Chapter Text
“Ah shit!”
Derek pulls up, feet almost skidding on the icy ground, to avoid running into the woman who had just slipped in front of him. He offers his hand to help pull her to her feet and then crouches to gather up the items that had spilled from her bag.
“Thanks.” She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, cheeks pink in the cold.
Derek can only just hear her over the music blaring from his headphones. “It’s not a problem,” he mumbles, handing over the bag.
She opens her mouth as if to say something more, but Derek is already beginning to move away. It’s a half hour run back to his place and he still needs to shower and eat before work. He knew he’d be cutting it close when he decided to detour through the main street to check on Erica and Boyd.
He gets home with time to spare and takes a long shower. Werewolves may run warmer than most humans, but even Derek couldn’t deny that the winter chill had finally set in across Beacon Hills.
He’s just sitting down to breakfast when his computer begins to beep the incoming chirp of a Skype call. Derek stabs at his keyboard to accept the call.
“I don’t have time for this Stiles,” he greets the rumpled figure on the screen.
“You could have ignored me,” Stiles counters, grinning down at the screen. His hair is sticking up at all angles, suggesting he only just got out of bed. The dark circles surrounding his eyes suggesting he could probably do with more sleep.
“And you would have kept calling and texting until I answered. It’s usually just quicker to answer the first time.”
“You’re learning!”
“I’m leaving.” Derek shoves the last piece of toast in his mouth and goes to shut the laptop.
“Hey, wait.” Stiles waves his hands in front of the camera. “Finals are over. I’m heading home on Friday, you’re still cool with me crashing at your place Friday night yeah?”
“Why aren’t you staying with your Dad again?” Derek asks.
“Between Dad and Melissa, Scott and Kira I’m going to be the double third wheel?” Stiles does the maths on his fingers. “The fifth wheel? It’s awkward man, and its either share my room with Scott who will not shut up about Kira this and Kira that or sleep on the couch. The couch Derek! In my own house! I’d much rather crash in your spare room.”
Derek glances at the time. “Yeah, sure, you can stay here,” he says. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’m going to be late.”
“Thanks. I’ll see you Frida-.”
Derek shuts his laptop, ending the call. He rushes out the door, grabbing his jacket on the way out. His phone chirps Stiles’ indignance at being hung up on. Fortunately, he can cut across the park quickly to get into town and get to his job at the library with time to spare to set up for the day.
***
It’s late when Derek finally makes it home.
The lights are on inside the house, illuminating small patches of the porch through drawn curtains.
“I don’t remember giving you a key,” Derek drawls as he pushes the door open, “but I’m not surprised you managed to find a way in… and make yourself at home.”
“Hey Derek,” Stiles pauses the movie he’s been watching. “Nice place. Way less creepy than the old one. And look, it has walls!”
Derek drops his keys on the table by the front door and makes his way over to the couch, stopping to drop his bag on the kitchen counter.
“Yeah, that was one of the reasons I chose it actually,” he says, knocking Stile’s feet off the seat so he can sit.
“Huh, werewolf’s got jokes,” Stiles teases. He offers Derek the bowl of popcorn he’d been munching on. Popcorn he must have purchased, because Derek knows there had been none in the house that morning. “Seriously though,” Stile continues, “it’s nice.”
Derek takes the offered snacks. “You should have seen it when I bought it.” He looks around at the fresh painted walls and plush carpet.
“Yeah, dad was telling me. He said you’d bought a dump. This is so not what I was expecting.”
The sheriff had advised Derek against purchasing the worn-down house, but Derek had needed something to do with his spare time once the pack had all gone off to university. At first, he’d considered fixing up the old Hale house, but the damage to it had been too significant and it had needed to be pulled down completely. Derek didn’t have the heart to try and re-build it from scratch. It wouldn’t be the same.
“It wasn’t that bad,” Derek says. “It just needed new paint and carpet, and some electrical work and the bathrooms needed resealing and tiling.”
Stiles stares at him. “Sure.” He lets the word drag out.
“Anyway,” Derek says, trying to turn the attention away from himself. “What are you doing here? You told me you wouldn’t be here until Friday?”
