Chapter Text
Underneath the tree - Kelly Clarkson
“Stiles...damn it...talk to me...are you okay?” Derek can feel his heart pound as he sees what looks like Stiles’ body half sticking out from under the ornament laden branches of the Stilinski’s Christmas tree. It looks like the huge sparkling tree has partly devoured him. What fresh hell is this when Christmas trees are the monsters?
It’s stupid, not less than two minutes ago he entered the teenager’s bedroom and followed the sound of Stiles’ steady heartbeat to find him here in the lounge room. Seeing the boy sprawled on the floor sends a surge of adrenalin and blood rushing throughout his body and the roar in his ears prevents him from hearing Stiles’ heartbeat and he feels sick and starts to tug on the teenager’s leg, tangled in a quilt, to draw him out. Needs to know if he’s okay.
Stiles wakes in a daze when he feels large warm hands grab his leg and gently start to pull him along the floor out from under the Christmas tree where he’s been sleeping.
“Santa??” He asks tentatively, his voice sounding child-like even to his own ears, before he can see by the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree Derek Hale crouched above him and the concern that’s all over his face is strangely comforting.
He smiles sleepily at the other man looking down at him and reaches up with his hand extending it towards him. For a fleeting moment the strangest expression crosses the wolf’s face. It’s almost like he’s in pain before he reaches out with his own and grasps Stiles’ hand, his touch making him quiver helplessly.
Derek can feel his mouth go dry as he looks down at the boy. There’s something about him...something irresistible as Stiles lies there looking up at him with languid, slumberous eyes, the golden brown is hidden by shadows and he feels something coil tight and low in his gut almost painfully when he holds his hand out towards him.
It’s an image that’s played in his dreams for a long time now, Stiles reaching out to him, beckoning him to come closer...and closer again. He can’t resist and slides his hand into Stiles’ feeling their palms meet, callouses on both sides catch and rasp and he feels a tingling shiver along his nerve endings. Thinks maybe he feels a similar tremor run through Stiles’ hand as well, before berating himself for putting his own desires onto the younger man.
“Hey Derek...watcha doing here?” Stiles rubs at his eyes tiredly. Stupidly happy to see the wolf anytime.
“You sent me a text remember?” He frowns. Reminding himself of what he came here for and pulls out his phone and thumbs through the messages one-handed and reads aloud. “Meet me at my house tonight. Very urgent. – That was sent about two hours ago, I was on patrol and I’ve only just seen it.”
Stiles almost laughs aloud, for some reason he’s become an expert translator of exactly what the quirks and shifts of ‘those’ eyebrows mean. Currently they are saying ‘I’m here now get on with it’.
Stiles struggles to sit up and Derek easily pulls him into a sitting position so swiftly that the momentum brings their heads so close together that Stiles can feel the puff of air that Derek releases as he breathes in and out against his cheek.
Heat scalds Stiles’ face at their close proximity and he knows without a doubt that the other man will hear how his heartbeat starts to race and see and scent the beads of sweat that have formed almost instantly at the back of his neck, hairline and upper lip. It’s just so unfair, but what can he do, he’s never been able to control his reaction around the other man and not seeing him because he might feel a bit of embarrassment because of it is just not...no, it’s not possible.
“Yeah...yeah that’s right. I wanted to give you something.” Is that his voice, that high pitched squeak? Damn it.
“Couldn’t it wait until tomorrow? It’s Christmas and we’ll see each other for lunch with the rest of the pack.” Derek’s feeling a little bit overwhelmed, his senses so very attuned to the atmosphere of the lounge room. It’s dark and cosy, the only light is from the twinkling colourful ones on the tree, Stiles sleep warm and fuzzy, their heads so close that if Derek leaned just the tiniest inch closer...all the air escapes from his lungs in a heated puff.
He can scent the fresh clean sweat that is pure Stiles, it’s almost like the forest after a heavy rain and just because that's his favourite time to run through the woodlands and cleanse his lungs in the moist sweet air means...nothing, he tells himself harshly. He’s so thirsty and he needs water badly or something like it, he eyes a bead of sweat that trickles slowly down the side of Stiles’ face from his temple and swallows hard.
“No...this is...this isn’t so much a gift...it’s more a return of something that belongs to you.” Stiles shimmies back and reaches under the tree and pulls out a box. It’s a plain brown one used for packing and the string that ties it is again the standard coarse variety used for general postage. It makes Derek very curious as to what’s inside, particularly when he can sense how nervous Stiles is.
