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Stiles Stilinski had never really fancied himself as a long distance runner.
Sure, during his time at Beacon Hills High school he’d played lacrosse.
Granted that had required a certain level of fitness... but putting on short bursts of speed was a different beast entirely when compared to expecting your legs to carry you at speed, continuously... over rocks... and a stream... through the woods in a blizzard... in semi-darkness.
So no, he’d never fancied himself as much of a runner really, so when he trips over a branch and tumbles toward the ice covered ground, hard, he’s not overly surprised.
He’s getting tired.
He gets his hands in front of his face mid-fall and his palms smart as they smack against the forest floor. Gritty shards of ice and dirt bite into his skin, making him wince.
The air whips frigidly around him and he pushes himself to his feet, ignoring his bloodied hands.
He’s panting heavily. His warm breath pushes out of him in clouds, into the air before him, visible even in the darkness.
He can hear trees being toppled behind him, destruction making it’s way toward him, gaining on him.
He’s taken down three of the damn things, how many more could there be?
He looks around at the snow covered trees surrounding him. He can’t see a thing through the storm and he hasn’t seen the others for far too long.
He spares a moment of panic and hopes like hell they’re faring better than he is right now.
He feels fear spike through him like he hasn’t felt in years, not since he left here after graduation.
He hears an unholy noise, nearly right on top of him. It reminds him of the jeep’s gears grinding together when it’s having one of its more senior moments.
Why didn’t he just stay in Brooklyn? Why didn’t he insist his Dad come and stay with him for Christmas?
He knows exactly the reason why. Or he should say because of who.
He shakes his head. Too late for regrets.
He turns to face the threat, bracing himself.
This is officially the worst Christmas Eve ever.
———————
Three days previous...
———————
“Don’t do this to me Daddio!” Stiles jams his phone between his ear and one shoulder. He has a bagel in one hand, coffee cup balanced precariously in the other.
He shrugs his arm to move his laptop bag further up his other shoulder as he kicks the door open to his place of work. He shoulders his way into the building of the NYPD Precinct sixty six, Brooklyn.
Marge at the front desk tuts disapprovingly at him but she also gets up to push the button on the elevator for him.
He winks at her as he steps in and she blushes. He mouths a silent thank you. She waves him off.
“Son...” Sheriff John Stilinski begins.
“No! Just.. No... you did this on purpose. Hang on, I might lose you in the elevator a minute,” Stiles flails, coffee sloshing dangerously, bagel slipping from his fingers.
He snatches it out of the air as it drops and his laptop bag falls off his shoulder again.
The elevator pings and he steps out into the bullpen.
Two of his colleagues look up from their desks in alarm as he squeezes past them. He takes out Detective Ringo’s pen-pot in his wake and he calls apologies as he goes.
He shoves the bagel between his teeth and takes his phone in his hand instead. Going to get another smashed phone screen fixed isn’t on his to do list this close to Christmas.
“Yes Son,” The Sheriff deadpans, seemingly reaching the end of his patience, “I fell on a patch of ice and broke my arm just so you would have to come home for Christmas.”
“Ell ats ot I ean!” Stiles says around a mouthful of bagel.
“It says a lot about how much you talk with your mouth full when you are eating that I know exactly what you just said,” John sighs.
Stiles drops his bag on his desk, finally having arrived at his destination.
He puts the bagel down next to his coffee.
“Dad.” He says exasperated.
“Look. If you don’t want to come back, I get it. I do. But two years can really change a place Stiles. It’s calm here right now. The worst thing going on here is there’s been a bad cold front.” John sighs.
“Dad, you know it’s not just that... I haven’t seen... you know...” Stiles rubs his hand across his face.
His boss is staring at him and glancing pointedly at his watch.
“Stiles... if you don’t come back for Christmas, that’s fine. Really. I won’t be on my own. Don’t feel guilty. Derek said he would come over if you couldn’t make it. Two years can really change a person too, you know,” His Dad says and Stiles can swear he can hear the judgement in his voice.
“Oh, he did, did he?” Stiles grits his teeth.
“Yep,” his Dad pops the P pointedly.
“That’s what he said, was it?” Stiles repeats, incredulous.
“That’s what he said Son...” his Dad chuckles.
A shadow comes over his desk and Stiles’ boss stands glaring at him.
“Oh for heavens... Fine. I’ll be there.” Stiles practically growls and hangs up.
His boss waits, silently.
“Heeeeey Captain... I’m glad your here... I’d just like to technically point out that although I was on the phone, I was in the building by 8am so I am on time. Marge saw me come in. She can testify. So you know those couple of days leave I’m owed and please keep in mind I solved five cold cases last month before you answer my next question... well...”
Stiles gets to book a flight for the next morning. Best boss ever, even if he did take the last half of his bagel in payment.
———————
When Stiles steps outside of the airport closest to Beacon Hills he is not expecting a police cruiser to be waiting for him.
Considering his Dad has a broken arm, he was fully expecting to have to get a cab.
He’s equally surprised by the fact that Derek Hale, along with his gloomy eyebrows and trademark scowl, is leaning against the car.
He’s holding a sign with a picture of Stiles’ face on it and it says “Do you recognise this man?” on it, in bold black writing.
Derek’s in his Deputy uniform and Stiles bites his lip.
The guy looks great. How annoying.
Derek’s let his stubble grow through a little and the shirt fits his arms in a way that has Stiles fighting the urge to stare.
Why does he have to make this so damned difficult?
Stiles was planning on eating a lot of turkey, seeing his friends and family and mostly planning on avoiding Derek Hale for a week.
Considering how they’d left it the last time they’d seen each other, he thought Derek would probably have a similar plan to avoid him.
Clearly not.
Stiles walks up to him and snatches the sign out of his hands. Derek smirks and shifts from foot to foot. If Stiles didn’t know any better he’d say he was nervous.
“You don’t like it?” Derek grunts softly, clearly testing the waters.
“Not funny,” Stiles grumbles and goes to shove his bags in the trunk, pulling on the latch with no success.
It stays jammed shut despite vigorous yanking on Stiles’ part.
Derek walks up behind him and leans over him popping the trunk easily. His arm brushes Stiles’ shoulder and Stiles tries not to react at the warmth the brief touch leaves.
Stiles throws his bag into the space and slams the trunk shut with unnecessary force.
“It’s funny. It’s a joke. Because I haven’t seen you for so long. I might have forgotten what you look like?” Derek frowns as if not understanding why Stiles isn’t getting it.
As Stiles’ butt bumps against the cruiser he notices Derek’s really damn close to him.
He can see the pink tinge on Derek’s cheeks where the cold is meeting his naturally warm skin and Stiles is hit with the urge to touch him.
Stiles drags his eyes back to Derek’s. It wouldn’t do either of them any good to go there.
Stiles throws his hands up in frustration.
“Well it isn’t funny. I’ve been busy, I don’t need you to make me feel guilty about not visiting,” Stiles’ tone is clipped.
Derek doesn’t take a step back. He does however school his face back into a very neutral, guarded expression. Stiles hasn’t seen that look on him since he was sixteen and he first met him.
As much as Derek deserves it, Stiles doesn’t like it.
“Ok, fine.” Derek says and goes to the drivers side, getting into the car.
“Oh for the love of god...” Stiles sighs and gets into the passenger seat slamming the door hard.
Derek starts the engine and drives off. They spend the entire ride in silence. It’s the longest thirty minutes of Stiles’ life. He’s literally jittering with energy by the time they pull up to a stop.
When they finally arrive at the Sheriff’s house Derek insists on carrying Stiles’ bag to the front door, seemingly in no rush to end both their suffering.
Derek shoves his hands in his pockets and lingers as if he’s going to say something. Stiles just stands on the doorstep.
“Ok great, well thanks for that! It was great catching up,” Stiles says sarcastically and puts his key in the lock.
