Christmas rolls around before Derek can even blink, the cold twist of winter air and snow keeping him in the Hale house, even in it's state of disrepair. It's the closing thing to a house he has and it's warmer than outside, even considering the broken windows and half-destroyed roof, thanks to the fire years ago.
And he's hardly in the mood to repair anything today or soon, considering it's not only Christmas but the anniversary of the Hale fire was barely a week ago. Leaving him, again, distraught over the holiday period. He's, as the rest of the pack would say, straight up not having a good time, especially because he's all alone in this massive house of his, whilst everyone else celebrates the 'best' time of the year with their families. He's definitely got some bitter feelings towards his pack members.
Spending most of his day padding around the empty house, he decides it finally time he should settle down when the cold day draws to an end, leaving nothing but an even emptier house, filled with dark voids, thanks to the lack of daylight the evening brought.
He's not even having Christmas dinner this year, although that's nothing different to last year or the year before that. It's just this year, there's no Laura either. And he pack, if he can call them that, are busy with their own real families. Scott and Isaac, thanks to their newfound buddy status, are spending their Christmas together with Melissa, Scott's mother, and Stiles...he's has no idea where or what that hyperactive spaz was doing.
So, yeah, incredibly alone.
He buries himself into his bed, despite it being far too early to even consider going sleep, the notion of his bed is mostly comforting.
Except, this bed was the same bed he had shared with Kate for some time, secretly, of course. A series of unfortunate events on Derek's part, leading to the cold-blooded murder of his entire family, minus Peter who went crazy and tried to kill innocent people.
Derek, sorrowfully, still remembers everything that happened between him and Kate.
The first time he brought her to his home —
Her gorgeous blonde hair curling around her fleshy, pale neck and the cheeky grin she pulled as Derek ushered her in through the front door.
"No one's home," he told her.
"Good," and she seductively dropped her voice, gesturing for Derek to follow her, "That means your all mine for as long as I want."
And in hindsight, yeah, Derek probably should have seen the red flags. Kate was not only taunting his wolf — which he hadn't told her about yet — but she also knew exactly where Derek's bedroom was, tiptoeing her way up the stairs to find it.
She pushed past the boundary of his wooden door, her pearly white teeth parting her lips as she took in Derek's teenage bedroom.
Embarrassed, because Kate was more of an adult, Derek felt himself flushing. "My mom won't let me redecorate," he defends.
Kate reacts pleasantly though, wink in the younger boy's direction. "It's cute, Derek."
He watched her, willing his wolf to stay put in it's cage, seeing her beautifully lush skin and she pulls her hair away from her face and neck. The woman didn't know what she did to Derek, things he would never dare say out loud.
She sat down on his bed, her hands gliding across the black fabric and pausing, only to grip onto it tightly with her fists. "So..." she began, "your family isn't home, when are they getting back, so we can...be prepared?"
And Derek was a little bit of a blabber mouth when it came to the gorgeous blonde, words falling out of his mouth before he has the chance to think about them. "They've all gone to visit another—Satomi, Satomi Ito. She brings this tea that I don't like, it smells."
The woman lifts an eyebrow, patting the bed beside her. "Why didn't you go?"
He blinked, following her pats to his bed and obliging, sitting exactly in the spot he had seen her manicured nails. "I told them I felt sick, to see you."
"Oh," she laughed loudly and Derek worries for a moment that he's completely misinterpreted his and Kate's relationship, that the older woman isn't interested in him at all. "Derek that's sweet." Her hand landed on his knee, squeezing it hard and inching up his adolescent leg.
His mouth started running again, as he felt the bubbles of anticipation growing in the pit of his stomach. "Satomi normally visits every week on Friday, she gives us someone of that tea I don't like and talks to my mom. When she leaves, we invite uncle Peter over and we have a family dinner and sleepover."
Kate nodded, listening intently, so Derek, as any other teenage would when near a woman so hot, continues.
"Laura and I sometimes have school though because I swim and she plays netball, so we go to school after hours and everyone else has the meal without us."
"They do," she repeated to herself. Her hand stopped, just centimetres from the his now hard and burning erection in his jeans. Admittedly, he's a little embarrassed to be so painfully hard when all Kate had done was touch his leg. "And that's how you met me, right? Swimming after hours, when I was in the sauna and you found me in the shower room, remember."
