there occasionally but before he could Derek walked into the room. He walked over to the stove and reached around Stiles to taste something in one of the pots on the back of the stove. Stiles pulled the spoon out of his hands before it even reached his mouth and Derek actually pouted at that.
“Stop,” Stiles scolded him without any heat as Isaac walked into the room and dropped a box on the island counter and walked back out. “Please be careful,” Stiles winced. “That stuff’s breakable you know.”
“What is it?” Derek asked, grabbing a piece of the potatoes that Isaac had been cutting up and popping it into his mouth.
“Our china.” Stiles told him.
“We have china?” Derek asked confused.
“We do,” Stiles said. “It needs to be washed and then you can take it into the dining room .”
“What do we need china for?” Derek asked.
“To eat off of,” Stiles said as if that were obvious.
“We have regular plates you know,” Derek leaned over and opened the cabinet next to Stiles, motioning to the dishes stacking inside. Stiles rolled his eyes and closed the cabinets. “Is it wrong that just for one day a year I’d like to pretend that we’re allowed to have nice things? Just rinse the plates off and bring them to Boyd,” Stiles bumped his hip against Derek’s, pushing him away from the counter.
“Fine,” Derek sighed. “But when Scott breaks one you’ll remember why we’re not allowed to have nice things.” Derek teased and opened the box Isaac brought up. John watched Stiles’ shoulders tense a bit as Derek reached into the box and he wondered why when Derek let out a sound that when made by an animal John would have described as a whine.
“This is…this is my great grandmother’s china.” Derek said pulling a plate out of the box and unwrapping it carefully. He ran his fingers over the delicate gold scrolls that twisted around the small blue flowers, then dove back into the box to pull more pieces out.
“Where did you get these?” Derek asked.
“They were in the china cabinet,” Stiles said from the softly. “At the old house. I found them when we were cleaning it out, before the demo.”
“I told you to throw everything away.”
“Yeah well you know,” Stiles shrugged. “I thought maybe one day you might want something of your parents. They weren’t in the best shape when I found them. Most of the plates were intact but some of the serving dishes were beyond repair. I had to take them to this guy who professionally restored china, it took a really long time. The pieces I couldn’t salvage I replaced.” Derek pulled out another piece and unwrapped it to find a gravy boat. “I did manage to save the gravy boat. There was a chip but I thought it would be ok.” Stiles offered hopefully.
“I did that,” Derek said, rushing to reassure him. “When I was twelve. I finally got to eat off the good dishes. I remember being too scared to use my fork, terrified I’d scratch off the flowers until Laura told me as long as I didn’t drop the plate I was ok. After dinner Laura and I were doing the dishes. She was teasing me about something. She was drying the gravy boat and I nudged her to get her to shut up but it was slippery and she dropped it and it chipped.”
Stiles watched Derek run his finger back and forth across the chip in the edge of the gravy boat.
“I was terrified, convinced I was going to be disowned so I ran away,” Derek smiled. “Mom found me out in the woods, it took her two hours to convince me to come home. Laura was eager to blame it all on me and I remember mom punishing her for being a tattle tale and for teasing me.” Derek frowned and set the gravy boat down carefully before walking out of the room.
Stiles didn’t seem to be put off by the abrupt exit, he just turned back to the stove, letting Derek have whatever space he needed to process whatever was going on in his head at the moment.
“You love him,” John said suddenly, without preamble and Stiles stopped stirring the pot and set his spoon down carefully before turning to John. He was waiting for the protest, for the sputtering denial and the excuses to explain away his behavior.
But it didn’t come. Instead Stiles stared John right in the eye and offered a very succinct. “Yes.”
John started thinking about all the little things he’d learned since he’d been there that night. He didn’t know much about pack but he knew somethings. And the way that Derek deferred to Stiles on certain things, the way he allowed Stiles to come into his space, John knew those things were important, not just in a pack but to Derek specifically. Derek who had gone through so much that he certainly wouldn’t do those things for just anyone.