“Oh, you got that did you?” Stiles retorts, “when you so rudely hung up on me.” He shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth, chattering as he chews. “I managed to get an extra day off work so I could come home early.”
“Your dad will be happy,” Derek says. “He’s missed you.”
Stiles nods. “I haven’t told him yet. I’m going to surprise him at work tomorrow.” He hits play to resume the movie.
Derek narrows his eyes at him. “Is that your way of asking if you can crash here?”
“That’s cool right?” Stiles asks.
Derek doesn’t have a problem with it, but he draws out his answer as if he’s mulling it over. Finally he says, “Fine. You can stay.” He gestures back towards the hall. “The spare room is down the hall on the left.
Grinning, Stiles resumes the movie.
***
When Derek gets up the next morning, he can already hear Stiles rustling around in the bathroom across the hall. He ducks into his ensuite for a quick shower and is heading out into the kitchen just as Stiles is opening the fridge to peer inside.
“There’s eggs in there if you want.” Derek moves over to the coffee maker. “Or muesli in the cupboard.” There’s already a fresh pot brewing. Stiles must have worked the machine out while Derek was in the shower.
“Muesli,” Stiles scoffs. He has the eggs and a carton of milk in one hand, the other is reaching for the pantry door. “Who in their right mind eats muesli?” He finds the flour and dumps his armload on the bench. “But you knew that already,” he says going back for the sugar and maple syrup. “Because by some magical chance you have all the ingredients – unopened – for pancakes. Crazy, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s weird,” Derek agrees, pouring himself a coffee and sitting on one of the bar stools to watch Stiles mix up the batter. “No idea how that happened.”
“It’s almost like you knew I was coming.” Stiles sets the frypan on the stove to heat and fills his mug with coffee. “Ahh, the sweet elixir of life!” He takes a moment to savour the taste before turning back to the task at hand. The pan sizzles when he drops the butter onto the hotplate. “So, what are your plans for the day?” He asks Derek.
“I’m working this morning,” Derek tells him. “But I finish around lunch if you want to do something?”
Stiles flips the first pancake.
“Sounds good,” he says. “I’m going to surprise Dad at work. I haven’t told him I’m back yet.”
Derek raises an eyebrow. “So you said.”
“I’m surprising him so I can catch him out eating junk food,” Stiles says defensively. “Don’t look at me like that.” He drops the finished pancake onto a plate. “I’m young and healthy. I can eat what I want.”
“I didn’t say anything.” Derek snags the plate and drizzles a generous serving of maple syrup over the top.
“Hey, that’s mine!” Stiles lunges for the plate. “You don’t even like pancakes. Go eat your muesli.”
Derek holds him back with one hand. “This is rent,” he claims. “You owe me two more. Get cooking.”
Stiles grumbles and returns to the stove to finish breakfast.
“Will you be staying here again tonight?” Derek asks.
“If that’s okay.”
“Yeah, it’s fine.” Derek holds out his plate to accept another pancake. “Cora’s not coming down for Christmas this year. She’s meeting Jason’s parents.”
“Oh yeah, she was telling me about that.” Stiles sits to eat his breakfast. “That’s cool. And it means no couch for Stiles.” He devours his meal while Derek packs the dishwasher and cleans his teeth.
Derek grabs up his jacket and shrugs it on. “I’m off. I’ll catch you later.”
Stiles nods and finishes his breakfast.
***
“Hey Daddio!”
“Hey kid, what are you doing here?” Sherriff John Stilinski stands from his desk and gathers his son up in a hug. “We weren’t expecting you until tomorrow.”
“I was able to get a couple of extra days off work,” Stiles explains. He lets go of his Dad and takes a seat on the desk, one foot bracing and the other swinging in the air. “So, surprise!” He breaks out the jazz hands.
“This is fantastic.” John sits at his desk. “Scott gets back tomorrow, and I know Mel is dying to see her boys. I’ll let her know to get your room set up.”
“It’s all good.” Stiles says, waving his dad off. “I’m crashing at Derek’s place. Figured Scott and Kira would want to room together and I’m not about to get between those two lovesick puppy dogs.”
John frowns. “Are you sure?” He asks. “It’s your room. I don’t want you to feel like you haven’t got a place to go.”