It’s in his scent a sharp note of anxiety which assails his senses, it’s like burnt cinnamon, and Derek can see the fine tremors in his body and hands. Wants to reach out and soothe with an intensity that’s slightly frightening how much he needs to comfort the younger man. In the end he does nothing because he can’t quite guarantee what will happen if he touches him.
Stiles can see and feel his hands shake as he holds the box. Brown paper packages tied up with string...God, he could only wish that this was actually something that would be one of Derek’s favourite things, but he’s leaning more towards painful memories.
Has he done the right thing? Is this the right time? Is there ever a right time? He can only go on his own instincts and he knows that if the situation were reversed he would want this straight away with every fibre of his being. This is Derek’s though and he only found it yesterday and there’s something inside him, a compulsion, that needs to make sure he gets it back okay.
“They’ve been cleaning out the storage area and evidence room at the station and Dad kinda volunteered me to help ‘coz they’re so short staffed. I...I found an evidence box there. It was for...uh...for your family, Derek. Dad, he didn’t even realise...you know if he had he’d have given it to you straight away, don’t you?” There’s a tone in Stiles’ voice, it’s not pity, he can tell the difference. It’s compassion and Derek can feel a weight settle on his chest. He can’t begin to think what the box might contain and it’s a fierce terrible desire to know and an equally as great one of instinctive self-preservation not to.
Stiles hands him the box and Derek can only look at him stupidly for a long moment. Until he sees and scents the rush of blood to the boy’s neck and face. The surge of blood through his carotid artery sends his scent spiking quite noticeably and he realises that his delay is making Stiles afraid and he...he can’t bear that. He drops heavily onto his ass and sits crosslegged on the floor as he reaches out and takes it and sits the package on his lap and just stares as if he can see through the outer box to inside it and its contents.
Stiles can feel his guts rolling as Derek looks at the box and there’s an expression on his face, a confusing mix of longing and fear and it’s painful to be a witness to it. Isn’t that the way though when you care so much for someone...Jesus Christ, does he have it bad.
Stiles just sits with him quietly as he stares at the box for the longest time. Doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t press him to open it, doesn’t tell him to forget about it and Derek’s grateful. He sucks in a breath and pulls on the end of the string watching as the coarsely woven thread slides unusually easily, catching only a couple of times and unknots.
With his heart hammering in his chest, it’s almost a wonder that Stiles with his human hearing doesn’t hear it, the pounding rhythm against his ribcage. He flips the lid up and looks inside and gasps. Derek feels his chest tighten as his bruised heart stutters momentarily out of synch.
The small handheld video camera sits in a bed of bubble wrap to protect it. It’s casing is scratched and tinged a golden brown here and there in spots. Scorch marks. The label that’s stuck to the underside and slightly blackened and peeling at the edges is still readable. ‘Property of Laura Hale. Don’t touch – this means you Cora.’
With a trembling hand Derek gently brushes a fingertip against it and a small hitching sob bursts out of him and Stiles is there...always there for him and that’s what breaks him more than seeing this reminder of the family he’s lost. Stiles kneels before him and wraps his deceptively strong arms around him and nestles Derek’s head into his neck letting him scent him, letting him find comfort. He wonders if Stiles even realises what an anchor he has become to him.
Derek shudders almost uncontrollably and Stiles succumbs and presses light kisses of caring and comfort over the high cheekbones and angular planes of Derek’s face that combine and make him one of the most beautiful creatures he’s ever seen. That he happens to be the saddest and most tragic is another matter entirely and sends agonising cracks through his own heart.
He lets his hand slide through the soft dark hair at Derek’s nape, the lightest scrape of nails against his scalp and he doesn’t read anything into the small moan that Derek makes because he knows he’s in pain, and just pushes his face in harder to his neck. The other man wraps his arms around him and just holds on tight.
It’s a struggle but after what seems forever, Derek stirs and shifts. Stiles slowly releases his hold and sits back on his heels. Derek’s eyes maybe red-rimmed, but he looks outwardly composed. However, Stiles knows that on the inside the wolf is all churning emotions ‘coz he’s watched him for a long time...not stalkerish...okay maybe a little. There’s tension in his jawline where he’s clenching his teeth together and his fingers have curled forming tight fists and Stiles can see the flesh of his palms go white where his nails dig deep.
