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Of all the supernatural shit that Beacon Hills had seen, the completely non-supernatural snow was more surprising. It’s not often the California sees any snow that sticks so, at first, they all thought the baddie of the week could control the weather. Turned out, “Christmas miracle” was as supernatural of an explanation as they were gonna get.
Crisis averted, the pack spent most of the day playing in it. There wasn’t quite enough for a snowball fight but Scott still tried to start one, lobbing a half-formed ball at Isaac. What had started as “training” quickly devolved after that.
The wolves wrestled and rolled on the ground, shoving snow down shirts and pants with glee and earning clawless swipes from their victims.
Much to everyone’s surprise, Derek shifted onto four legs and joined in.
Stiles watched him with a huge grin on his face. He’d never seen Derek like that. Carefree, playful, and let’s be honest, frolicking.
He was sitting on the sidelines, catching his breath, when Derek trotted over. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say Derek’s tail was wagging.
“Having fun, oh Alpha mine?” he teased.
Derek huffed, like a snort.
“Is nice to have a genuinely good day, finally,” he said, glancing to Derek, “ya’know?”
Derek huffed again, this time in agreement.
He leaned over, put his head on Derek’s shoulder and, to his surprise, Derek let him. Bringing a hand up, Stiles scratched behind a pointed ear. The fur was surprisingly soft.
The rumble that came from Derek sounded suspiciously like a purr and he turned to set his chin on top of Stiles’ head. For several minutes, they just breathed each other in.
But Stiles couldn’t help but push his luck. He poked Derek’s nose.
“Boop.”
Derek jerked and the look on his face had Stiles cackling. With a growl, Derek tackled him to the ground. He loomed over him with paws pinning his shoulders to the snow.
Even though he had a red-eyed werewolf staring down at him, Stiles couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt this happy.
“Aww, what’s the matter, Sourwolf?” he teased.
Derek snapped his teeth playfully, coming nowhere near Stiles face. In a blink, Derek leaned down and bumped his wet nose into Stiles’.
It took a second for Stiles’ brain to process. His jaw dropped.
“Did you just boop me?” he asked, flabbergasted.
The wolf let out a yip that sounded all too much like a laugh and darted off with Stiles close behind.
With a pile of tired-out wolves, Lydia, Erica, and Allison (and Isaac) ran with the sudden holiday atmosphere and demanded that they spend the rest of the night watching cheesy Hallmark holiday movies. The others grumbled a bit, mostly for show, but they all ended up scattered around Derek’s living room.
Lydia and Jackson occupied an oversized armchair, Erica was cuddled up to Boyd on the floor, Allison stretched out across Scott’s and Isaac’s laps on the loveseat. This left Stiles and Derek sitting on opposite ends on the couch.
Unbidden, the “two dudes in a hot tub” vine popped into his head and he snorted. Derek looked over at him questioningly but Stiles just waved him off.
About halfway through the third movie with a corny and Christmas pun in the title, Stiles brought his legs up on the couch, tucking his knees under his chin and wrapping his arms around them. He didn’t have a werewolf to steal body heat from and he was starting to feel the chill of the loft.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Derek look over at him. Dark eyebrows lowered, half scowl and half concern.
Stiles looked over and they met each other’s eyes. After a second, Derek shifted. He leaned just slightly toward the arm of the couch and moved his arm to the back of it. Stiles raised an eyebrow at the invitation. Derek raised his own back with a small smile and returned his attention to the movie.
Glancing around and seeing everyone else’s attention also on the movie, Stiles considered his choices.
He and Derek had been hanging out more and his crush on the man was getting more and more difficult to hide. Of course, Stiles figured that Derek could probably smell it all over him from the moment they met in the woods and was just staunchly ignoring it to save Stiles the embarrassment. That was, until Derek started relaxing around him in a way that he would never have expected. Casual touching, lighthearted bickering, actual conversations, real smiles, just hanging around to enjoy each other’s company. He had lamented to Scott one day about his pining and being tired of having such connections to Adele songs.
Scott just laughed, clapped his shoulder, and said: “Sometimes I really wish you had our sense of smell.”
Hope had bloomed in his chest but he didn’t let himself dwell on it.
A shiver running down his spine brought him back to the loft. He sighed. As quietly as possible, so he didn’t end up with eight pairs of eyes on him, he shifted over and practically glued himself to Derek’s side. It was like hugging a space heater and the chills immediately went away. His cold nose was pressed into a warm shoulder before he would overthink it.
“Thanks,” he murmured.
Derek made a soft noise in the back of his throat that Stiles translated to “don’t mention it” and moved his arm from the back of the couch to Stiles’ shoulders, letting his hand rest on his upper arm.
They stayed that way through the end of the movie and well into the next one.
Stiles didn’t realize just how tired he was until he jerked awake. It took him a solid three seconds before the fact that he was laying on top of Derek became apparent. On reflex, he started to apologize while shifting away but Derek shushed him. He tightened his arm around Stiles’ shoulders and buried his nose in Stiles’ hair, just breathing slowly.
Stiles made a questioning noise.
“You’re warm,” Derek said, as if that explained everything about their current situation. He sounded nap-drunk, like he had just woke up as well.
And, yeah, Stiles had to agree, he was warm. He was basically using Derek as a mattress and the blanket from the back of the couch was draped over top of him.
“When did you move us?”
Derek groaned and said nothing. Stiles figured that was all he was going to get.
Looking around, Stiles saw that everyone had fallen asleep at some point, using their partners as pillows. Speaking of pillows…
He moved to get up again but Derek stopped him.
“Where’re you going?” he mumbled.
“Was just getting up so you can go to sleep.”
“I was asleep.”
Stiles rolled his eyes, even though Derek couldn’t see. “I mean in your bed. This is your house, dude. You shouldn’t have to sleep on the couch.”
“But I’m comfortable,” he paused, opening his eyes. One of Derek’s hands found one of Stiles’ under the blanket and he linked their fingers together. “Right here.”
Stiles twitched, tightening his fingers on reflex
“Do you want me to move?” Derek whispered.
Stiles swallowed shook his head.
“Okay. I’ll stay here then. Lay back down.”
Neither of them moved for a while, just staring at each other, watching each other.
Stiles held his breath and brought a shaky hand up to Derek’s cheek. His stubble was rough against his palm.
With his eyes locked on Stiles’, Derek turned his head and pressed his lips to the heel of his hand. Stiles’ exhale was rushed and stuttered.
He started to lean without realizing it and froze, licking his lips. Derek’s eyes tracked the movement. Stiles’ whisper was barely audible. “I…can I-”
Derek nodded.
When their lips met, it was a close-mouthed brush, barely there, but it sent Stiles’ heart into overdrive. If he could hear it then it had to be obnoxiously loud in Derek’s ears. Hell, it could probably wake everyone else in the room.
Stiles pulled away, putting only inches of space between them.
“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he said.
Derek smiled. The hand that wasn’t twined with Stiles’ came up behind his neck and pulled him down. “I think I do.”
This time, Derek leaned up to meet him.