“Wait...” Derek grunts.
Stiles turns around, eyebrows high on his head. It’s in total contrast to Derek, who is frowning so hard his eyebrows are almost touching his lips.
“What?” Stiles says warily.
“I... you’re still mad then?” Derek asks, biting his lip.
“What? No... I’m not mad. I’m not anything when it comes to you,” Stiles flinches as he says it.
He knows he’s being mean and Derek steps back as if he’s been slapped, mouth open slightly. His eyes flash blazing red.
Stiles knows why he’s surprised. It’s because he didn’t hear a lie in Stiles’ words.
“I... I’ll go...” Derek growls.
“You do that...” Stiles tries to appear nonchalant but really he’s trying to get his key in the stupid door before he starts crying.
Derek drives off before Stiles realises his Dad’s changed the locks.
He flops down to sit on the cold step and lets his head thump back into the door.
The sign Derek made for the airport is wetly resting on the lowest step of his Dad’s porch. It must have got stuck to his case in the car.
Stiles picks it up and wipes it off. He recognises the picture of himself taken nearly two years ago. It’s been cropped, there was someone else in the original. He looks young. Happy.
Derek had taken it with his phone the night before Stiles had left for New York. They’d thrown Stiles a going away gathering.
Stiles isn’t proud of how his chest throbs painfully at the thought that Derek hadn’t deleted the picture.
—————————-
Derek had let them have a party at the loft for Stiles and all his friends had been there. Even the Wolves had gotten a little tipsy. Derek uncharacteristically had allowed some wolfsbane infused beer at Stiles’ insistence.
Stiles suspects it’s because Derek was elated himself, having got a job as a Sheriff’s deputy with his Dad that week. It had been Celebrations all round.
Lydia had danced the entire night, dragging Scott and Isaac along with her, each of them twirling each other around and laughing. Erica and Boyd had kissed under some mistletoe that Peter had hung and everyone had cheered.
Stiles and Erica had graced the group with their rendition of Jingle bell rock and their improvised twerking would have made the mean girls blush.
Scott had groaned covering his eyes and tried to shield Alisons’ view while she whooped and clapped them on.
The way Derek had stared at him during that dance was partly the reason why he and Stiles are where they are now.
Stiles remembers Derek barely taking his eyes off him.
When Stiles and Erica had collapsed onto the couch giggling he’d looked up and Derek had snapped a photo of them. Derek had blushed prettily, caught out, when Stiles had looked at him inquisitively.
Derek had stared him down despite his embarrassment and Stiles remembers feeling like the room had narrowed and it was only he and Derek in that moment.
Stiles remembers he’d felt his skin burn up. He’d always wanted Derek. He’d wanted him the second he’d laid eyes on him when he was sixteen, when he and Scott bumped into him in the woods.
Then he’d spent two years getting to know Derek and it wasn’t just his body he wanted anymore, he’d been drawn to him. The guy was clever, sensitive, loyal. He’d wanted everything Derek would give him.
The music had felt dulled and all Stiles can remember thinking as he stood up and walked down the hallway of Derek’s loft was “please god follow me...”
And Derek had.
Stiles barely got to the bathroom door when he felt strong hands push him through it.
He’d turned, desperate and Derek’s mouth had been on him, claiming.
Derek had kissed him like he was oxygen, pushing him back into the sink and Stiles took everything, licking back into his mouth with a desperate groan and biting his lip.
Stiles had frantically climbed him and Derek had dug his hands into his ass as he’d kissed him hard.
And as fast as it had begun, Derek had put him down and pulled away.
Stiles had never seen Derek look like he did in that moment. He was wild, eyes blazing red, teeth slightly too long for human, breath coming in shallow gasps.
Derek had looked angry, scared and like he was either going to fuck him or fight him. Stiles still isn’t sure to this day which one had been on Derek’s mind.
Stiles had licked his lips and stepped into his space again in that tiny bathroom, ignoring the warning growl Derek gave him.
“Der... don’t fight this. It’s Ok... I want this. We can have this and be together. I’ll defer my year at the academy,” Stiles had smiled shyly, naive.
Derek had stared at him, nostrils flaring as time stood still and then he’d given Stiles a little shove backwards.
“Der? What’s the ma....” Stiles had asked, so horribly confused.
“I can’t... Stiles... I don’t want this... Not like this...” Derek had bitten out, tearing his eyes away from him and staring at the ground, fists clenched at his sides.
Stiles isn’t proud at how long he’d stood there, embarrassment paralysing him.
How could he have gotten it so wrong?
When he finally found his voice, he was defensive.
“Hey, you dick, you kissed me you know,” His voice shook, threatening tears.
“Yeah well. I made a mistake,” Derek bit out, still not looking at him.
“Right... Well... thanks for that...” Stiles’ embarrassment was quickly morphing to anger.
“Just go Stiles,” Derek stepped away from the door, giving him an escape.
“Excellent. Well. For the record, I got caught up in the festivities. I actually have a date already lined up with a girl when I get to New York. I met her at enrolment. Her name is Violet. She’s awesome. Very pretty,” Stiles knows Derek won’t hear a lie.
Stiles doesn’t have to tell him he’d drop her in a hot second for even a sniff at a chance with Derek.
Derek looks like he’s in physical pain.
“I’m glad. I really hope it works out for you,” The way Derek says it likes he means it is the final nail in the coffin for Stiles.
“I can’t believe I actually thought you were past tormenting people for fun Der... I thought we were friends... Have a very nice life.” Stiles had said as he shoved past him and out of the door, ignoring Scott calling after him.
“Yeah, you too.” Derek’s genuine and broken sounding reply had been said to an empty bathroom.
—————————
Stiles finally gets into his Dad’s house when he swallows his pride and rings the doorbell. He’d had to, it had started snowing softly even though it hadn’t been forecast for another week.
His dad wraps him into a one armed hug and tries to take his bag, ignoring Stiles’ smacking hands.
When he’s all settled, they sit down at the kitchen table, hot chocolates in hand and it’s like old times. It feels warm and welcoming.
“So tell me all about New York,” his Dad grins into his mug.
He’s so obviously pleased Stiles is back.
His Dad and Scott have visited him plenty out in New York, but Stiles hadn’t made it home once in the two years since he’d left.
He knew he’d have to come back eventually, but something had kept him away. Or someone.
He hadn’t been ready to see Derek again, not when his feelings hadn’t really changed. He’s always been hung up on the guy, hopelessly.
The only difference is now he’s more confident, settled in himself. He’s barely twenty, an established detective, ‘The Brain’ they call him in Brooklyn. Even his weekly Skype sessions with Deaton are helping to advance his natural magic skill quite a bit. If he’s truthful, he does miss Beacon Hills just a little.
Maybe, just maybe, he’s strong enough to handle Beacon Hills for a week. He can’t deny sitting in his Dad’s kitchen feels like home.
“You know Dad. Busy. I work a lot. Work’s good,” Stiles shrugs, sipping from his mug.
“I know, but what about ‘you’, not work?” His Dad narrows his eyes at him.
“Nothing to tell. Life’s boring,” Stiles shrugs again.
“Well, you know my buddy over at Sunrise County PD still has an opening for a Detective... you could always move back?” His Dad doesn’t hide his hope very well.
“It’s an option...” Stiles gives nothing away, not wanting to get his Dad’s hopes up.
The truth is he’s not sure he could handle seeing Derek around all the time if he did move back. He will see how this week goes first, if it’s easy to avoid Derek, before making a decision on a transfer.
Stiles knows he doesn’t get out much in New York. He’s always so tired. He’s in the office by 8am most mornings and he usually opts for overtime so he doesn’t get back to his little studio apartment until gone 11pm most evenings. Truth be told, he misses his Dad and Scott, living for when they come to visit.