“He loves you,” John said and Stiles smiled but just shrugged his shoulders.
“Maybe,” Stiles pushed off of the counter and grabbed a stack of the china and brought it to the sink to wash it. “But he’s not ready yet. And I can wait.”
In that moment his son looked older. John had been seeing him as a teenager for so long it was jarring. He’d look at Stiles and see someone who was too young for the things that he’d been thrust into. He’d see someone who had no idea what he was doing, who was making it up as he went along and hanging on by the skin of his teeth. But that wasn’t who he saw now.
He saw someone mature, who was comfortable in his own skin. Someone who had taken what the world had thrown at him and come out on the other side stronger. Someone who knew what he wanted but was comfortable enough with that knowledge to not go after it, but to let it come to him, let Derek come to him.
And he did. A few minutes later Derek walked back into the room and took his place next to Stiles at the sink. Stiles didn’t say anything, just passed him a towel to dry and nudged Derek’s hip with his own. Stiles went back to washing but John watched as Derek’s gaze lingered on Stiles’ face, as if he was searching for the answer to a question he didn’t know.
And that’s when John realized something that maybe Stiles’ hadn’t yet. It wasn’t that Derek wasn’t ready to admit he loved Stiles. It was that Derek didn’t even realize that he loved Stiles.
:::::::::::::::::::::::
Three hours later the plow still hadn’t made it to dig the cruiser out. John called the station and Parrish was on duty but he had no problem staying until the Sheriff could get there. “I’m not keeping you guys up am I?” John asked as the others slowly drifted off to sleep.
“No we’ll be awake for a while yet. Stiles decided it would be a good idea to get Erica Barbie Dream House for Christmas but didn’t realize it would need to be put together.” Derek said shooting Stiles a disapproving but fond look.
“It is a good idea, and it’ll be totally worth it. She’s gonna love it,” Stiles said. “And I’ve got a few hours of cooking left to do anyway. But you should try and get some sleep before you have to go in. Derek can make up the bed in the guest room.”
“Sure,” Derek nodded and headed up the stairs.
“I’ll help,” John said clapping Stiles on the back as he made his way to the second floor.
Derek grabbed sheets out of a closet in the hall and the Sheriff followed him to the guest room.
“You guys, you’ve made your own little family here.” John said as Derek tossed him an
“You’re a part of this family too,” Derek told him. “You’re a part of Stiles’ family so you’re a part of ours, and even if you weren’t…you’re pack. Do you know what that means?”
“No,” John answered honestly. “But I think I might be ready to figure it out.” Derek smiled at him.
“Your shift is over at four tomorrow right?” Derek asked and John nodded. “We probably wont eat until 6, if you wanted to stop by. I know Stiles would really like it if you came. I’d really like it if you came.” He was so earnest that the Sheriff knew even if he’d wanted to, there was no way he’d be able to turn down the invitation. But he didn’t want to. He may not fully understand what pack means but he knows what family means and he knows without even realizing it Derek had become a part of his family.
“Oh hell,” John groaned and Derek frowned confused. If he thought the car ride over was awkward, trying to explain to Derek that he was in love with Stiles was going to be ten times as awkward. But that’s what you do for family. “Sit down son.” Derek looked confused but sat on the edge of the bed.
“Did I ever tell you how I realized I was in love with Stiles’ mom?” Derek shook his head. John sat down on the bed and smiled as he dredged up the memory. “We’d been dating for almost a year at that point. We’d just moved into together, this crappy little apartment in the city. I was still in the academy and she was getting her Masters and it was all we could afford. Our second night there, a little after midnight, we hear this loud boom. We both go running downstairs to see that the faucet had exploded and water was just shooting into the air. She starts screaming and we both try to make our way to the sink to stop the water.” John chuckled and Derek smiled.