He nodded, he can't remember anything so clearly other than that moment. The way they had accidentally met in the shower room, the water rolling down Kate's curvaceous body, only one tiny piece of lyrca stopped him from seeing everything. The way she said hi to him and greeted him like an adult, not some dumb teenaged boy.
"Now," Kate's jaw clicked as she spoke, "We're not going to shower in the same room right now but I'd like to make you sweat, as hot and greasy as I was in that sauna."
And Derek, an almost eighteen year-old boy, felt a deep pooling sensation in his jeans, knowing his cock had just leaked some precome involuntarily. "Okay," he lets out in a strangled voice, desperately trying to clear his throat afterwards.
Then her hands climb up his sides, pulling at his thin, red t-shirt until it's off his body, strewn across his bedroom floor and his jeans become painfully tight.
He reached for the bottom of her t-shirt, only to be smacked away by her hands. "Nuh-uh," she said. "Sit back and enjoy the ride, baby." With one hand, she pushed him down to lie on top his own bed, legs dangling off it.
Shaking with nerves, he nodded, letting her hands roam his body freely. She reached for his nipples, toying with them both until they're sensitive and he's almost growls at her. She wants me so bad, he thought, I can't complain about my nipples right now.
Then he clamped his eyes shut, not wanting to possibly show his wolf eyes. He had no idea if they were actually glowing or not, whether he was actually losing his control and letting his furry side come out or not.
Kate's tongue ran across his torso, licking a stripe up from his trail. "You like that, don't you, Derek?" She asked, squeezing one of his thighs with all her might.
He admittedly does, but he's still not sure about going ahead with all of this. He could hear Laura's voice reminding him in the back of his head about how she tried to hook up with a guy and almost bit him out of pure lust — which would have been disastrous. And Laura had always had better control than Derek.
Kate's fingers then fumbled with his jeans button and zip, he heard the zip fly down obscenely loud in his small bedroom.
And he panicked, sucking in sharp breaths because he can feel his control slipping away. "Kate—" he tries.
"Say my name, Derek, good boy." She tugs on his jeans, pulling them down to his ankles where she left them bunched up.
"No, Kate...I—we shouldn't do this—" He let his eyes open, not caring if they're glowing. As best as he can, he sat up and shook his head.
The blonde pouted. "We should, Derek. You know you want this," she told him, once again, pushing him to lie down.
Nodding, he shut up. He would probably enjoy it and think about him and Kate for the rest of his life but he still wasn't sure with his wolf and everything. He could barely keep his control on a good day...
She tugged on his boxers, letting his erection spring free from them and she chuckled.
Blushing, Derek lifted his head up and looked towards the blonde, thoughts filling his mind that he wasn't long enough or was too girthy for her liking.
"Oh sweetie, lean back. I promise you, it's cute."
Cute, he thought, cute isn't the best adjective a lady could use to describe your penis.
"I can't wait to see you fall apart..." she told him. And naïvely, in hindsight, he assumed the blonde meant whilst he was having an orgasm or something...little did he know, she would burn down his house with his family inside.
Her hands gripped onto his length tightly, the cool feeling of her skin against the most sensitive skin he had was enough to make him explode right there and then, but that would be embarrassing, so he gripped onto his black sheets and grimaced.
Doing this against his mother's wishes — after Laura's almost incidental biting spree — felt wrong.
He struggled to sit up against her other hand, pushing him down by the chest. "Kate—'s not a good—ohmygo—idea..."
"What's not, sweetie? I'm making you feel really good, I know I am. This is the best idea ever."
Shaking his head, he disagreed. There was no idea worse than this, his mother would kill him and Laura too, probably, for not telling her that he was hooking up with a woman he'd met at school of all places.
"You're getting all hot and sweaty, honey, I can see it. You like this..."
He felt the familiar tightening of his balls, and knowing what was coming next, he squeezed his eyes and mouth shut tightly. No fangs or glowing eyes, he willed himself. Then he buried his hands in his sheets, no claws either, he thought.
Shooting his load into Kate's hand, he involuntarily let out a shout. His face heated up, the familiar feelings of humiliation and embarrassment clouding his brain. Half-panting, he let his claw-free hand slide across his forehead. He not only felt cheap but mortified because Kate was laughing at him.
"That was quick..." she commented between her giggles.