It’s kind of lonely.
“Are you dating anyone?” His Dad says slyly.
Stiles notices he doesn’t say any girls. His Dad didn’t make Sheriff for his cooking skills, no sir.
“Nope. I haven’t really had much spare time since Violet,” Stiles says casually.
His Pops knows about Violet because he’d been visiting him when they’d broken up. He’d managed to date her for a whole six months and not do anything more than kiss her.
She’d dumped him when he invited her to meet his Dad and she’d told him she didn’t think they were all that serious, that they just dated and made out every now and again.
Stiles had been inclined to agree.
When he’d told his Dad that Violet wouldn’t be joining them, John had just looked at him sadly until Stiles told him most of the Derek story.
Mainly the part about his unreciprocated feelings, not the part about the hottest kiss of his life in the bathroom.
He wants to take care of his Dad’s heart thank you very much, not send him into impromptu cardiac arrest.
His Dad had been surprised but sympathetic so Stiles had bought him lots of beer that night.
Hammered drunk, his Dad had rambled on about how well Derek was doing at his new job. He kept talking about how many new friends Derek was making, how many girls were coming to the station to flirt with him and how many he was rebuffing until Stiles couldn’t take it anymore.
He had started ordering tequila. Muchos, muchos tequila.
He and his Dad still referred to that weekend as “The weekend that shall not be named” and both of them hiss at each other and make signs of the cross with their fingers if either tries to bring it up.
Stiles had spent the next few months in New York throwing himself into meeting new people. It became more like hooking up with randoms and truth be told, it made him feel quite shitty.
He had some sort of mental block when it came to guys too. Girls were easier, but guys... no matter what they looked like, no matter how old, young, nice, grumpy, no-one felt right to him.
His dad never brings up Derek in casual conversation anymore when he visits, unless Stiles specifically asks about him, which is never. Because Stiles doesn’t care.
It seems the fact that they’re back on the Sheriffs home turf means all bets are off.
“So, how was the drive from the airport? Derek ok?” The Sheriff smiles over his mug, blowing on his drink.
“You know... Derek was his usual constipated self. Probably pissed you made him go and fetch me instead of rescuing cats from trees and helping little old ladies cross the road,” Stiles says bitterly.
“Oh I doubt that. He actually offered to pick you up,” his Dad says nonchalantly.
Stiles dribbles hot chocolate out of his mouth in shock.
“Shit... I mean... what?” Stiles dabs at the table with his sleeve, “Why?!”
“No idea kid,” The Sheriff drains his mug, puts it down and rubs his plastered arm, “All I can tell you is when I was with Parish at the station and I asked him to pick you up Derek was just... there... He said he’d go instead and just snatched the keys to the cruiser out of Parish’s hand. I didn’t have much of a say in it.”
“Oh. Right then,” Stiles is so confused.
Why would Derek voluntarily want to see him?
Well screw him and his mixed messages, Stiles is not moving from his old bed for the entire week and he certainly won’t be seeing Derek Hale and his mess of a self again.
He sleeps deep that night, better than he has in years, but he still dreams of a black wolf with red eyes.
——————————
“Get up,” A gruff voice pulls Stiles from his slumber the next morning.
“Just five more minutes dear,” Stiles pulls his blanket over his head and buries down deep against his mattress.
It’s absolutely freezing. New York gets cold but this is unreal. Stiles flexes his toes to ensure they’re still attached to his body.
He feels a warning tug on the bottom of his sheets.
Wait... he’s not in New York.
His eyes fly open in the same second he loses his sheets and he’s left shrieking and shirtless in front of a grumpy Derek.
Derek dumps his blankets on top of him in a heap.
“You need to get up. Somethings wrong,” Derek gestures around them.
Stiles blinks sleepily and indeed, he realises they do possibly have a problem.
The noise is what he notices first. A deep hum is whistling, like a far off kettle boiling and every now and again the branches of the tree next to his house smack off his window.
The light coming from his window is casting a grey hue all over the room. His clock says 2pm. Jet lags a bitch.
“Of course something’s wrong. This is Beacon Hills. Is that the wind?” Stiles asks, rubbing his eyes sleepily.
“Yep. We’re in the middle of a snowstorm,” Derek shrugs.
Stiles notices Derek’s pointedly looking down at his feet. Stiles pulls the blankets up a little to cover his torso.
He knows he’s in good shape these days but he feels no need to show off.
Then again... He lets the sheet drop back down to his waist, feeling his nipples pebble against the cold.
Derek takes a deep breath and growls softly but he still doesn’t look at him.
Well, maybe Stiles isn’t above showing him what he’s missing.
“There’s no snow forecast, I checked because I was flying,” Stiles gets out of bed and tugs on his fluffy robe, wincing as his feet hit the cold floor.
“I know... it’s been getting gradually colder these past few weeks. Nothing unusual really for winter, but then all of a sudden a few days ago I started finding animals frozen in the forest,” Derek offers.
“Right, well that’s not unusual surely for this time of year?” Stiles makes sure he doesn’t sound dismissive.
Dereks instincts are usually pretty good and if he feels like somethings going down, something is probably going down.
“No, I don’t mean I’ve found them curled up or laying down frozen, I mean they’ve ‘been’ frozen. Like statues. Eyes open. As if it happened fast,” Derek tells him.
“Ok, so what do you want from me?” Stiles flails his arms wanting Derek to get to the point.
He’s failing to see how this is his problem.
Derek looks at Stiles’ laptop on his bedside table and back to him pointedly.
“Ohhhh of course. Research boy is back in town. It’s what I’m good for,” Stiles says bitterly.
Derek rubs his hands over his face in frustration.
“Look... they’re getting closer to town. I’ve plot the ones I’ve found so far on this map,” Derek gets a piece of paper out of his stupid sexy leather jacket pocket and offers it to Stiles.
Their fingers brush when Stiles takes it and Stiles has to fight not to chase the warmth.
Stiles stares him down and Derek shoves his hand angrily in his pocket as if it’s betrayed him.
“For what it’s worth... I don’t think research is all you’re good for,” Derek says, not looking him in the eyes.
Stiles stares at him quietly for a few moments before speaking, letting the silence drag uncomfortably.
“I don’t get you Derek...” Stiles says softly, honestly.
“I know...” Derek says quietly, meeting his eyes, “I don’t get you either.”
Stiles frowns at him, trying to work him out.
Derek takes a step forward but visibly startles at the Sheriff’s voice.
“Derek! Stiles! I’m coming in! Make sure you’re both decent!” John calls from the hallway.
Derek blushes and when Stiles ties his robe up exaggeratedly for good measure, Derek rolls his eyes.
Stiles smiles. That’s more like the old them.
“Dad you’re so embarrassing. What’s the matter?” Stiles calls.
The Sheriff comes into the room sporting flannel pyjamas.
“Derek, I just thought you might want to know we just got a call from down at the ice rink they’ve set up on the lake. I know you’re off duty today but you said anything strange with the weather to let you know. Dennis Mitchum went in to open up this morning and he found his cleaning lady dead. You know, old Doris?” His Dad’s mouth pulls down in a frown at the corner.
“Yes? She’s like 104 years old...” Derek says.
“Well she was found frozen like a statue, mop still outstretched in her hand. I thought it qualified as weird... Dennis said her son was looking for her so he went in early to check on her,” the Sheriff shrugs, brow furrowed.
Derek looks at Stiles as if to say I told you so. Stiles just crosses his arms defiantly.
“I’m going down there,” John tells them.
Derek and Stiles are in perfect unison with their reply.
“No, you’re not,” they both say at the same time.
The Sheriff waves his bad arm in protest and yelps when he bangs it on the doorframe.
“I see where Stiles gets his grace from,” Derek smirks.
“I think I liked you better when you didn’t speak to me Son,” The Sheriff tells him.