“It’s fine Dad, really.” Stiles reassures him. “It’s easier this way. No fighting over who gets to use the shower first, and most importantly, no sleeping on the couch.”
His dad gives him a thoughtful look. “If you’re sure,” he says. “And you need to come over for dinner tonight.”
“Of course.”
“And bring Derek. He hasn’t been over in a while.”
“Don’t you two watch hockey or something every weekend?” Stiles stands. His hands have somehow found a pen to fidget with.
“Yes,” John says seriously. “Because somehow in a whole household of athletic werewolf and werewolf adjacent kids, not a single one of you appreciates sport.”
“I can see now I’ve done you wrong as a son,” Stiles says solemnly. “The least I can do is drag Derek along.”
“The very least,” his dad agrees.
Stiles moves around to give his dad a hug. “We’ll see you tonight then.”
***
Christmas morning dawns cold and foggy. It’s too early for the sun to rise and burn through the morning mist and the dim grey light that filters through the curtains does little to brighten the room.
Derek’s not sure what woke him but as he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling he realises he can hear Stiles moving around in his room next door. It’s earlier than Derek would normally get up and he’s cosy and warm, so he rolls back over intending to get at least another hour of sleep in before rising for the day.
The light tread of footsteps patters down the hall, pausing outside Derek’s bedroom. The door is thrown open and Stiles is there, hair sticking up all over the place and shit-eating grin plastered across his face.
“It’s Christmas Derek!” His phone is in his hand and he taps it. The warbling tone of Mariah Carey drifts up from the loungeroom.
“Oooooh I- do-hn’t want a-lot for Christmas-“
“No.” Derek rolls over and stuffs his pillow on top of his head.
“And guess what?”
“No.”
“It’s a certain grumpy werewolf’s birthday!”
“ -The-re’s just one thing I need-“
“It’s too early Stiles,” Derek grumbles. His pillow does nothing to muffle the music which is getting louder. He raises his head to glare at Stiles. “I will end you,” he warns.
Stiles laughs and holds his phone up to his mouth like a microphone.
“ All I want for Christmas is you.”
Derek throws his pillow at the door. Stiles ducks out of the way and dashes down the hall. Derek can hear his fluffy socks slide against the hardwood. With a groan he throws off his covers and stands.
“It’s 6am on Christmas,” Derek complains, stomping out of his room.
“Exactly!” Stiles is hovering at the end of the corridor. “It’s Christmas! Oh my god, hurry up!”
“For what? Jesus Stiles, is this what you were like as a kid because-“ the words die in Derek’s throat as he reaches the end of the hallway. “How- how did you…?” His living room has been transformed with twinkling coloured lights running along the windows and a tinsel wrapped tree in the corner. “This is…”
“Surprise! Happy Birthmas!” Stiles falls into one of the lounge chairs, arms spread wide.
“How on earth did you manage this without waking me?” Derek asks.
“With great difficulty and my super ninja skills.” Stiles shifts over so that Derek can sit too. “Actually,” he adds, “I didn’t think I’d be able to do it. I was one hundred percent sure you’d wander out and catch me dragging the tree in or something. You’re getting soft buddy.”
“No, I’m not,” Derek grumbles. “Is this it then? Can I go back to bed now?”
“What?” Stiles looks scandalised. “No, it’s Christmas Derek!”
“Yeah, I think you’ve said that three times now.” Derek tells him. “Doesn’t change the fact you woke me at the ass crack of dawn on a holiday-”
“The best holiday!”
“- and my birthday.” Derek talks over him, ignoring the interruption. “You know I can and will kick you out of my house.”
“Noo, Dad said I’m not allowed to go over until after 10am.”
“I wonder why that could be?”
“Rude.” Stiles hops up from the couch. “And to think I got you a present.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, of course I did, man. Here.” Stiles walks over to the tree. There is a single wrapped present sitting underneath half decorated in Christmas paper and half in birthday paper. Stiles sits on the floor to reach for the present.
“Wait.”
Stiles turns back to Derek. “What?”
“Just… one moment.”
Derek rushes back to his bedroom to grab the present he’d wrapped for Stiles. It’s been sitting up in his wardrobe for weeks. When he returns he goes to hand it to Stiles.