He sat up, watching his own erection deflate and feeling his eyes burn but he willed himself not to burst out in front of tears — he was trying to be an adult. Adults don't cry, he thought.
"Anyway..." Kate continued, looking bored as she grabbed a tissue from the box on Derek's night stand and cleaned her hand off. "I should probably go."
Derek found his boxers at his thighs and tucked himself back into them before tugging at his jeans. He spluttered, "Don't you what me to...return anything?"
She laughed once again, her giggles getting impossible louder in the small room. "No," she told him. "With those little girl hands, I don't think so. I'll see you later, Derek." Snorting, she climbed off his bed and tossed the tissue into his bin, before sliding out of his bedroom.
Deflated, Derek sat back down on his bed in his uncomfortably wet boxers and now jeans. "Fine," he said to himself. He didn't know what he was doing anyway...
He shuddered. How could he ever let such an evil bitch into his family home? Especially considering the rules his parents had laid out when he turned thirteen. No guests and no sleepovers, they had said.
There's a swooping sensation deep in his chest, reminding him with a pang of guilt, that he's the one who let Kate in and told her all about Friday pack nights — even if not in so many words.
He hadn't touched himself in years out of humiliation, he wasn't good enough for Kate, so why would he be good enough for anyone else, or even himself?
Which, is ultimately, why he spent a fair few years working out. If his penis wasn't good enough, he could at least try and get his body to make up for it, which was so stupid.
Now, even on Christmas Day, he still thought of how that one night with Kate had been himself essentially killing his family.
His thoughts were disrupted by a blabber mouth, just like he was that night, or really whenever he was around Kate as his teenaged self.
"Man, you really are more of an idiot than I thought, Derek. Scott invites Isaac over to his house for Christmas dinner and whatever, Melissa is Scott's mom and she's in cahoots with my dad...so you, where are you, you big fool?"
It's Stiles, of course, the only blabber mouth in the pack as well as the only one brave enough to disturb Derek over the Christmas period, where he inevitably spends weeks in his bed, trapped in his own mind.
His bedroom door creaked open and Derek can even resist the growl that comes up from his throat.
Stiles' pale, mole-covered face popped between the gap the open door had created and he pouts. "What—you're in bed?! Don't you understand that when Isaac, of the all annoying people, gets invited to Christmas celebrations, you do too?"
Derek doesn't have the energy to reply, pulling his bed sheets tighter around himself. He had never been more glad he didn't have black sheets anymore, that would be too much for his poor brain, already damaged by memories of Kate.
Stiles actually stepped in, passing the threshold of the door and standing there, mouth parted open. "Hello––? Derek, I can see you there, the more you ignore me, the more I'll annoy you."
Barely, Derek grunted.
Stiles stalked towards the big lump on Derek's bed — otherwise known as Derek himself — and poked at it with his hand. "Hey, hello? Stiles, here. It's Christmas and I'd really like to take you to my home instead of leaving you in this big ol' empty, Christmas-less house."
He growls in response, not wanting to use his words to tell Stiles to go away. He's too deep into his pitiful wallowing to speak to the hyperactive human.
"Okay, wow. Am I going to have to call the squat team? 'Hey, I've got a feral Derek Hale lying in his bed and refusing to get up. Hurry, quick before he snaps my neck off for annoying him with my endless speaking!' Seriously, Derek..." he mocks.
The bed dipped slightly by his feet and Derek can't help the threat of a growl that rolls out from his throat. Nobody gets on his bed.
"You alright there in that cocoon of yours?" Stiles asked, prodding the sheets that the wolf was tangled in.
Derek was unresponsive, taking carefully breaths inwards. He'd let Kate into his bedroom once, let her push him down into the mattress and he had fallen for the hunter, essentially letting her kill his whole family.
He still remembered the day it happened —
Laura and he had just finished swimming and netball, walking their way home together as usual. They took the normal route, walking down the streets like humans and then when they reached the preserve, they ran as fast as they could in competition with each other. Although, Laura would always win.
That night was like no other, though. Both of their wolves felt on edge the whole way home, able to feel something different in the bond between them and their entire family. Then, when they reached the preserve, there had been a horrible burning smell, like wood being smoked. It was strong enough to cause the two to emit some coughing.
Laura spotted it first, the tell-tale signs of a fire — the immense bright orange light and the grim smell choking them. "Don't look..." she told him, her hand smacking against his chest to stop him venturing any further into the preserve, to their house.