“No you didn’t,” Derek grins chirpily at him.
“No, I didn’t,” the Sheriff agrees and claps him on the shoulder.
Stiles groans internally.
Goddamned Derek and his mega watt grin and with the charming of his Dad.
“Brilliant... Guess I’ll get dressed,” Stiles groans.
He can feel his plan for a week of ‘Derek avoidance’ and doing sweet FA melting through his finger tips.
————————
By the time they arrive at the ice rink on the lake, Stiles and Derek have been arguing steadily for ten solid minutes about how to tackle what’s happening.
Stiles has been researching on his phone and he has a few theories on what’s going on, none of which seem to be fitting just yet.
When they pull up in the jeep (Stiles refused to get in the Camaro with the weather; his baby has snow tyres thank you very much) Stiles turns the ignition off and he spots Scott in the distance. He’s talking to who Stiles imagines is the ice rink owner.
When they approach Scott and he spots them, his face lights up. The guy who Stiles assumes is Dennis Mitchum goes back into his hut.
“Bro! When did you get in? I was going to call to your Dad’s house after work this morning. I was on the night shift but I had to come here first,” Scott gives Stiles a huge hug.
Scott nods at Derek and Derek nods back, an easy but clearly new respect between them.
Scott, shocker to absolutely everyone, is the town coroner.
Stiles can see his Van parked halfway up the hill.
“Help me with my bags?” Scott says, handing Stiles and Derek various pieces of equipment.
He gives Stiles a very heavy black bin liner.
“Did you have to carry the body up there?” Stiles playfully punches Scott.
Scott flushes.
“Well...” Scott begins.
“What did you do?” Stiles knows his best bro all too well.
“Nothing! Well... Ok, so there was no way to defrost her here, so I thought I know, I’ll just carry the whole thing up, ice and all and do it back at the lab...” Scott offers.
“Please, do go on... I don’t like where this is heading...” Stiles warns.
“Ha!!! Hahaha! You’ll know how funny that is in a second,” Scott laughs breathlessly as they all reach the van.
“Open the damned van Scott,” Derek growls.
“Forgot how cheery the snow and cold makes you,” Scott grins over his shoulder at Derek, but he opens the back of the van anyway.
Stiles shrieks and he’s not proud to say it sounds like a mewling baby lamb. He slips backwards and would have fallen on his ass in the snow if it wasn’t for Derek’s body behind him, bracing him.
Stiles clutches Derek’s arm to steady himself, forgetting his Derek avoidance rule.
“That,” Scott says cheerily, “is Doris. Well most of her anyways. Her head is in that black bag you’ve got Stiles. It snapped off when I tried to pick her up.”
Stiles flings the bag to the floor brushing his hands against his jeans frantically.
He can feel Derek’s bodily chuckle from where he’s still pressed against him, a long line of heat against his back.
Stiles tries to ignore how much he wants to melt into him and he steps away, punching Scott in his arm for good measure.
“You could have told me I was carrying someone’s head!” Stiles exclaims.
A whip of cold wind rocks the van and Stiles actually feels the temperature drop. The sky gets minutely darker and Derek glares up at the clouds. A heavy drop of snow hits his forehead.
Stiles shoves his hands in his pockets, he feels like his fingers are going to fall off all of a sudden.
Scott shudders.
“Derek, call me if it gets any worse again? Something strange is definitely going on... On that note, I’m getting out of here before I get snowed in. Malia will kill me, literally, if I miss date night again tonight,” Scott says looking genuinely distressed.
Alison had left Beacon Hills behind not long after Stiles had. At least Scott had found happiness again with Malia.
Scott’s still scared of his girlfriends though.
‘Some things never change’ Stiles thinks and smiles as Scott drives off. He waves, promising to see him tomorrow.
He looks over at Derek who is fiddling with his own gloves.
Derek hands them to Stiles and shoves his own hands in his pockets and begins stomping back down toward the frozen lake.
Stiles looks down at the leather gloves, still warm from Derek’s skin and he feels a warmth in his chest.
Huh.
Some things never change. And looks like some things do.
————————
After they talk to Mr. Mitchum and realise he can’t shed any light on the situation, Derek insists they search the nearby woods.
Stiles moans the entire time, especially when the snow starts falling more heavily.
“Der, we’re going to get snowed in, can we pack it in?” Stiles calls over the wind.
He can barely see Derek now who is a little ahead of him. Derek ignores him and keeps pushing through the wind and mini snow storm.
They reach what looks like a clearing, home to only a small lonely tree. It’s covered in snow and Stiles sees a figure near it.
“Der! Are you listening?” Stiles cups his hands to be heard over the growing storm.
As Stiles gets nearer the figure moves and he realises he’s made a grave error. He’s only metres from it.
It’s not Derek.
The figure turns and it looks human shaped but it has coal black eyes. Stiles can barely see it through the flurry of snow. It extends its hand toward Stiles and lets out a terrible noise, pointing at the tree.
“Oh fuck,” Stiles turns to run but he realises, in the snow, he will never make it.
The tree morphs and twists and suddenly it’s shaped like a huge bear, white and deadly.
Stiles knows exactly what they’re dealing with in that instance, his suspicions confirmed.
He spares a thought that the figure is going to have unlimited resources out here in the woods, with all the trees surrounding them.
The figure points at Stiles and the bear roars, snow flying everywhere and it runs at Stiles.
“Motherfuck,” Stiles yelps, throwing himself down into the snow at the last minute, the bear a terrifying presence, sailing over him.
He shoves himself to his feet, keeping the cloaked figure in front of him and when the bear comes again, he’s not sure he can make it.
He’s soaked and freezing already, the snow draining his energy.
He feels his hands crackle, as if to say ‘we’re going to try’.
Stiles feels strong hands wrap around him suddenly and drag him out of the clearing. He tries to ignore the noises of the lumbering snow bear behind them.
The snow lessens underfoot and he knows it’s Derek pulling him frantically along.
“Run Stiles, run,” Derek growls, half shifted.
“I am! Fuck. Der I think they’re Juhyo! Snow monsters! It’s making them come alive using the trees!” Stiles yells.
“Stop talking, just run!” Derek shouts, dragging him along.
Stiles hears a crack underfoot and he realises too late they’re on the lake.
The ice gives and both he and Derek plunge into the icey water.
Stiles loses his breath for a second but Derek literally throws him back up onto the ice and hauls himself out.
Stiles runs before the cold paralyses him.
They just make it to the jeep, stumbling, but Stiles’ hands are shaking so bad with the cold he can’t grip his keys through the gloves. Derek manhandles him into the passenger side and grabs his keys.
Stiles looks back and sees the cloaked figure pointing toward them, standing at the tree line.
The bear roars and Stiles knows they won’t make it.
Derek starts the ignition, panic in his eyes and the jeep tyres slip in the deep snow, despite the chains around them.
“How do I kill them?” Derek shouts, shifting.
Stiles looks at him and he yanks Derek’s gloves off his own hands. He takes Derek’s chin in his hand.
“You don’t...” Stiles breathes.
Derek looks at him stunned and Stiles closes his eyes muttering.
Behind them the snow bear is now climbing the jeep, ice cracking and spreading over everything. It’s weight pushes down the back tyres and the metal frame creaks ominously. It’s going to bury them.
Stiles opens his eyes, inches from Derek’s face and they’re burning purple.
Derek looks mesmerised, eyes unblinking, mouth open in a pretty little o. Stiles presses his lips to Derek’s softly, a total contrast to the first time they ever kissed.
Stiles exhales the word ‘incendium’ right into Derek’s mouth, touching the jeeps window with his other hand.
The effect is instantaneous.
The frame of the jeep catches fire and the snow monster shrieks and topples off. Derek sees it explode in a flurry of snow and ice on its way back toward the trees.