“So we’re sliding on the floor, soaking wet. She’s on the phone with the super screaming at him and I’m trying to find the valve to shut off the water. Three hours later the waters finally been turned off and I’m trying to mop up as much as I can, when I look up and see her, standing in the kitchen at 3 in the morning, barefoot and exhausted and I just realized suddenly, I could do this forever.” John said. “Do you get what I’m saying son?”
“Not really,” Derek answered, still confused and John sighed but clapped him on the back.
“You will.” Derek just nodded and walked out the room.
::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
Derek put the last decal on the elevator and leaned back, stretching out his back. He checked the clock on the mantel and groaned when he saw that it was nearing three in the morning. He stood up and stretched some more freezing when he saw something out of the corner of his eye. He turned quickly and saw John coming down that stairs.
“Plow finally got here,” John said buttoning up his uniform shirt and heading for the door. He paused with his hand on the door and turned back to Derek. “You remember what I told you?” John asked, the tone of his voice was serious and Derek nodded. He remembered the strange conversation from earlier. He didn’t understand it, but he did remember it.
“Yes sir,” Derek assured him.
“Good.” John smiled. “I’ll see you at seven then.” Derek smiled and nodded. He locked the door behind the Sheriff and looked over to the kitchen to see Stiles wiping down the counters.
“The Barbie Dream House is put together,” Derek stepped into the kitchen and Stiles smiled up at him after tossing the rag in the sink.
“Cinnamon rolls are defrosting in the fridge and I made hot chocolate.” Stiles held out a mug and Derek took it gratefully, looking cautiously into the cup. “I didn’t put marshmallows in yours cause you’re a weirdo.”
“Marshmallows are disgusting, they’re nothing but fluffy, sticky sugar,” Derek repeated the same argument that he’d been using against marshmallows for the past five years. The banter easy and comfortable to slip into with Stiles the way it always was.
“Yes, and that’s what makes them awesome,” Stiles said sipping his cocoa. “The turkey’s are brining in the mud room, I had Jackson move them in cause with all of the snow, the last thing we need are frozen turkeys.”
“The pies are all done?” Derek asked and Stiles nodded. “All of the casseroles are put together, we’ll just have to heat them up, are we really doing two stuffing’s again?”
“You know Scott has to have his mom’s recipe and Jackson’s allergic to sage,” Stiles pointed out.
“Melissa’s gonna bring that awful marshmallow salad isn’t she?” Derek sipped the hot chocolate carefully.
“And you’re going to eat at least three bites and tell her how much you love it,” Stiles told him.
“Maybe if I stopped lying about it she’d stop making it,” Derek offered.
“Maybe you should nut up and eat the marshmallows.” Stiles raised an eyebrow and Derek let out a long suffering sigh.
“Fine, but that means you have to eat Deaton’s mincemeat pie this year,” Derek smirked and Stiles groaned but there was a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that he was trying to hide behind the rim of his cocoa cup. Derek’s breath caught in his throat as he looked at Stiles, the moonlight from the kitchen window illuminating his ratty sweats and even rattier t-shirt, his bare feet shuffling back and forth across the tile floor and Derek realized, I could do this forever.
“Oh,” He said softly and Stiles froze, sensing a shift in the mood.
“What?” He set down his mug warily and frowned as Derek stared at him. Derek turned, stepping closer and Stiles legs opened automatically, allowing Derek to fit himself neatly between them, resting his hips on Stiles’ as he set down his own mug.
“I just—“ Derek brought a hand up to cup Stiles cheek and he closed his eyes. “I am ridiculously in love with you.” Derek said, the ghost of a laugh chasing the words out of his mouth and Stiles’ eyes flew open.
“What?” He whispered staring at Derek.
“I’m so completely in love with you I can’t—“ he did laugh then, big and open and it startled him a little. “Is that what this feeling has been, this ache inside my chest, I can’t breathe from it sometimes but it never hurt it just, wow.” He smiled up at Stiles who still seemed to be confused. “It’s ok,” he said softly, rubbing his thumb over Stiles’ cheek bone. “It’s ok if you don’t feel the same, if you don’t love me back, I can deal with that, I just thought you should know.”