He furrowed his brows, looking up at the serious look on his older sister's face and then ignored her, looking at the burning bright light. "Our house...it's on fire."
Laura, tugged on his half-wet t-shirt, thanks to his quick changing after swimming, pulling him towards the police officers and fireman in front of the house. "What the hell is going on?" She demanded, being purposefully ignored until one officer, finally acknowledged her — Officer Stilinski.
"Laura and Derek Hale? Are those your names?" He asked, uncertainly.
Derek watched the man's forehead crinkle. He didn't look or sound at all happy...
"That's us," Laura confirmed. "What's going on?"
"Well," Officer Stilinski scratched the back of his neck. "There's no easy way to say this, kids, but there's been an arson attack on your house."
"Where's my mom?" Derek demanded, breathing heavily through all of the thick smoke. He felt his lungs constricting in his chest, a combination of choking on smog and emotions. The officer's hand on his shoulder reins him in, not allowing his wolf to make an appearance.
"I don't know, son. We're trying to get people out of there but there seems to have been some kind of electrical malfunction, they're trapped. We're trying our best to get them out..."
Trapped, is all Derek heard and he's pulled into his older sister's arms, unable to help the tears that fall from his eyes. He choked for air, swallowing desperately.
"It's okay, Derek. I'll look after you, I promise."
"My fault..." he muttered, tugging the sheets impossibly tighter around his neck.
He missed Laura's hugs, she was the most annoying sister ever but also the best hugger. She knew exactly how to comfort him when he was feeling down and after the fire, she was there to calm him down from the panic attacks, even after she found the note from Kate in their dad's leather jacket, that Derek wore all the time, the admission of her being the arson and Kate's words blaming him. Still, he remembers finding the letter himself, somehow buried in the pocket of his dad's leather jacket on his dead body, had survived.
Derek, it said. Were you really stupid enough to fall for me — a hunter of your kind? It was incredibly fun to have you writhing under my touch but not as fun as torching all your family down today! On Friday nights, you said, everyone would be home except you and your sister, perfect opportunity to slaughter some more of your ugly kind. Thanks for the info!
Even after his sister found it screwed up in a ball, in the same leather jacket, she just took her little brother in her arms again, promising him that things will get better.
And they were for a short period of time, he and Laura were going to renovate the Hale house together, rebuild their family's legacy. Laura learned to laugh again, turning into even more of a sassy and bubbly woman than she had already had been. Derek's panic attacks lessened.
...Until their uncle Peter went crazy and killed her too.
A warm hand landed on his shoulder and snapped him out of his brooding temporarily, he blinked, eyes widening.
"Derek? You okay there? You're like really cold...did you get sick? Can werewolves get sick?" He pulled the sheets away from the man's face, trying to get a feel of his forehead.
Derek squatted his hands away, finally sitting up and responding. "I'm not sick," he growled out.
Pointedly, Stiles crossed his arms over his chest and frowned. "Well, you look it. Should I be warning Scott and Isaac to avoid you? I don't want them catching something and complaining to me."
"No," Derek snapped with another growl. "Not sick," he repeated.
"Get up then! Didn't you hear me? If that mutt Isaac is invited to Christmas with my dad and Melissa, then your little werewolf ass is too!" Stiles explained, again. He's not going to take no for an answer, no matter how uncomfortable his dad will feel around an exonerated werewolf.
"Not coming," Derek grunted out. He was too busy getting sucked into a black hole of depression, guilt and humiliation for spending Christmas around stupid Scott and hyperactive Stiles.
"Um—yeah! Yes you are," Stiles balled a fistful of sheets in his hands and yanked them away from the wolf, proving his point.
Derek admittedly, overreacted, half-roaring at the human and then he realised, his pack actually wanted him and his presence around over Christmas.
"Geez, sourwolf. What's going on with you? We're all kinds of wolfy and irritable today, aren't we?" Stiles said, not backing down despite Derek's threat of a roar. The human's eyes land on the crumpled up sheet of paper on Derek's nightstand and he's reaching for it instinctively before Derek's lethargic body can catch up.
"Oh my god," the human spilled out.
By now, the piece of paper had aged by a few years, looking a bit yellow and evidently battered by Derek's fist balling it up.