Derek notices the cloaked figure has disappeared and the fire covering the jeep goes out.
Stiles is breathing hard, still holding Derek’s shocked face.
“I’m going to pass out now,” Stiles says, thumb rubbing across Derek’s stubble.
And he does.
———————
When Stiles wakes up he feels like his body is on fire. He has a panicky moment that he overdid the magic and he’s stuck in the burning jeep.
He’s still a novice really when it comes to his magic, but it had worked this time. He makes a mental note to call Deaton when he’s more with it.
But as he blinks into full consciousness he realises he’s in Derek’s loft. He’s in Derek’s bed to be even more precise.
The open plan floor hasn’t changed except Derek has tucked his bed into a corner so the head is to the wall.
Tactical, Stiles thinks.
Stiles can see snow falling softly through the large windows and the room is lit by the faint glow of sparkly lights entwined around a little artificial Christmas tree.
Derek is literally wrapped around him, one heavy leg and one heavy arm pinning him tight to Derek’s front.
Warm and steady breaths tickle the back of Stiles’ neck. Stiles tries not to freak out and he wonders how he’s going to extract himself without waking Derek. He totally isn’t ready to face into this conversation.
Stiles stretches gently and Derek grumbles clutching him tighter in his sleep. Stiles tries not to yelp when Derek buries his face in the back of his neck.
Well fuck.
Stiles tries not to react, he really does, but he’s only a man. The heady smell of Derek is all around him and they’re both only in their boxers for Heaven’s sake, what’s he meant to do?
He spares a thought that Derek probably undressed him, then he boxes that right back up to unpack later. Alone. In his own bed. Possibly with a hand on his dick.
Stiles wiggles a little, trying to lift Derek’s solid arm off his chest and he feels the moment he wakes up because Derek tenses.
Derek shifts back a little, giving him some room. Stiles rolls over so they’re facing each other, faces inches apart.
Derek looks sleep mussed and it’s not fair how handsome he is. His eyes blink sleepily at him and Stiles gets lost in the colours; they’re the same weird mix of hazel, green and blue he remembers.
Stiles wants to be angry but he’s so tired of fighting. Them not being together is Derek’s damage, not his. It always has been.
“How long have we been here?” Stiles mutters.
“Your Dad knows you’re here. About a day. It’s already Christmas Eve. Scott’s patrolling, looking for the person controlling the Juhyo,” Derek mumbles.
Stiles nods, grateful Derek thought to give his Dad a heads up.
“I’m sorry. About... this. It was the fastest way to warm you up without you going into shock,” Derek’s voice is gravelly with sleep and it’s unfair how quickly it goes straight to Stiles’ dick.
Stiles knows Derek is referring to them being in his bed, half naked together.
“You never heard of a tepid bath?” Stiles cocks his eyebrow.
“You were blue... you wouldn’t wake up. I wasn’t sure warm water was going to cut it,” Derek doesn’t sound sorry in the slightest.
His hand reaches out toward Stiles’ face but at the last moment he pulls it back, unsure of his welcome.
“Ok. Well in that case, I’m also sorry. For... well you know. I needed energy for the magic. I wasn’t even sure if it would work. So yes. Sorry... about that....” Stiles says, blushing.
Dereks face goes from relaxed to closed off in an instant.
“You’re sorry for kissing me?” He says.
“Yes. I know you don’t want it,” Stiles shrugs.
“You felt how much I wanted it Stiles. You set the jeep on fire with how much I wanted it,” Derek looks confused and exasperated.
“Yes, well... the wanting bit was never a problem was it Der? It was the feelings part that was where we fell down,” Stiles sits up, rubbing his face.
Moment over.
Derek gets out of bed and starts pacing. Stiles is trying so hard not to look at him but he’s glorious, even when he’s being stroppy.
Tight muscle runs from Derek’s neck over his torso and down to his strong thick legs. Black coarse hair starts at his navel and trails down into his boxers. God, Stiles wants to hate him but he really doesn’t. He kind of wants to lick him. All over.
“Why are you so angry at me Stiles?” Derek bites.
It seems they’re doing this now.
“You know why!” Stiles huffs.
He stands up and searches on the floor for his shirt.
He’d much rather do this clothed and not feeling vulnerable.
The way Derek looks at him though really makes him feel like prey.
He finds one of Derek’s t-shirts first and shoves it on, ignoring the small growl Derek gives in his direction. He’ll just have to suck it up.
“I’m angry at you because you kissed me and then said you didn’t want to kiss me,” Stiles huffs.
When he says it out loud it feels petty, but Derek had crushed him that night.
“I let you go!” Derek throws his hands up in the air and Stiles wants to laugh because it’s more like something he’d do.
“I know! That’s the problem,” Stiles yells.
“It was so you could be free. Live! You were barely eighteen!” Derek growls.
“What? Don’t bullshit me Derek, you kissed me because you felt like it and then you panicked when you knew I wanted it too. What did you really want, me to tell you to fuck off? That was never going to happen,” Stiles decides to just get this done and he can finally move on.
Derek’s face is like thunder.
“I rejected you because you were going to stay here. For me. It was for your own good. I was giving you your chance to get out. To be happy. You always made that clear that’s what you wanted. Up until that night,” Derek grits out.
“My own good? I’m not a child Derek. I wasn’t a child then either!” Stiles is suddenly furious.
Derek stalks toward him and Stiles yelps, back hitting the wall.
Derek crowds him and though he doesn’t touch him, his whole body is so close to Stiles’ he can feel the heat of him from toe to head.
Derek’s chest is heaving with barely contained rage.
“You would have given it all up for me. Lust makes you do funny things. You were a kid Stiles, no matter what you say. I was older. I would never have taken that from you. Not when it was taken from me. No matter how I felt,” Derek meets his eyes.
It’s like pieces of a jigsaw click into place for Stiles.
Stiles pokes him in the chest.
“You’re a complete idiot,” Stiles says, all anger going out of him.
“What?” Derek looks at him quizzically, cocking his head.
“You. You’re an idiot. For thinking that what happened with Kate was even remotely the same thing. And it was never going to be just sex with us,” Stiles licks his lips and Derek’s eyes snap to his lips darkening.
“You just assumed that’s all I wanted and I would have given up New York just for a ride on your dick? Is that what you really thought?” Stiles says to him.
Stiles feels like he’s finally getting somewhere when Derek snarls at him so he decides to go for broke.
“No, that’s not what I thought,” Derek sounds furious, but Stiles knows he’s right on the money by the way Derek won’t look at him again.
“You know I was in love with you then...” Stiles offers and a soft noise punches out of Derek.
Derek’s eyes blaze red and he stares into Stiles’ once again.
“Was?” Derek growls around fangs.
Stiles licks his lips and Derek tracks the movement, snarling softly.
“I can’t put myself out there again Der. Last time ruined me. You made a decision for the both of us and you had no right,” Stiles gives him a little tap with his finger and Derek grabs his hand.
“I’m not sorry for that. You were able to get out. Be happy. Love,” Derek doesn’t move back and he stays wolfed out.
Stiles laughs sadly at that.
“Do you know what? I haven’t been truly happy since the minute you let me walk out of your loft two years ago... you know, I’ve even been thinking about moving back...” Stiles muses.
Derek whines softly at that and Stiles runs his hand over his stubble cheek.
Derek melts into the touch and takes it as an invitation. He buries his face in Stiles’ neck and scents him, rubbing his cheek into his skin, marking him.
“Oh fuck,” Stiles whines, “Der, if you’re not serious about this, stop, because I can’t get over you twice. I don’t think I really did it right the first time.”
Derek rests his forehead against Stiles’ and sharing the same air is intoxicating. Stiles drags in a ragged breath.
Derek leans in and Stiles keeps his eyes open as Derek’s lips meet his. It’s firm, gentle and it feels like a promise.