“I made sure...I checked to make sure it worked.” He looks intently into Derek’s eyes. “For all that it’s been through it still works. Derek there’s a recording on it and it’s...it’s good. I had to run it through a few programs to clean it up, so I watched the smallest amount I could to make sure, but it’s okay. It’s okay.”
The wolf is quiet for so long just staring at him that Stiles can’t help but speak to break whatever this strange tension is between them. Those wonderful eyes, that contain a myriad of colours that Stiles can’t describe and can only fall back onto calling them green, hold his and it feels like Derek’s silently asking him something. A question. Something he can’t quite interpret, but feels like he should know the answer to.
“Underneath the packing you’ll find a disc and a USB stick I’ve saved the recording on to those for you as well so you’ve got back ups.” He feels jittery, somehow laid bared before the stunning man in front of him who watches him unwaveringly.
“You always look after me...don’t you Stiles? Why?” Derek feels the desperate need to know. Has to know why this amazing, beautiful, incredible boy never hesitates to help him, rescue him...comfort him. Watches intently as Stiles’ eyes flicker away and a rosy red flush stains his cheeks. He can hear him swallow noisily.
“I don’t know.” Lie.
“I guess I want to...that’s all really.” Truth and lie.
“You needed...need someone to back you up...and I guess I volunteered.” Truth.
“Will you watch it with me.. please?” Derek asks after a long considering moment and he can read Stiles now after what 18 months, nearly 2 years of facing death together, there’s a look on the younger man’s face that is pleased and confused at feeling pleased when it comes to anything related to Derek’s family.
“Yes.” Stiles places a hand on Derek’s shoulder and squeezes lightly, fingertips digging slightly into muscle and Derek feels his touch like a grenade’s gone off throughout his nervous system. His nerves and synapses flare with explosive heat and he’s thankful that Stiles releases him and turns away before he sees the very real shudders rack through his body.
Stiles turns to the coffee table where his laptop and some cables are and Derek passes him the box so very, very carefully like it contains the most precious of objects in it, to him it probably does and therefore it is to Stiles as well. Swiftly Stiles connects everything together and looks at the wolf silently asking him if he’s ready. Derek simply nods and Stiles presses the play button while simultaneously reaching back and grabbing hold of the wolf’s hand. Derek’s grip is so tight, palm slick with sweat, that Stiles almost winces but simply squeezes back.
Theres’ giggling, child-like and feminine, and the bumping noise of the recorder being jiggled clatters loudly through its microphone. It swings around and a large pair of cocoa brown eyes and the straight blade of a nose comes into view before the recorder is pulled back so swiftly that it’s nausea-inducing, shades of ‘Blair witch’. A very pretty girl of about 17 or 18 is looking into the lens. Long dark hair, high cheekbones and shaped eyebrows that in some respects look like Derek’s only less frowny and a brilliant white smile. Her voice is naturally husky and very appealing.
“Yes...here we are on the fringes of the beast’s den...also known by its more common name as Lupus Fifteenyearoldasshatus...we have to be very quiet now as my fellow adventurers and I broach the beast in it’s...lair.” She gives an evil chuckle before the recorder is swung around and focuses on two girls about 9 or 10, the twins Cora and Diana who are giggling, Diana is holding a birthday cake, with the candles lit. A boy of about 12, Daniel, who looks remarkably like Derek, but his eyes are brown and not green, hovers behind them protectively watching that they don’t burn themselves on the flames.
Laura’s hand on the door knob as she whispers ‘One...two...three’ and flings the door open “Happy birthday!” they cry out together, one of the others must switch on the light as the body in the bed flails around wildly, bed clothes jerking upwards but the recorder catches a flash of the long line of bare torso that had been exposed. Derek sits up in bed and drags a pillow onto his lap.
“Laaauura.” He wails, his cheeks flushed pink and the camera jerks unsteadily as she starts to giggle uncontrollably.
“Surprise...little bro...not interrupting are we?” The younger siblings don’t seem to realise what Derek’s been up to as they pile onto his bed and start to sing ‘Happy birthday to you’. By the end of which he’s smiling and blows out the candles at the twin’s encouragement. He wraps an arm around each one hauling them in close and plants a kiss on each of their foreheads. Cora holds her nose and waves her hand in front of her face.
“Jeez, Derek you smell real funky.”
Laura laughs long and loud as Derek turns pink again, even the tips of his ears glow rosily.
