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stereksecretsanta · 9 years

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Merry Christmas, blackwidowbabe!

Hope you like it! Merry Christmas!

Sweet Christmas Love

Christmas had always been one of Stiles’s favorite holidays. When he was little, he was the kid who would run around the house with a santa hat on his head singing Christmas songs until he passed out asleep under the tree. His favorite part, other than presents of course, was making cookies with his Mom. They would take a whole day and make all kinds together. He loved frosting all the fun shaped sugar cookies, making little gingerbread men, and putting together a plate-full for Santa. When his Dad would come home from work, Stiles would have him try all his favorites they made that day.

But now, it's been over a decade since his Mom had passed away and his Dad was working the late shift. Christmas wasn't the same anymore. Over the past few years, he’d spent the holiday at Scott’s, helping them decorate their tree and having dinner with them. But this year, Scott was spending it with Allison in France, and Stiles was stuck with spending Christmas alone.

“Yeah Scotty, don’t worry about me," Stiles said as he sat down on the couch, “I’ll be alright. You just worry about whether Allison will like your gift or not.”

“Do you think she will?” Scott asked for what felt like the millionth time.

“Yes! She’ll love it. Nothing to worry about.”

“Well, if you’re sure,” Scott said hesitantly.

“Positive buddy. Now get off the phone, you know we both don’t have the money to pay for long international calls.”

“Bye Stiles, Merry Christmas. Hey maybe you can invite Derek over. I’m pretty sure he's spending the holidays alone this year.”

“As if he’d even come over,” Stiles scoffed. “Merry Christmas Scott,” he said then hung up the phone, and tossed it on the couch next to him.

He looked around at the poorly decorated living room and signed. There’s a small, barely decorated, fake tree by the fireplace; his and his Dad's stockings draped over it. A wreath hanging on the wall and a few other random nicknacks that Stiles hauled out this year from the attic. It is a pitiful display compared to how his Mom used to decorate.

Glancing around again, he can begin to feel the loneliness of the holiday seeping through the wall he had built up years ago.

Maybe he would invite Derek over.

- - -

Stiles ended up sending a curt text to Derek saying he's welcome to come over if he isn't ‘too busy brooding or working on his eyebrow speak’.

He decided that this year, since it was the first in a long time he wasn't at the Mccall’s, he would revive some old family Christmas traditions, for the sake of not sulking or sleeping the whole day. After a glance around in their fridge and pantry, he started looking for his Mom's old holiday recipe book. It was about time to smell his Mom's baking again.

As Stiles dug around in the island cabinet, he heard his phone ding with a text from on top of it, which caused him to hit his head on the cabinet on the way out.

“God…ouch,” he said as he rose from his knees to read the message. When he hit the home button on his phone, he saw it was from Derek. He unlocked his phone and pulled up the message. ‘On my way’ it read.

Stiles stood shocked, reading the message again. He didn't expect this. He thought Derek wouldn't even answer, considering he rarely has his phone on him, and if he did it would be with a blunt ‘no’.

After his brain began functioning enough for him to move, he sent a simple ‘Okay’ in reply and went back to looking for the recipes.

- - -

Just as Stiles finally found the recipe book and began to carefully pull it out, he heard a floorboard creek, causing him to look out from where his head was in the cupboard. There he saw Derek hovering above him, causing him to squeak (it was not a girly squeak) and hit his head again on the cabinet on the way out.

“Geez Derek,” he said as he recovered from the scare and stood up, rubbing his head, “do you know how to use a doorbell?”

“Yes,” he grunted, starting directly at Stiles in silence. After an awkwardly long amount of time he continued quieter, “I could hear you grumbling from outside so I decided to let myself in.”

Stiles began to stutter in protest, then sighed and leant down to pick up the recipe book he dropped on the floor in his state of surprise. “So,” he started, “ready to bake some cookies?”

He was met with a blank stare from Derek. Taking that as a ‘yes’ Stiles set the recipe book on the counter. A visible cloud of dust flew into the air when he opened it, causing him to go into a fit of coughs. Derek rolled his eyes and walked behind him to the sink and began to wash his hands.

“What do you want to make first?” Stiles asked, coughing again midway. No answer came from Derek again so he turned to his Mom's sugar cookie recipe and started to get out the ingredients.

- - -

Stiles quickly realized that Derek was a skilled baker. He knew just how much flour to put down so the dough wouldn't stick, he could crack an egg with one hand (not that that was really surprising because, hello werewolf), and he was an expert at using a rolling pin.