"This..." Stiles blinked down at it, reading the entirety of it and looking up at the wolf sat in front of him. "This is heavy, Derek. Is this what this is all about? Why you look like a shrivelled up raisin today?"
Unresponsive, Derek refused to look at the human. He can't believe Stiles actually read the damn thing, never mind trying to discuss it.
"Oh god—" Stiles sighed audibly, running a hand across his forehead. "It was the anniversary of the fire a week or so ago, wasn't it? You're...this wasn't your fault, Derek."
The wolf had heard those words many times from his older sister but he still doesn't believe them. He chose to follow his dick instead of his instincts or his parents' rules, consequently leading to their death.
"Hey, c'mon." Stiles said softly, screwing the note up and putting it into his own pocket. His hand squeezed Derek's shoulder, just like the human's dad had on the night of the fire. "I'm here for you big guy, okay? Look at me—you've gotta breathe, alright?"
The human knew panic attacks, he'd hand plenty of them in his lifetime, especially after his mother's death. He also knew, they got worse when you bottle shit up.
Derek flared his nostrils, trying to take in as much air as he possibly could. He felt his eyes stinging, knowing that burn so well — he couldn't count the amount of times he cried when Laura was still alive. After her death, he felt completely numb to everything.
"Try and breathe slowly, yeah?" Stiles said, rearranging himself to sit closer to the wolf. His pulled the bigger man into his chest, cradling his head in his arms. His own heart hurt for the guy.
Derek took in as deep breaths as he could manage, sucking in Stiles' scent too. The human smelt homely, like vanilla and honey, the smell Derek had always liked.
Stiles ran his hands through the wolf's ebony hair, shushing him slightly when his cries got louder for a second, or when his breathing quickened. "I'll take care of you, okay? I know what you're feeling, I've had panic attacks before...they're not nice, huh?"
Derek grumbled, trying to mutter something sarcastic out in response but failing to form any words. His head was just swimming with what if's, wondering if it hadn't been for him hooking up with Kate, they would still be here celebrating Christmas with him.
He goes stiff at Stiles holding onto the back of his neck, it reminding him of Laura's hugs but the human doesn't let down, just holds him by the scruff of his neck and runs his hands through Derek's hair.
"Geez...I don't get one emotion out of you in years and now—I've got them all." Stiles muttered to himself, rocking the wolf in his arms slightly, the way his dad used to do to him during his panic attacks. "We'll get you through this, okay? Just close your eyes and breathe, count to ten with me."
To his surprise, Derek actually obeyed and squeezed his eyes shut so tightly that tiny crinkles formed around them.
"Okay, good. One...two..."
The wolf managed to puff out the next number, still panting but not as hard as before. "Three..." he gruffly said.
"Yeah, you're doing good, Derek. Keep counting with me, yeah?"
"Four..." he managed, relaxing into Stiles' touch. The human somehow, knew exactly where to touch him and make him feel comfortable. "Five..."
"That's right, six...seven..." Stiles continued, encouragingly, feeling tension beginning to flood out of the wolf's body.
Derek's vision returned, he's no longer feeling fuzzy, just a little wheezy and like all of his energy has been drained. He looked forward to this moment each and every time he had a panic attack, the neutrality that come after the storm of emotions.
"Hey, I've got you..." Stiles said softly, his head half-nuzzling Derek's cheek.
And the wolf was enclosed in pure Stiles. Everything about him made him feel at ease, his smell, his annoyingly energetic motor mouth, the way he knew exactly how to calm him down. It was...intoxicating.
"The fire wasn't your fault, Derek." Stiles said quietly, almost whispering down his ear. "I—you just got caught up with the wrong person and...you couldn't have possibly known what she was going to do. Laura...she told you that, right?"
Derek nodded, finally breathing like his normal self again. And he carefully settled his head down on Stiles' lap, he was exhausted.
"Look, I didn't know your family, Derek...but I know they'd be proud of you now. You've got your own pack, Isaac and me."
Which, yeah, Derek doesn't know how to reply. Stiles considered himself as a part of the Hale pack and not his best friend's?
"You saved Isaac from an abusive home, you did that, big guy. Gave him a good life and a place to call home..." he continued softly.
Blinking, Derek tried to concentrate on the feeling of Stiles' long gangly fingers running through his hair. "Not anymore, Isaac lives with Scott..." he croaked out.