Derek grabs Daniel and pretends to headbutt him before dragging him down onto his chest and rubbing his knuckles hard and fast across the top of his head, the friction makes his dark hair stand on end. But the look he gives his older brother is worshipful rather than annoyed even though he cries out plainatively. “Deeerek..
“Okay guys, take the cake downstairs and put it in the fridge, Mom said it’s for tonight, so no nibbling on the way right.” Here is the future Alpha talking and it's no surprise when the others troop out obediently as Laura remains behind, still recording.
“Sorry about interrupting your...special alone time.” Her voice becomes low and teasing. Derek just rolls his eyes.
“How’s it feel...fifteen.” She sighs heavily before mimicking a more motherly type voice, higher pitched. “Don’t they just grow up so fast?”
“Fine...now stop recording.” The image moves from side to side like she’s shaking her head ‘no’. Derek reaches out and tries to grab the recorder.
“Ugh...keep your hands to yourself buddy...I know where they’ve been.” Derek’s face lights up with an evil grin as he crawls out of the bed, in his boxers and t-shirt, and runs at her his hands held out, fingers wiggling threateningly.
“Stop it you big goober.” Laura squeals and Derek laughs as he chases her.
It cuts out and there’s a fuzzy patch for a moment.
Stiles presses pause and looks at Derek beside him. The other man is smiling and Stiles can feel relief wash over him.
“I caught her you know, rubbed my hands all over her hair...boy was she mad, said she’d need to wash her hair a hundred times at least to get clean.” He laughs at the memory.
“Your sister...she rocks.” Derek smiles at him and it’s one he’s never seen before and it makes his breath hitch and his pulse race. He almost looks like the fifteen year old Derek in the footage, with the easy smile and the light eyes, the one that’s only known love and security and never knew how easy it was to lose it all.
“Do you want to keep going?” Stiles asks hesitantly. This has been a good memory for Derek he’s not sure if he wants him to push his luck. “Or did you want to watch the rest on your own?”
“NO.” Derek’s voice is sharp. He turns his head away, eyes looking at the floor as he clutches at Stiles’ hand, even tighter. Says more softly. “No. I’ve been alone for too long now..,Stiles, I don’t want to be on my own anymore...please, lets keep going.” His eyes flick up to Stiles’ who has been holding his breath, trying desperately not to read too much into what he’s saying.
“Okay.” Stiles presses the play button again and they sit side by side, shoulders pressed hard against each other, their thighs plastered tight and Stiles can feel every movement, every reaction that Derek has to the rest of the recording. The images come fast and they’re painfully poignant for Stiles when he sees the happy family that Derek once had.
Talia and David dancing a tango in the kitchen while they cook to the pulsing latin music coming out of a CD player on the bench, a stalk of celery held between Talia’s white teeth and David does a final spin and rocks Talia back into a low dip.
“Woo hoo! Get a room you two.” Calls out Laura. The kids laugh in the background as they help prepare the meal, before their parents draw them into the dance as well. Moving up and down the kitchen, David clasps first Diana, arms stretched out in front of them while Talia presses her cheek to Derek’s who is hunched over because he’s slightly taller than her. They swap over, Talia grabbing her youngest son, Daniel who blushes and stumbles around the room and David has picked up Cora so her feet don’t actually touch the ground while they move. Derek sweeps Diana into his arms and proceeds to jiggle her to their own dance around the room while she laughs at the funny faces he pulls.
Peter playing ‘one on one’ basketball with both Derek and Daniel together and beating them. Hugging his nephews tightly around their necks as he whoops and hollers after every bucket he makes, until fed up they both jump on him growling and push him to the ground and ‘puppy pile’ him. The affection between the three of them is startling.
Derek’s, Uncle Nathan and heavily pregnant Aunt Victoria, coming down the stairs, her bag packed ready to go to the hospital at the bottom. From the way she’s holding her back and panting, red-faced, she’s not far from delivering. Nathan grabs the bag, rushes out the front door and slams it behind him, only to sheepishly open it again and hold out his hand to his not-amused wife, the rest of the pack roaring in laughter.
New-born baby Lucinda, Derek’s cousin, being passed from pack member to pack member in a circle as they each take a turn in holding her and drawing her scent in deep and letting her do the same in turn. Each of them promising to love and protect her as they welcome her to the pack.
Derek claims her at the end and just holds her for the longest time, nuzzling her baby cheeks and letting her claim his finger and draw the knuckle to her mouth. His eyes are infinitely gentle and it is obvious another Hale female has claimed his heart and wrapped him around her little finger.