Stiles couldn't help but watch as he kneaded and rolled out the dough; the sleeves of his grey henley rolled to his elbows, flour up to his wrists and on the bottom of his shirt, his arm muscles shifting with each movement. Derek was attractive, yes, among other things (like annoying and broody), but until this moment Stiles hadn't really felt this attracted to him. He looked so domestic and soft with his hair jostled from him running his hands through it. His soft looking henley loosely covering his torso. Stiles wanted to cuddle up to his chest and feel his werewolf warmth permeate through the fabric.

Trying to think about other things he asked, “Do you secretly bake in your free time and not share any goodies with us or something?”

Derek looked up, stopping his rolling. “I used to bake with my family…” he said quietly tapering off. His eyes drifted closed like he was in pain and Stiles's heart was in his throat. He decided to leave it at that.

After cutting out the cookies, they set them on a tray and put them in the oven. Having worked for a good hour, they both unanimously agreed to take a rest. When Derek had finished washing up, he wandered to the living room where Stiles was standing in front of the fireplace looking at the old family Christmas cards that were spread out on it. He was holding the last one they'd taken before Claudia died.

“She was very beautiful,” Derek said silently, coming up behind Stiles, glancing over his shoulder.

“Yeah, she was,” Stiles said quietly, a slight tremor in his voice.

Stiles set the card down, turning to Derek. There was a glimmer of tears in his bright brown eyes. Derek thought they were beautiful and captivating, but heartbreaking. His lip quivered with obvious effort to keep in a sob. Just as tears began to tumble down his face, Stiles lurched forward, wrapping his arms around Derek's middle and burying his face is Derek's neck.

Being startled, it took a beat for Derek to hug Stiles back. He slowly wrapped his arms around Stiles's shoulders and neck, pulling him closer. His hand went up to Stiles's hair and brushed through it. After a little, Stiles seemed to calm down and he nuzzled Derek's neck, rubbing his wet face over the warm skin.

Derek could care less about the growing wet spot. It'd been a long time since he'd hugged someone. He could feel bits of tension in his body releasing as they stood there in embrace.

Stiles's whimpers slowly changed to sniffles and he stepped back. “Thanks for that,” he said wiping his eyes and nose on his shirt sleeve. “This…the baking, used to be my Mom's and my thing when I was little and…” he trailed off, looking up at Derek and sniffling.

“I understand,” Derek said looking over Stiles's tear-stained face. Derek could not only smell his overwhelming sorrow, but feel it, he'd lost loved ones too. Stiles stepped closer, for what might have been another hug, but just then the timer for the oven went off. He jumped back awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. With a look of confusion Derek said he'd go check on the cookies.

Derek came back to the living room with two of the finished sugar cookies and gave one to Stiles as he joined him sitting on the couch. Derek watched as Stiles bit off an antler from the reindeer shaped cookie and took a bite of his own star shaped one.

When they'd finished eating the cookies, they sat in comfortable silence. Before Stiles could fill the air with sound, Derek said quietly, “My family, we used all get together at our house on Christmas Eve and make all kinds of cookies. I always looked forward to that night. My Mom would take the time out to teach me how to do certain parts of the recipes so I could do it on my own the next year. I loved all of the mixing smells in the kitchen and how all of our pack's scents were present with it. It made me feel safe an happy. I haven't made Christmas cookies since then.”

Stiles looked at him with understanding eyes. “This is the first time I've smelt my Mom's cookies since she was alive.” He looked at his lap then back up, “Thank you for doing this. You didn't even have to come, but you did. You, as well as I, began to heal some wounds today. So, thanks.” He looked intently at Derek.

Derek looked at his eyes again, this time they weren't tear-filled and sad, but smiling and happy. Stiles licked his lips, drawing Derek's attention there.

Stiles began to lean forward and was met halfway by Derek's soft, firm lips on his. The kiss was chaste. Breaking apart, they stared at each other with wide eyes then closed them, going back in to kiss again. This time, it was longer and filled with emotion. Each press, nip, and swipe of the tongue showed so much more than either of them could put to words.

When they pulled apart, they settled close together on the couch. Derek pulled a blanket from over the side of the couch over both of them and moved still closer to Stiles. He wrapped his arms around Stiles's middle and pulled his head to his chest. Stiles snuggled his face in Derek's soft shirt and could hear his heart beating faintly.

“What is this?” Stiles asked after sitting quietly for a moment. “I'm mean is this a sugar induced dream? What are we? What…” he was cut off with a kiss from Derek.

"Not a dream,” he kissed Stiles again. “Does that answer your question?”

“If I get more of that and this cuddling then yes.” Derek just kissed him harder. “Merry Christmas Derek.”

“Merry Christmas Stiles.”

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