"Yeah, okay." Stiles confessed with a worried look down, in his lap at the wolf. He was incredibly sticky looking thanks to his cry amidst his panicking. "You've still got me though, right? I'm here, always here if you need me. Stiles' special services, just for you—" he paused. "Oh god...not like that, I didn't mean—"
"Shut up, Stiles." Derek grumbled with a bemused twitch making his lips curl upwards.
"Unless you want my services like that," he added with a snort.
Derek shut his eyes, unable to help the grin that slid onto his face. "Are you...confessing something, Stiles?"
Stiles yelped, "No!" Then he laughed to himself, still brushing stands of Derek's hair with his fingers. "Well, maybe...your hair is pretty soft, dude."
Shaking his head, Derek finally sat up, feeling the need to stop burdening the human. He pulled at his t-shirt, straightening it out.
And Stiles' mouth continued to ramble on, "I really like your soft hair, it's...yeah. Your teeth are adorable too and woah—don't even get me started on your abs, they're something else entirely..."
Derek closed his eyes for a moment longer than necessary, he truly felt safe right now. "My sister would have laughed at me so hard if she could see us right now..." He climbed past Stiles, getting up from the bed and trudging around his room to find his leather jacket.
"What? What does that...mean—explain, Hale!" Stiles followed him, tripping over a book on the floor and half-jogging to catch up with the wolf who had just left the room.
Derek, finally cornered by Stiles at the bottom of the stairs, admitted what he meant. "You're the only one who's seen me like that and you knew exactly what to do."
Stiles blinked, "So?"
Pulling his leather jacket a little tighter around himself, Derek continued, "Maybe there's a reason why."
There's a brief flicker of doubt in Stiles' eyes until, they're almost glowing with realisation. "You mean..."
"Stiles, you're my anchor." He confessed, lifting an eyebrow up at the human.
"Oh," he said with a triumphant grin. "So, uh...d'you want half of my Christmas pudding? Dad didn't really buy enough for six of us."
Shaking his head with some form of laughter, Derek nudged the human out of his way, making his way to the Jeep.
"Was that a yes? I'll have you know I take food sharing very seriously, especially on Christmas Day!" Stiles yelled, following the wolf as quickly as he could manage, then he muttered to himself, "I never share my food, what's going on with me?!"
Derek smirked, being able to hear Stiles loud and clear thanks to his wolflyhood. He climbed into the passenger side of the Jeep and waited for Stiles to catch up.
The human jumped into the car, not bothering to plug in his seatbelt and instead, locked the doors. "Haha! Now I've got you, there's no escaping from me...you're stuck with me for, like, ever. Really though, I'll give you any of my food if it makes you happy—except curly fries! Those are mine and mine only...well, I guess I'd give you one—"
"Thanks," Derek grumbled quietly. "For earlier. I really needed someone to be there for me like that."
Stiles smiled, a hand clapping around Derek's shoulder and squeezing him tightly against the human's chest. "Aww, buddy! You're welcome, anytime, my dude. Wait—no, don't do that any time. I think you've had enough brooding to last you a lifetime, I want to see smilewolf not sourwolf!"
Rolling his eyes, Derek turned away, feeling the human's lips peck his cheek.
"Now you're mine!" He screeched loudly, possessively, arrogantly. "I'll look after you, Der-bear, okay? Now, some ground rules...you probably shouldn't say anything about this —you and I — to my dad because he'll embarrass me. He knows how long I've been waiting to—never mind. Just relax, I'm going to make this Christmas the best one ever from now, now is the turning point, yeah?"
"Sure, Stiles." Derek said with a small smile forming on his lips, and he joked with the human, "It's only going to work if I can have some of your Christmas pudding..."
"Fine, halves. We'll go halves!" Stiles grumbled, annoyed that he'd just let himself in for a lifetime of food sharing. He started his Jeep up, backing away from the Hale house and speeding away through the preserve.
"Your curly fries too..." Derek pushed with a toothy grin.
"Oh, man..." Stiles groaned, putting his foot down harder on the accelerator. "How can I say no to that gorgeous smile?! You've got me, truly, I'm screwed! You can have anything you want from me!"
"Good," Derek said, pleased, as he tugged his leather jacket a little closer around himself.
Maybe Christmas wouldn't be so bad anymore, with Stiles by his side...