“Nope,” Stiles says, pulling his hands behind his back. “You have to put it under the tree.”
“Really?” Derek asks, standing there.
Stiles says nothing.
“Fine,” he sits on the carpet and puts the present under the tree.
“Now we can open them together.” Stiles says.
“No,” Derek. “Coffee first.” He gets up and moves towards the kitchen. Stiles is practically vibrating in place as he watches Derek fill and start the coffee maker. He potters around the kitchen waiting for the coffee to brew, making a show of unpacking the dishwasher and putting things away.
When he finally returns with to mugs of coffee, Stiles glares at him.
“You took your time on purpose.”
Derek shrugs. “You made me get up before the sun was up. I’m going to make you wait for presents.”
“This is an outrage.” Stiles makes grabby hands at the second mug of coffee Derek is holding.
“You’ll get over it.”
“You’re worse than my Dad.”
“Do you want the present or not?”
“Yes! I can’t believe you got me a present.”
***
They head over to the Stilinski house at around 11am. Stiles is chomping at the bit to go and unwrap more presents with family and Derek is looking forward to foisting him off on someone else. It’s loud and boisterous as the Stilinski men try and work out who got the gag gift.
Stiles tears the wrapping paper off a dilapidated old cardboard box, crowing in delight. “It’s mine again!” He opens the flap, face falling as he pulls out a rock. “What is this?” He demands, shooting his Dad a dirty look. “This is your doing.”
The Sheriff bites back a laugh. “Don’t look at me,” he says. “It wasn’t my turn.”
Stiles digs through the box pulling out more rocks. At the bottom of the box there is an Xbox gift card. “Don’t think I’ll forgive you that easily.” He turns to Scott who had gifted him the card. “Thanks man.”
“You should have seen your face,” Scott laughs. “Worth it.”
Stiles scowls, “Who’d you give it to?”
“Oh, Derek,” Kira hands over another present. “This one’s for you.”
Derek looks up in genuine delight. “You really didn’t have to.” He starts unwrapping the large present, his lips twitch infinitesimally. “Uh, thanks?” The struggle to remain genuine is clear on his face.
“You gave it to Derek?!” Stiles screeches, mock outraged.
“I don’t understand.” Derek pulls the last of the paper off the large jar of bar soap.
“It’s decorative,” the Sheriff says defensively. It sounds like an old argument.
“In what universe?” Stiles argues. “It’s cheap hand soap you bought at the supermarket.” Stiles turns on Scott, “I can’t believe you gave it to Derek. He’ll probably actually use it.”
“Yeah, because I have hygiene standards, unlike you.” Derek teases.
“You’re part of the family now,” Melissa tells Derek solemnly. “That soap’s been doing the rounds for what, five years?”
“It was a heartfelt gift,” John defends. “And you all treat it like a joke.”
“It was a panic purchase on Christmas Eve,” Stiles laughs. “He hadn’t had time to get me anything for Christmas, so he bought a dollar store jar and a bunch of those multipacks of soap.”
“And my son had the absolute audacity to regift it back to me the next year.”
“Don’t act like you don’t love it,” Stiles teases. “It’s supposed to come in the box,” he points out the one his gift card had been in, “but Scott is a duplicitous fiend. What can you expect from the one engaged to a trickster?”
Kira bumps shoulders with Derek. “I got it last year.”
“Ah, so it was your idea then!” Stiles nudges Derek with his foot. “We’ll just have to think of a way to get them back next year.”
“Maybe I want to keep it,” Derek grins. “It’s a nice jar. I could put it on the hall table.”
“Don’t even think about it!” Stiles warns. “I will never come to your place ever again.”
“Oh, then I’m definitely putting it on display.”
“That’s it, we’re not friends anymore.” Stiles stands to collect wrapping paper, shoving Derek over on his way past to the recycling bin.
The house is beginning to smell of baked goods and once they’ve finished unwrapping presents Stiles and Scott go to help Melissa in the kitchen.
Not long after Erica and Boyd turn up for lunch after spending the morning with their own families.
It’s cramped around the table with eight people, but they make it work, passing around food and drink until everyone has a plate. The wolves might not be able to get drunk, but they give it their best shot with beer and wine and other alcoholic beverages.