Cora and Diana’s school Christmas play recorded from start to finish, with whispered commentary provided by Laura, on how Cora is the best tree ever she stands so still and Diana is a gingerbread woman who looks downright edible she’s so cute. The sounds of the Hale pack cheering and clapping at the end as the girls make their bows is deafening and borders on howling. The jubilation of wolves.
Christmas morning and the whole pack is in the family room, in their pyjamas drinking hot chocolate,where a huge tree sparkles with ornaments and twinkles with lights. It’s loud and happy and the love that is so obviously in the room is a joy to watch as the Hale’s exchange gifts. Yelling and calling out to each other. Laura focuses the recorder on Derek and calls out to him.
“Hey little bro, watcha got there?” Derek lifts his head and his eyes are sparkling, the green shot through with silver, he’s so happy. He waves two tickets in front of his face.
“You are the best Laura...tickets to a Mets and Dodgers game...I can’t believe it.” Fifteen year old Derek can’t contain his excitement.
“Of course I’m the best...and seriously how is it you’re only starting to appreciate me now hmpfh...I’m hurt.. Her tone is teasing.
“Thanks Laura...I love you.” He smiles at her and it’s breathtaking, there is no underlying sorrow, no pain, no unhappiness. This is Derek, how he should’ve been allowed to grow up. Happy and well-loved.
“I love you too ya big doofus...come and give your most awesome sister some sugar.. Derek rolls his eyes in apparent disgust, but obediently lifts his head, the recorder moves slightly to one side as he kisses his sister on the cheek.
The images come to an end and the screen stays black. It’s almost heartbreaking.
An hour and a half after they first started, Stiles turns it off and looks at Derek worriedly.
Between one breath and the next, Derek yanks on his hand that he’s held on to so tightly through the entire footage. Stiles is swept up into Derek’s arms which wrap tightly around his waist and the wolf tucks his head underneath the younger man’s chin, burrowing into him, his hot breath sears Stiles’ skin through the cotton t-shirt he wears as though it’s not even there.
Derek’s shoulders and chest heave violently and Stiles wraps his arms around them tight, restraining him, knowing that it’s good to feel when you’re out of control that someone else is stronger...has got you and will keep you safe.
Derek is torn. The sobs that are wrenched out of him are silent and dry, tearless, but still achingly painful none the less, as his chest feels a band of emotion tighten around him. Squeezing.
Stiles is surprisingly strong and Derek fights the sure and steady clutch of his arms and hands around him, needing to fight something, anything, even if it's not with all the werewolf strength he possesses because he doesn’t really want to hurt the younger man.
They grapple, straining as they push and pull at each other, until he can’t anymore and collapses against him nose buried in the hollow of his throat, his fists clutching and twisting the fabric of Stiles’ t-shirt tight and just lets Stiles hold him.
Which is when he realises that Stiles has been talking to him the entire time, even though he hadn’t been able to hear over the thundering roar in his ears, his blood surging powerfully throughout his body from his all-too-rapid heartbeat.
“Sshhh...it’s okay Derek...it’s okay...I’ve got ya...not gonna let you go...it’s okay.” Over and over he says the words in counterpoint to what Derek realises is him whimpering brokenly, a stark hurt sound that is painful to hear even to himself.
“I miss them so much.” He whispers and feels Stiles’ lips press gentle kisses on the top of his head against his hair.
“I know...I know.” Stiles rocks him gently from side to side, the rhythm soothing and he does it for a long, long time. Never stops holding him, never stops talking to him, never stops pressing light kisses against his hair and forehead. That another human being, another person in this world seems to care for him...cares that he is hurting, cares that he’s felt alone for so long...it's a balm to the soul-deep wound he’s carried forever it seems, at least since he lost his family.
Derek just breathes Stiles in and the scent of rain and cinnamon is fresh and it’s intoxicating, like Stiles is Derek’s Christmas in one living breathing 17 year old. He nuzzles his throat harder, giving the rapidly bobbing adam’s apple there a long hard lick. The urge to unwrap him like a present is incredibly strong.
“Thank you Stiles. Thank you for giving me my family back...I’d...I’d almost forgotten them.” Stiles, his throat wet from Derek’s mouth, can only watch mesmerized as Derek lifts his head from where it’s been tucked into him.