Stiles gets his hands in his hair and tugs hard earning and guttural moan from Derek.
Then Derek jumps back like he’s been electrocuted.
Stiles has a “not again” moment before Derek rushes in and kisses him once quickly on the mouth before turning around and grabbing Stiles’ T shirt off a chair. He tugs it on and walks to the door.
He yanks it open just as Stiles hears a knock.
“What do you want?” Derek growls at Scott.
Scott, mouth hanging open, runs his eyes over Derek and then looks for Stiles, who’s still stuck to the wall with a dopey smile on his face.
“I came to tell you that I found...” Scott begins and then stops, sniffing the air.
He whips his head back and forth between Stiles and Derek and Stiles can almost see the moment his best bro works out what’s going on.
“Oh fuck no,” Scott says and promptly wolfs out.
Derek growls and shifts, stepping between him and Stiles.
“Are you kidding me Stiles?” Scott points accusingly at him.
“Scott, calm down. It’s fine. Well, it’s not fine, but we’re working on it,” Stiles shrugs at his best friend.
Scott shifts back to human and Derek follows suit.
“You’re not serious with this right? When I came to see you last time we stuck pictures of Derek to balloons and threw darts at them... how do you get from that to this?!” Scott exclaims, gesturing between them both.
Stiles ignores the pointed glare Derek sends in his direction.
“Nothing happened,” Stiles says honestly.
Derek raises an eyebrow at him.
Well, nothing much. Yet.
“Then why do you,” Scott points at Derek accusingly, “and you,” he points at Stiles, “smell like boners?”
Stiles bursts out laughing at that while Derek groans and puts his face in his hands.
Scott throws his hands up in defeat.
“This is going to have to wait anyway. I found another frozen body, right on the edge of town this time. We’re going to meet Erica and Boyd at your Dad’s,” Scott says exasperated.
Scott doesn’t give them any privacy to get dressed, he just stands in the doorway, arms crossed.
As Stiles is sitting on the bed shoving his feet into his thankfully dry boots, Derek sits down close next to him.
He leans over, ignoring Scott’s judgemental gaze and whispers in Stiles’ ear.
“This isn’t done. We’re not done. Not this time,” Derek growls. It sounds like a promise.
Stiles gives a full body shiver and this time, it’s got nothing to do with the storm.
————————
They don’t make it to Stiles’ Dad’s house. Turns out the jeep wasn’t made to handle a full snow storm.
Stiles had never really fancied himself as a long distance runner.
Sure, during his time at Beacon Hills High school he’d played lacrosse.
Granted that had required a certain level of fitness... but putting on short bursts of speed was a different beast entirely when compared to expecting your legs to carry you at speed, continuously... over rocks... and a stream... through the woods in a blizzard... in semi-darkness.
So no, he’d never fancied himself as much of a runner really, so when he trips over a branch and tumbles toward the ice covered ground, hard, he’s not overly surprised.
He’s getting tired.
He gets his hands in front of his face mid-fall and his palms smart as they smack against the forest floor. Gritty shards of ice and dirt bite into his skin, making him wince.
The air whips frigidly around him and he pushes himself to his feet, ignoring his bloodied hands.
He’s panting heavily. His warm breath pushes out of him in clouds into the air before him, visible even in the darkness.
He can hear trees being toppled behind him, destruction making it’s way toward him, gaining on him.
He’s taken down three of the damn things, how many more could there be?
He looks around at the snow covered trees surrounding him. He can’t see a thing through the storm and he hasn’t seen the others for far too long.
He spares a moment of panic and hopes like hell they’re faring better than he is right now.
He feels fear spike through him like he hasn’t felt in years, not since he left here after graduation.
He hears an unholy noise, nearly right on top of him. It reminds him of the jeeps gears grinding together when it’s having one of its more senior moments.
Why didn’t he just stay in Brooklyn? Why didn’t he insist his Dad come and stay with him for Christmas?
He knows exactly the reason why. Or he should say because of who.
He shakes his head. Too late for regrets.
He turns to face the threat, bracing himself.
This is officially the worst Christmas Eve ever.
Stiles looks down toward his feet and he can see ice creeping up his jeans. He feels his ankles going numb.
He clenches his hands tight into fists, whimpering against the pain. When he opens them again, there is a small bright flame in each, burning brilliant gold in the darkness surrounding him and his eyes glow an incandescent purple.
The figure lumbers out from the trees on all fours. This one is twice as big as the others. It’s huge.
He expected the creatures to be scarier looking but with all the snow covering it and it’s big floppy head, this one kind of looks like a big, white, floofy donkey with a face.
Stiles sees the hooded figure behind it, guiding it.
The Juhyo stops and cocks it’s head in Stiles’ direction and it’s eyes flash a milky lightening blue.
It rears back onto two legs and it opens its mouth and exhales towards Stiles.
Stiles gets his flame covered hands in front of his face to protect it as the icey blast hits him and he can feel his lower body freezing, his heart slowing.
He’s got nothing left to give.
As he closes his eyes he spares a thought for the poor soul who has to find ice statue Stiles.
He hears an enraged howl bouncing off the trees and he knows that sound, he knows it in his bones.
Stiles winces grimly. The poor guy’s had enough death in his life, but so says the universe, Derek is going to be the first one to get to Stiles.
Stiles hears other howls joining in, nearby. The pack is close, but not close enough.
Stiles sees the cloud creature collapse in a flurry of snow, a mass of black fur and snapping teeth exploding literally through it and he feels the ice around his lower body crack, but he’s too far gone.
The wolf drops half frozen to the ground, snarling dangerously.
He sees the hooded figure advance toward the paralysed Wolf, toward Derek, raising another snow covered tree as it goes. Stiles watches horrified as the tree turns into what appears to be a snow tiger and it gets its snow jaws around Wolf Derek’s neck.
Derek just looks at Stiles and whines softly. It feels like goodbye.
Stiles won’t watch him die.
He uses everything he has left and he keeps his eyes on Derek as he pushes every memory of them together, good and bad into his magic. The heat it creates in him wants to save him first, it wants to crack the ice around him but Stiles channels it all to his hands.
All those books about controlling your spark came in handy after all. He sends a silent thanks to Deaton.
He hears a crack as the figure raises a fist and clenches it, the snow tiger biting down into Derek’s neck, freezing him.
Stiles thinks the cloaked figure expects him to go for the Juhyo but Stiles doesn’t. He throws his magic at a massive tree and it cracks ominously, flames covering it.
The cloaked figure stares up in shock, beginning to run as the tree starts to topple. But it’s huge.
With grim satisfaction, Stiles watches as it’s flaming branches pummel the figure into the earth.
Stiles sees blood turning the snow crimson and the tiger just stops, a tree once more.
Wolf Derek wriggles out from underneath it, ice melting from around his form.
The air stops howling, the wind drops and the snow stills. The silence is rather beautiful, but all it’s too late.
Stiles collapses to the ground, ice breaking away. His heartbeat is faltering and he shakes uncontrollably.
The last thing he sees before the darkness takes him is a huge black Wolf covered in flecks of snow running toward him.
He puts a shaking hand up weakly, but it falls back to the ground.
He closes his eyes and whispers “Derek”.
————————
When Stiles wakes he’s in Derek’s bed again. This time he’s alone.
It’s dark outside but there’s a candle flickering on the bedside table. Stiles holds his hand over the flame but feels nothing.
Huh. An LED candle. Of course, Derek would have an aversion to naked flame in his home.
Stiles stretches and groans. He feels kind of good.
He sees his phone by his pillow and he checks it. Still Christmas Eve. It’s 11pm.
He rings his Dad and tells him he’ll be home as soon as he’s slept off the effects of the magic properly but Scott had already filled him in.
He’s not overly surprised when his Dad tells him that Dennis Mitchum, the ice rink dude was also the guy controlling the Juhyo.