“And if I do?” Stiles asked, his voice nothing more than a whisper. “If I feel the same?”
“Well then that’s kind of a little bit perfect huh?” Derek said and Stiles couldn’t take it anymore. He leaned forward, capturing Derek’s mouth in a kiss. His lips were soft and almost hesitant against Stiles’ and after a second he let out a small puff of air an another, “Oh,” as if he’d just realized something else mind shattering.
Stiles shivered against Derek, kissing him again, sliding his tongue along Derek’s bottom lip as his hands dug into the hair at Derek’s neck. “I can’t,” he pulled away and closed his eyes, pressing his forehead on Derek’s. “I swear to God if I’m dreaming…” his laugh wasn’t nearly as full as Derek’s and Derek squeezed his arm.
“God Stiles,” Derek panted against his neck. “How long?”
“Always,” he said risking a look in Derek’s eyes.
“I’m so sorry,” Derek kissed him again, softly. “If I had realized, if I had known, we wasted so much time.”
“Shh,” Stiles said, pulling him even closer, dropping a kiss to his jaw. “We weren’t ready before. I wasn’t ready and I know you weren’t either. But we’re here now and I wouldn’t trade the past couple of years for anything, not for anything.” He said, the truth vibrating through Derek’s body. “I love you,” Stiles said kissing Derek again, deeper this time. “God I love you.”
“Please,” Derek whimpered against his lips. “Just…don’t stop?”
“Kissing you?” Stiles pulled back with a smile. “I can do that,”
“No, I mean yes, but no,” Derek shook his head. “Don’t stop saying that.”
“What? I love you?” Stiles asked and Derek’s eyes widened. “I love you Derek Hale.” He said softly leaning in to kiss Derek gently. “I love you.” Stiles said again. “I love you,” he mumbled into Derek’s mouth and Derek grabbed him by the hips and lifted. Stiles’ legs went around Derek’s waist and he laughed again tossing his head back and baring his throat to Derek. He growled deeply, moving his nose in to scent, his tongue sliding up Stiles’ pulse. Stiles’ hands threaded in Derek’s hair and he pulled, just hard enough to get the other man’s attention and when he looked up at Stiles, his pupils were blown wide and he was panting.
“I need you,” Stiles said softly and Derek nodded gripping Stiles harder and shoving himself off the counter. Still carrying Stiles, he headed up the stairs. They’d only made it halfway when Derek crashed into the wall, his knees shaking as Stiles slid his teeth across Derek’s neck. His grip faltered and Stiles slid to the ground, a wicked smile on his face as he moved up a few steps and kissed Derek again. “Catch me,” he said suddenly and then took off running. Derek’s eyes flashed red and he smiled as he took off after him, rounding the corner and slipping into their room. His hands circled Stiles’ waist as his foot kicked the door shut and they both tumbled onto the bed as Stiles’ laughter rang out all around him.
“Say it again,” Derek said, a smile on his face as he nudged Stile’s nose with his.
“I love you,” Stiles said seriously, no laughter in his voice this time and Derek laughed, burying his nose in Stiles’ neck as he kissed his way down Stiles chest. His fingers teased the edge of Stiles’ shirt, pulling it up until he sat up and allowed Derek to pull it off completely. He ran his hands up and down Stiles’ chest, his fingers lingering on Stiles’ nipples before lowering his mouth to them.
“I love you,” Stiles said again, his voice more breathless now as his fingers tangled in Derek’s hair, pulling him closer and Derek hummed against his skin, dragging his tongue over a nipple then grazing his teeth across. Stiles moaned, gasping as Derek’s hand went down, sliding into the waist band of Stiles’s sweats, his hand gripping Stiles’ erection.