He can feel himself start to blush, heat burning across his cheeks, as he sees the intensity in those beautiful, magnificent eyes.. that are green and so much more. Can feel his eyes start to cross as he realises that Derek’s face is getting closer and closer and the older man is looking at his mouth with an intent that makes Stiles belly clench hard and fast and his toes curl.
He hovers over the wide mouth of this beautiful boy who looks at him with those soul-searching amber brown eyes that see more than a wolf, more than a frightened betrayed 16 year old, more than a broken man. Stiles sees him, all of him, what he is, what he could’ve been and what he might yet still become and he accepts him. It’s that acceptance that has him whispering, demanding...pleading that he give him even more. Their lips so close to touching that the nerve endings are fooled into believing they are and start tingling.
“I don’t want to be alone anymore.” He presses his mouth to Stiles’ and for one brief moment it’s just two pairs of lips resting against each other. It’s that split second after throwing a match on gasoline, just before ignition, when the liquid and fumes catch and the blast wave propels outwards and hits your chest with a whump before it explodes into flames. Before your world catches on fire.
Derek’s being scorched by the flames and he surges up onto his knees and into Stiles’ body. He captures Stiles’ head tilting it up, cradling him between his hands as he hovers over him and swipes his tongue against the teenager’s lips asking for entry.
When Stiles moans softly, parting his lips Derek feels immense satisfaction and a burning need that shocks him slightly with its power as he pushes his tongue in deep. The feel of Stiles’ tongue rubbing back against his sends rippling waves of desire throughout him. He can feel Stiles hands clutch frantically at his t-shirt, fisting the fabric against his chest. That Stiles feels as out of control as he does makes his head swim.
He’s growling, can’t control it. His wolf is demanding more wanting to claim the teenager, wanting him as pack...as family...as mate. He can feel his cock throbbing heavily as he slides one hand down from the back of Stiles’ head along the graceful line of his spine and rests it just above the sweet curving dip of his ass, feels the waistband of Stiles’ sleep pants under his thumb.
Fuck...fuck...the temptation to hook into it and drag them down and bare him to his touch makes him harder than he’s ever been before. He presses with a flat palm, driving the boy’s pelvis into his and he’s howling it feels so good and they rub and rub, push and grind, cocks achingly hard against each other.
Stiles is lost to the sensations that are pulsing throughout his body. He’d never ever expected that Derek would ever want him this way and he can’t believe it...can’t believe that the best man he’s ever known in his life, bar his Dad, is now pressed up to him and he’s growling and moaning against him.
Stiles’ is spinning out of control, the rub and thrust of Derek’s tongue against his is making him so hard that it’s veering into pain, has him fisting the front of Derek’s t-shirt trying to hang onto something real, something to ground him through the demands of his body. The gut-wrenching shared spike of emotions that they’ve experienced together threatens to tear him apart and that’s when it hits him...they can’t.
“Derek...please...stop.” He breathes against Derek’s mouth, who dips his head and mouths along his jaw to lick and nibble his neck. It’s so hot, so good, he can’t help but tilt his head to give the wolf better access.
Derek’s going up in flames, the younger man is baring his throat to him and it’s a submission that stokes the fire in him even higher. He pants desperate words into Stiles’ neck, drawing his beloved scent into him trying to capture it forever. “Can’t...need you Stiles...need you so bad.”
“Shit...Derek...I.” Stiles wants this so badly but he...he can’t damn it. Derek’s been through such an emotional night that he can’t. It would be like taking advantage and hasn’t that happened to the wolf enough throughout his life.
He places his hands on the broad shoulders in front of him and draws back, just barely able to avoid Derek’s mouth that chases his, to look into the burning red eyes that watch him so hungrily. There’s a wariness in them now that is painful to see.
“Derek...I want to...believe me I want to so badly you wouldn’t believe how much, but...we need to slow this down.” Stiles blushes to hear the shaky hitching noises that come out of his mouth that are supposed to be words.
Derek’s heart sinks and he feels like his stomach has plummeted the height of the Empire State building. His mate is denying him, doesn’t want him...doesn’t feel the same way. He rocks back on his heels and feels his face burning in embarrassment. Can’t look the younger man in the eye, when he feels a hand cup his jaw the fingers splay across his cheek rubbing gently, creating sparks in his very flesh as Stiles turns his head to face him.
“No don’t look like that. I’m not rejecting you. I’m not saying no...I’m just saying now is not maybe the best time after-” Stiles casts a look at the laptop and the video recorder still hooked into it. “When everything is so...emotional.”