Scott had apparently found some dark magic texts in the old mans hut when he’d sheltered there in the blizzard after they’d all had to abandon the jeep.
Turns out the old fella had played around with some dark magic and it had ended up pretty much controlling him.
Stiles spares a thought for the two people dead. Magic always has a price.
Stiles was just lucky he’d been taught to channel his through his emotions. Although, that had nearly killed him today.
His Dad had sounded worried on the phone until he’d confirmed he was at Derek’s. Then his Dad just happily informed him that he’d see them both in the morning for Christmas Day pancakes.
His stomach protests loudly at the mention of food.
Stiles yawns sleepily and pads barefoot to the kitchen to find something to eat.
After eating half the contents of Derek’s fridge and washing it down with milk, straight from the cartoon, he decides a nice hot shower would see him about right.
He feels back to normal when he wraps a fluffy towel around his waist and checks himself out in the bathroom mirror.
His eyes still have a faint tingle of purple in the pupil which sometimes happens if he overexerts himself. He’s never quite pushed his magic that far before though.
He doesn’t hear Derek come home but he senses someone behind him and spins round clutching his chest.
“Jesus, don’t you knock...? Or you could bark...or something,” Stiles wheezes.
“Sorry,” Derek says dryly, but he doesn’t look sorry.
He looks... wild.
“I had to go to the station to get someone to cover my shift. I thought you’d sleep a bit longer. Your heartbeat was back to normal and I left the central heating on...” Derek says guiltily, as if he needs to explain his absence.
“So...” Stiles leans back into the sink and tries not to think about the last time he and Derek were in this Bathroom together.
“You nearly died,” Derek chokes out, quietly.
“But alas, here I stand,” Stiles smiles.
“For me. You nearly died, for me. You could have saved yourself. This is exactly what I didn’t want when I let you leave before. You’ve been back a day and you nearly died,” Derek sighs.
“I could have. But I saved you. And then you saved me. That’s the way we do it,” Stiles shrugs.
“It’s not that easy,” Derek growls, coming closer to him.
Stiles notices that they’re about the same height this time around.
“It really is,” Stiles nods, staring at Derek’s lips.
Derek presses his lips to the skin at Stiles’ throat, moaning softly when Stiles tilts his head back.
“You have to know how I feel about you...” Derek says desperately against his skin, “How I felt then... I thought I could save you. From all this. From me.”
Stiles grabs his hair lightly and tugs, earning him a flash of red eyes from Derek.
“I want you Derek. All of you. Always did. You save me and I’ll save you, that’s how it should work. We can do it together. Capiche?” Stiles says, voice low.
“Did you just say Capiche when I’m trying to tell you that I’m in love with you?” Derek rolls his eyes at the ceiling.
“You’re in love with me?” Stiles grins and Derek can’t help but mirror it.
“Was I not obvious enough with all the scent marking?” Derek says deadpan and Stiles lets out a pleased laugh.
“No, maybe you should do it some more just so I’m clear,” and Stiles tilts his head right back. “Obviously, I’m still in love with you too.”
“Oh yeah, obviously,” Derek’s growls and it seems he is done holding back. He bites hard on Stiles’ jugular then soothes his skin with his tongue and by the time he’s kissed his way up Stiles’ neck to his mouth, Stiles is rock hard.
Derek licks into his mouth and fucks him with his tongue, but Stiles, unlike last time, has the confidence to take what he wants.
Tongue still pushing against Derek’s, Stiles gets a hand between them and unbuckles Derek’s belt.
Derek frantically helps him get his jeans down and Stiles groans helplessly when he realises Derek’s commando.
Of course he is.
Derek’s hands are suddenly everywhere and as he kicks off his jeans he runs his fingers down the dark swatch of hair under Stiles’ belly button and he untucks Stiles’ towel with a guttural growl.
“You smell so fucking good. You smell like my bed and my shampoo. You smell like you’re mine,” Derek talks between kissing him.
Stiles cries out when Derek gets a hand on his dick. Stiles looks down and he has to blink to clear his vision. Derek’s uncut, thick cock is sliding obscenely against his own long, cut dick and Derek’s got a hand wrapped around them both.
Derek grunts in frustration when he can’t close his fist around them both so Stiles decides to lend a literal hand.
He takes both of Derek’s hands, pressing them together, entwining Derek’s fingers making one large fist. He places it around both their dicks. Derek’s watching him fascinated and Stiles closes his own hands around Derek’s pressing tightly and when Derek thrusts against him again, it’s all friction and tight heat.
Derek lets out a choked grunt.
“Fuck. Tighter Stiles,” Derek demands, shoving his hips into him.
The sink presses into Stiles’ ass and he moans at the cold contrast on his skin compared to Derek‘s warmth.
Stiles spins Derek around pressing him back into the sink and he drops to his knees. Derek whimpers at the sight of him.
Stiles takes Derek’s perfect, thick cock in his hand and pumps him once.
“You know, I’ve never fucked a guy. I think I knew no-one would compare to you, you asshole,” Stiles pants, but he doesn’t sound angry.
Derek’s dick twitches visibly and it pulses a thick bead of pre-come. Stiles licks it up in a broad stripe, earning a growl from Derek.
“Jesus. You can’t say shit like that Stiles,” Derek pleads.
“Why not?” Stiles punctuates his words by stroking Dereks’ cock, touch too soft to let him come but just to keep him on edge.
“Because... because I like it. I shouldn't because it would be my own fault if you had but I do like it. I love it. Because if I thought you’d fucked someone else, I’d probably rip his fucking dick off,” Derek snarls.
Stiles laughs lightly.
“Ooo, possessive wolf,” Stiles smirks up at him through long lashes.
Derek’s reaching breaking point when Stiles takes mercy on him. He grips him a little harder.
“I wanted it to be you. I knew you’d have a perfect dick, like the rest of you. I wanted you to make me beg you to fuck me hard, I wanted you to finger me open knowing no-one had ever touched me like that,” Stiles grips his own dick with his other hand tight at the base.
Derek slams his head back against the bathroom mirror, squeezing his eye shut. If he keeps looking at him, it will be over.
Derek hears Stiles spit and thinks he’s going to smooth the way, jerking him off, but Stiles never fails to surprise him.
Stiles takes his dick fully in his warm mouth and Derek feels the sink crack where he grips it so tightly.
Stiles proceeds to suck him down, mouth a hot, tight heat. Derek threads his hands into Stiles’ hair, helplessly watching him.
Stiles pushes Derek’s legs wider and Derek grunts in surprise when Stiles presses a spit wet finger under his balls and slides up toward his hole.
As Stiles presses the tip of his finger into him Derek growls and tugs his hair, earning him a gentle drag of Stiles’ teeth up his dick.
Derek bucks helplessly down his throat and Stiles swallows around him, moaning around his cock.
When Stiles twists his finger, Derek’s done and his eyes bore desperately into Stiles’ watering ones as he comes hard down his throat.
Stiles takes it all and Derek yanks him up. He kisses him again, tasting his come on Stiles’ lips and he picks him up by the thighs.
Coming has done the opposite of calming him down. Seeing Stiles still hard feels like a challenge.
He carries him to his bed, stopping to pin him against various walls, fingers pressing into the perfect globes of his ass, spreading him and releasing him, teasing him, until Stiles is begging.
He throws Stiles down face first on his bed and he stalks up his body, licking every inch of him as he goes.
Derek bites his ass cheek and Stiles cries out, pushing his face down into the bed. Stiles’ dick is trapped in the sheets and he tries to get a hand on himself but Derek grabs his wrists and holds them to the side of his body.
Derek palms both of his firm cheeks in his large hands and spreads him wide, exposing his hole to the cold night air.
Stiles whimpers and Derek ignores him and he licks a long stripe from the small of his back, over his hole and down to his balls.