“Derek,” he whispered again and when Derek looked up Stiles was gone, his eyes squeezed shut, his head thrown back and Derek growled low in his throat. Stiles’ eyes shot open and he looked down at Derek. “Come here,” he said softly and Derek obeyed, removing his hand and crawling back up Stiles body. Stiles kissed him, harder this time, desperate and Derek slid his tongue in Stiles’ mouth as he worked his hands under Derek’s shirt, his fingers teasing over Derek’s abs.
Derek pulled away throwing the shirt over his head before dipping back down to kiss Stiles again. His fingers fumbled with Stiles’ sweats, shoving them down Stile’s hips. He wiggled underneath Derek until he was pulling his feet out and suddenly Stiles was completely naked and Derek had no idea where to touch, he wanted to touch everywhere, wanted to find all his spots, the ones that made him laugh, the ones that made him moan and when he caught Stiles’ eye he was smiling knowingly at him.
Stiles slid his fingers into Derek’s pants and pushed, working them down his hips and carefully over his very hard erection as he explained. “We’ve got time for that later,” Stiles assured him, leaning up to catch his mouth in a kiss. “Right now I need you.” Stiles said, biting Derek’s bottom lip, not hard enough to break the skin, just hard enough to catch his attention. “I need to feel you against me.”
Derek was never one to deny Stiles and it seemed now was no exception. He pushed Stiles back down, letting his pants fall to the ground as he slid them further up against the bed. Stiles wrapped a leg around Derek’s hip, his erection sliding against Derek’s and he gasped, grabbing Stiles’ hips and holding him still.
“I love you,” Stiles said again, his voice soft and true and Derek kissed him, lining himself up so they were sliding against each other. They both sighed, as if they’d been waiting for this forever, as if their whole lives had been living up to this moment. “I love you,” Stiles said again as Derek’s hips started to move. “Oh God you have no idea how much—right there—I love you.” Stiles groaned into Derek’s ear, his fingers digging into Derek’s shoulders as he tried to pull him closer. “I love you, I love you, I love you,” he murmured against his lips and Derek’s hips jerked every time.
“Look at me,” Derek whispered and Stiles opened his eyes, not realizing he’d closed them again and Derek stared down at Stiles, their mouths open and touching but not kissing as they panted into each other, trading the same breath over and over as their dicks slipped and slid against each other.
“I love you,” Stiles whispered one last time, his voice hitching on the last vowel as his whole body tensed with his orgasm, coming all over Derek’s abs. Derek grunted, slamming his hips against Stiles a few more times, his dick sliding in the sweat and cum before he felt his own release. Derek fell boneless on top of Stiles, his weight heavy and reassuring, but not suffocating and Stiles clung to his shoulders, his lips dropping small kisses into Derek’s neck as they held each other through it.
“You know,” Stiles said panting as he carded his fingers through Derek’s hair. “A guy’s gonna get a complex.” Derek lifted his head to look at him. “I mean I’ve said like a hundred times and there’s no rule that says you have to say it back but—“ Derek cut him off with a kiss, slow and languid, letting him know that he was taking his time, that they had all the time in the world and that he was perfectly happy exploring Stiles’ mouth for the rest of the century when he pulled back and nudged Stiles’ nose with his, dropping a soft peck to his lips.
“I love you,” Derek said finally, his voice low and wrecked and Stiles smiled. “I love you,” he said again, this time into Stiles’ jaw. “I love you,” he murmured into Stiles neck. He whispered it into Stiles stomach, along his hips. He pressed it into Stiles’ thighs, behind his knees and along his back. He seared it into Stiles, licking a stripe up Stiles shaft as his fingers twisted in Derek’s hair and he trashed on the bed and Derek breathed into Stiles’ temple as he held him while he came down.
“This is gonna change everything isn’t it?” Stiles asked a while later, his fingers sliding softly across Derek’s knuckles where his arm wound around Stiles’ stomach. “And yet it doesn’t change anything at all.”
Derek huffed into Stiles’ neck and dropped a small kiss onto his shoulder blade. His fingers splayed across Stiles stomach and moved, sliding lower and lower and he arched against Derek. “I’d just like to remind you that in about four hours a very excited Erica is going to come in here and wake us up.”