As the humans of the group, John, Stiles and Melissa are very capable of drinking too much but know better than to try and keep up with the rest of the pack.
Stiles is feeling pleasantly buzzed when he drops down onto the sofa with Scott.
“I’m so full,” he groans, using one hand to rub his overstuffed belly. “I’m never eating ever again.”
“You say that now,” Scott tells him, “but I know from experience that you’ll stuff yourself again at dinner and complain all night.”
“Not all night,” Stiles says. “I refuse to sleep on this couch, I’ll just get Derek to roll me home at some point.”
“Just because I don’t have to put up with it doesn’t mean it won’t be happening.” Scott points out.
“Fair point.” Stiles slouches down in his seat.
“Thanks for letting us stay in your room by the way.”
Stiles waves Scott off.
“Yeah, it’s a good thing you’ve got Derek.” Kira wanders over from the kitchen in time to chime in on their conversation. “Things would have been a bit cramped otherwise.”
“Tell me about it.” Stiles takes another sip from the beer he’s been nursing. He knows he should slow down if he wants to make it to dinner. “I still can’t believe Mel sold the house. We had so many memories in that place.”
“Well it’s not like she was living in it anymore.” Kira drops onto her fiancés’ lap, careful not to spill her wine. “It’s kinda sweet that your parents got together.”
“Took them long enough,” Stiles grumbles. “Do you know how long Scotty and I have been trying to set them up? We had it all planned out. Our room was going to have bunkbeds.”
“We could still do bunkbeds.” Scott points out. “They’d be a bit cramped now days,” he grins at Kira.
“Gross.” Stiles sits up. “I don’t want to hear about how you two are defiling my childhood bed. I’m going to go find Derek.”
He finds Derek in the kitchen with his Dad and Boyd. John’s unloading the dishwasher for Food Coma round two and Derek is helping him put things away.
“Why are you all wearing your serious discussion faces?” Stiles asks as he hops up onto the bench.
“Boyd caught the scent of another werewolf this morning.” Derek puts away the last plate and leans back against the bench next to Stiles’ hanging legs.
“You think it could be a threat?” John asks.
Boyd shrugs. “It’s the holidays, people are moving around more. They’re probably just passing through.”
Derek nods his agreement. “Still we’ll keep an eye out. Just to be sure.”
“Mr Alpha over here,” Stiles teases, knocking his foot against Derek. “Who’d have thought you’d be good at this one day?”
“I was always good at this.” Derek frowns, and knocks Stiles’ leg away.
Boyd deadpans. “You were a terrible Alpha.”
“Is someone talking about Derek?” Erica and Melissa enter the kitchen. She and Stiles high-five while Derek does his best Oscar the Grouch impression.
“You guys don’t understand what it was like putting up with all of you,” Derek grumbles.
“Oh, I think we have some idea.” Melissa shares a look with John. “Now, all of you, out of my kitchen unless you’re helping me with dessert.”
***
“I can’t believe you have to go back to Berkeley soon.”
It’s well after midnight. Erica and Boyd have gone home, and Scott and Kira have disappeared upstairs. Stiles is just about ready to head off himself. After a long day of eating and drinking he’s ready to fall into bed and sleep forever.
“I’m only three hours away,” he reminds his Dad, “and I come and visit all the time. Besides, I’ve only got a couple more months and I’m done.
“You know what you’re going to do when you finish?”
“Not a clue.” Stiles catches sight of Derek wandering into the lounge room. “Derek! Take me home.” He makes an aborted attempt to get off the couch. “You might have to roll me out to the car though. Mama McCall your food was too good.”
Melissa chuckles, tiredly from where she sits, head resting on one hand, legs curled up underneath herself. “Glad to hear it,” she says. “Now get out of my house so I can go to bed.”
Stiles pouts, climbs slowly to his feet.
“I’ll see you guys for dinner tomorrow,” he promises and follows Derek out to the car.
As the car starts up outside, John stands, holding out his hand for Melissa. “I never thought I’d be happy to see my son dating Derek Hale.”
“They’re good for each other.” Melissa lets John pull her up onto her feet. “I’m happy for them.”
“Yeah.” The flash of headlights illuminates the living room as the car pulls out of the driveway. “Me too.”