“Stiles.” How can he tell the teenager in front of him that this isn’t some sort of spur of the moment thing for him, it’s been coming for a long time now. “Stiles this isn’t just about tonight.” Derek can see the boy startle, his body jerking uncontrollably.
“It’s not?” Stiles’ voice is soft and now it’s his turn to be unsure and uncertain and Derek didn’t want that for him, doesn’t want him to doubt. Not when it’s so important.
“I’ve wanted this for a long time now and...” Derek shakes his head, pausing to gather his thoughts, struggling to find the words. The right words and then he does. It’s so simple. “I love you Stiles.”
Stiles can’t control his hands they flutter wildly in front of him when Derek tells him he loves him. His heart’s about to burst out of his chest...fuck he’s gonna have an aneurism and it’ll all be over real quick. His pulse is racing as he reaches out and grabs Derek’s hands. Sitting back on their heels looking into each other’s eyes as they grasp at each other’s hands, it’s a fucking Christmas miracle, worthy of a Hallmark movie. There’s a sweet vulnerability to Derek’s face and Stiles can’t bear to see him so unsure, so uncertain of him.
“I love you Derek Hale...love you so much...have done forever.” He leans forward and rests his forehead against the other man’s looking into green eyes once again, their noses slot against each other as their mingled breath puffs against their lips, sharing oxygen.
“If we’ve loved each other for such a long time already we can afford to wait just a little bit. I don’t want this to be something you’ll regret later...I don’t want the emotions from seeing your family to confuse things between us.” Stiles draws in a deep breath. “I hope you understand...I don’t want to take advantage of you...well not now...but later, I’ll take advantage all the time, every day.” He waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the wolf.
As much as he doesn’t want to Derek understands and even though the horny, desperate as hell part of him that wants to be with his mate in every possible way is screaming in his head to just grab on and overwhelm the boy with his desire. He knows if he pressed he could do it.
Still, there's another part of him that's grateful and appreciates what this wonderful boy is doing for him. He knows how hard Stiles’ cock is, can scent it, knows that teen hormones and urges are riding him hard, yet Stiles wants to give him time to absorb it all in. Stiles doesn’t want to take advantage of him and that makes his heart ache. Since his family has gone there weren’t too many people who didn’t want something from him.
He does the only thing he can and lightly presses a kiss to that wonderful mouth and finds a strength he never knew he possessed to pull back and not take it further. Derek nods his head. Okay, okay.
They sit there on their knees and just let the moment wrap around them. Bodies still vibrating, attuned to each other in ways that only those who have loved or are in love can possibly know.
“Tell me what were you doing sleeping under the tree?” Derek says eventually, voice thick and raspy with hunger, attempting to distract himself from the shiny red lips that Stiles seemingly insists on licking or nipping between his front teeth and chewing on the succulent plumpness...stop it.
“It’s a Stilinski tradition, something my Mom and I used to do on Christmas Eve. Come on, you’ll see.” Stiles tugs on Derek’s hand and the wolf soon finds himself sharing a pillow, chest deep under the tree looking up through the branches watching twinkling lights reflect off the shiny ornaments. It’s beautiful. He sighs in wonder and smiles.
He turns to look at the boy who lies next to him and realises Stiles has been watching his face rather than looking up. Patterns of light flicker across the teenager’s face...red, blue, green, yellow, pink and white the delicate colours and soft light reveal a look on his face that Derek can only describe as wonderment.
It’s like Stiles can’t believe his luck, that his cup runneth over and it’s...it’s because of him...it’s directed at him and his heart swells in his chest with a joy that he’s never known before. His hand at his side finds the teenager’s and Derek tangles his fingers in tightly, he’s never gonna let go. They lie together simply looking into each other’s eyes and it feels so right that Derek can’t help but sigh in contentment.
They don’t speak there’s no need everything that needs to be said is being communicated by every look that feels like a physical caress, each deep breath that Stiles blows across his cheek and lips and Derek’s drowning in the scent which is a combination of Stiles and Derek, born of deep, wet, plunging kisses.
“Happy Christmas Derek.” Stiles' voice is thick with sleep and he can see the teenager’s eyes are fluttering closed. Derek leans down and presses a kiss against his forehead and sends a prayer to whomever may listen to the heartfelt desires of one lonely werewolf - ‘Dear God, can I keep him please?’
“Happy Christmas Stiles.” He whispers.