“Point,” Derek said sliding his hands back up to rest on Stiles’ stomach.
“Hey,” Stiles said softly and Derek nudged his with his nose to let Stiles know he was listening. “I love you.” Stiles felt Derek smile against his skin and Stiles smiled before letting his eyes drift closed.
As Stiles predicted, four hours later a very excited Erica burst into the room and jumped on the bed. “A fucking Barbie Dream House! Are you kidding me?”
Stiles laughed, dragging himself back to consciousness as he shuffled closer to Derek to give Erica room on the bed. “I told you. Totally worth it.”
“Oh my god are you guys naked?” Erica said suddenly, a steady stream of “Ew, ew, ew, ew” following her out of the room. “But seriously it’s about time!”
“Morning,” Derek opened his eyes, hesitating only a second before kissing Stiles softly. “So last night wasn’t a dream then?’
“Nope,” Stiles said stretching out against him languidly, his body sliding all along Derek’s and he groaned. “Looks like you’re stuck with me.”
“I think I can manage.” Derek smirked at him and he laughed.
“Jackson Whitmore you touch that Dream House and next year you’ll be asking Santa for a new set of balls,” Erica screamed and Derek reached around for a pair of underwear and his sweat pants.
“I better get down there. I’ll start a pot of coffee.”
“Oh I really do love you,” Stiles smiled against his lips and Derek’s heart stuttered again, still not used to hearing that.
“Five minutes then I’m sending Erica back up.”
“Yeah yeah,” Stiles said yawning.
:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::
“Ok that’s enough, it was cute at first but now it’s getting gross,” Erica said a while later when the novelty had worn off. Stiles and Derek pulled apart and Erica squeezed herself in between the two of them on the couch. Stiles barked out a laugh, breaking the tension.
“No but seriously,” Isaac said wrinkling his nose. “Erica’s right it’s totally gross. I mean I’m glad you guys figured out your whole thing that was getting annoying, but I really don’t need to see my parent’s making out.”
“You know we’re not actually you’re parents right?” Stiles said walking to the mantle to grab the stockings and start passing them out.
“Yeah well good as,” Isaac said and Stiles ruffled his hair and kissed his temple as he dropped Isaac’s stocking his lap.
“I’m gonna go put the cinnamon rolls in,” Stiles walked into the kitchen, shooting Derek a look.
“I’m gonna go help,” Derek said getting off the couch to follow him.
“Oh God you guys are gonna be so annoying,” Isaac groaned leaning back against the couch and Derek just smiled at him.
“So annoying,” Derek assured him and Isaac smiled.
::::::::::::::::::::::
By the time the Sheriff made his way back to the Hale House, everyone seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride. Stiles loved Derek, Derek loved Stiles and nothing was different except occasionally they had to be reminded that they were not the only two people in the room.
Derek handed him a beer and offered him a smile and a small ‘thanks’ and John pretended to not understand what he was talking about and nothing was awkward. Stiles had the table set and everyone was ready to eat when the doorbell rang.
“Melissa,” Derek smiled as he moved to let her into the house, kissing her cheek as she handed him the Tupperware. “And you brought your marshmallow salad.”
“I know how much you love it,” she beamed at him.
“Come on in, everyone’s in the kitchen, driving Stiles insane.” Derek told her and walked away to put the salad in the dining room.
“I’m sure,” Melissa pulled off her coat and shoes and hung them up in the front. “John, glad you could make it this year.”
“Yeah well I figured it was probably time,” Melissa offered him a soft reassuring smile and squeezed his arm.
“You know he hates that salad,” John smiled at her and Melissa beamed.
“Why do you think I make it every year,” Melissa smirked and John laughed. “So I never thought those two would actually get their stuff together. You have any idea how that happened?”
“Must have been the snow.” John shrugged and Melissa laughed.