“You’re going to fucking kill me,” Stiles mumbles, panting into the bed, hips bucking against the sheets.
Derek wriggles his tongue wetly against Stiles’ tight entrance until he’s fucking into him, pushing his tongue as deep as he can get. Stiles’ cries are encouragement enough and when Derek gets a finger in alongside his tongue, Stiles is chanting his name like a prayer.
Derek changes tactic and presses two spit wet fingers into him and he’s so tight Derek is instantly reminded that no-ones fucked him before.
It releases something primal in him and he rips a drawer out of his bedside cabinet in a rush to find his lube.
Stiles doesn’t move to touch his dick, he just grips the sheets groaning like he’s in the best kind of agony.
When Derek brings his fingers back they’re slick with lube and he fucks back into him slowly with his hand until he’s three fingers deep.
When Derek rams his face between Stiles’ legs again, he presses the tip of his pinky finger in alongside his others the same time he sucks Stiles’ trapped balls into his mouth.
He feels Stiles’ orgasm hit him, his balls drawing impossibly tight and Derek presses his pinky finger deeper as he comes.
Stiles fucks against the bed and Derek licks him through his orgasm, only letting him up when he’s satisfied he’s done. He flips Stiles back over.
“You came untouched. You never said you could do that,” Derek kisses him, pleased.
Stiles looks at him incredulously.
“I didn’t know I could! You would too if someone as hot as you had four fingers in your ass and had your balls in their mouth!” Stiles whines, out of breath.
“Maybe you can try me?” Derek grins at him and kisses him.
“Fuck yes. I’ll try you right now,” Stiles gets up on wobbly legs, letting Derek lay down on the bed.
Derek sits up against the headboard and Stiles sees Derek is hard as a rock again.
“Right now, I kind of want you to sit on me,” Derek growls.
“Yes... that. Let’s do that,” Stiles rushes to crawl up Derek’s legs.
The flush that’s covering his body makes Derek wants to trace it with his tongue.
Derek grabs his arms and yanks him the rest of the way, his dick catching against Stiles’ lube and spit wet hole.
They both groan deeply and Stiles bites his lip. Derek kisses him until Stiles is semi hard again, his dick brushing against Derek’s abs.
Stiles gets impatient quickly, pushing his ass back onto the head of Derek’s dick until Derek is slipping shallowly in and out of him. He’s still so tight.
“Wait, Jesus, wait,” Derek pants.
“I can’t wait, put your dick in me,” Stiles laughs, clutching onto Derek’s shoulders and bearing down.
Derek’s breath punches out of him as Stiles’ rim clenches the head of his cock in a vice like grip.
“Enghhhh,” Derek grunts grabbing his hips to slow him down, just in case he hurts himself.
Derek feels the shift taking him over, teeth elongated ever so slightly and he doesn’t try to fight it. Stiles wants all of him.
Derek feels around where the tip of his dick is stretching Stiles’ hole obscenely and he grabs the lube, smearing some down the rest of his dick for good measure.
Stiles’ eyes are bright and excited and Derek scents him. No pain. Good.
Derek rocks his hips gently and Stiles’ mouth falls open in a surprised ‘Oh’.
“You can move when you’re ready,” Derek pants breathless.
Derek’s not going to keep fucking up into him because he feels like he’s going to come immediately.
Stiles nods and wriggles in Derek’s lap until they’re both groaning and Stiles is clutching Derek’s shoulders hard, nails biting into his skin.
Stiles is looking at him like he hung the moon and it’s too intense.
Derek closes his eyes, he really, really wants to come.
Stiles uses his strong legs to push up slowly off Derek’s cock and he’s not expecting it when Stiles uses his leverage to slam back down onto him.
“Fuck!” Derek grunts.
“Fuck, yes,” Stiles groans, repeating the movement.
Derek should have known his perfect Stiles wouldn’t be shy in bed.
Derek grips his hips to help his movement as he rides him and Stiles takes his hands off Derek’s shoulders. Stiles leans his body back and his fingers bite into Derek’s’ thighs hard, balancing himself. He throws his neck back and Derek’s too far away to bite him but god he wants to.
Derek is mesmerised and he plants his feet on the bed and fucks up into him, meeting him and Stiles’ dick slaps hard and long against his stomach.
Derek drags him up and down his dick and Stiles’ cries echo loud in the loft and Derek thinks he might record it to use as his phone ring tone.
“Look at me,” he growls at Stiles.
Stiles snaps his eyes open and they’re burning purple, reflecting Derek’s red. He’s the most beautiful thing Derek’s ever seen.
“I fucking love you Stiles. I always fucking will,” Derek snarls and he’s never quite meant anything so much.
Stiles grabs Derek by the shoulders desperately and he grinds his ass down onto Derek’s dick, clenching tightly as he goes.
The second Stiles’ lips touch Derek’s’, Stiles comes. It hits Derek in the chin, painting his chest and Stiles’ orgasm makes him clench down hard on Derek’s dick.
Derek buries himself deep with a shout and his dick pulses inside Stiles, filling him up. Derek doesn’t think he’s ever felt anything so amazing in his entire life.
They sag against each other, Derek not pulling out. He strokes Stiles all over until his heartbeat returns to normal.
Stiles gets up first but he doesn’t go far, he just flops down into Derek’s bed.
“You’re going to need to change the sheets,” He murmurs, slapping his hand in a wet spot.
“If you do it, I’ll let you fuck me next,” Derek offers, eyes closed, as casually as if he was offering him a biscuit.
Stiles jumps up.
“Where’s the linen closet?” He deadpans, eyes bright.
Derek smiles and grabs for him as he runs past the bed but he misses Him. He chases a naked Stiles, who is laughing hysterically, until he catches him and pins him against the front door.
Stiles flips them around so fast that Derek has to brace hands against the door or he would have bashed face first into it. The fact that Stiles has got so strong does things to him. His dick twitches.
Stiles strokes feather light touches down his spine and Derek shivers. He’s going to blame how thoroughly distracted he is for not hearing the approaching footsteps.
The knock on the door shakes the frame as Derek startles, freezing.
He doesn’t move a muscle, nor does Stiles, who is pressing his body up against Derek’s back.
“Shh,” he whispers in Derek’s ear, cock dragging along Derek’s crack.
Derek whines softly.
“Dudes?” Scott’s voice comes through the door.
Derek groans pressing his forehead against the wood and Stiles’ silent chuckle rocks his body, pressing his dick further between Derek’s cheeks.
“Derek? Stiles? I can hear you breathing, what are you doing?” Scott accuses, shrilly.
“Scott, go away. Everything’s fine,” Derek tries for normal but his voice comes out raw, fucked out.
“Ewww gross. Stop! I need to talk to Stiles! Are you doing rude stuff while you’re taking to me?” Scott yells hysterically.
“No...?” Derek tries, but Stiles takes that moment to bite on his ear while rubbing his dick against Derek’s hole and Derek digs his claws deep into the wood of the door.
“Oh well! Screw you Scott, you’re not invited over because we’re in the middle of a dick party! I see how it is. Merry Christmas to you both, assholes,” Scott yells.
Derek chuckles as he hears Scott’s retreating footsteps.
“Is he gone?” Stiles breathes, trailing his hands down Derek’s back. Derek never wants him to stop.
“Yep,” Derek breathes out.
“Good. I’ve decided, I’m applying for that job in Sunrise County by the way,” Stiles says casually, testing Derek’s reaction.
Derek spins around and pulls Stiles to him, capturing his mouth in a kiss. It’s a little desperate.
“Good,” Derek smiles softly at him, pulling back.
There’s a new look on Derek’s face. It’s soft. Hopeful. It’s a look Stiles hasn’t ever seen on him before.
“Best Christmas Eve ever,” Stiles grins, kissing him again.
———————